#beast geralt of rivia x princess reader

[imyourbratzdoll]

𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒂 𝒃𝒆𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒚 𝒘𝒉𝒐 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒓𝒆𝒆 𝒃𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒔

🕊️a whore's farytale masterlist🕊️

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’re you doing here?”

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

“Leave now!” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Ari.” 

“Logan.” 

“Geralt.” 

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

Geralt cuts in. “Except the West Wing.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

[nickfowlerrr]

sit me on your throne.

pairing: geralt of rivia x curvy!reader

warnings: i don't know what i'm writing about but if you're here for smut, there's smut. 18+ only. probably ooc - i've only seen season one. if i'm missing something that needs to be tagged please let me know.

words: 4.3k

notes: i really truly do not know. forgive me not.

thank you in advance for reading! any thoughts, comments, and reblogs are so appreciated. let me know what you think. (unless its mean then pls don't).

"You kneel before me?"

Your question is born of nothing but pure confusion as you tilt your head in bemusement at the bulking behemoth of a man before you.

He hadn’t done as much when he first arrived, not to your displeasure, so it was odd to see him do it now - especially after the battle he has just fought.

He is at your feet, his long white hair darker and dingier now, dirty as his clothes and skin; marred with caked mud and what you can only assume is the blood and guts of the beast he has defeated.

The stench he carries with him is pungent, nothing but putrid, and yet that somehow doesn't take from his striking good looks; those paired with his brevity and bluntness have held your attention from the moment he stepped foot in your kingdom.

He is a man of little words, this Geralt of Rivia. His jester of a companion having done much of the speaking - perhaps too much - for him since they arrived.

Geralt says nothing still, only meets your gaze as he takes steady breaths. His yellow eyes, feline and harsh, cut through you in a number of ways - none of which you'd care to share aloud. You have a feeling he knows, however, just how affected you are by him no matter how well you think you hide it.

You are alone together, no guards at the ready, no advisors by your side. Most of your kingdom is now quiet and abandoned, including the halls of your once flourishing and lively home. The halls of this castle have been eerily silent since the night your men went on their mission to save their homestead. You had already sent word for The Witcher, you implored them to keep safe indoors until his arrival. They did not listen. Most of them still having seen you as the young princess you once were, the others simply following the orders of their leaders. You may have been their "Queen", but their faith in their commanders was stronger.

Those commanders who led them to their deaths... You still sigh at the loss.

Those who were not taken, slain, by the beast have long since fled for their lives. You cannot blame them. But you certainly could not join them. Your castle once held many souls, but now it is only you and a handful of others. Titles of servants, but you really never were one for titles.

"Your friend?" you wonder.

"Somewhere," he answers shortly, his voice low and deep as he speaks.

You quirk a brow, "Safe?"

"For as long as he keeps himself from trouble."

You hum, a hint of a smile pulling at the corner of your lips. Their relationship amuses you, you must admit.

"You needn't kneel, Witcher," you implore as you sit back on the throne. It is yours in name alone. It has never felt right to sit in. He seems to sense your unease, but he doesn't speak it. You continue, "You have done what you said you would, I will do the same."

Still, he doesn't stand. Not until you flick your eyes and move to stand yourself. He rises easily as he stands before you still. There is not much distance between you, and the stench of him stings your eyes and threatens to gag you. Your face scrunches in disgust as you turn it away from him, grimacing.

"I've had a bath readied for you, and new clothes set aside," you inform him, moving to pass around. He follows you, and you can feel the weight of his gaze as his eyes cling to you. "Your meals will be served as soon as you're done. I don't imagine anyone would be able to stomach a bite with that smell coming off of you."

He says nothing but lets out an amused "hm" at your words, still following as you lead him to the bathing room.

You thank Amaleah as you enter and she leaves with a nod to you, her breath catching when she smells Geralt enter behind you. It's as fast an exit as you've ever seen.

You move toward the bath and wade a hand in the water. It's a bit hot for your preferences but it should get him clean. You ensure the soap Amaleah brought in is fragrant enough and still look for some nicer oils to add to the water; when you turn around to ask your guest his want, you find yourself stunned silent as you're met with the sight of his broad, bare chest. His muscles flex under his pale and scarred skin as he moves, his solid chest is covered in dark hair, trailing down his torso. His arms are strong and big and a thought at the back of your mind wonders how comfortable he must be to lie with.

You blink, mouth parted slightly as you take a breath. You watch his clothing fall as he discards them and your gaze follows his hand as he begins to strip himself of the rest of his garments.

He is completely shameless as he watches you watch him. You feel as if you are in a trance, you cannot bring yourself to look away despite the heavy weight of his gaze assuring you he sees you staring.

It’s not an act of brazenness, truly you would look away and leave him at once…if you could.

“I’ve slain your monster,” he speaks and your eyes rise back to his chest, trying to ignore the heaviness of his thick cock as it hangs so temptingly before you. No, not temptingly…Shamelessly. He has put himself entirely on display before you, without an ounce of shame or concern, and you are still frozen to your spot. “Was there something else you required of me, Your Highness?”

The title gets your attention, the breath caught in your chest finally flows and your eyes flick up to meet his. You can't tell entirely if he meant it as an insult or if he thought you'd prefer it to Queen.

You remain quiet for a moment as you try to gather a response. Either way...

“I told you that wasn’t necessary, Witcher.”

“Geralt.”

You swallow hard as he takes a small step forward, and you will yourself to not break his intense gaze.

"Geralt. I thank you, for saving what was left of this ruined kingdom, but I consider myself not princess, nor Queen, any longer."

"Did you ever?" he asks, staring into your eyes a moment longer before he steps closer still, looking you up and down then nudging you aside, eliciting goosebumps along your skin, rising under his touch.

You glance over your shoulder as he continues past you, lowering himself into the tub.

You think.

You know your answer, but you won't say it aloud. Clearly he knows it, too.

You can hear the water sloshing with his movements as he begins to clean himself.

You take a deep breath.

"The clothes will be brought in shortly. You might tell Jaskier when you're done that the food is ready."

"Ah," he says amid his washing, "so you do know his name."

"Of course I do. I've grown quite fond of the bard in the week since you've arrived."

"I couldn't tell," he says plainly, yet still biting - his words sharp with sarcasm.

You furrow your brow at his meaning and then there's a laugh at the door and you look to see Jaskier as he leans on it. "You sound jealous, there, Geralt," he taunts, holding folded clothing in his hands as he pushes off the door to saunter in. "I wouldn't worry. I don't believe I'm the one who's caught her eye." He looks to you with a smirk, bowing before you, "Your Majesty."

"I am no longer queen," you repeat for what feels like the hundredth time.

"My Queen, none the less," he simpers before standing to his full height.

You smile tightly, eyes narrowed playfully at him before you finally move to exit, leaving them to their inevitable quarreling. And trying not to focus on the tingling still affecting you between your legs.

--

You eat with the women in the kitchen; the dining hall one of your least favorite places to be.

There is a calm yet solemn energy around you all. A peace in the slaying of the monster who took your kingdom, and still the grief from the loss of it all, your people, their families, friends...

Calliope readies the plates for your guests as you bid them all a goodnight, kissing Amaleah's son on his head on your way out with a 'sweet dreams'. Since his father was killed, the poor thing has nightmares recurringly. You only hope with the monster's demise, they might ease for him some. He is far too young to be in such pain...

You think to pass by the dining hall on your way to bed to thank Geralt once more and wish them both a goodnight as well but think better of it.

You will see them in the morning before they set off. You still owe him his coin and you know he won't be leaving without it.

--

You open the heavy door of your chamber and once you are inside, begin to undress.

Slipping into your shift, you swiftly make your way into bed. You thought you'd fall asleep quickly, but as you lay there, your mind wanders to thoughts of only one.

You have one hand on your lower belly, the other resting on the soft skin right above it.

You sigh and close your eyes, but all you see when you do is his built form. His dark, firelight stare set on you. His clothes left on the ground as he stands strong in his glory.

You breathe deeply, your hand starting to slowly drift down your stomach as you tickle yourself. You're so tempted to touch where you want it most, but you can't bring yourself to do it. Not just yet.

You slip your hand between your spread thighs, softly running your fingers across the sensitive skin you find there.

It'd been a week of torment, having Geralt so close and not being able to act on your most base feelings. You know he knows what you think when you look at him, if Jaskier can see it, surely, he can too.

You might feel embarrassed but with the way he's managed to get closer and closer to you with each passing day as he awaited the beasts' return, you would wager he feels similarly.

It feels like an age that you lie awake. All the noises about the castle, not that there were many, have settled and it assures you everyone has retired for the night.

Sleep begins to nip at you but the stronger pull is to the dissatisfaction that weighs on you. The emptiness that echos through your body and soul.

Your fingers twitch, and you begin to glide closer to your uncovered core, the need to be touch too much to be ignored for much longer. Your eyes are closed and you imagine it isn't your hand running over your skin, but rather his large, rough palm feeling you, teasing you just so...

Just as you inch closer, your eyes snap open in the dark as a heartbreaking scream cuts through the night air. You sit up, pulling your hands off of yourself. You know immediately where the sound comes from and who it belongs to.

You get out of bed, intent to make sure Hartley and Amaleah both are okay.

You open your door just as the one across the wide hall does the same. You frighten at the unexpected movement but are then unsurprised to be across Geralt.

He is shirtless again, and his eyes are wide as his chest rises and falls with his heavy breaths.

"Are you alright?" he asks, voice hard.

"Yes, I'm fine. It was the boy, Hartley. He has nightmares," you explain, keeping your voice quiet as to not disturb the renewed peace of the night.

The flick of the flame that lights the hallway allows you both to see one another. You say nothing for a moment as your eyes fall to his bare torso.

"Did the clothes not fit?"

He looks down at himself briefly, then back to you. He shakes his head, "I prefer to sleep naked."

You burn at his words, swallowing hard. "Oh. Well, I- I'm going to check on them, make sure they're fine."

"I'll go with you."

It's not a question, it's a statement. You stop in your start, turning to look at him. You say nothing, just blink and quickly carry on as you were.

You make your way down the stairs and down the hall until you see the flames licking at the end of the hallway.

You follow the glow to Amaleah's room and knock gently as you look in the open door.

She turns and looks to you, her eyes tired and cheeks damp as she rocks her toddler in her arms. He is sleeping again as she rubs his back gently, more to soothe herself than anything.

She sniffles, "Your High-" she stops herself, "sorry, forgive me," she whispers.

"Don't apologize. Please," you implore her. "I know it's habit."

"Are you two alright?" Geralt asks from right at your back.

"We are, thank you. Just another nightmare," her voice gets thick at the explanation. You know it hurts her that there isn't anything she can do but be there to comfort him when they come.

You smile sadly and nod. "We'll let you be, then. Do try to get some rest. He'll be okay," you reassure her.

You pull the door nearly closed and wind up with Geralt firmly at your back.

You turn into him but he doesn't seem to mind as he just looks down at you nearly pressed against his chest. You try to budge him to turn and move back down the hall but he doesn't waver. After a second, he relents and steps to the side, allowing you to go back down the hallway first.

It isn't until you come up on the throne room that Geralt speaks again.

"Might I have a word with you?" he asks.

You stop and turn to eye him as he stands at the entryway of the door.

"Now?" you question.

He nods once, "Now."

You approach him trepidatiously, and as you near, he gestures you in the room before him, extending his arm, "Princess."

Your eyes narrow again. And you turn on him, watching as he enters the room behind you. "Why do you keep doing that?"

"What am I doing?"

"Princess? Your Highness?" you quote him.

"I assumed you preferred it to your true title," he tilts his head at you.

"True title," you scoff, rolling your eyes. "I prefer no title at all."

"And what shall I call you then?"

You remind him your name, not that he really needs to be reminded. You know he knows it full well.

He considers you, then closes in on where you stand in front of the throne.

You don't move back, no, you quite like the closeness when he doesn't reek of death and innards.

Geralt seems to appreciate your resolve, his lips twitching with the beginnings of a smile as he studies your face.

"It's a beautiful name," he speaks lowly, taking another step into your space and raising his hand to gently caress your cheek before he leans in to speak against your ear. Your hands touch his solid stomach in an attempt to keep yourself upright, you can feel the muscles as they flex under your delicate graze. "I think I might prefer princess," he husks.

He slips away from you, turning to take a seat on the throne instead. You follow his movements and turn yourself to face him. You're stunned and completely set ablaze all at once.

"Well I don't."

"No," he smirks, agreeing with you, one large hand settling on his thick thigh as he spreads his legs, "you don't."

"It's too bad," he tsks, his voice a smooth rumbling. "No title, no throne."

"I don't want any throne."

Your eyes are glued to his thighs as he brings attention to his lap by rubbing the muscle there.

"None?" he asks before his gaze shifts directly on you, his mesmerizing stare burning into you. His voice lowers deeper than you've ever heard as a desperate longing shoots through you once again, resounding deep in your core. "Not even mine?"

Your mouth goes dry and your brain fuzzy as you take in his meaning.

Unthinking, you step toward him closer.

"You mean to defile the very one you sit on?"

"You don't seem to care for it much anyway."

Another step.

You are nearly stood between his spread legs, carefully you reach out a hand, your fingers light on his thigh. You feel his muscle then, flicking your eyes up. His gaze is dark and heated.

"That's true enough," you say, your voice breathy in a near whisper.

You gasp as your suddenly pulled closer by Geralt's rough hands around your waist. You can feel him through the thin fabric of your shift and its only then you realize how much of your figure he has seen thanks to your nightwear.

"Truer still," he speaks, "I don't mean to defile this throne." He squeezes your plush waist, groping you through your shift as your hands latch onto his solid shoulders. "I mean to defile you."

He manages to pull you onto his lap with little effort, leaning in to crash his lips into yours.

You kiss him back hungrily, chasing his lips as you settle on his lap. Your fingers wind in his hair and you can feel his cock growing beneath you through the material of his pants.

His hands slide down your waist and over your wide hips, reaching for the hem of your shift and pulling it up. His tongue slips past your lips and you moan, shifting your hips atop him.

You pull away, reaching for your dress and pulling it over your head, discarding it behind your back.

Geralt holds you closer, letting his lips explore your heavy breasts as you allow your head to fall back in pleasure, your hands returning to his hair.

"Geralt," you breathe, pulling him off you after a moment.

"Mm," he hums, kissing the swell of your breast once more before he moves to free himself from the restraint of his pants. He knows what you’ve both been wanting for days. What you need.

One heavy hand returns to your back, holding you by your waist while his other grips his red, throbbing cock.

He moves his tip up and down your slick center, making you whimper as he teases you - his cockhead rubbing delightfully against your sensitive clit.

He watches your face scrunch in rapture and holds you tighter to stop your wiggling about as you whimper.

He smiles smugly to himself and when you're just about to open your mouth to protest his teasing, he finally pulls you down on top of him. The sound that escapes you is music to his ears as you grasp onto him, your nails digging into the muscle of his back as your walls squeeze and stretch to accommodate his thick length, the size of him almost too much for you to take.

"Fuck," he groans as your walls tighten around him. He gives you a moment before he begins to urge you to move. He guides your hips, slow and sensually. The feeling of his hands on you motivates you to try and ride him yourself. And you do try, but you cry out again at how big he is, how fully he is stuffing you. You can barely move.

Geralt kisses you as he holds you closer, taking pity on your tight cunt and instead he moves his hands to your soft hips again. He holds you on top of him securely before he begins to fuck up into you.

You mewl as he jostles you, bouncing you up and down his cock, your breasts moving in time.

You pull on his hair, forcing him to look up from where his gaze was fixed, watching his own cock as he stretched you out for him, watching as your cunt took as much of him in as she could, up to your hooded lust filled gaze. You lean into him, chest to chest as you kiss him fervently. His lips follow yours as you taste one another. You nip at his lip and he growls, his hands gripping the ample flesh of your ass, "Keep that up," he snarls.

"And you'll what?" you breathe heavily, eyes screwed shut, jaw tight as you deadbrain on the pleasure coursing through you.

Your answer is a harsh thrust of his cock inside of you, stealing your breath while he slaps your ass, your flesh stinging from the force.

"Oh, fuck," you whimper debauchedly, your velvety walls squeezing him ever tighter as you feel yourself growing closer with every bounce. The tip of him hitting exactly where you need it to. Your body is on fire and you are loving every second of it. The feeling of him inside of you, of his hands squeezing and caressing you everywhere he can, of his lips demanding yours for more.

His grunts are growing louder and his thrusts more powerful, you kiss him hard in an effort to quiet him some, but you can feel what is coming.

Geralt is near slamming you down on top of him, the sound of your ass slapping against his thick thighs mix with the salacious sounds coming from you both and of your slick wetness as you're worked up and down his shaft, your cunt taking him better and better with each thrust.

Your hands move to hold his face, your noses brush as you breathe each other's air, lips touching just slightly.

"Geralt, I'm,"

"I know," he pants harshly, concentrated before taking your lips in his. You whimper pathetically as the coil in your belly winds tighter and tighter. He keeps you moving a top him, your clit being stimulated with every brush of your hips over his, and then with another deep thrust it snaps before you can speak. Your voice is an empty high then silent squeak as your legs tremble and your eyes roll back. Are you even breathing? Your walls clench down on Geralt's cock and he finally allows himself to reach his own high as your tight walls flutter around him, squeezing him perfectly. You ride the waves of ecstasy as his come spills inside of you. You feel him shudder beneath you and it only adds to your feeling of weightlessness, stars in your eyes as you feel, think, breathe nothing but him.

You part from his lips and your bodies are slick with sweat as you both pant heavily. Geralt holds you to him as he softens inside of you, his forehead pressed to yours as your hand comes behind his neck, holding him to you in kind.

Your lips mimic a kiss but neither of you lean in close enough to actually do it. You work to catch your breath and settle for a minute before you finally break the quiet.

"Do I still owe you your coin?" you breathe, smiling when Geralt laughs in your face. You reach to move a stray strand of hair from his face, holding his cheek gently once you do.

Your stare into one another's eyes for a long moment, just breathing and being close.

"Where will you be off to in the morning?" you ask, hoping your solemn tone isn't as audible as it sounded to you.

"Don't know," he shakes his head, eyes straying to your lips.

You take a breath and pull his face closer to kiss him softly.

"I envy you, you know."

"Don't."

You huff a humorless laugh, readjusting yourself on his lap. "Not because you're a witcher. You may not have the most enviable life, but at least you have one. I've never made it past the most exterior gates," you smile sadly, playing with the hairs on his chest as you avoid his eye now.

"I suppose I'll have the chance, now, though. Thanks to you."

"And where will you go?" he asks.

Your gaze floats up to his and you repeat his previous answer. "I don't know. But I won't stay here. This kingdom is..." you shake your head. "I don't belong here. Never felt like I did. But I made a promise to my mother when I was young, and another to my father before he passed. I know I've let them down," you swallow the rise of emotion threatening to overcome you, "but alas, the fall of a kingdom is ever inevitable. Especially under such rule as my own."

"I've heard word of your rule from many. You're known to be kind. Caring. Protective, even. I don't believe you've failed. I think you were exactly the kind of ruler you should have been, who you needed to be. But perhaps it's a good thing you won't be forced any longer into holding power you don't desire. You're now free to do as you wish."

"I am," you nod lightly in agreement. "If only I knew where to start,” you muse with an uneasy laugh.

His hand runs up your back comfortingly; he's pensive, deep in thought for a long moment before he speaks.

"If you ready your things, I don't think Roach would mind a travel companion of her own. She seems to have taken to Belfast… I'm not sure she'd be ready to part with him so soon, anyway."

"Is that so?" you ask him, faux curiosity playing in your voice.

"And Jaskier is easier to take when I'm not the only one he has around to bother."

"Right," you nod, fighting your soft smile.

"And of course your coin would be useful as well."

"Of course," you exaggerate your agreement. "…Geralt, are you getting at something here?"

"Just that, if you want to join us…you might."

You lean into him again, thumb rubbing along his stubble lining his cheek, and this time he kisses you first. More gently than you expect. You can’t help your smile now.

You part lightly and breathe,

"I hope you mean that, Witcher. Because I just might."

[ro-is-struggling]

Secret Encounters || Geralt of Rivia x Reader

Requested by anon

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

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

English is not my first language

Word count: 3900

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Only time will tell."

[charnelhouse]

For the drabbles…

Maybe Geralt and *spins wheel* public sex/smut?

Thanks for considering!

A/N: Geralt of Rivia x F!Reader. PWP. Public sex. Rough sex. Size difference. Vibes. Using others for sex to forget about the real object of your desire. This makes no sense plot-wise, but idc.

Geralt seems to collect lost things. When he saves you, he does not expect to keep you. A Skellige princess - warped and carved from the frigid salt of the sea. The pale-cream mountains. The deep evergreen forests. The smells that clear your nose and throat: moss, wet leaves, ozone, and thyme.

You embody all the elements of those Northern lands. You are quiet and cool - impenetrable and dangerous in the black-blue parts of your heart. Overwhelming. There’s the sea in your blood.

And just like the surface of Skellige - you are beautiful in that cold penetrating way. You are a mountain he wouldn’t mind trying to climb. Sometimes he would like to press his thumb to your furrowed brow and smooth the tension that sits like a poison in your body. You are ever so serious, which is ironic - coming from him.

Geralt of Rivia who lacks humor and pleasantness and general charisma - or so Jaskier tells him.

But - back to the idea - the concept - the beginning. Geralt did not intend to keep you and yet it had worked out that way.

They were too far from your homeland after he snatched you from bandits outside of Crow’s Perch. You hadn’t been a contract. He’d simply been passing through and immediately discerned that you did not belong in their small camp. Your eyes were wide and wet, your lower lip swollen, your hands bundled in your lap.

He’d kill all of them and afterward, you’d thanked him - ducking your head - almost shy.

“My father can repay you...”

“It’s alright.”

***

There are times that he could send you back to Skellige. There are boats that could whisk you away or other wanderers he could pass you off to at the many, many taverns they visit.

He asks you only once. “Would you like to go home? I could find safe passage for you.”

You look at him. “If you’d like. I don’t want to be a burden.”

“You aren’t.”

A lie.

You are, but he doesn’t seem to mind it. He doesn’t mind that he must accommodate both of you or that he must put your safety first in every new dangerous situation. They share beds and sheets and stews and it never goes beyond that. It’s camaraderie. You are just as silent as he is and yet he finds your presence comforting. It’s strange - like a new sort of magic.

You continue to surprise him.

One night - he is surprised by a Harpy who is very far from its natural habitat. It swoops down and sinks its talons into his shoulder. He collapses from the pain of it and a moment later there is the shrieking wail of the creature - a death scream.

He whirls around and you have shoved his sword through the harpy’s throat. Dark red blood seeps down its mottled milk-pale body. Its stringy hair partially hacked and spilling like feathers.

“How?” he mutters - eyes wide.

“You do know that they train their women in Skellige?” The corner of your lips curl in mild amusement.

***

He likes you, which confuses him. It makes him anxious - sour with an unsettled ache in his gut. It becomes a problem. He lies next to you on the grassy grounds outside White Orchard. He stares at the sky - following the trails of stars that twist into shapes and creatures and mythical beasts.

“Why haven’t you wished to go home?” His voice is low - rumbles from his chest.

You turn on your side - resting your cheek in your palm. He can see the flash of your white teeth when you speak. “My home wasn’t very happy. It wasn’t good to me.”

His fingers curl into fists - his nostrils flaring. Rage pulses in his blood that he did not know could hit him so quickly. “Perhaps - I am delaying the inevitable,” you finish.

He exhales sharply. “You do not have to return.”

“I should...at some point. I have responsibilities.”

He is silent as he mulls over your words. His jaw flexes. “Then I will help you remove whatever - whoever - makes you unhappy there.”

You laugh. It is the first time you’ve done so.

***

His infatuation with you occupies his thoughts. Too much. Too often. He is distracted. The next time - he’s in Oxenfurt he decides to take care of it. He puts you to bed in a nice room above the tavern and goes downstairs where he finds Joanna - a woman he’s had before and one who might share a passing resemblance to you.

They fuck in a hallway. He buries his face into the curve of her neck - hitches her knees high around his waist. It is fast and hard. He threads his fingers into her hair and bites her jaw. He calls her your name, which Joanna doesn’t seem to mind.

He ruts like a dog in heat. He’s almost feral with it. He’s so consumed that he doesn’t realize he feels eyes on him. Something prickles at the nape of his neck.

When he finishes, he tucks himself away and returns to your room. He can hear your heartbeat thrumming wildly. He can smell your sweat.

He doesn’t confront you, of course. Instead - he slips into the bed and brushes the side of his arm against your back. He means it to be casual - thoughtless - as if he had shifted in his bed and accidentally touched you.

You roll your shoulders - knocking his arm away and slip closer to the edge of the bed.

***

It’s an impossible situation. It’s burning in the air - incense the smell of sweet apple and lavender and the sour bite of blackberries. You’re frowning as you peek over his shoulder.

“Don’t look,” he hisses as he pins you to the wall at your back.

There are people. Fucking. The whole room echoes the wet slap of flesh and high-pitched moans. They’re collecting clues in Novigrad for a very large contract and their journey had sent them to here. A “party” at Duke Irvin’s manor.

Your gaze narrows. “I think I can handle it.”

They need to leave. They need to get the fuck out of here.

He guesses that the sexual energy is for a spell - some form of magic that is feeding something. He’d place his gold on the Succubus he’d been hired to take out.

He glances behind him and the both of you are already attracting unwanted attention. There’s a purpose here - you must fuck. It’s a required ticket to the party and he just hadn’t realized until they’d stepped in here. .

“We need to go.”

“We can’t,” you say. “There are guards at the door.”

“Then I’ll take them out.”

You sigh - your eyes flit from the writhing bodies to his face. “We have to do it.”

“No,” he growls and you flinch - hurt.

“Shit,” he says. “I didn’t - I didn’t mean it like I don’t - I don’t want to do that, but not here. This - this is wrong.”

What he wants to say is that he’d thought about fucking you nearly every hour of the day. He had dreamt of it. He had fantasized about it and all the possible ways it could happen. He doesn’t want it to be here - in front of these people - these prying eyes. He’s not good with words. He’s not good at explaining anything.

You palm his cheek and he draws away out of instinct. Your thumb sinks into his flesh and he pauses. “It’s fine, Geralt. I know you won’t hurt me.”

“We don’t have to,” he mutters through clenched teeth. His heart is in his throat - his muscles are tensing and tweaking with tension. He is consumed by it - stressed. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to.”

You drag that thumb from his cheek to his lower lip - your press your nail into the fat of it and he groans. Your eyes are twinkling - dazed with fascination as you study his face. “I wouldn’t mind...”

Geralt is hard. He’d been hard since he walked in and scented the air. There is sex and slick and furious heartbeats. Pleasure and lust and, as a Witcher, his sex drive is already inhuman. He could fuck all night if he chose and never tire.

He cups the hinge of your jaw and lifts your face to his. “It won’t be gentle,” he murmurs against your mouth.

“I didn’t ask for gentle.”

He kisses you fiercely. Sloppy and insistent. He thrusts his tongue between your lips and you fist his hair - gasping against the smooth bone of his teeth. There is no one else in the room. There is you beneath him - your small, thin fingers hooking into his linen shirt. He picks you up easily - hands roaming the bare thighs under your dress. His touch is rough - brazen - as if he could strip you open and eat you piece by piece.

“Are you wet?” he husks between kisses - his tongue delving deep deep deep -

“Yes,” You’re burning. “So long - all night -”

His hand supports your ass as his other reaches under your dress. He can feel the heat of you and when his fingertips breach your cunt - he grunts like he’s tasted it. Your throbbing and soaked against touch. He pushes in and you clench around him - ripple and quake as you clasp his shoulders and cling to him.

His hold on you was unrelenting and it was amusing to see you arch into his chest. Your soft mewls and pretty moans as you scrape your nails over feverish skin. “Shall I eat your cunt?” he grumbles as he licks a long path up the line of your throat.

His senses are verging on extremes. The sounds of men and women screwing around them. The tight dripping vice of your sex around his fingers. The sweet-salt brush of too much - he can smell it all - he can smell the crevices of your beautiful body and he can feel eyes on him - on the both of you - watching as they rip at each other. He doesn’t care anymore. He’d throw you on the floor of the room and sink into you regardless of prying attentions.

He growls as he thumbs at your clit and then curls his fingers - pushing up against the top of your cunt from the inside. “Answer me,” he demands. “What do you want me to do to you?”

“I don’t know,” you sob - hips chasing his hand.

He puts his mouth to your ear - his tone gravely and full of hunger. “Shall I fuck you like I fucked that whore back in Oxenfurt? Right up against the wall. Mount you like some beast, princess? I know you saw me - I know you watched.”

You draw a breath in and he grins. “Did it wet your sweet cunt?” He nips your jaw. “Did you know that I thought of you while I fucked her? I wanted to return to our room and shove my cock into your beautiful little body - into that plump mouth of yours.”

You groan - unladylike and primal - and haul him to your lips for a frantic kiss. “Fuck me,” you plead against his roving tongue. “I want - want it -”

His fingers thrust in and out - scissoring and jamming up - and each push forward leaves a liquid-suck that thickens his blood. You really are a princess - a trembling damsel who had shared sleeping pads and thin cots and stews and ale with him. You’d wiped the blood from his brow - his chest - a particularly bad wound on his thigh. No complaints.

He removes his fingers and undoes his trousers. He is so stiff - throbbing and pulsing with his own ferocious longing for you. He was capable of controlling himself when the lines were set - when you had the option to say no, but now - it is done. It is over and you spread your thighs wider - hook your feet at his ass and he sinks into you.

Your mouth drops open and he can feel his expression go slack with the tightness of your cunt. You pull your bottom lip between your teeth - your brow knitting together as you try to accommodate his girth. He nestles his face into the crook of your neck - his words as soothing as he can make them. “Relax, little princess,” he murmurs. “Relax for me.”

He eases his hips back an inch before pressing forward. You cry out - choking on the air - squeezing his shoulders. “I know,” He kisses your cheek - his lashes tickling your skin. “I know it’s a lot for you.”

It’s a lot for him. His cock is in a vice. He may just spill his seed before he can get fully seated.

“Slow,” you plead. “Just - just give me a moment.”

He is only halfway and you're clenching around him - biting back a groan. He saws his hips - easing his way into you - conquering you by the smallest increments. He puts his fingertips to the apex of your cunt - stroking the puffy folds that are stretched around his length. He circles the bead of your clit and you jerk -

“Helping you,” He’s nearly wheezing now - unable to concentrate. “Just need some more to take your tight cunt.”

He’s shocked he is able to have so much control in this. The entire world has blurred and darkened - narrowing to the white-heat of your center - your insides and your soft, pliant body. It takes another minute until he’s buried to the hilt.

“Alright?” He’s grinding into you - savoring each spasm of your pussy. You grip his face and kiss him messily - sucking his tongue into your mouth before you rest your forehead against his.

“Move,” you wish. “Please.”

He does immediately. He draws his cock all the way to the tip before driving forward again. He feels as if he is splitting you with each long, bruising stroke he delivers. He can’t hold back any longer. He wants to ruin you - destroy you for anyone else. He wants to brand you completely.

There is the lewd smack of his hips making contact with the bowl of your pelvis. The fabric of your skirt is heavy and hot and he wants to rip the clothes from your form. Bare you.

Not here. Not here. Not here for others to see you.

You are trembling in his arms. Your thighs quaking around his waist - your sex dripping. He knows you must be sore and you still bear his ministrations beautifully. You accept every sharp punch of his prick.

His words in your ear are gruff - plainly dressed in his long-cherished desire for you: wanted this - your cunt - tight as a fist - let me lick you after - make you come on my tongue - stay with me - stay with me - stay with me

Your eyes roll back - lashes fluttering. He clasps your chin - dragging your face back down so his gaze can meet yours. “Look at me when you come around my cock..”

That’s it. It’s all it takes. You finish with a choked-off whimper - squeezing him in a vice that almost hurts. “That’s it,” he croons. “That’s perfect. Fuck - you did so well for me - took all of me-”

Your teeth flash against your mouth. The room is vibrating with all the sex and his own burning arousal. He can go and go and keep going and he doesn’t think it will ever be enough.

You wrap your arms around his neck - pull him near. “Please, Geralt. Please.”

“What?” he murmurs - lips brushing your temple - a kiss to your hair. “What do you want? What do you need?”

He will fill you - stuff you - plug you up. There are eyes on them - trawling over your skin - the crown of his silver hair. He swallows.

“More.”

[heavenlydevine]

LULLABY OF WOE — Geralt of Rivia.

Fandom: The Witcher [Netflix]

Warnings: Language. Explicit Content. Rough Sex. Smut. Minors DNI. 18+.

Pairing: Geralt of Rivia x Female!Reader.

Summary: “Is it true? Is it true that you leave naught behind but heartache and woe?” In which your curiosity is rewarded.

It threatened to consume him, this burning inferno racing through his entire being, a euphoric sensation he desperately sought to chase without question.

“Fuck,” the grunt tumbled from his lips, perspiration clinging to his entire body as his hips continued to piston into your aching warmth, delicious sounds of pure bliss wheezing past parted lips.

“Take it,” his fingers kneaded the succulent flesh of your bottom, hands gripping firm as he continued his relentless assault on your quivering body, “—take it like the wanton little whore you are.”

You dare not object, in fear of the repercussions you would face, clinging desperately to the linen sheets curled beneath your breasts, “Please…”

You couldn’t breathe.

Yet the plea that tumbled from your lips seemed to unleash the slumbering beast within, the brunt of his hips now slamming into you a clear indication that he had no intention of stopping, rough hands now ghosting across the curve of your back, “Your wish is my command, Princess.”

And then without warning, not that you needed one, as if you had prepared your body for it, his fingers tangled into your hair, nails digging into sensitive flesh before yanking you upwards, back arching and a pained whimper tumbling from your lips, “I have no intention of stopping. I intend to devour you.”

“Is it true? Is it true that you leave naught behind but heartache and woe?”

It had been your insatiable curiosity that had landed you pressed firmly against the Witcher's chest, his cock rubbing an aching inferno deep within your pulsating core, “Let them hear you,” he grunted, teeth nipping at your neck, hips now rolling into you at a pace that made your heart drop to the deepest pits of your stomach, “—let your father know that it's a mutant fucking his precious virgin daughter.”

You had thought you had been prepared for what was to come, and yet as his teeth sank into your neck, rough hands kneading the flesh of your bouncing breasts, you knew no knowledge this world had to offer would prepare you for the inevitable outcome Geralt of Rivia would inflict upon you.

A moment was all he gave you—your core pulsating at the sudden sensation of emptiness, your body trembling as your strength dissipated into nothingness, “Ride me.”

Who were you to object? Fueled by nothing more than instinct, legs trembling yet moving on their own accord, you found yourself straddling the man with renowned vigour, his eyes dark and filled with a burning desire for you and you alone, “I said ride me.”

And then you sank home, his cock hitting deeper than before, brushing against every crevice within, burning the ache that resonated deep within, “Gods…” and then you squeezed, unable to comprehend the tingling sensation that burned at the forefront of your mind, unknowingly setting forth a plethora of events that would haunt you till the day death came to collect your soul.

“Fuck it,” muscular arms encased you in a brutal hold, pushing you downwards until your entire front was firmly smothered against his heaving chest, “—don't do that again. You won't like the consequences.”

Fuck it. Consequences be damned.

You squeezed again—experimentally you might add later when reality finally reared its ugly head—and mewled in response when his hips snapped upwards, “Remember, Princess. You asked for it.”

It was at that moment, with his arms wrapping firmly around your upper body, fingers spanning across the curve of your back, that you knew you had fucked up.

A second to catch your breath.

And then the beautiful beast of a man proceeded to fuck you into oblivion, lips meshing against your own, the sounds tumbling from you one that would no doubtedly make a saint turn into a sinner. “Fuck.”

It was a flurry of movements, his hips pistoning into you at a pace that made you feel invincible, merely floating in the air with nothing holding you but him.

Geralt of Rivia was indeed fucking you with reckless abandon, grunts of pleasure tumbling from his lips. “I will fill you until all you can feel is me,” you could barely comprehend his words, their meaning lost to you as a warmth unlike anything you had ever felt hummed through your being, “—I will ruin you, so that no man can touch you like I do. That no man can fuck you like I do. You are mine, Princess.”

Was this a dream? If it was, you never wanted it to end. “Please don't stop…” chasing your own pleasure as you finally met his thrusts with your own, back arching away from his touch, your legs trembled as you rolled your hips in an aggressive manner, sinking down on his cock with such ferocity that the Witcher could only grunt in pleasure.

“That's it…”

And then it all came crashing down, your body trembling as shockwave after shockwave coursed through your being, collapsing forward.

But was he done? No.

He was never never done. Not until he had filled you to the brim of him, to know nothing but him and the chaos he had wrought upon you.

Once again you found yourself pressed down against the soaked linen sheets, the smell of your sins clinging to your skin as Geralt continued to pump in and out of you at a pace that made the entire bed rock back and forth, hitting the wall with a loud bang your father, and every occupant within the castle would no doubtedly hear, “Fuck..”

Pulling you backwards, back pressed against his chest, his left hand, warm and rough, continued to a path that travelled over your bouncing breasts before firmly cupping your mound, fingers now slick with your arousal, “You can give me one more.”

You had given him three, his fingers leisurely rolling your clit to and fro, rubbing and worshipping every inch of you, as his right hand curled around your throat, constricting you from breathing, “Scream for me.”

And scream you did.

For as the Witcher, the Butcher of Blaviken, tore into you, his seed spilling deep within your core, you knew now that curiosity was indeed a death sentence.

“Does that answer your question, Princess?”

Yes.

A Witcher does indeed leave naught behind but heartache and woe, deep, deep woe.

[dreaming-about-fanfictions]

The Balcony - Geralt of Rivia x Reader

Summary: Of playing games with each other and meeting in your favorite spot in the castle at midnight. 18+

A/N: So tumblr decided to delete my story the last time I posted this -.- So here I go again. Also, fyi, this is my first time writing smut :D Enjoy <3

Words: 3481 Pairing: Geralt of Rivia x female!Reader Warnings: smut smut smut. Princess!Reader (again, lol).

You see him first.

He is standing on the balcony, looking out into the night. His arms are propped up on the balustrade, a glass of wine resting next to him. His composure is relaxed and he seems to feel at ease. An unusual sight.

You know who he is. Everyone does. The Witcher, people had whispered in the corridors, the Witcher is coming. To you, he was nothing more than a myth up until three days ago. Childhood stories, the handmaiden told you, to keep you from running into the woods alone. When you grew to be a woman, you forgot about them, thinking they were a mixture of exaggeration and fear. However, when he walked into the great hall with long strides and planted a kiss on your hand, your impression changed. He is everything they say.  

You observe him, wondering what brings him out here this summer night. The chamber is far away from the guest wing and hasn’t been used in years. You are the only one who still comes up occasionally to sit on the balcony, listening to the howling of the wind and the rustling of leaves from the nearby forest. It comforts you in a strange way, makes you forget your life at court with all its intrigues, politics and bloodshed.

A soft breeze wafts through the room, moving the old heavy curtains ever so slightly. You shiver as your nipple harden against the soft fabric of your nightgown. It is the only thing you wearing. After all, you didn’t expect others to see you.

In this moment, the bell from the high tower sounds. Midnight. It takes you off guard and causes you to breath in sharply. He hears you and tilts his head almost inconceivably. Almost.

You bite your lip, contemplating your next move. The well-behaved royal daughter inside you tells you to leave. Turn around and go back to your room. Fall asleep and wonder if this encounter has only been a dream. The other daughter, the one who sneaks around the castle at midnight, wonders what will happen if you approach him. You decide to listen to her.

It takes you another three seconds to muster up the courage before you start walking towards the balcony, your bare feet making no sound on the cold stone. Outside the wind blows softly and goosebumps appear on your arms – a cloak would have been a good idea. You stand next to him, nervously fidgeting with the cloth of your gown. “Witcher.”

He does not acknowledge your presence, keeping his eyes fixated on the woods. You ask yourself if he sees something out there that stays hidden from you. After a moment, he grabs his wine and takes a sip and carefully places it back on the balustrade. “Princess Y/N.”

You nearly shudder by the way your name rolls of his tongue.

“How did you find this chamber?”

Again, he takes his time to answer. “Couldn’t sleep,” he finally says.

“Doesn’t answer my question,” you respond.

“Hmm.”  The Witcher takes another sip of the dark wine.

Disappointment and confusion dwells up inside of you. He irritates you, as you are not used to people talking to you like in that manner. Or not talking, in his case. Almost pouting you try a third time: “Why did you choose to come up here? There are other balconies, closer to your chambers.”

For the first time since you stepped outside, he looks at you. He’s beautiful. It is impossible to read his expression as he is eyeing you up, his gaze lingering just a moment too long on your chest. Suddenly, you become aware of the transparency of your nightgown and your cheeks flush. You clear your throat nervously and cross your arms.

The corners of his lips move upwards a little and he meets your eyes again. “You’re a curious one, aren’t you?”

“I am,” you reply a little louder than necessary to chase away the nervousness. “More than that, I’m the princess of this kingdom so I can order you to answer me if you choose to stay silent.” In your head, this sentence had sounded strong and confident. In reality however, it has more resemblance with a spoiled, overreacting, defiant child.

The Witcher seemingly has the same impression and raises his eyebrows.

You keep staring at him. It is too late to take the statement back so you might as well go with it.

“Do it then.”

“What?” A little bewildered you uncrossed your arms.

“Order me,” Geralt demands.

“You want me to order you?”

“That is what I said, yes,” he shrugs.

He’s playing with me, the thought shoots through your mind. “Alright then,” you straighten your composure and he mimics it. Now, Geralt of Rivia towers over you. You have to look up to him and the same feeling of irritation that you felt just moments before resurfaces. “I demand to know how you found this place and why you’re here.”

His lips twitch again and you realize, he’s suppressing another smile. “I’m here because I had a hard time falling asleep. In moments like this, I enjoy taking a walk. Instead of going outside, I decided to come here.”

You ponder shortly about the reason for his restlessness. Is it the full moon, shining too brightly, or simply nightmares? Does the Witcher, the Butcher of Blaviken, even experience such a mundane thing as nightmares? Do the monsters and people he kills on his way through the continent haunt him sometimes?

He continues to talk and pulls you out of your thoughts. “As to why I’m here, it’s a more … delicate story,” for a reason unknown, his voice becomes even lower.

You are intrigued. “Try me.”

“I saw this balcony while walking through the forest two nights ago.” A smirk appears on his face.

It clicks right away with you. Oh. Your cheeks flush, embarrassment taking over. You know what he is hinting at and close your eyes to gather your thoughts. Oh no. When you open them again, the smirk was still plastered on his face.

“You don’t know what you saw, Witcher.”

He chuckles. “Oh, I think I do, Y/N.”

There it is again – the shiver running down your spine as he pronounces your name with his sharp rivian accent. Absent-minded, you lick over your lips.

“How dare you watch –“

“I didn’t. Not for long anyways.”

You are doubtful whether to believe him. “You can hang for this.” Factually true. What he did was worthy of the death sentence.

“Princess,” Geralt takes a step towards you. Firewood and leather, you smell and it makes you feel dizzy. He lowers his head, mere inches separating you. “If you want to see me hang, you have to give reason to the king.” Factually true as well. “Please allow me to witness that particular conversation.”

“Fucking jerk,” you blurt out. How does he do it? How does he make you feel like a sixteen-year-old girl who has never talked to a boy before? You are a princess, damn beautiful and even more powerful. No man has the right to take your control away like this and leave you breathless, desperately looking for words. Especially not a Witcher.

He smiles and lowers his head a little further. “I know.”

His lips are now so close to yours they would probably touch when you said another word. You can sense the warmth radiating from his body and his eyes watching you intensly, observing every movement of your face. You are blissfully aware of what he wants in this moment, what he craves. Quickly you become aware that there might be certain things he still has in common with other men and now you are the one with the smirk on your lips. The Witcher notices it, yet reads your reaction wrong and faintly brushes his fingers against the side of your body. It’s all your body needs. A tingling sensation and your breath hitches. He takes it as a another sign and parts his lips and …

… you take a step backwards. As if someone woke him up from a daydream, he regains his composure, a hint of bewilderment running over his face.

“Careful, Witcher,” you reprimand him. “Don’t forget who’s standing in front of you.”

Having the control of the situation was what you wanted – now you have it. Not without shooting him a last mocking smile, you turn around and walk away with your head held high. Left on the balcony in a chilly summer night is a dumbfounded Witcher, watching you exit the room and disappear into the dark corridor.

 *** 

Over the next day, Geralt of Rivia leaves the castle with his bard. He is looking for the reason he traveled to the kingdom in the first time – a beast that already slaughtered half a dozen villagers.

He leaves early in the morning and as you pass him in the hall, you do not look at him. The back of your hand brushes against his, quickly, teasingly, as if you accidentally walked by too close. You feel his eyes on you and smile when he is out of sight.

When he returns in the evening, he announces his success. The monster is dead and the king and queen want to celebrate, so they order the staff to cook the finest dishes and bring out the best wine. He declines but four hours pass and the festivities start. People are dancing, drinking, and his companion sings of the Witchers latest victory.

At one point, Geralt is leaning against a pillar, drink in hand. He watches the crowd, seemingly bored, when his eyes trail in your direction and meet yours. This time, you don’t look away. The music and chatter around you start to blur as the two of you keep watching each other. Your fingers play with the heavy necklace resting against your bosom and he follows them as though he is captivated by the sight.

A glass falling, shattering and spilling its content all over the  ground ultimately brings you back to reality. You break the eye contact and abruptly stand up.

“I’m tired, please excuse me,” you mumble, unsure if someone hears you.

 *** 

One hour later, you are standing on the balcony again. 

When you had left the party you were honest in wanting to go to sleep. So back in your chambers, you changed out of your dress into your nightgown, undid your hair and laid down. However, something keeps you awake and it is not possible to fall asleep. You toss and turn and for whatever reason finally decide to come back up here.

It is not as quiet tonight as you are used to. People from the party keep coming out for a breath of fresh air and guards are patrolling the gardens. You watch them silently.

“Figured I’d find you here.”

You don’t flinch or wince at the low voice sounding from the dark room behind you, having expected him to come here.

The door falls shut and a sense of excitement flows through you. His steps come closer until you feel him standing directly behind you. His hot breath touches the skin of your neck and a shiver runs down your spine.

“Why did you choose to come up here? There are other balconies closer to your chamber,” Geralts voice is nothing more than a whisper.

You smile softly. “Couldn’t sleep,” you murmur, repeating his words from last night.

“Hmm…”

His hand is resting on your hip now, only the thin fabric of your gown separating him from your skin. The touch makes your heart pound faster and the same tingling sensation, you had felt before, appears.

“Y/N,” he whispers in your ear. “Tell me, I’m not reading this wrong …”

“This?” 

With a swift movement he spins you around and presses you up against the balustrade. You draw a sharp breath of air in surprise and are not sure if it’s the cold metal from his belt that causes your nipples to get hard or the way his hands hug your hips.

“This,” he repeated himself, his voice hoarse and his eyes as dark as the night sky.

Maybe it was the way your lips parted or that you tilted your head or how you moved your hips forward slightly – either way, Geralt realizes that he is not reading anything wrong at all and kisses you. 

Finally.

The kiss is rough and demanding and you feel the need to grab him by his jacket to hold on to him. One of his hands cups your face and his tongue slips in your mouth. He is possessive and you feel as if he tries to claim you, tries to make him his. Suddenly Geralt lifts you up onto the balustrade and you immediately wrap your legs around his hips, pulling him even closer. The ground is thirty feet beneath you and you do not care for dying this way.

“I got you,” he whispers and groans when you grind your hips against his. “I won’t let you fall.” 

He begins kissing down your neck, sucking on the soft skin. It will leave marks, you are sure of it, yet it doesn’t matter. One of his hand reaches your breasts, his thumb flicking over your hard nipples, and you sigh heavily as he plays with them.

“This gown,” he is out of breath when he speaks, “… it drives me crazy.”

You chuckle. “I know…”

A gasp leaves your lips when you hear the loud sound of fabric tearing and feel the wind on your bare skin. He kisses your collarbone and travels down further, his tongue reaching the delicate skin of your breasts, caressing your nipple playfully before closing his mouth around it.

You moan and your head falls back, eyes closed, and then you start pushing his jacket from his shoulders. You want to feel his skin too, touch it, kiss it. When it falls to the ground, you tug at his shirt, your hands sliding underneath it. It’s not enough, you think or maybe you say it out lout because you feel Geralt smiling against your skin.

You grab his belt, opening it, breathing heavily and letting out soft whimpers as he bites and sucks on your skin. When the pants finally spring open, they free his impressive length and the sight of him, hard and dripping for you, makes you shudder. You reach for it, enclosing it, slowly moving your hand up and down. Geralt groans deeply and pulls away to meet your lips. He holds you tightly as the kiss hastens together with the movements of your hands. Your insides twirl at the sounds he makes.

“I need you…” The expression on his face is pure bliss. Eyes closed, mouth opened slightly. 

He is a sight for the gods.

“Then take me, Witcher.”

He doesn’t ask a second time and positions himself in front of your wet and throbbing cunt. His hot shaft against your skin, he curses when he feels how wet you are, and every fiber of your body wants him – wants him deep inside of you, filling you completely, fucking you until you forget your own name. 

When he finally does, he is not gentle. He enters you with one hard trust and a loud moan escapes your lips. He stretches you far, so far, it almost pains you – and yet it is the most delicious pain you ever felt. You pull him in for another kiss, swallowing another curse from his lips. The moment he starts moving, pleasure overcomes you like a wave and you bite down on his lips so hard you are scared it draws blood. Geralt slides in and out of you, pressing your leg, forcing it to spread open even wider. You gasp at the new angle and your muscle clench around him. The two of you are panting heavily, groaning and curses fill the silence of the night.

It doesn’t take long and you feel a familiar heat start arousing in your body. Spots appear in front of your eyes and you scratch his back in an attempt to feel him closer to you.

“Oh, fuck – you fill me so good!” You are so close, so damn close – 

The Witcher stops moving abruptly and you whimper, demanding to know what he think he’s doing. He doesn’t give you an answer and instead places a hand over your mouth.

“Quiet,” he murmurs into your ear between heavy breathing. “There are people outside.”

Only now you hear them talking, merely a few feet beneath. Guests from the festivities, you figure. Frustrated, you try to bite his calloused fingers covering your lips.

“Ah, Princess,” his hoarse voice in your ear makes you twitch and as you roll your hips against him, his breath hitches. “You don’t want them to see you like this, do you? Hot, sweaty, filled by my thick cock –“

You moan against his fingers.

He looks at you in surprise, a teasing smile on his lips. “Or maybe you do?” Slowly, he begins to move again. The pace is pure torture and your hips rock up, begging him to take you. He moans in your ear. “Does it turn you on, Princess? Letting me fuck you like this, making you beg and quiver underneath me and for the whole world to see?” Every other word is punctuated by hard thrusts and your whimpers.

“Is this why I saw you touching yourself three nights ago?” Geralt fucks you harder and faster, the sound of naked bodies smacking against each other filling the air. You don’t think it’s possible but his words make you even wetter, your slick juices running down your leg. 

“Who was the man you thought about when I saw you, Y/N?” Now it’s not a simple question anymore, it’s a demand. “Who made you cum like that?” He is ordering you to answer him and it turns you on beyond imagination.

He removes his hand to steady himself on the balustrade and you moan so loudly that if anyone is still standing underneath the balcony, they definitely heard you now. However, your mind isn’t occupied with that particular concern.

“You,” you admit breathlessly. “I thought about you … touching me … taking me …” It’s the truth. It was the day you met him for the first time and the handsome Witcher wouldn’t leave your mind. So you came up here, unaware someone was watching you. When you touched yourself that night, you thought about what he would do to you. How he would take you, where he would kiss you. Yet, your imagination did not even come close to the way he feels inside you right now.

“Gods,” he groans, losing all control, fucking you violently, taking you as he pleases. You repeat his name over and over again, begging him not to stop, to never ever stop. Then your legs start shaking and you hear him calling out your name before you come all over his cock, muscles clenching around him. A wave of heat and pleasure hits you, taking over your body and mind and you cling onto him desperately, his name still on your lips. He follows shortly after, cursing and releasing himself inside of you.

Your breath trembles as you ride out the last waves of your orgasm and he keeps holding you close and safe in his arms.

After a few seconds or minutes, you truly are not sure, you plant a soft kiss on his shoulder. Geralt looks up, his breathing slowing down, and he pushes a strand of hair out of your face. A smile appears on his face. “I must say, I’ve come to understand what you like about this balcony.”

You snort. “It’s still my balcony,” you claim cheekily.

“Maybe the princess is kind enough to let me visit some times.”

“Maybe,” you lean in for a last kiss. It is sweet this time. Sweet and – in a way – loving. “If you behave yourself.”

“I’ll do my best,” he promises. Then he carefully pulls out of you and you sigh softly before you slide down the balustrade.

Geralt dresses himself, picking his jacket up from the ground, but when you attempt to do the same you see what is left of your dress. It isn’t much. “How am I supposed to get to my chambers now? Naked?”, you propose sarcastically.

His eyes travel up and down your bare skin at the question as he buttons up his pants and he licks his lips. “Maybe not at all,” he suggests seductively, a teasing smirk on his lips and you both laugh when he lifts you up and carries you inside the chamber.

Nearby, the old bell in the high tower sounds. Midnight.

***

For the sake of the story, imagine the balustrade of the balcony to be rather wide :D

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[playing--koi]

Errand Boy

Pairing: Geralt of Rivia x Reader

Warning(s): SMUT (18+), language, unprotected sex, infidelity

Summary: Your father, the king, has been employing Geralt of Rivia to do many jobs for him, however most find it to be quite curious considering Geralt doesn’t typically make a habit of returning to the same employers. Perhaps he’s found another purpose besides coin?

Word Count: 3.6k

MASTERLIST

Jaskier sat idly as he waited for Geralt to fetch him at the pub. Strumming his guitar lazily and nursing a beer was all he could bring himself to do in his state of boredom. Not many people were inhabiting the bar, so he had no one to entertain with his tales of grandeur. He could only imagine whatever task Geralt was doomed to endure in search of profit. Something about ghouls? He couldn’t even bother to remember what silly little task the king had sent Geralt chasing this time.

For the life of him, he really couldn’t figure out what was possessing his friend to keep up with the pathetic jobs this king had been demanding. Geralt was usually so picky with what he agreed to and the clientele he kept, usually very nomadic in his style. But, as usual, when he questioned Geralt, he wasn’t granted a response—but more of a grumble of warning.

His internal monologue was abruptly halted by the wooden door of the pub slamming against the wall. Speak of the devil. Geralt looked angry, in his signature countenance. His mane was tangled and knotted with leaves and dirt; his face sporting a few bruises and minor cuts, but nothing too alarming. Nothing like the aftermath of a more frightening beast. He could assume that the rest of Geralt’s body was fine as he wasn’t displaying any pain or difficulty on his trek to the bar, but he could never be sure with all of the leather that hid his skin.

Geralt sat down heavily on the barstool and tapped the counter twice, signaling for a beer. Once the barkeep slid it to the spot right in front of him, he began chugging it.

“All of this attitude because of a ghoul?” Jaskier chided. “You’ve gone soft on us, Geralt!” The white-haired man wordlessly narrowed his eyes at the jester, only lowering his beer for a moment before continuing.

But that sour face was never enough to dissuade Jaskier before. He was determined to get to the bottom of this very un-Geralt behavior.

“So, may I ask when you’re gonna be done being the king’s little errand boy?”

“I’m not an errand boy,” Geralt growled in response. “—it’s steady coin.”

“Yeah, I’m definitely not buying that,” Jaskier could see right through the bullshit that the Witcher was so expertly feeding him, “there are monsters everywhere and people who need help ridding of them everywhere. And those people have coin as well,”.

Geralt’s silence, while annoying, was slightly exciting to Jaskier, considering it meant he’d struck some sort of chord.

Jaskier sighed. “Look, Geralt—it’s not like I’m angry that we keep going back. Just curious is all. How could I be angry when it means I can continue to behold the king’s daughter—” The bard pursed his lips, no doubt imagining some sort of filthy scenario, “—now that is one fine specimen,”.

Geralt’s head whipped around so quickly at the mention of the princess, Jaskier almost thought his neck would snap. The mountain of a man nearly had his teeth bared. “Ah-ha!” He pointed victoriously at the Witcher. “That’s why you keep going back, I knew it!” Jaskier fancied himself a sleuth at the discovery.

“Shut up,” Geralt hissed out.

“Oh, relax, buddy. Your little crush is safe with me,”. He patted the other man on the back.

~

“Ah, yes! He returns,” the king proclaimed as Geralt and Jaskier’s presence was announced to the throne room, where a party of sorts had nearly bored you to tears. Your head immediately perked up at the mention of the duo, your once-heavy eyelids now light as a feather. You watched as the two both walked in, one’s stride certainly commanding more respect than his counterpart.

You could feel your husband’s eyes on you, suspicious as to why you were suddenly so interested, but his gaze was soon otherwise occupied by some other dame. It wasn’t like you cared if he knew of your interest. You knew of his continuous conquests and, since you were nowhere near ready to have children, you hadn’t touched each other since the marriage was consummated. It was purely a marriage of political gain and you had no problem with that. But one thing you hated was when he suddenly got possessive if he saw your eyes wander.

The band went silent, as did most other conversations in the room at the entrance of such a well-known figure—known for his bravery and abilities. Your father congratulating him on another job well done, but you barely heard any of it, too busy staring at him; hair deliciously unkempt and face sporting light signs of a struggle. His brows were furrowed as they usually were, showing his attention to what the king was saying.

You managed to come back to reality as Geralt was agreeing to sit in on the party and ‘let loose’, as your father had put it. But everything about the man in question made you wonder if it was even possible for him to relax in such a garish setting. The bard accompanying him, however, seemed not to have a problem with it at all as he was already grabbing himself a glass of wine and introducing himself to the company. Primarily the female company.

You giggled slightly at his antics as your eyes slowly trailed back to the Witcher. You found that he was being ushered up the few stairs leading to the large table that the royals were sat at. Where you were sat. Oh, this was just perfect, the ideas floating through your mind were reminiscent of a Cheshire cat.

Due to your brother being away on military duties, the chair to your left was vacant, so he was invited by your father to take that place as the ‘guest of honor who’d been a great help to the province’.

His presence to your left was like a boulder weighing on your mind. While it was exciting, it was also cruel to sit him next to you because it was much harder to watch him discreetly that way.

You nearly flinched as you felt the weight of your husband’s hand make contact with your thigh, wordlessly declaring himself to be your controller. It wasn’t an announcement to the rest of the party, however, because they couldn’t even see it due to the long tablecloth obscuring their vision. Oh no, it was an announcement to you and the object of your desires. You clenched your jaw to keep from dismissing his overbearing gesture, masked as some sort of romantic affection that you knew to be in vain. You had no problem spitting it back in his face, but you were encouraged to keep those matters private.

Just the arrival of Geralt was enough to make any man feel inferior and you couldn’t help but feel entertained that your husband was so upset by it. So, instead of moving his hand away, you decided to turn to Geralt and start a conversation while you knew your husband’s attention was on you.

As you faced him, you could see his golden eyes overtaken with confusion, brows furrowing. “Won’t you and your companion stay at the castle tonight?” You inquired. “I can imagine it’s been a long day and we have plenty of room to spare at the castle—” you turned back to look at your husband innocently “—don’t we, darling?” Your husband was clearly not thrilled with the idea, but nodded nonetheless.

You turned back to look at the Witcher yet again, waiting for a response. “I suppose the bard and I could use a place to stay,” you almost whimpered at the sound of his voice, deep and gritty and rough.

“Perfect,” you smirked, “I’ll let my father know to have two rooms prepared,”.

As the night continued and the music quickened, your husband eventually invited you to dance and you begrudgingly agreed. He held you tightly to him, leaving no room between your two bodies as he spun you around the room and soaked in the attention that was on you both. You grew very disillusioned with all of it long ago, but his bursting ego seemed to bask in it and would probably continue to until the day he died.

You could feel a pair of eyes following you specifically throughout the seemingly endless song you’d been trapped dancing to; and you hoped more than anything that they belonged to the guest of honor. But the endless spinning made it difficult to check.

Finally the song came to a halt and you were free to return to your seat, nursing your wine until the party’s glorious end.

~

Once everyone had retreated to their separate quarters of the castle and you were freed from the watchful glare of your husband, you were left alone with your harrowing desires and never-ending thoughts of a certain Witcher between your thighs. You tossed and turned in bed, mindlessly rubbing your thighs together in search of any form of release. While you enjoyed the large bed you slept in, it felt so much emptier in times of want.

You couldn’t take it anymore. You needed something.

Leaping from your bed, you tiptoed to the door and pulled it open, careful to work slowly and avoid any creaking. You had no idea which room Geralt was given, but you were too dazed to care, simply willing to look through all of them in search.

Your feet were freezing against the marble floors and your nipples pebbled through the fabric of your nightgown; you were too desperate to remember a robe or footwear, but you couldn’t be bothered to go back for them. If things worked out according to plan, you’d be warmed up in a jiffy.

As you arrived at the first room in question, you could hear loud sexual noises on the other side of the door that sounded suspiciously like the bard and a female companion. At least, you sincerely hoped it was the bard otherwise you’d be seeking vengeance. You were excited for him while also feeling extremely jealous that you weren’t in the same…situation.

You continued your search throughout the the interwoven hallways and corridors, your lust-filled brain proving useless in your search. Your nearly automated search continued before you gasped as you felt a hand envelope your bicep, pulling you against the wall. Your back would’ve slammed against the barrier had a strong arm not wrapped around your waist and stopped any form of collision, gently placing you so that your back was resting against the cool stone walls, goosebumps arising on your skin.

Your eyes had tightly shut upon feeling the need to brace yourself, but once your eyes opened and the culprit was revealed, you’d never felt more satiated.

The amber eyes staring back into yours held a twinge of cockiness at finding you in this position—aimlessly wandering the hallways in search of him. He caged you in, an arm circling your waist as his other hand pressed against the stone beside your head; successfully trapping you as if you’d even make an attempt to flee. His hot breath lingered across the skin of your face as you both remained silent, staring at each other. His scent was a beautiful blend of smoke, leather, and eucalyptus.

He was the first to break the silence, deep voice guiding you deeper into your trance of lust. “Couldn’t wait another few moments for me to come and find you, princess?” He cocked an eyebrow.

“I was afraid that my husband’s wordless warnings may have scared you off.” You whispered back, challenging his alleged fearlessness. “And I missed having you between my legs. It’s been too long,”.

A ghost of a smile crossed his lips. “It’s been but a few days, your highness,” he stated.

You smirked, eyes darting down to his lips then quickly returning to his own, “my statement still stands, Witcher. It’s been too long,”.

He captured your lips in an intense kiss; one of longing and passion. While he would never say it, you knew that the time spent apart was just as unbearable to him as it was to you. His signature flavor had already become familiar to your desperate mind, looking for a semblance of him in every delicacy you’d tasted since. Soon enough, the hand pressed against the wall joined the other, wrapping around your waist and pulling you impossibly closer.

One of your own hands settled on his chest while the other found its place on the back of his neck, keeping him in place as you both explored each other. His overwhelming presence of muscles and angular ridges pressed against you so wonderfully as his thick thigh found its way between your legs. You gasped for air as your mouths separated, now staring into each other’s eyes hungrily.

“So I see the prince didn’t exactly scare you off,” you teased, a glimmer of jest in your eyes.

His own squinted in response. “I was one moment away from ripping his arms from his shoulders,” without any forewarning, his hand administered a spank to your clothed buttocks, granting a hiss from you, “because this body is all mine, princess,” he whispered as his lips now made their way down your neck. He nipped, suckled, and caressed the sensitive areas of your throat with his mouth. He tried to pull noises from you, but your nerves prevented you from indulging in any vocal pleasures.

Soon enough, he grew fed up of the quiet you were both doomed to obey in the hallways, so he grasped your thighs and pulled you to wrap your legs around his waist. He began walking you through corridors, but you paid no attention to where he was headed. You trusted that he knew where your quarters were located after the many times you’d both given into a shared midnight tryst. While you should’ve probably proceeded with immense caution, you couldn’t find a care in the world as you grasped his mane in your greedy hands, whispering a simple, “please hurry,”. And hurry, he did.

You were soon deposited back onto your own luxurious sheets, his frantic movements calculated as he stripped you of your dressing gown and left your naked at the foot of your bed, your legs hanging off the edge as you stared up at his towering person. He stared down at you, worshipping your physique with his eyes; the soft edges of your body awaiting him as your chest rose and fell with each delicate breath you allowed.

He soon knelt, his face now level with yours as he held you tight against him and continued his earlier assault on your neck. Your breaths were now emitting other varied sounds: whimpers, gasps, pleas as his hand slithered up your thigh and made contact with your clit, slowly circling the bundle of nerves, your hips bucking at the unexpected stimulation. Your back arched, chasing any form of pleasure he’d give you.

His lips broke contact with the flesh of your throat, now pulling back to watch your expression of pleasure. “Yes, Princess,” he praised, “who does this beautiful cunt belong to?” He challenged. “Is it that little prince of yours?”

“No,” you desperately begged, your body chasing any sort of liberation, “It belongs to you. My body belongs to you,”.

Your eyes were clamped shut, so you were unable to see the soft grin in response to your words. “That’s right, princess, that’s what I wanted to hear,”. Before you could even tell what was happening, he flipped your body over; your stomach now pressed against the bed as his strong hands held your hips, slowly rubbing and pinching at the skin of your ass.

“Look at this pretty little ass,” he mused, softly spanking at the skin of your left cheek. You moaned as he massaged the skin he’d previously slapped, the delectable paradox of pleasure and pain overwhelming you after a long night of vexing desire.

Without any sort of warning, he spread your ass and licked a long striped from your clit to your pert little hole, deep voice groaning the entire distance. You let out an obscene moan of surprise, never having felt a lover as committed to your pleasure as Geralt. His name left your lips in praise.

“That’s right, kitten—” the warmth of his breath invaded every inch of your heat, “let me hear all your little sounds while I devour this pretty little ass,”. He’d rarely spoken to you like this and you had a sneaking suspicion that it was a reaction to seeing your husband get so possessive with you, but no matter the reason, it had you so turned on you could barely see straight. Your fists clenched around the fabric of the sheets, trying to find any outlet for the euphoria you were feeling.  

His tongue and lips made quick work of your core, slurping at the surrounding area and lightly caressing your bud. Every few movements, his tongue would reconnect with your tight ring of muscle, earning a gasp each time. He alternated between that and sucking at your bundle, finding a pattern that your body reacted best to. Your hips were grinding against the sheets mindlessly, no doubt soaking both the fabric and Geralt’s face as you rode toward your high.

The fingers on both of his hands continued to dig into the skin of you ass, pulling you closer to his mouth and dragging you to the edge with each sound of his own satisfaction that passed his lips. Without any thought, you moved one of your hands—from its place gripping the blanket— around your back to grip his hair, pulling at it as he coaxed more noises from you; just remembering that he liked a bit of roughness while he worked you over. As he felt you nearing the end, he moved both of his hands around your thighs, pressing you tight up against his face and holding you steady as you prepared to burst, the searing red feeling of orgasm washing over you. His arms holding your thighs up were the only thing keeping you from collapsing onto the bed into a heap of shaking limbs. One your ears were done ringing, you could hear the sounds of fabric hitting the ground as he no doubt rid himself of his clothes at the foot of your bed.

Quickly aware of his own release not having been met yet, you pulled yourself up on your forearms and flipped yourself over to face him. His pupils were dilated so heavily, you could almost swear that his whole iris was black, as he smirked at you with undoubtable pride. His forehead glimmered with sweat and his partial bun was disheveled, no doubt due to your pulling.

You grasped at the back of his neck, pulling him in for a kiss as you tasted your own juices mixed in with his musk. You pulled him forward as you crawled yourself further onto the bed, him chasing your movements and making sure your mouths didn’t part. When you could feel the pillows at the top of your bed, you motioned for him to lie back on the bed.

He stared up at your figure as you straddled his legs, his member pressed up against his belly. You gripped it with one of your hands as you sunk down, his manhood slowly entering you, the delicious stretch of his thick cock enough to overpower you as you held onto his shoulders tightly. “Fuck, princess. That’s it,”. You mewled at his approval no matter how many times you’d heard it. He sat up straighter the further you descended onto his cock, his body closing every semblance of distance.

His hands found their way to your hips, guiding your rhythm as you rode him. Golden eyes staring at you with praise and awe as he took one of your pert nipples into his mouth. His gigantic hands just kept pulling you into him, blurring the lines between where each of you started and finished, as you both indulged in this realm of pleasure together. You yanked at his hair, drawing his lips back into a searing kiss, teeth clattering and heavy breaths veiling over one another. Your hips bucked against his, both frantically chasing your bliss. Teetering over the edge together, both bodies drenched in sweat and yearning as you met the white hot feeling of completion.

Letting out the most obscene noises, your legs no longer able to hold you up as he pulled you into a laying position beside him on the bed. Both facing each other, your release slowly dwindled as you returned to your body, finding his near-glowing eyes again in the darkness.

Once you both were no longer panting, you let a small smile adorn your face, unafraid of the vulnerability after the activities you’d both shared. And, while most people might never get to see it, a small beam adorned his face as well, his arms slithering around your waist and pulling you closer.

“Let’s hope the king has at least a few more jobs for me,” he whispered into the darkness.

You giggled at his antics, gleeful that he wasn’t sick of you yet. “I’m sure he’ll find something for you to do,”.

A/N: Another Geralt fic because I couldn’t resist! I would sincerely LOVE any sort of a feedback (as I am a whore for all comments) and I hope you all like it!! Perhaps leave it a like? Maybe even a reblog? Anyways, thank you so much for reading!!!! Have a lovely day, babies!! x g

geralt tag list: @alwayshave-faith​ @fairytale07​ @whatawildone​

[imyourbratzdoll]

𝐀 𝐖𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐞'𝐬 𝐅𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐲𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐞

welcome to the land of fairytales, where desires you never knew you had will come true. thank you @georgiapeach30513 & @royalsweetteaa for helping me with this.

18+ only please, do not copy, repost or translate my work. You are responsible for your own media consumption.

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𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

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!warning! these fics will include inter-species relations, size differences, innocent kink, age gaps and dark content.

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𝐅𝐢𝐜𝐬:

𝒊𝒕'𝒔 𝒂 𝒃𝒂𝒅 𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒃𝒆 𝒔𝒍𝒆𝒆𝒑𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒃𝒆𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒚 - pairing: prince ransom drysdale x princess reader

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𝒎𝒂𝒚𝒃𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒍𝒆 𝒎𝒆𝒓𝒎𝒂𝒊𝒅 𝒘𝒂𝒔𝒏'𝒕 𝒂𝒔 𝒔𝒘𝒆𝒆𝒕 - pairing: prince frank adler x mermaid reader

೫˚🕊️❀ *ૢ🍄೫˚🎀

𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒍𝒆𝒈𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒉𝒆'𝒍𝒍 𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒘 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒍𝒅 - pairing: street rat lloyd hansen x princess reader

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𝒔𝒉𝒆 𝒍𝒐𝒔𝒕 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒏 𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒈𝒍𝒂𝒔𝒔 𝒔𝒍𝒊𝒑𝒑𝒆𝒓 - pairing: prince lance tucker x maid reader

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𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒂 𝒃𝒆𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒚 𝒘𝒉𝒐 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒓𝒆𝒆 𝒃𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒔 - pairing: beast ari levinson, beast logan howlett, beast geralt of rivia x princess reader

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𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒘𝒓𝒐𝒏𝒈 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒑𝒐𝒊𝒔𝒐𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏 𝒎𝒆𝒏 - pairing: bossy clark kent, sleazy johnny storm, dirty curtis everett, brawny steve rogers, cranky bucky barnes, tipsy dean winchester, horny sam wilson x witch/princess reader

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𝒃𝒂𝒎𝒃𝒊 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒋𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒂 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒑𝒊𝒅 𝒅𝒐𝒆 - pairing: hunter lee bodecker x shifter reader

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𝒘𝒉𝒐 𝒌𝒏𝒆𝒘 𝒂𝒍𝒊𝒄𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒂 𝒘𝒉𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒊𝒏 𝒘𝒐𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒅 - pairing: mad hatter jefferson x dreamer reader 

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𝒔𝒉𝒆 𝒇𝒐𝒍𝒍𝒐𝒘𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒚𝒆𝒍𝒍𝒐𝒘 𝒃𝒓𝒊𝒄𝒌 𝒓𝒐𝒂𝒅 𝒐𝒏𝒍𝒚 𝒕𝒐 𝒇𝒊𝒏𝒅 𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒔𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒂 𝒉𝒐𝒆 - pairing: scarecrow jake wyler, tin-man rick grimes, cowardly lion jake jensen, oz andy barber x lost reader

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𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒘𝒆𝒓𝒆𝒏’𝒕 𝒂𝒔 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒑𝒊𝒅 𝒂𝒔 𝒔𝒉𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉𝒕 - pairing: hansel steve kemp, male gretel nick fowler x witch reader

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𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒄𝒕 𝒉𝒆𝒓, 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏 𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒍𝒆 𝒓𝒆𝒅 𝒉𝒐𝒐𝒅 - pairing: big bad wolf luke danes x little red riding hood reader

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𝒔𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒂𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒇𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒍 𝒎𝒂𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒍𝒖𝒓𝒌𝒔 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒉𝒂𝒅𝒐𝒘𝒔 - pairing: tarzan tangerine x jane reader

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𝒔𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒂𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒃𝒆 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘𝒏 𝒂𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒈𝒊𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒔 𝒘𝒉𝒐𝒓𝒆 - pairing: giant august walker x female jack reader

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𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒌𝒆𝒓𝒃𝒆𝒍𝒍 𝒘𝒂𝒔𝒏’𝒕 𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒆𝒅 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒏𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒂𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒅 - pairing: captain hook negan, captain hook jack sparrow x tinkerbell reader

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𝒕𝒐𝒐 𝒉𝒐𝒕, 𝒕𝒐𝒐 𝒄𝒐𝒍𝒅, 𝒋𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒓𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 - pairing: alpha bear ari levinson, alpha bear henry cavill, alpha bear lee bodecker x goldilocks reader

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𝒔𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒄𝒊𝒐𝒖𝒔 𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒍𝒆 𝒔𝒘𝒂𝒏 - pairing: prince steve rogers x princess/swan hybrid reader

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𝒐𝒉, 𝒉𝒐𝒘 𝒅𝒖𝒎𝒃 𝒔𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒔… 𝒅𝒐𝒏’𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘, 𝒏𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒓𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒓𝒆𝒆 𝒎𝒆𝒓𝒎𝒂𝒊𝒅𝒔 - pairing: mermaid jennifer check, mermaid rosalie hale, mermaid jane smith x clueless reader

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𝒋𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒐𝒖𝒔𝒚 𝒘𝒂𝒔𝒏’𝒕 𝒂𝒏 𝒆𝒎𝒐𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒍𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒌𝒏𝒆𝒘 - pairing: mufasa ari levinson x scar sergei kravinoff (kraven the hunter) x lioness reader

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[ro-is-struggling]

The Princess and The Wolf || PART 1 || Geralt of Rivia x Reader

Summary: A look inside the complicated love story between the runaway princess and the lone wolf that saved her.

Warnings: fluff, angst, mutual pining, really bittersweet, heavy narration and not much dialogue, female reader (use of she/her pronouns//reader is a princess), mentions of blood and injuries (reader heals Geralt’s wounds), my shitty titles (I’m so bad at it, I’m so sorry)

English is not my first language

Word count: 5000

Notes: Look,  I was in the mood for writing something cute and fluffy and magical (but also it's Geralt so it as to be angsty). I know those are probably not the words that come to your mind when you think of Geralt, but let me change your mind! Also I love writing healers/nature witches. Can you tell my fav character as a kid was Flora from Winx Club? 

This is my first time writing something like this (as in this style of narrative and for this character in particular) so be gentle!

PART 2 || PART 3

Geralt was not used to feeling that way. In his many years of living on this earth, he had never missed anyone the way he missed her. He was a lone wolf who, despite having his pack, enjoyed traveling from town to town with his horse as his only companion. He enjoyed the silence and tranquility, and did not tend to miss home too much —finding that his annual visits in the winter were more than enough to catch up with his brothers while healing his wounds. 

However, he did miss her when he was traveling. He missed feeling the warm touch of her skilled hands on his wounds as she healed him. He missed waking up to the sound of her laughter, talking to her cat as she prepared breakfast. He even missed her scolding and the look of concern she gave him every time he arrived at the door of her cabin hidden in the forest, injured. She made him feel special, often occupying his thoughts and dreams. He knew what it was, but refused to call it by name —if he did, it became real and he didn't know if he was ready for that.

Such was his longing to see her that he was almost happy to be wounded in battle, finding the perfect excuse to show up at her door once again. His wounds were deep, the beast's venom slowly spreading through his system. Were it not for the fact that he was close to her home, Geralt was fairly certain he would not have reached her in time. His healing skills were limited and only served to make his journey to the hut more bearable. Yet, the closer he got to her, the less his body ached. The promise of her company alone was enough to cure his afflictions.

Geralt was weak when he arrived at her door. From the way her natural cheerful expression turned into a worried grimace when she saw him on the other side of the wood, it was safe to assume he was not looking good. She rushed him to bed, asking him a thousand questions as she paced back and forth, gathering the necessary herbs and potions to treat his wounds. He answered no more than necessary, giving her just enough information to treat him and sparing her the details of his journey. 

He was distracted, his mind clouded by the lack of blood and the poison spreading through his body, but also by the sweet floral scent that surrounded him. It was a perfume he could only describe as the very essence of her, a mixture of jasmine, roses and a hint of vanilla that followed her everywhere, leaving a special scent in the air that assaulted the witcher's nostrils, rendering him powerless. 

"Drink this," she told him as she offered him a vial of a pale green liquid. It was a potion that would help with the poison, she explained, though he needed no reason to obey her. Geralt trusted her completely and would have drank anything she offered without question. 

"Try to hold still, this might sting a little." She warned him, pushing his clothes aside so she could treat the deep gash in his chest. She smeared her fingers with a paste that had a peculiar odor, rubbing it over her hands to warm it before directing them to the wound. Geralt was met with a burning sensation that spread from his wound to the rest of his chest as soon as her fingers made contact with his skin. He let out a grunt, fighting the spasms of his muscles to allow her to work comfortably. However, the burning was soon replaced by a sensation of pleasant warmth as she uttered an incantation in the ancient tongue. 

He concentrated on the harmonious sound of her voice, letting the words transport him back to that first time they had found themselves in a similar situation. He had been hired by the king to assassinate the beast that had killed the princess. It was said that it prowled the forest after sunset, it was there that the young girl had met her fatal fate. Her love for nature and the long walks under the moonlight was what had ultimately made her an easy prey for that monster. Geralt did not retain the specific details of that story, only what was useful to analyze his enemy. Had he done so, he might have realized that there were strange things in the story that would make any Witcher suspicious. And perhaps then he would not have been so surprised when he found the princess very much alive and well, wandering through the forest alone.

"Please, don't make me go back there." She had begged him after explaining that she had taken advantage of the beast's convenient appearance to escape from her home. "There's nothing waiting for me back there, only a future of unhappiness and subjugation to a man that doesn't respect me."

"I was hired to kill a beast and that's all I intend to do." Was his reply. He was more than ready to continue on his way, to leave her behind to sort out her fate while he dealt with what he had been hired to do, but the princess did not give him the opportunity. She begged for his help to escape from there, she didn't care where he took her as long as he got her as far away from her kingdom as possible. Her escape had not been planned, but a last minute decision that had not allowed her to pack supplies or even steal a horse from the stable. Still, she had been able to travel a fairly long way on foot, but it was evident that she could not continue like this much longer.

"I can't pay you in coin," she told him. "But I can make sure you survive your battle."

Geralt felt sorry for the young woman and was going to help her without asking for anything in return. He really doubted that she had anything valuable to offer him. He was a Witcher, an assassin highly trained in both combat and the arts of magic, tools he used to keep himself alive in the high-risk situations he lived in on a regular basis. However, his mercy proved useful after the battle, when the young princess demonstrated her healing abilities.

His wounds were deep, he was tired and his skin was painted with the reddish sticky liquid that ran through the beast's veins. But still, he was able to crawl to safety where she waited for him with his horse Roach. When she saw him approaching on the horizon she jumped to her feet, hands full of herbs she had gathered in preparation for that moment. Geralt could see nothing but a halo of light in the distance, a figure of hope running towards him with hair flying in the wind as it called his name.

He collapsed against a tree trunk, his breath hitching as the world around him became blurry and dark. He was not unconscious, but neither was he able to process what was happening around him. His memories of that moment were blurry, like a dream slipping from his mind upon awakening. The only thing he remembered clearly was a sweet female voice calling him back to life as soft hands caressed his skin, spreading their comforting warmth inside him.

Geralt had felt peace for the first time in a long while as her hands worked their magic on him, just as he felt at this very moment as her fingers caressed his skin once again. It always happened, her touch alone flooded his insides with peace and tranquility. Maybe that was why he missed her so much, maybe that was why he found himself visiting her for the simplest injuries that even he could heal. Unlike other healers, she was the only one who could calm his tormented soul, the only one who could quiet his thoughts and remove all traces of bitter negativity from his heart. 

"Rest." He heard her whisper in his ear and as much as he wanted to, he didn't have the strength to open his eyes and look at her one more time. Geralt knew he was tired, but only now, in the quiet of her company and wrapped in the warmth of her body, did he realize just how much. 

When he opened his eyes again it was morning. The rays of sunlight streaming through the window touched his face in a warm caress. His pupils were forced to adjust to the light as he opened his eyes, narrowing to almost two slits identical to those of the black cat resting beside him. The animal meowed contentedly as he shifted between the sheets —letting out a grunt of pain at the heaviness of his muscles. He stroked the cat as it purred at him, scratching its head and behind its ears as he knew it liked, before making an effort to get out of bed. His body ached and he still felt tired, but given what he had been through, he was lucky to be alive. 

Geralt heard the sweet sound of the young woman's voice echoing down the hallway like a melodious murmur that filled his heart with joy. It came from the garden, so that was where he went. He found her having a conversation with Roach, brushing the horse's mane while complaining about him to the animal as if it could talk back. They were harmless comments that he knew she didn't mean, though he'd heard them in the past —complaints about his recklessness and lack of responsibility as a horse owner were never lacking. She was especially fond of animals, so she loved to talk to his horse as if he were a human being. She did it with her cat as well, and with any animal that crossed her path. Geralt found it entertaining, though a bit excessive —especially when they traveled together and she made him stop every so often to pet and chat with every rabbit and squirrel in their path.

"What are you doing out of bed? You need to rest!" She scolded him as soon as her eyes landed on him. As firm as her gaze was, he could see concern rather than anger or annoyance reflected in them.

"I would have stayed in bed if I hadn't felt the need to come out and defend my good name." He played along, the corner of his mouth curving ever so slightly upward in an almost imperceptible movement. "I can't have you filling Roach's head with lies about me."

"They are not lies!" She grumbled, folding her arms in exaggerated annoyance. "You are reckless and you don't give poor Roach enough attention." At her words, the animal thumped its front left paw against the ground as if it understood what she had said and agreed. Geralt huffed, shaking his head slightly in disbelief.

"You already turned her against me." She laughed and it was like music to his ears, a melodious tone that awakened happiness within him. 

"I don't have to, she is a smart creature." She fired back, giving the horse a couple of gentle pets before setting aside what she was doing to focus her attention on him. "But seriously, you need to get back in bed."

"I'm fine." It wasn't a complete lie, but it wasn't the truth either. She looked at him steadily and Geralt knew she thought she looked intimidating, but with the way the light of the rising sun framed her figure and the gentle breeze moving her hair, he saw nothing more than a forest fairy. The most beautiful and innocent fairy he had ever seen. He was tempted to challenge her just to tease her and make her grumble. She looked adorable when she pointed an accusatory finger at him believing that something she did or said could intimidate the Witcher. In the end he decided not to do so and instead accompanied her back into the house, though he did not lie down again, but sat with her at the kitchen table. 

She insisted on preparing breakfast on her own, arguing that he was her guest and that he was badly injured, so Geralt had the opportunity to admire her as she moved about the room, humming under her breath melodies he did not recognize. It made him genuinely happy to see her acting so freely around him, thinking about how far their relationship had come. When he had first met her, she was far from the confident, free spirit she was now. She was quiet and reserved, barely asking him questions from time to time to fill the void of silence and always apologizing for everything.

It was more than mere distrust of a stranger, Geralt could see in her eyes that she was trapped inside herself, a cocoon of fears and insecurities that trapped in its intricate net the beautiful butterfly that lurked within. She would show her true colors from time to time, like when he would catch her talking to Roach when she thought he was sleeping, or when she would make them stop to help a wounded animal. But she always apologized immediately afterwards, as if she realized too late that she had done something wrong, something she wasn't supposed to do. It made Geralt wonder what kind of life she had left behind when she ran away from home. 

He was not a man of many words and was used to traveling alone and in silence, accompanied only by the chirping of birds and the crunching of dry leaves under Roach's hooves, but when it came to her he felt a strange need to hear her speak. Perhaps it was the harmonious tone of her voice, or maybe the fact that he could tell she needed to express herself, but he didn't mind when she rambled absentmindedly as they traveled, putting into words every thought that crossed her mind. 

"I was never meant to be a princess, no matter what my blood says." She had confessed to him one afternoon as they walked through the forest. "The traditions, the politics, the expectations... I was never good at any of that."

"Is that why you ran away?" His question took her by surprise. He barely spoke to her so she assumed he wasn't listening to her most of the time. When she turned to look at him she found his yellow eyes fixed on her, making her feel small under his intense gaze.

"I wanted to be free." She answered honestly. "I refused to live trapped inside a castle for another day, pretending to be someone I'm not, pleasing everybody but myself... I want to forge my own path, build my own destiny. I have no idea what I'm doing or if it will even work, but I owe it to myself to try."

Geralt admired her for that. She wasn't sure what she wanted, but she knew what she didn't want and had had the courage to do something about it. That was why he was so glad things were going well for her. She deserved her freedom, she deserved to have the space to find herself and live her life on her terms. Her bravery had been rewarded.

"How are you feeling?" She asked him as she set a plate of food in front of him, her voice bringing him out of his thoughts. 

"I'm fine."

"Are you? Or are you doing that thing you do all the time when you pretend not to need anyone's help?" She looked at him with a raised eyebrow, proud of herself for knowing him so well. 

Geralt sighed. "I'm a bit sore and tired, but I'll live." He finally confessed.

"That's normal, you were really hurt. I'm amazed that you got here in one piece." 

"You should have seen the other guy." He joked sarcastically and she rolled her eyes.

"I'm being serious, Geralt. The poison could have killed you."

"It didn't."

"Only because of your slow heartbeat, but what if next time you don't get so lucky?" The tone of the conversation suddenly changed as they looked into each other's eyes. The familiar heavy tension in the air, making it hard to breathe. 

It was her greatest fear. She feared there would come a day when Geralt's wounds would be so bad that even she wouldn't be able to heal them. She feared it almost as much as never opening the door again and finding him on the other side. The thought of him dying, at home or out on the battlefield, terrified her. She knew it was stupid since he was a Witcher, a being genetically modified to face the greatest dangers, whose purpose in life was to kill monsters. She knew the smart thing to do would have been to get away from him in time, before his absence hurt her as much as it did. She knew there was no point in worrying about someone who had made peace with the idea of dying in battle, but she did it anyway. She couldn't help but fear for his safety the moment he set foot outside her home, worrying until he would eventually show up there again.

"Just... be careful." She muttered after a few seconds of silence, swallowing her emotions as a lump formed in her throat.

Geralt could see the pain in her eyes, the fear and worry shining in them clearly. He felt the need to assure her that he would be all right, but they both knew that was a lie. In his line of work one could never be sure of anything. Things could change very quickly and even he could be surprised with the cold caress of death sooner than expected. The best he could do was to assure her that he would do everything in his power to get back to her.

"I will be." 

That wasn't enough to dissipate the young woman's fears, but it was enough to calm her worries for the moment. Instead of concentrating on things she couldn't control, she chose to turn her attention to the things she could. After breakfast she inspected Geralt's wounds once more to make sure they were healing properly. With the help of her magic and the speed with which the Witcher's body regenerated, the deep gash that adorned his chest was now no more than a scratch. The skin was still red and irritated, but it was in better condition than just a few hours ago. The same with the rest of the cuts and scratches that graced the rest of his body, some of which had already disappeared completely, leaving behind a slightly discolored line on the skin.

She sat beside him as she worked, rubbing a healing paste of her own creation over what was left of his wounds. She focused her energy on him, eyes glued to the skin of his chest as she let her fingers work their magic. She knew it probably wasn't necessary, given the rapid evolution of his cuts they would most likely be practically healed in a couple more hours. But she wanted to do it. She didn't like to see him hurt, even if it was something that happened regularly. He always came to her bruised and bloody, but even then she never got used to seeing him like that. She hated to see him suffer, so when he was with her she would go out of her way to heal all the wounds on his body no matter how small or insignificant. She wanted to make her home a sanctuary for him, a place free of pain and danger where they were safe to be together.

Geralt could feel her energy enveloping him, the warmth her body radiated caressing his skin delicately. The scent of her hair flooded his nostrils, filling his lungs with that sweet floral perfume that was so distinctive to him. It was intoxicating, a drug he couldn't quit. He allowed himself to get lost in the moment, enjoying the soft touch of her hands on his chest and shoulders as he admired her work. She was beautiful, like a flower full of color and life that only grew stronger with each of his visits. Her smile, a ray of sunshine that lit up the gray, cloudy sky that was his life. And her eyes... oh her eyes. Geralt could get lost in them for hours, reading in her reflection every little thought that went through her head. To him she was an open book, the most fascinating he had read in a long time.

She became slightly nervous when she looked up and met Geralt's intense gaze fixed on her. They were close, too close to each other for her not to feel intimidated under the watchful admiration of his amber orbs. And yet, she couldn't look away from him. She couldn't help but marvel at the sharp angles of his features, counting the small scars that adorned his skin as her eyes traveled down his face. Those were two traits that people normally found intimidating about him. He had the face of a reckless warrior, a lone wolf with no feelings that augured trouble. But she knew him better than that, she knew the man behind the rumors and knew there was much more to his story and his character. When she looked at him she saw more than the dangerous Witcher. She saw the man who had saved her from her terrible fate, the one she missed and longed for when he was far away, the only man who occupied her thoughts. 

Geralt's eyes strayed to her lips as she caressed them with her tongue. It was an innocent act but he felt it as a temptation, a challenge he had every intention of accepting. He leaned forward, feeling her warm, slightly quickened breath colliding and mingling with his own. He held still for a moment, waiting for her to pull back and move away. When she didn't, Geralt moved a little closer to her until he felt the tip of her nose brush against his. When he looked up one last time, he noticed that she was looking at him with half lidded eyes, completely at his mercy. She was in a trance, lost in the deep amber of his eyes, with no thought in her mind but him. It was the moment they had both been waiting for, the culmination of all the tension that had built up.

But before they could join their lips in the long-awaited kiss, the sound of the cat jumping on top of the table interrupted them. The animal's meow broke the trance and she realized what was about to happen. Embarrassed, she pulled away from Geralt immediately, mumbling something about feeding the cat as she disappeared from his vision. He would be lying if he said he wasn't disappointed, still longing to feel her lips on his, but perhaps it was for the best. If he kissed her he would never want to stop or leave again, and he knew that wasn't possible. His place was out there on the road with his horse as his only companion. He was not meant to stay in one place for long, his profession had taken that privilege away from him long ago.

“Your wounds are almost healed.” She stated as she returned to the room, picking up the cat and setting it down off the table. It was an excuse so she wouldn't have to look him in the eye when talking, something to occupy herself so she wouldn't think about what had just happened.

"Guess I'll be leaving tonight then." He was in no hurry to leave, he would gladly stay another week there with her if he could, but he knew that wasn't wise. He could never stay too long with her since he always feared the effects it might have. The more time he spent with her, sharing moments of domestic intimacy, the harder it was for him to get back on the road. The last time he had been there he had ended up running away in the middle of the night, knowing he couldn't leave if he had to look her in the eye and say goodbye. And now he feared that nothing had changed, so he had to get out of there before it was too late.

"I would rather you stay one more night and rest here." She said in a soft tone, trying to hide the true meaning behind her words. She didn't want him to leave, not yet. "Your physical wounds might be healing fast but don't forget that you were poisoned and you almost died. Witcher or not, that's a lot." 

"I'll be fine."

"Maybe, but would it kill you to stay here one more night for my own sake? Because if you walk through that door now, I will spend the rest of my days worrying about you until I see you again." She finally worked up the courage to look at him, pleading with her eyes for him to listen to her. She knew that if he wanted to leave there was nothing she could do to stop him, so she hoped he would have mercy on her. "I just want to make sure that you're alright."

Geralt couldn't refuse her even if he wanted to, not when she was looking at him with big, bright eyes full of love. Not when her voice was almost a whisper, as if she was afraid he would hear her. He understood the feeling, the fear of admitting what he really felt. But it was easier that way. It was the best thing for both of them. Their lives were incompatible as were their personalities. 

She was a nice sunny summer afternoon and he was a harsh winter night. She was a ray of sunshine that with her warm touch awakened life in everything around her and he was the cold, cruel snow that buried everything under a layer of ice. Maybe that was why he felt this inexplicable attraction to her, as if they were connected by an invisible thread that pulled him to her every time he tried to walk away. Her warmth melted the ice around him, allowing new things to blossom in the fertile soil. Only he didn't know if there was anything left under the ice that could bloom. If so, he had to be careful because her warmth, though pleasant and comforting, could lead to his doom.

Still, he ignored his brain's warnings, giving in to her pleas. They spent the day together and Geralt allowed himself to lose himself in the intimacy and domestic bliss of the moment. He indulged in the fantasy of a life by her side as he admired her dancing around the kitchen while cooking or moving among the plants as she tended to her garden, talking to the squirrels and birds that wandered by. He delighted in the sound of her voice as she called his name and enjoyed her melodious laughter. 

When the sun went down, she lay beside him on the bed, talking nonsense until her eyelids began to feel heavy. She denied being sleepy several times, assuring him that she was just resting her eyes. Geralt snorted, but said nothing, listening intently to the story she was telling him about a deer she had saved from death between masked yawns. She didn't get to finish the story, not consciously at least. She mumbled a couple of almost inaudible gibberish before falling asleep, fighting her last battle against her body's need for rest.

Geralt watched her sleep for a good while, his eyes admiring the peace on her face in the dim candlelight. She had never looked so ethereal, with her hair spread out on the pillow like a halo around her head, and her chest rising and falling slowly with her calm breathing. Her skin was soft under his touch, a stark contrast to the roughness of his fingers bruised from all the fighting and constant use of the sword. She was the most beautiful piece of art, a sculpture carved by the gods themselves. He almost felt unworthy to be by her side, the softness of her features reminding him once again how different they were, how wrong his feelings were. 

He got out of bed with a heavy heart, searching for his things while being very careful not to make a sound so as not to alert her. He couldn't stay there one more night, if he woke up in the morning with her by his side he would never want to leave and he knew very well that it wouldn't end well. So, he placed a soft kiss on her forehead, just a brush of his lips against her skin as a farewell.

Geralt disappeared into the darkness of the night without leaving any trace of his presence. When she opened her eyes the next morning she was disappointed to find herself alone in bed. She didn't have to leave the room to know he was gone, she could feel his absence in the air. She felt lonely and cold again, already missing the warmth that filled her whenever he was around. Letting out a tired sigh, she dropped into a chair near the door. Her eyes were glued to the wood, her mind filled with thoughts of Geralt. She wondered if he was alright and if he was missing her as much as she was missing him. 

And just like that, the cycle continued, his departure leading the way to the stage of uncertainty and worry that grew in her with each passing day as she awaited his return. Her eyes remained glued to the door at all times, her ears attentive to the sounds waiting to hear Roach's footsteps approaching in the distance. She hated this moment. She hated not hearing from Geralt. She hated not being able to hear his low, raspy voice or feel the warmth of his body against hers. She hated the amount of energy she wasted worrying about him. But most of all, she hated knowing that all her suffering would be worth it the moment he came knocking on her door again.

I have more ideas for these two so if you guys like it let me know!

PART 2 HERE

[ffangirlingsince2001]

The Witcher and the Princess: Magma

*not my gif*

Geralt x Reader

Geralt of Rivia is not a babysitter, he is not a bodyguard, and he has no interest in transporting princesses across the continent. Until gold is offered and for the next 90 days he’s saddled with a chirpy, bubbly, princess, who is betrothed to the prince of Narok and has a desire to see everything before she’s trapped behind another set of walls.

Warnings: violence, language, angst, fluff, smutish (not quite there yet ;) )

Over the next couple of days, it seemed that nothing had changed. She still smiled at him. Which was more than he deserved after what had happened in the darkness of their room. He still dreamt about it, and now that he knew what she felt like it made it even more difficult to keep his distance. In an effort to protect them both he had allowed Adam to take her away, to show her the world in which he lived. The nights were still a struggle but when both pretended to be asleep there was no risk.

The morning of their departure was a tearful one for the princess. She wrapped her arms around her silversmith as tightly as she could manage, but to Geralt’s surprise, ducked beneath Adam’s lips before quickly joining Geralt atop Roach. The silence in which they rode was full of tension. Geralt was more focused on ignoring the feeling of her legs wrapped around him than where they were going and so it was no surprise they eventually ended up lost in a thicket of woods.

“Where are we?” she whispered from behind him, sliding off the horse as she spoke. Around them trees rustled while no wind blew. She was inching away from the horse and closer to the underbrush. “Can you hear that?”

“Get back on the horse,” he growled but she paid him no mind.

“It’s coming through here.”

“Y/N, get back on the horse.”

“It sounds like a child.”

“Please, come back,” he begged.

“What if they’re hurt? What if we can help them?”

“Y/N,” he persisted but she continued. From that moment, everything seemed to move in slow motion. With a shaking hand she reached through the brush and a long claw wrapped around her waist, yanking her forward. Geralt leapt from his horse, drawing the silver blade and plunging after her. Thorns tried to pull him back, warning him of the danger that awaited him, but the sounds of her screams made everything else painless.

She was crying out for him, and though it was agony listening to her fear, anything was better than silence.

Silence met she was dead.

Ahead of him the brushes still rustled from the monster he was trailing. The trail of trampled underbrush led him to a clearing where his princess had torn herself away and was brandishing a stray stick she had found. As she fended off the head, the tail was creeping around, reading to pierce its prey. He charged forward, sword raised high and the monster roared with indignation. She slammed the branch against its skull with minimum damage, only managing to annoy the beast. It swiped her to the side with a snarl and turned its attention the silver that was glinting in the evening light. It screeched, brandishing its tail. He charged it, slicing every inch of flesh he could reach. The tail caught him in the side and he let out a grunt, his sword flying from his hand.

“No!” he yelled as Y/N darted for it, she froze and the monster caught sight of her. The moment her hand closed around the handle it darted forward and she screamed, swinging wildly. It hissed and screeched, swiping at her with uninjured maw. It was backing her into a corner, preparing to feast on the foolish girl that had dared to challenge it. Geralt pulled himself from the ground and leapt onto the monsters back. It screamed, twisting as it tried to remove the Witcher from its back. Its tail struck the princess, throwing her against a boulder and she slumped to the ground. The talon on its tail pulled him off and tossed him towards the princess. The world spun around him and he was vaguely aware of Y/N struggling to stand. Using the sword as a cane she pulled herself up to her full height and stepped between him and the snarling beast. It roared and she screamed drawing up the sword, swinging it just as the teeth were sure to close around her. Blood spattered across the both of him and the monster collapsed to the ground, only a weak breath remaining. She stepped forward and plunged the hilt into its eye before dropping to the ground.

“Geralt,” she gasped, pulling herself to his side, soft hands resting against him. He tried to rise but fiery agony swept through him. There was no poison in this particular monster, but that didn’t make its claws any less sharp. “You’re injured.” She was panicking now, hands shaking, tears streaming down her face, her breaths short and sharp. She scrambled against his clothes, aiming to free the wound but only managing to make him wince.

“Y/N,” he growled, grabbing her hands if only to still them. She met his eyes and he offered a weak smile. “I need you to stitch the gash. Go find Roach and lead him back here.” She nodded and limped away, stumbling over the thicket. He could hear her screaming for his horse, the shake in her voice evident. He cursed himself, for allowing her to get hurt. She should never have to see something so terrible, and now she had killed something. And it was his fault. He was supposed to protect her, and now she was protecting him, placing herself between things that wished to devour her in effort to protect the man who was supposed to be keeping her safe.

She returned to his side, his pack in her hands, fishing for the needle and string he told her were inside. She helped him pull his shirt from his body and she gasped when the injury came into a view. Blood seeped from the long gash in his torso and he thanked the gods that it wasn’t any deeper. She stared at it, dread washing over her. She glanced over her shoulder at the dead monster and back to him, growing paler with each moment.

“I can’t,” she finally managed to say, and as the words left her shaking lips, a waterfall of tears and denial left her. “I can’t do, I can’t,” she cried, pushing herself away but he caught her by the wrists and pulled her close.

“Y/N, look at me,” he demanded, and she obeyed, “I’ll walk you through it, but I need you to stay calm, okay?” She nodded and he released her. “There’s a skin of ale tied to Roach; you’ll need to clean the wound before you close it up.” Catatonically, she followed his instructions, choking out sobs as he grunted in pain. When the wound was cleaned, she threaded the needle, slick fingers almost losing it amongst the underbrush. She tied a knot and hovered over his skin with timid hands. She straddled his waist, but there was no lust between them as she shook in fear, unable to draw any closer. “Hey, its okay, I’ve handled worse.” She nodded, more to herself than to him, and plunged the tiny needle into his skin. He growled, grabbing her abruptly. She froze, his fingers pressing bruises into her shoulders. “Keep going,” he encouraged her through gritted teeth and she proceeded, clumsy hands pulling flesh back together with flimsy string.

It took longer than it should have. She wouldn’t push it in right and the skin would tear, leaving her with corrections and more pain. When she pulled the last stitch tight, she released a the breath she had been holding throughout and allowed her tears to flow more freely. He sat up against the boulder he had been thrown against and pulled her close, cupping her face in his hands.

“Hey, you did so good,” he whispered, and she shook her head, pushing him away.

“It’s all my fault,” she screamed, pacing around the clearing, running fingers through her hair. He pulled himself up and reached out to take her hand again, but she pulled away. “I had to kill it. I fucking killed it,” she wailed and this time as she passed, he successfully caught her, pulling her close.

“Y/N, it was a monster, it had to be killed. It would have killed us the moment you gave it a chance.”

“It didn’t choose to be a monster.”

“It doesn’t matter, they have to be killed.” She broke into tears once more and he pulled her close.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she muttered into his chest and he brushed his fingers through her hair.

“It’s okay, we got through it, I won’t let anything hurt you. And, hey, if this princess thing doesn’t work out you might make a damn good hunter, that beast had nothing on you.” She snorted and pulled away, wiping her tears.

“I don’t think so.”

“Maybe not, but if it calls for it you can definitely take one out,” he said ushering to the corpse that lay beside them. She stared at it, fists clenching as she did so. “Hey, don’t worry about it. I’m going to go get some food and then we’ll camp out here for the night, get rested and then we can get back on the road tomorrow.” She nodded, still not looking away from the monster. He released her slowly and she crept towards it.

When he returned, a couple rabbits in his hands he found her kneeling beside the creature, whispering prayers over its lifeless body. Leaves circled the head like a funeral crown and it was tucked into itself as if it was only sleeping.

“Some would consider that blasphemous, princess.”

“And some are ignorant,” she retorted without turning from the body. Leaving her to her prayers he built a fire and began to cook the rabbit, his stomach rumbling at even the mere thought of being filled. Eventually she sat across from him, arms wrapped around herself.

“You think I’m being silly.”

“It certainly is uncommon to care about the very thing trying to kill you, but not silly. Refreshing if anything.” She seemed surprised as it his response, and offered him a small smile over the fire. “However, I would like to know where you developed such compassion.”

“One day you will, but not now,” she replied sadly, dropping her gaze. Silence encircled their camp as they ate. He couldn’t figure out why the secrecy, and she had made it very clear she would not tell him, so he could find nothing to talk about. The body of the monster still seemed to catch her eye, a glint of something he could not understand twinkling in her eye.

When the sun had finally set, and only the fire light surrounded them he began to unfold their makeshift beds. He laid down on stiff matt and waited for her to do the same. When he glanced to her hunched figure he found her staring at him deep in thought.

“Y/N,” he whispered and she glided towards him, floating over the uneven ground before throwing a leg over his lap and straddling him. He shot up, ignoring the stab of pain that shot through him, but before he could protest she pressed her lips to his.

There was no ferocity in this kiss, only tenderness. A hand rested on his shoulder and the other against his cheek He wrapped his arms around her back and pulled her closer. She moaned softly against his lips and he was sure he could have melted in that very instant.

Her hands crept into his hair, wrapping themselves in the white tendrils. He pulled away and instantly attached his lips to her neck, moaning against the soft skin when lightly tugged at his roots. She pulled herself closer and he could feel the slopes of her breasts pressing against him. Her thighs tightened against his waist and she moaned into the moonlight. Her hands wandered to her corset and she began to untie it but he withdrew.

“We cannot,” he grunted, his whole self cursing the reminder that she was not his, “You have a husband.”

“And I can assure you he will not mind.”

“It’s not right.”

“This is not about right or wrong, this is about wanting. Do not tell me that you are not filled with wanting because I will know you are lying. I have seen the way you stare, and the way you tense whenever I am seated near you. And let us not forget the way you so lustfully held me beneath my skirt, or the way you did not hesitate to wrap my legs around you as the jealousy began to eat you alive.”

“You are not mine.”

“And yet you wish I was.” He was caught, he had believed it was so well hidden, and yet she had known for as long as he had felt it. It wasn’t solely lust either, she had become more important than just gold, and now as she engulfed him it was taking every bit of strength not to place her beneath him and thrust until she was a mewling mess.

But not here.

Not where death had almost grasped her.

Not where the monster she had unwillingly killed lay beside them.

Not when he had an overwhelming sense that she was trying to heal something deep within her.

And so he pulled her tight against him and laid against the ground. “Just lay with me,” he whispered and she stiffened, almost shocked. “Y/N, I want nothing more than to fuck you, but we’re both covered in blood and exhausted, so just lay with me.” As he spoke, she melted against him and sighed, resting her head against his chest. He wrapped his arms around her and closed his eyes, resting in his victory.

@mallorydoesstuff​ @facelessfiction​ @aphadriel-fanfic​ @raspberrydreamclouds​ @thegreattodd​ @saint-hardy​ @ravenclawsstolemybunies​ @queenofmankind​ @britty443​ @lonewolf471​ @utterlyhopeful​ @persephonehemingway​

[seb-owns-these-tatas]

Witcher Of The Night (Chapter 2)

CHAPTER 1

THIS IS MODERN ERA READER WHO WOKE UP IN THE DIMENSION OF THE WITCHER.

Characters: Geralt of Rivia x small!Naive!Reader

Summary: Y/N seemed to already have a spot in the house, and also a feverish feeling inside her heart. Totally unwavering and in distress. Geralt could feel it happening again as he could feel his heart soften at the woman who'd pop out of nowhere, thus; he doesn't know if her arrival has been a good thing or can be considered as ill-fate for him. 

Warnings: Modern references because reader lives in modern day era in earth. Geralt and Jaskier banters, non-stop. 😂 Just a filler chapter but also considered important because we can see how frustrated and scared the reader is and not being happy in an instant? 😂 Kinda fluff with Geralt and Y/N’s interaction? 

Words: 4,500+ (IT'S DAMN LONG. I'VE BEEN TOO HAPPY WRITING THEIR BANTERS 😂)

A/N: 2nd chapter for WITCHER OF THE NIGHT! 😊 This will prolly consist of 15-20 chapters or less! 😊 TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK ABOUT THIS! THANK YOU FOR ALL THE LOVE IN THIS SERIES, POTATOES! 

TAGLIST IS STILL OPEN FOR THIS ONE! Heehee! Don’t forget to REBLOG, COMMENT OR GIVE FEEDBACK IF YOU DID LOVE THIS FIRST PART! IT’LL MAKE ME SMILE!

Taglist: @alyxkbrl @himarisolace @barkingbullfrog @ayamenimthiriel @hellodevilslittlesister @vania-marie @spookypeachx @grungelovebug @fangirl-inthe-us​ @nympeth​ 

Disclaimer: PNG's used in edits are not mine even the GIF's too. However, the edits and oneshots are definitely from moi. Characters and said monsters aren't from moi as well. (Gif down below is from witches-ground)

MY WORKS ARE NOT TO BE POSTED ON ANY OTHER WEBSITES. My official username in Wattpad is “TATATHEPOTATO” and that’s the only other site I have aside from Tumblr. Thank you, Tater tots! 

You sat on the dusty, creaking wooden chair that they owned. Eyes studying your surroundings as Jaskier moved around to get a pale of water while Geralt stood a meter away from you; leaning on a wall with his muscular arms across his chest, silently watching you like a hawk.

The stares he have been giving you were completely tangible for the naked eye or it was probably because you were conscious of his incomprehensible gawking. You noticed their roof was also thatched. Adding a burning furnace which also utilizes as their stove and heat for the night.

Your face frown at the realization that they didn't have any refrigerator nor a stove but noticed two rooms sat together. You've heard ruffling from the far back and liquid being poured down the bucket as your eyes landed on the man watching you in silence. Abruptly, a soft, vindicated smile raised your lips as you leisurely shook your legs left to right to suppress the consternation tingling your nerves, "Thank you," a quiet, sincere whisper was all Geralt heard amongst the oak wood burning in the background.

No answer was given other than having to take a gander as you sat away from him; a little bit recherché with that look in his eyes, "Thank you for saving me, Geralt." you repeated to utter out a word from the man himself. From the moment you've heard his voice; surprisingly, it was rather soothing to your anxious nerves. Frightening thoughts run over cars after cars inside your brain as you didn't know what the future holds.

You didn't even know how to go home. They've been avoiding the question as to where you could find the airport.

Geralt's name that rolled off your tongue sounded unfamiliar and thoroughly anomalous. But, you would probably get used to it once the dream reaches an end.

Technically, that was the problem. You didn't know if it was entirely a dream because it felt so real.

Shifting were heard and you've come to realize that Geralt had lifted himself off the wall, taking heavy steps close as you guiltlessly gawked at him. He fairly lifted the hem of his black long-sleeved shirt, giving you a slight view of his jutting torso. You've anxiously cleared your throat and avoided his pretty glowing, golden eyes keeping under scrutiny.

God has been testing your forbearance since you've woken up in the forest. Adding more inclinations to probably torture you till you wake up from your utter deep sleep.

Much to your inattentive state and your eyes shutting tightly; asking the heavens to wake you up in that instance, Geralt stopped before you; giving much space for you to breathe and seeming to be standing on your side rather than in front because it would be a very nubile sight to be in face with his leather-clothed crotch.

Damn you and your short genes.

"You are awake," he suddenly distracted you from your distraught. You were completely engrossed on wishing out loud for whoever to just kick you on the bed so you could be awakened.

Geralt dangled a piece of cloth in front of your face. Minimal blood dots containing the cloth on his hands. So that's what he was doing when he'd tried to give you a sneak peak of his chiseled torso. He ripped the piece of a long white clothing used for his wounds that surrounded his body.

There was blood. It simply means he's really human and not anything part of a pack of wolves.

"What's this for?" you've observed the piece of clothing hanging in front of you. Brows in a tight twist as you winced from the itch on a part of your soot-filled face. Geralt left no reply and gathered his hand on yours, the sudden gesture making you jump in your seat because of the sudden touch. His hand giving you some kind of tepid, amiable warmth that made you believe that everything was real and true as you catch a sight of his passive expression.

You've felt a soft cloth fall on the soft center of your palm, "--For the grime scattered all over your face and body," As quick as he'd grabbed onto your hands, he was fast enough to leave them hanging in front of you as he turned his booted heel. The width of his abnormally burly shoulders giving you a view as he strolled around their cozy home, locking your gaze on his overwhelming presence.

"You don't have to...." a trail of thoughts protested out loud as he'd crouched before a leather bag, thus hearing a clothing being ripped after. There was a Lute sitting beside the bag and you've took notice of it and focused on the instrument instead, wondering if Geralt owns the string instrument. Geralt rose to his feet and situated himself in front of you again to dangle another set of torn, clean white cloth, "---and for your wounds,"

The smile you sent was thoroughly cordial and unnerving. Geralt was supposed to turn away and mind his own business until you've peered up at him like a cat asking for attention. The powerful looking man had to emit an evident sigh; cursing beneath his breath that questioned your sanity as to why he was already kneeling before you; eye to eye and probably trying to enchant you as it bear into your mind that magical things have been happening since the moment you've woken up.

Yes, you debated with yourself and believed in your hunches that his effect with you had something to do with casting a spell for you.

"Do...you have a name?" he grumbled with a slight drawl to his words. His unorthodox eyes were much clearer against the fire and thoroughly fetching. You've had to blink to ruin the spell he'd tried to cast upon you and took your time in understanding what he have asked.

"Ughm," you mumbled like an idiot and played with the cloth in your hand, gaze fixated on the ball of cloth scrunched on your palm, "Y/N. Y/N Y/L/N,"

Geralt was attentive of your palpable and otherwordly scent. It was completely out of this world and he probably meant that literally because of how mystifying and strange you were around them. The latter could also hear the fast beating of your heart, taking to account that the effect of it was rather much a mental struggle he didn't know. Howbeit, the other half was another piece he wasn't familiar about.

He'd given you that captivating look as you continued to stare at your fidgeting fingers, "Are you a princess?" at that declaration and inquiry, your head snapped, fast enough to give you whiplash. A scrunch of your nose telling him that you've found his question rather uncanny, "What--as much as I'd want to be a princess, I think I'd rather suit to be a queen,"

You've bunched the cloth in your hand and restlessly cough onto it, looking anywhere except for that stare he was giving. What were you even saying? 'Where was Jaskier?' the voice inside your head spoke for your nerves.

A side of Geralt's lip involuntary lifted into a smirk, "You'd suit to be a midget," he paused, golden eyes glowing in amusement, "---A grimy, naive midget,"

His opinion suddenly struck a gut in you, snapping your head to meet his mischievous golden peepers, "EXCUSE ME?" you exclaimed, rather offended.

"Y/N of Novigrad? Vizima? Brokilon--" Geralt started telling peculiar names of places, and you were quick to object his options, "No! Y/N from State farm,"

There was a long minute of silence. His forehead creasing because of the bafflement that was accountable to your words. Geralt has never heard of that kingdom. If so, the kingdom had a bizarre name out of the ones he'd visited. State Farm didn't sound frightening to him if there were even beasts he could kill. Other than that, those beasts in State Farm rather had creatures like Hirikkas or Sylvans.

Entirely harmless for an unknown person like you, if you were still alive by now.

"Kingdom of State Farm," he lowly grumbled, keeping the name of the place in mind as a hum followed through, "Hmm,"

Your mouth momentarily went ajar as he nodded to himself, giving credence to the pun that was shared. The joke seeming to be rather irking than funny because of how convinced he appeared to look like.

"What do you mean hmm? It was a joke! You actually believed it--oh my! This is depressing!" you crowed with a finger to your temples, giving them a massage. Geralt guiltlessly cocked his head to the side, watching you rant and rave like you were close to having your patience blown.

He continued to stare you down with chaste; utterly childlike innocence, making you ogle back at him because he really had no idea what it was. Geralt seemed to wait for your vexation to stop and you couldn't help but bite the insides of your cheeks, feeling guilty for being frustrated when the man himself didn't actually know what it was.

"---I'm from...earth," your voice turned a volume lower, only for him to hear as you were close to melting from those blazing eyes.

You've raised a finger just before his chest, pointing your index at him as you couldn't help the tender beam growing on your face despite of how much problem you were experiencing.

"E.T vibes,"

Geralt eyed your finger in bewilderment. You high-spiritedly wiggled your finger for him to connect; a soft giggle baffling him to the extent as he watch you waggle your finger in front of him. Much to your disappointment, he distractedly grabbed onto your finger and shook your finger like he was shaking your hand.

Your giggle died down and so a disappointed frown was about to appear when the crash of a door opening resonated in the house. Jaskier tumbling in with a bucket of water as he gave off a set of exasperated breaths.

Geralt continued to shake your finger wrapped around his palm, never minding Jaskier who marched towards where you were and his gaze fixated on the connection at hand.

Jaskier dropped the pail of water beside you, breathing in a long breath before giving you both a double-take of his surprised expression, huffing out the rude awakening that startled out his breathing.

"What am I just witnessing?"

His Witcher of a friend instantly ceased from shaking your finger, dropping them like he'd been cauterized and languidly turned his head to peer up at Jaskier who has his eyebrow up in a sassy state.

"You treat her wounds, Geralt."

He gave the Bard a glare and a tight grimace.

They've continued their stare down contest and made you smile to yourself. Their friendship seemed to be pretty much earnest from how they playfully bantered at each other. More passionate than what you had back at home. Thus, you continued cleaning yourself; after saying your thanks to Jaskier and he seemed to smile a smug one at that before going back to narrow his eyes at the man before him.

"What? Don't you give me that scowl! I've already fetched a bucket of water for the grimy lady,"

"---You've also ruined my nap for this woman!" Jaskier retorted back even though he'd only gotten an unpleasant hum from the latter.

"Her name is Y/N Y/L/N," Geralt deeply chided as you continued wiping your filth-filled face and neck. Glad to know that he wasn't looking and gave his friend the attention he needed.

"Greetings, Y/N of Y/L/N." Jaskier started rather confidently, humbly and acknowledging you who sat in front of Geralt.

You've squeezed the cloth out from being drenched as you felt much squeaky clean than earlier. Once you've realized its done as you've essentially washed the dirt away from your wounds, you dropped the cloth Geralt has given you inside the bucket, fishing out the set of new clean cloth hidden under your leg, "My name is Y/N and Y/L/N is not a place--"

Your thoughts were ceased as Geralt pulled the long cloth out of your hands. The flat part of the bandage being wrapped around your wounded knee. Your heart was jumping in utter madness and you tried to softly pull it back, apprehensively looking into his eyes as he gazed at you in question. "I-I can do it on my own, Geralt. It's fine,"

He seemed to be reluctant at first, staring at you with no words said before humming to himself about his approval of leaving you to it as he stood on his soles.

The proximity was undeniably giving you an edge of one's seat. So, it was better to avoid the warmth at all cost until you haven't shaken up from your dream.

Jaskier narrowed his eyes on the cloth on your hands, seeming to recognize the bandage. His eyebrows raising in displeasure. "Is that..Is that a piece of my clean under-tunic?! You've ripped it off, didn't you?!" he snapped his head towards the Witcher and had his brows in a twist.

Geralt only gave him a small smirk as he brazenly stood tall before the bard, crossing his arms across his chest.

The bard started to reiterate again, jotting down points after points in bullet form as to how unreasonable it was to cut a piece of precious clothing just for it to be wrapped around for a wound, "I've bought it from a beautiful merchant named Albreda on a marketplace--"

"You've bed the fuck out of her in exchange for the Tunic, Jaskier."

The haughty tone in Geralt's voice made Jaskier groan; not because he was wrong but his friend was also right and he was frustrated because he was feeling guilty of nothing in particular, "Oh, gods! This is obnoxious! You're lucky I treat you as a friend!"

"Simmer down, you're going to wake Ciri." Geralt continued to grouch and nodded his head to the door beside his own bedroom.

"Oh, no you don't get to include Princess Cirilla in this defense of yours, Witcher!"

You were completely unaware of their banters. Though, you were certainly curious as to what has Jaskier been calling Geralt like it was established and a brand named for him. Your ears perked at the name been said.

"Witcher? You're a witch?"

Both men refrained themselves to continue their repartee. Eyes glued to each other before giving you a glimpse and saw the agog in your eyes, wishing for an explanation or answer.

You've scanned the whole house, searching for a cauldron and anything that could sense he was a witch, yet none. "Where's the cauldron where you cite spells or anything?"

Geralt subtly shook his head, "That's not my job,"

A wag of understanding was given; thinking that maybe you got it all wrong based on the video games you've managed to finish back at your home with your Playstation. Jaskier stepped a foot close, a cordial smile carving his lips, "That small rat, is a mage, a sorcerer or a wizard you are saying,"

He stepped another as he let you continue to wrap the wounds on your knees with his ripped clothing. The frustration suddenly thrown out in the sky as he cleared his throat, raising a hand to Geralt's chest to stop him from even saying anything, "Let me handle this Geralt, I'm downright absolute at this---"

His nose flared at where the topic was going, Geralt knew what was he pointing out and how his poetic wits could get him enthusiastic and utter clumsy, "Your endeavor makes my head hurt to its extent," he bleated with a deep groan sent to the latter.

"I can sing you a song to give you knowledge about Witchers--" he cut his friend off with a deep scold, "Jaskier,"

"What?! Every villager loved it! They've also learned to be accustomed by your presence whenever you're around!" he elaborated, straightening his back with a gesture of his hands as he twirled it around to prove his point.

"Well, your singing is like eating a pie and finding it has no filling,"

With that witty comeback, Jaskier dramatically clasp his hands on his hips, mouth forming an 'O' as he pointed at his friend like he has been deeply insulted below the belt; repeatedly shaking his head as he couldn't accept his opinions, "The audacity! Your character development is declining in such a repugnant way tonight, Geralt!"

Thus, all of a sudden; you've been included in their random retaliation as Jaskier pointed a finger at you, "This is her fault! She ruined your nap!"

Geralt gave out a fascinated hum, "You're just mad because you were frightened by an Alghoul,"

Jaskier shut his mouth at that, mouth hanging mid-way before closing like a gold fish. He cleared his throat for the second time around and nodded to you as you looked up at him after bandaging every wound you have that were sensitive and rather deep. A small smile at how satisfied you were with your work and at both of their foolishness.

Jaskier blinked as he saw you be all smiles despite of your problem at hand. Their banters surprisingly calmed your anxiety away for the moment and you couldn't help but be entertained by whatever they were talking about. He tightly shut his mouth before looking at Geralt and seeing him already taking a good look at your twinkling smile. He'd given you both a once over, a skeptical look flashing before his eyes and ignored the Witcher beside him and setting his bright blue eyes on you.

"You'll have your explanation of Witchers next time, small, adorable maiden. Geralt over here is just stingy about the whole ordeal because of certain pasts that he doesn't want to hear,"

Another exonerated beam was given to Jaskier which made him nod to himself because of how much radiance he had been receiving from your merry self; simultaneously followed by a nod of understanding that came from you.

"You need to sleep," Geralt gave away on the spur of the moment. Golden eyes still on you as you could feel the heat crawling on your skin for the third time this night.

Jaskier hummed a yes before responding and sublimely bummed to see that Geralt wasn't actually pertaining to him; but to you, "I know I do---" he shut his mouth before adding humiliation to the abrupt blissful feeling he'd felt after looking at you.

"---My bed is unattainable," the bard changed his sentence as he tried to read his mind. Nonetheless, he was contemplating that maybe Geralt would give his own bed to you or maybe not. "---Also, she needs to change into a much comfortable set of clothing," Jaskier stated the obvious as he took in your soiled clothes that you were wearing.

Geralt just gave him a look and with just one glance he was sure at what he wanted to say despite of not opening his mouth.

"You've already ripped a part of my under-Tunic, Geralt. I'm not having it,"

The Witcher cussed beneath his breath and gave him a glare. Jaskier's will unwavering, "Fuck," before strutting to his room and shutting the wooden door closed.

You and Jaskier looked at each other in utmost peculiarity; shrugging both of your shoulders at the sudden exit of the man himself. He was quick to come out of his room with a rather large looking black, thin, Tunic buttoned top which seemed to be fitted for him and rather short.

Geralt handed the shirt and you wholeheartedly accepted the clothing in a heart beat, "This is...Thanks," it was much better than having no clothing to change as you realized there was no shorts or underpants included with the simple long sleeved shirt, "Turn around, please."

Both of their foreheads creased with only Geralt having the desire question your point.

"Why?"

You raised a skeptical brow at him, standing on your seat with the single clothing you were holding, "Unless, you want to watch me get changed then..."

Jaskier scoffed at that, also hearing a perceptible snort as he gave his friend a look of mischief; with Geralt already having a tight scowl on his face, his friend wanting to add more tightness to that scowl he was having, "Maybe Geralt would want that based on how grouchy he is tonight! This Witcher needs to bed a woman after a month of great abstinence--Ow!"

The bard has been smacked on the head by the Witcher which made Jaskier stumble from the weight. Geralt snaked his heavy arm around his shoulder, never forgetting the nerving smile he has given you before turning them both around to give you your time to change.

"Shut up, Jaskier."

Jaskier gave him the stink eye, rubbing at his head because of how heavy and painful it was. His abilities could get Jaskier in bruises because of foul play.

You changed in haste, not wanting for them to see you in your unpatterned undergarments in the midst of it all because they were impatient enough and that you were taking too long.

"I can..take the chair and the table," you dubiously started to inform them that you were done. Geralt's shirt on you stopped just below your thighs, leaving your legs bare but enough to cover the decency you wanted because it was huge.

They both turned around and studied you from head to toe, a groan rumbling out of Geralt's chest as his eyebrows seemed to draw closer. The bard gave him an unimpressed tone of his voice, "That’s your kind of comfortable?"

“It’s kind of...freeing. Believe me,” 

They’ve shared another minute of death stares before you smiled to yourself. 

You shook your head to tell them that you were thankful of their help, giving them both another beam which reached from ear to ear as you pointed to their wooden table which seemed to be rather quite feeble as well as the chair that came with it. Four chairs surrounding the table that peaked your curiosity as to whom was living in the house aside from Jaskier and Geralt, "I can rest my head down on the table, I think it could suffice for now,"

"---Besides, I think I wouldn't stay long enough. I'll probably find a way to...an airport or something," you added, smile now wavering because you could feel your heart dropping because of the thought of never going back again.

Geralt stared you down with that subtle slant of his head, watching you speak, "As long as we're in earth," you tried to get an answer out of them, yet their silence says that they didn't know what you were really talking about, "---please do tell me we're in earth,"

Geralt exhaled a sigh, making your nerves stutter from the scary demeanor of his that was back again like the curtains has been opened. He didn't know what to say nor explain to you whatever it is that has teleported you in their dimension because he certainly had no idea that it was even possible from the start.

He was sure of the portals made by wizards and sorceress' that can only reach a certain depth of dimension, not thoroughly a dimension where their world couldn't seem to connect with each other. A portal only exists and can be opened through witchcraft and not having one partial entrance.

Though, why have you suddenly pop out of nowhere in middle of the far north forest of Kaedwan when you've originally lived on earth?

"Get some sleep, Midget." was the only answer as Geralt left without a smile, walking to his room and leaving your heart bothered at the fact that your questions were unanswerable by them and even you, yourself.

Jaskier have managed to rummaged a piece of clothing as a pillow for you to sleep on. Technically, he only has one and you've objected when he wanted to give it to you because you knew laying on the floor with a thin looking carpet seem to be uncomfortable in the eye and physically itself.

The cracking of wood was the only sound you've heard other than Jaskier's shifting on his side of the room. He was twisting and turning, completely distracted by your fourth attempt in sighing out loud as you've held onto your full battery phone that strangely didn't even had the clock on. It was simply four dashes which has been unable to tell the time back in your country.

You were staring on your phone, seeing the battery level go down to ninety-nine percent and you've decide to take the battery off, so you can use it for emergency purposes in the future.

The battery was off in just one lift of the recharge-able bank. Thus, in the middle of being eaten by your own pessimistic thoughts, Jaskier turned around as he laid on his bed, looking at your hunched form, your arms on the table and fingers holding your temple, "I...I....You seem to be in a distress," the latter stuttered, finding the correct words to comfort you.

He continued with a hushed timbre of his voice, "---I don't know what to say because this world is filled with magic and monsters," pause. "Geralt can only be the person to help you in going back home,"

You've taken a proper look at him, tears forming your eyes by how you were thinking that there was no going back. The knot in your throat making you swallow hard because you didn't want to cry in front of a stranger no matter how much of a softie you are. The fire emitting a rare sight of Jaskier's face glowing under the flames, "---That is if you really aren't from here and you've just hit your head on a rock or something,"

There it was, the tears starting to fall before you've immediately gathered those tears with the pad of your fingers. The utter hopelessness and sadness suddenly weighing on you like a boulder. Jaskier couldn't see you from his perspective, though he could hear the tiny sniffs coming from the other side of the house.

"---Maybe after getting some sleep, you'll get to go back home and magically pop back to where you came from, Y/N."

You've breathed out of your mouth and fumbled with the hem of the sleeves that covered your hands, solemnly looking at Tunic that the Witcher has let you use as your own. The cloth seeming to be wonderful for some snot and tear catching expeditions of yours.

There was no answer sent to the Bard as he closed his eyes and tried to sleep. He did eventually as you continued your weeping in the middle of the night, thinking that nobody will be able to hear it.

Though, you were wrong because you were unaware of Geralt's heightened senses as he sat on his bed and contemplated as to why your scent was indistinguishable from Yennefer. Entirely greater, stronger. Yet, with you; there was no magic involved.

Chapter 2 for WITCHER OF THE NIGHT is here now! PLEASE DON'T FORGET TO LEAVE FEEDBACKS WHEN YOU DO LOVE IT! Thank you, tater tots!

[deputy-videogamer]

Gemini |Part 2|

Pairing: Geralt x Reader, Yennefer x Reader, Geralt x Reader x Yennefer

Summary: The White Wolf has come, but so has a certain lavender eyed witch. Both has gotten word about the poor princess that has 'lost her mind and out for blood'. But there is more that meets the eye

Part 1 Part 3

"So what's this contract about again?" Jaskier asked Geralt for the- actually Geralt lost count on how many times Jaskier had asked about the contract.

"For the last time Jaskier, this contract is about a cursed princess that needs to be slay." Geralt hissed out of annoyance.

"Why do you need to slay her? Is she cursed?" Ciri asked. She has been traveling with Geralt throughout his journey ever since they finally met in the forest.

"Something like that. The girl was borned with powers, but as she grew her powers made her lose her mind." He briefly explained to the duo.

“Then the king wants you to release her daughter from the curse then?” Geralt didn’t respond. The king requested the opposite for Geralt; he wanted her to kill his daughter.

“Something like that. Let's just go, we're almost there.”

It wasn’t long before the trio had reached the king’s castle. Waiting for them was the king’s mage who waited for his arrival.

“Geralt of Rivia, We've been expecting you." The old man greeted the trio. "Please, come this way."

The three had followed the old man through the castle. It was only then Geralt took notice of the painting that was hung. 

"I'm guessing that's the queen and her daughter." The mage froze in his steps. Geralt had taken note on how he was hesitant when he mentioned the queen and the former princess.

The mage turned towards him and gave him a tight smile. "You aren't a wrong witcher. Lovely isn't she?" The mage was referring to the queen in hopes to avoid talking about the princess.

"Oh yes lovely indeed. Shame that she married a king I would've loved to meet." Jaskier flirted, not caring that the royal mage was with them.

"Their marriage was one way anyway. The queen died after giving birth to her daughter. May her soul rest and find someone better than the king." This was what Geralt was surprised at.

"You seem to hate the king." Once again the mage froze up when he realized his mistake. The mage tried to think of a way to answer him, but the sounds of heels clicking against the wooden floors had interrupted him.

Looking at the direction where the sound of heels were clicking at. All three pairs of eyes looked up to see who was heading towards them, only two out of the three pairs had already known who she was.

Geralt couldn't believe his eyes when he saw a familiar raven hair female.

"Yennefer." The words almost sounded unfamiliar to him.

How long has it been since he last saw her familiar purple eyes, the sweet smell of gooseberries and lilacs. The guilt and memories of them on the hill had flashed through his eyes.

He now wishes that he could have punched his past self for saying those things to her for she wasn't wrong when she stated that he had lost her. 

The pair of lavender eyes met his golden cat like eyes. It was then the air around had suddenly felt suffocating and time had stopped all around him.

“Hello, Geralt.” Her sickly sweet voice almost made him feel sick. 

“Is this the Yennefer you mention?” Ciri innocent eyes gazed on the raven beauty. In return Yennefer looked at the small princess with shock; she then had a sharp gazed on why a child was with him, in return he gave her a look that he explained to her later about Ciri. 

“I thought you needed a Witcher?” Geralt turned his attention back at the mage.

“Yes, but when due to the former princess…..um..condition there could be a chance that she could attack you. So I requested the help of Yennefer.” The mage answered.

“He’s not wrong. I assume Lucius has already informed you about the job right?” Yennefer looked at the mage or Lucius.

“I was about to get there.” Lucius cleared his throat and briefly explained about the situation.

Apparently, when the princess had turned 12, she started to lose control of her magic. The mages tried their best to help her regain control of her powers, which had worsened her case leading to her magic to take control over her mind. She had killed the people in the case including her own father if it was for Lucius stopping her rampage, her father’s guard tried to seize her, but she had ran into the forest for refuge.

“Has anyone entered the forest?” Geralt questions Lucius. There was something about that story that didn’t make sense to him. From the story to Lucius' tone about the voice it all sounded all too suspicious.

“Many mages including myself have tried to enter the forest, all of them have either ended up dead or seriously injured. We believe that she has support from the creatures in the forest.”

“Is that even possible?” Ciri’s innocent eyes stared at Geralt where he let out a simple ‘yes’ to his daughter.

“If you have any more questions that will be answered later, I have already let the king wait enough. I’ll let you bard and your…..” Lucius looked down at Ciri. “Daughter to their rooms once we reach his studies. Come.” 

Unaware that a crow had overheard their conversation, while its blood red eyes had stalked their every movement. Before soaring its way out of the widow’s ledge then disappearing back into the forest. The raven gilded down on a branch-like hand, the silent monster stared down at his black feather minion as it silently cawed to his master. The creature didn’t say anything, the only gesture it had made was stroking his minions body before the creature had left to return spying on the Witcher’s group. 

The forest creature had watched the raven fly away, then walk towards the center of the forest. During his little journey he encounters a few nymphs, everytime he encounters a new nymph he silently grunts about what his crow has seen in the castle. Their facial expressions had turned grm, each one knew a witcher was very serious, but teaming up with one of the most powerful sorceresses had made things much worse. Some of the nymphs had disappeared to warn other woodling creatures about the upcoming trouble while others had started to prepare attacks. 

It wasn’t long that the creature had reached his destination. In one of the trees there was a little treehouse that was built within the branches of the great plant. The creature could hear a small humming coming inside the structure. The woodling creature had summoned one of his ravens to grab the attention of the person inside. A head had popped up as (e/c) eyes were peeking down on him.

“Oh! Hello there, Aspen.” You used a rope to get down to greet your strange creature friend. Unlike your godling and nymph friends, your skull head friend had no ability to talk. How he communicated was by drawing pictures in the dirt. 

“So what brings you here?” Aspen had used his branch fingers to start drawing in the dirt.

His twing finger had drawn five people, one had long hair wearing a dress, another had long hair but he had a sword strapped on his back. The third one was a bard since he had a lyre on his back, the fourth one you immediately knew was Lucius one of your many teacher you had taught you to control your powers when you were younger, he was also one of the few who didn’t create the potion that stole your powers The last figure was strange, unlike the other people this one was more childlike. It made you wonder who would bring a child with them?

 “These people are with Lucius?” You guessed at his drawing, Aspen then drew a crown next to the group of people. “Oh, my father had requested more help to kill me right?” His skull head nodded.

“Do you know them by any chance?” He then drew the woman and the long hair man only this time, the woman had sparks surrounding her while the man had drawn his sword out as there was a beast in front of him. 

“The long hair woman is a sorceress and the man is a slayer of some sort or more precisely the Witcher right ?” Aspen nodded again. “Why bring a bard and a child though? Nevermind that it seems like my father is desperate to kill at this point if he is bringing a slayer and sorceress.” You growled at the last part.

Aspen turned his skull head to you. Your eyes had started to become red signifying that your other personality is coming out.

“If that crown bastard thinks that he can just kill me because he now has a slayer and a mage on his side. He is dead wrong. I have killed many hunters who have tried to kill me all have ended up dead. “ You walked towards a tree that was filled with multiple daggers embedded in the bark with a carving of your father on it.

“Well...let those two come here if they dare. Besides~ it’s been a while since I had visitors in my forest. I think I know exactly where I place their bodies~”  You threw the knife straight dead center into your father’s head.

 “Thanks for the information Aspen, now that I know of my lovely visitors I should prepare a welcoming gift for them.” You were about to climb back up into your home when you turned back to your friend. “Before I leave...how did my friends react to it?”

Aspen slides his thin twig finger across his neck. “I see...hmm protective as always.” Your eyes reverted back to your original eye color.

“Thanks for visiting Aspen, next time you visit I’ll make you some fruit pie.” Aspen watched as you climbed back to your home as Aspen started to leave. Unaware that he had made it to the edge of the forest where it reached the edge of the kingdom. He noticed that there were a few farmers trending their live stocks, as much as he wanted to attack and devour the flesh off their bones, he knew how much you loved your people even after your banishment. He summoned a flock of crows around him as he pointed to the nearest farmer.

He won’t actually kill them, but if he wanted to make sure that the Witcher and the sorceress doesn’t go after you he had to make some kind of reuss to let them focus on him instead of you. He watched as the crows had attacked the poor farmer before another one had come to his aid, he then ordered the flock to attack another farmer in the area.

He only hopes that this will be enough to attract the duo. And if that doesn’t work, there are more woodling creatures who will risk their lives to protect the ‘mad princess’.

TAGS

If you want to be tag for up coming chapter or previews let me know.

@whitewolfandthefox​ @dreaming-about-starfleet​ @seanh-boredom​

[nastybuckybarnes]

Princess of the Elves

Pairing: Geralt X Reader

Summary: As Princess of the Elves, life at the Edge of the World is a little less-than-fun. However when a Witcher and his Bard show up in your brother’s court, your life gets all the more interesting. Or what happens when a young woman follows a Witcher into too much trouble.

Warnings: Language, Smut, Fluff, Violence, Flashbacks, Injuries,

Word Count: 5,2K

A/n: Writing for Geralt is one of my favourite things to do now. If you haven’t seen the Witcher PLEASE go watch it because it’s amazing. This takes place in episode 2 and contains little-to-no spoilers!

THIS WILL HAVE A SECOND PART!!!

MASTERLIST

~*~

"This is the part where we escape," the human says, tugging against his restraints. The white-haired man behind him grunts, struggling to break his bonds.

"This is the part where they kill us!" He snarls. You watch from a dark corner in the room as Toruviel kicks the human in the face.

"Beast!" She snarls in Elder, kicking the white-haired man.

"Elves," he spits, glaring up at her.

"Hey, that's my lute!" You watch with a frown as his lute gets destroyed, all the while his companion is being kicked mercilessly.

"Shut up!" The white-haired man yells.

"No, you shut up!" Toruviel snaps.

"My elder speech is rough. I only got part of that." You can almost hear Toruviel's annoyance. "Humans, shut up!"

The human nods and replies in Elder, "Ah, got it, thanks so much."

"Do you wanna die right now?" She asks, towering over the two men. "As opposed to later?" The pale one demands, spitting out blood. She kicks the human in the stomach and the other man nearly snarls.

"Leave off! He's just a Bard!"

She turns to the pale man, a wave of newfound anger in her eyes as she punches him time after time.

"You don't deserve the air you breathe! Everything you touch, you destroy!" She kicks him in the face twice more and you flinch.

"You hide in your golden palaces. You beat a bound man, too scared to even look him in the eye!" The bard shouts, glaring up at her.

"Do you like my palace? Hmm?" She walks over to the man with the golden eyes and grabs his chin, lifting his face up to her level. "Does it live up to the tales you humans tell?" He slams his face forwards, forehead breaking her nose, and she falls back with a groan before quickly being overtaken by a fit of coughs.

"Yeah! Take that, pointy!" The Bard laughs.

Toruviel wheezes and coughs and the second elf rushes over to her side as two more people enter the room.

"Wait, what's wrong with her?" He asks, suddenly concerned.

"She's sick!" You sigh softly at the sound of your brother's voice.

"Oh? And who's this?"

"He's Filavandrel. King of the Elves." You roll your eyes at the way Torque says it. As if your brother is so majestic.

"Not a King. Not by choice." He offers Toruviel a canteen and she drinks from it, her wheezing slowly ceasing.

"You were stealing for them," the pale man says. Torque looks at him, getting defensive. "I felt for them. They were forced out of Dol Blathanna." You can't help but have a soft spot for the Sylvan. He's so kind and gentle. To you, at least.

"'Forced out'? No, they chose-" you're close to cutting in yourself, but Filavandrel beats you to it.

"Do you know anyone that would choose to leave their home? To starve? To have a Sylvan steal for them?" He turns away from the two bound men.

"Toruviel, no one was supposed to get hurt," Torque says, a frown on his face. She rolls her eyes. "What's two humans in the ground when countless Elves have died?"

"One human!" The pale man specifies, his eyes hard. "And you can let him go." Your brother stands up, scoffing at the idea. "Then Posada will learn that we are stealing. The humans will attack. Many will die... on both sides."

You slowly move from your hiding spot to one where you can see both hostages more clearly, frowning at the sad look on the Bard's face as your brother drones on and on about how elves have been mistreated.

You study the two of them, watching the tiny reactions they have. The way the paler man stays perfectly stoic throughout your brother's speech and the way the Bard flinches every now and then at a few graphic details.

"Like you, Witcher?" This catches your attention. You turn to the two men, intrigued beyond belief.

Could it be true?

"I have learned to live with them. So that I may live." A Witcher. A true Witcher, right in front of you.

You're so in awe that you don't see your brother lifting his dagger up, prepared to kill the Witcher and the Bard. Just as you're about to jump forward and stop him, he cuts through the ropes restraining them.

"Thank you, Filavandrel." The Witcher says. Your brother simply nods, looking away as the two get to their feet.

"You'll leave immediately. Never come back." The two nod, the bard frowning at his broken lute.

"I don't suppose you have any lying around that you're not using?" Your brother purses his lips and walks out of the room. You duck through a crevice in the wall and run down the hallway, catching up with him in no time.

"Fil! I wanna go with them!" You exclaim rather breathlessly. "(Y/n) how many times have I told you not to snoop! You cannot go with the Witcher and his pet. The world is a dangerous place for an elf. Even more dangerous for a female Elf. Most dangerous for a female Elf who travels with a Witcher of all people." You roll your eyes.

"You cannot stop me and you know that. I thought I'd let you know that I'm leaving now." He sighs heavily, "don't say I didn't warn you. I care about you, Sister. But I know I cannot control you." He hugs you softly and you sigh. "I'll be safe. You and I both know I can hold my own." He nods with a soft chuckle.

"Go on then. Be careful out there."

~

"Credit where credit is due. That whole reverse-psychology thing you did on them was brilliant, by the way." The Bard says, walking alongside the Witcher and his horse. "'Kill me. I'm ready.'"

You walk behind them, listening with a smile as the Bard annoys him to no end.

"That's the conclusion. They just let us go, and you give all of Nettly's coin to the elves."

"Filacandrel's lute not gift enough for you?" The Witcher asks. The Bard grabs his new lute, smiling proudly. "Yeah, she is a bit sexy, isn't she?"

The two walk together in silence for a moment before the human speaks again. "I do have respect for Filavandrel. He survived the great cleansing once. Who knows? Maybe he can do it again. Be reborn. Will the elf king head what the witcher entreats? Is history a wheel doomed to repeat?" He sings then stops, shaking his head. "No, that's... that's shit." You stifle a giggle as the Bard talks to mostly himself.

"This is where we part ways, Bard. For good." The Bard shakes his head, "look, I promised to change the publics' tune about you. At least allow me to try."

He strums his lute for a moment then begins singing again.

"When a humble bard graced a ride along with Geralt of Rivia, along came this song... From when the White Wolf fought a silver-tongued devil, his army of elves at his hooves did they travel. They came after me with masterful deceit. Broke down my lute, and they kicked in my teeth. While the devil's horns minced our tender meat, and so cried the witcher, 'he can't be bleat'."

You furrow your brows and the Witcher -Geralt- interrupts. "That's not how it happened. Where's your newfound respect?"

"Respect doesn't make history." He does have a point there.

"Toss a coin to your Witcher, O' valley of plenty, O' valley of plenty, oh-oh-oh," he sings, walking forwards while the Witcher stops, thinking about his words.

The bard sings the whole way back to the village and even then he doesn't stop. His singing doesn't cease until after they've eaten, after Geralt's been approached by many tavern whores, and after he's chosen a room for the night.

"Jaskier if you don't stop singing, I'll cut your tongue out and feed it to you."

You giggle at this. "I quite enjoyed the Bard's song," you chirp. Jaskier spins and stares at you as the two men walk to their respective rooms.

"Who might you be? And see Geralt! A woman with good taste. If you enjoyed the song, there are plenty of other things I could show you that you may very well enjoy." Geralt glances over his shoulder at you.

"She's been following us since Filavandrel let us go. Not a spy though, far too happy to be a spy." Jaskier raises his eyebrows. "You're an elf?" You slap your hand over his mouth in an instant.

"Humans hate Elves more than they hate Witchers. No offence to you." Geralt simply grunts in reply. "Why have you been following us, Princess?" You stand up straighter and smile at the Witcher.

"I want to join the two of you. It sounds like you encounter many adventures. I want to help." He scoffs and enters his room without another word.

Jaskier, on the other hand, pulls away and smiles at you. "I'd love the company. Especially from a woman with such good musical taste." You nod and glance over your shoulder. "Well, I suppose I'll meet you out here in the morning." He swallows hard and glances over your shoulder. "You could... join me?"

You sigh, "Jaskier, I will not fuck you." He seems taken aback by your word choice. "No, of course not. I just thought it might be... more comfortable for you in here with me." You shrug but take him up on his offer, following him into his room for the night.

~

"Jaskier he's getting ready to leave," You say, eyes closed as you meditate. "What?! And he hasn't even come to see if we're awake?" You open your eyes and roll them at the human. "I'll be out with him." Jaskier struggles to get his ducks in a row, and you can't help but laugh at how helpless he sounds.

"Good morning, Witcher. Where are we off to today? What monster needs to be dealt with?" Geralt looks over at you then does a double-take. "Please tell me you didn't-" "I know better than to sleep with a common Bard. I'm not that stupid." He shakes his head and continues getting ready. You walk over to his horse, petting her mane gently.

"Hello, beautiful. My, aren't you an impressive one." She leans into your touch and you smile at her. "A true beauty you are. Strong too, aren't you? You've been through many adventures with your rider, have you not?" Geralt observes silently as you interact with Roach, taking notice of the way she seems automatically drawn to you.

"Geralt! Geralt don't leave!" Jaskier stumbles towards the two of you. You laugh at that, shaking your head at Geralt's grunt of annoyance.

"Now, where are we headed, my friend?" Geralt says nothing, simply takes Roach by the reins and leads her away from the inn.

Jaskier falls into step beside you and smiles. "May I use you as a muse? For a song, I mean. I can already picture the crowds that would want to hear about the enchanting Elf princess."

You scoff, "They'd only listen if it ends with me dead." Geralt snorts at your comment, not showing any other indication that he heard you.

"No! It won't be about you dying! I just... you fill me with inspiration." You look over at him. "Your flattery won't get you any closer to bedding me."

Jaskier frowns but otherwise ignores the comment. "I'm going to make it the best song I've ever sung." You shrug then stop walking, your ears twitching as you sense someone -or something- following you.

"What is it?" Jaskier asks. You close your eyes for a moment then shake your head. "I thought I heard something. Must be nothing."

~

Jaskier talks your ear off for the better part of the day, talking about things that you can't even remember. You understand Geralt's impatience towards the human, but you know he means well.

"We rest here for the night." Geralt says, dropping his stuff by the trees.

"D-do you really think we should be staying in the middle of the forest at night?" Jaskier asks nervously. "Don't worry, Jaskier. The Princess will protect you." You roll your eyes but your hand instinctively goes to one of the swords on your hip.

"You'll be fine, Jaskier. Rest." He nods, looking between you and the Witcher before settling on the ground, his hands holding his lute protectively to his chest. You turn away from the two of them and look up at the trees surrounding the three of you. Picking a nice one, you walk over to it and start climbing.

"Elves," Geralt mumbles under his breath. You roll your eyes and settle into the tree, lying back against the trunk and stretching your legs out on a thick branch. Your eyes flutter closed quickly, exhausted after the day you've had.

~

Your ears twitch and perk, waking you up quickly. Looking around quickly, you assess your surroundings. Geralt and Jaskier are asleep on the ground below and roach is sleeping nearby. You hear more rustling and bounce to your feet, bow in one hand while your other reaches for some arrows.

Low growling pulls your focus to the moving mass, huge and only slightly terrifying. You load two arrows into your bow and aim at the hulking body, exhaling softly before releasing the arrows. They hit the target, a deafening snarl clues you into that, and you quickly load your bow again, firing at the same spot. The monster growls again and you spring from the tree, landing gracefully on your feet at the same time as Geralt rises to his.

"A Kishi," he says, sword in hand. "It's been following us since we left this morning," you whisper, eyes glowing green as the beast steps closer.

"And you didn't think to kill it then?!" He snarls.

You turn your gaze to him. "I didn't think it would be very productive to kill something that hadn't aggravated me. I'm not a monster." He seems taken aback, his surprise rendering him vulnerable, and the Kishi sees that.

With a roar, it dives to the two of you. You grab the two swords on your waist and run at the monster, ignoring Geralt yelling at you to stop. You slide beneath the belly of the two-headed dog, swords raised and slicing right through its abdomen. It yelps and skids to a stop, tumbling onto its side as blood and guts spew out of it.

"That was dangerous! And stupid!" Geralt exclaims, grabbing your arm. You turn to him with a smile. "That was exhilarating. And almost exactly what you would've done. Don't tell me what I can and cannot do. I'm not a child and I won't let anyone, especially you, treat me like one." Your eyes blaze green and he lets go of your arm.

The Kishi whines and whimpers from behind you and you turn to it, kneeling beside one of its heads.

"I am sorry it had to end this way." You raise your sword and thrust it down through the creature's chest, piercing its heart. Its crying ceases and you spend a moment kneeling by its side before standing up and sheathing your swords.

"As for me being able to handle myself, Geralt of Rivia, I've been doing so since I was a child." You walk back to where Jaskier is pacing and toss your bow to the side. "Oh thank heavens you're alright. I was worried that my song about you would, in fact, end in your death. Speaking of..." he reaches into his pack and grabs a quill, a jar of ink, and some paper.

"I would like to know, in detail, what happened when you fought that monster." Geralt walks back, calming Roach down, then lying back down. "Perhaps in the morning. I need to rest." He nods, a pout on his lips. You lie on your back and close your eyes, embarrassed at the way you snapped at Geralt.

~

"Two rooms for the night," Geralt grunts, hood up to shield his identity from the innkeeper. "We've only got one." Geralt sighs heavily but takes the key. Jaskier stands at your side, chatting your ear off and Geralt can't help but crack a half-smile.

"I'm going to the tavern," he announces. You quickly run after him, excusing yourself from Jaskier's story. Geralt tosses him the key to the room and Jaskier sighs.

It's been two weeks since you killed the Kishi. Two weeks since you flipped your shit on Geralt and two weeks of you trying to figure out how to mend things. How to get closer to the emotionless Witcher.

You say nothing, opting to walk beside him in silence.

As soon as you reach the tavern he leaves your side, finding a whore and starting to chat her up. You sigh and head to the bar, flagging down the bartender and ordering a pitcher of ale.

"Hello there, darling." You glance to your left, groaning as a drunk man takes a seat beside you. "What say you and me go out back for a little fun. Huh?" You down the entire glass then get up.

"No. Thank you." He grumbles something under his breath and you roll your eyes, pushing your hair behind your ear instinctually then instantly regretting it as he inhales sharply.

You glance around to make sure no one else noticed then hurry to the tavern doors, ready to get away from this man.

Geralt's eyes follow your figure as you rush out of the Tavern. He's about to return his attention to his female companion when he notices a group of at least a dozen men, each holding a weapon of some kind, following you out.

He walks away from the woman, ignoring the way she curses at him. His hand finds his sword as he leaves the tavern and he's more than glad that he followed you.

The men have gathered around you, two of them restraining you while a third holds a dagger at your left ear.

"You want to lose these? Or will you do as a woman should and open your legs?" He can see the fear in your eyes as they well up with tears, something he hopes he never has to see again.

Fury flashes in his eyes as you let out a soft whimper, your swords on the ground by your feet.

He unsheaths his sword and grabs the man closest to him, throwing him into a nearby building. The men around you freeze, staring in shock as Geralt glares at them.

"Let her go."

The man with the dagger at your ear chuckles. "Does the Witcher have a pet?" He grinds his teeth and swings his sword, slicing through the stomachs of the men closest to him. The men holding you drop you to the floor and the dagger slices your neck and cheek on your way down.

You grab your swords and slash the heels of the man who held the dagger at your ear. He falls to the floor with a scream and you're quick to shove the blade into his throat.

All the while, Geralt has taken care of the other men. You push yourself onto your butt, curling your knees up to your chest and staring blankly at the dead man in front of you.

Geralt sighs and crouches down in front of you.

"Are you alright?" You nod slowly, eyes focusing on his face. He brings one hand up to your cheek, gently running his fingers over the shallow gash.

"Look at me." You comply, looking into his amber eyes.

"You're alright." You simply nod, looking back down as he helps you to your feet.

You're silent, eyes focused on the ground as you walk beside Geralt back to the Inn. He pushes the door to the room open and glances around, scoffing as he sees Jaskier sprawled out on the wooden chaise.

"You can take the bed," Geralt whispers, his eyes warm. You shake your head. "I... I'm going the bathe. I..." You trail off, a distant look in your eyes, and all Geralt can do is nod.

As you're bathing Geralt, wonders why that attack impacted you so much. Why you seem to care so much about what they did, about what happened.

Meanwhile, you're trying not to relive the vivid memories of what men like that did to your family.

~*~

You shuffle into the room, starting to prepare a bed on the floor when Geralt sits up in the bed.

"Come lie with me. There's plenty of room for the two of us." You stare at him for a moment before nodding and climbing into bed beside him. You can feel the heat radiating off of his huge body, and subconsciously shift towards it.

"Thank you. For being there today," you whisper, eyes closed as you try to ignore the embarrassment you feel.

"Why did it affect you so much? You've handled yourself in more dangerous situations before. Why did these men... why?" You exhale deeply and look up at him.

"I... they did that to my mother. My sisters. I saw it. They cut off their ears and raped them. It... it's like I was brought back to that day." He's quiet and you sigh, rolling onto your side and facing away from him.

"I know it's... weak of me. And I hate that I'm still affected by it, but I really can't help it. I promise I'm trying to overcome it, but it's hard sometimes and-" a warmth spreading across your stomach cuts you off and you look down to the source, eyebrows raising as you see that his strong arm is what's warming you.

"I'm sorry for your loss. And sorry that you had to endure such a terrible thing. I swear on my life, no man will ever hurt you like that." You're stiff for a moment, breathing shallowly as Geralt leaves his arm around your waist.

"Sleep now, Princess. You'll be safe." Your eyelids close slowly and you sigh, falling asleep easily in his arms.

~*~

"Geralt can we please rest? We've been walking all day. And, not to be the bearer of bad news, you stink. I stink. Even (Y/n) is starting to stink. The heat isn't doing us any good." You watch Geralt as he contemplates Jaskier's words.

"Wait, I stink?" You ask, lifting your arm and smelling beneath.

"No, not really. I just want Geralt to give us a rest!" Jaskier shouts the last words and Geralt grunts.

"Fine!" He stops walking and turns to glare at Jaskier. "You want to rest so badly? Fine. We'll rest now and travel at night." He walks away, into the woods with Roach following behind. You and Jaskier exchange glances before following him into the thicket of trees.

Instead of finding the Witcher, like you thought you would, instead, you find Roach tied to a tree, munching on some carrots and hay that Geralt must've laid out.

"It sounds like there's a stream nearby. That's probably where he went," Jaskier says, collapsing on the grass next to the horse.

"I'll go talk to him, make sure he's doing alright," you whisper, walking through the woods to where you can hear water bubbling.

It's been a week since Geralt saved you from the men at the Tavern. A week of longing glances, lingering touches, and hidden meanings that Jaskier is definitely starting to pick up on.

You find Geralt in the water, his back towards you as he splashes some of the refreshing-looking water onto his skin.

"Geralt? Are you alright?" He simply grunts in reply and you sigh. An idea strikes you and you stare at him for a moment longer before toeing off your shoes and ridding yourself of your shirt.

He glances over his shoulder at you upon hearing the unmistakable sound of clothing being removed and raises his eyebrows.

"See something you like, Witcher?" You tease, stripping down to nothing then slowly stepping into the water. He looks forward, not replying, but his reaction is enough to let you know that he did indeed see something of interest.

You walk towards him, fingers reaching out and brushing across a long scar on his back.

"Go on. Ask about them. Everyone does." You shake your head and bring your other hand to his shoulder, smoothing them upwards until you reach his shoulders. You step closer until your front is pressed against his back.

"The scars represent the past. The past is something of insignificance now. The present is what matters," you whisper, pressing your lips hesitantly to the skin of his back. He stiffens then relaxes into your touch with a whisper of your name.

You smile slightly then pull away from him, turning around and diving under the water. The cool temperature is beyond refreshing, and you take a moment to enjoy it fully before breaking the surface again.

You push your wet hair behind your ears and glance over your shoulder, gasping as Geralt comes up behind you, hands finding your hips.

"You, Elf, are a tease. And you know it." You bite your bottom lip to hide a grin as he presses his cheek to the top of your head.

"Am I, now, Geralt of Rivia?" He nods, hands slowly circling around to rest on your stomach, fingers splayed and leisurely travelling up up up your abdomen.

His thumbs just graze the undersides of your breasts and you inhale sharply, on hand coming up over your shoulder to tangle in his hair as he ducks his head, pressing a kiss to your shoulder.

"Yes. You are. And it is becoming a... growing problem." You giggle softly. "Growing problem? What on earth do you mean?"

He growls in your ear, nipping at your earlobe. "You know exactly what I’m talking about." He steps even closer to you and you inhale sharply at the feeling of his hard length pressing against your lower back.

"O-oh!" He nods, peppering kisses down the column of your throat.

"What do you plan on doing to... fix this problem?" You ask breathlessly. His right-hand grabs at your breast and you arch into the feeling.

"You're the one who's going to fix this 'problem', Princess." You shiver, a soft sigh leaving your lips at the way his hands feel against your skin.

"Geralt..." He sucks a dark hickey into your throat and you moan, eyes closing as his hands start to wander more.

His left-hand dips below the waterline, fingers gently pressing into your heat.

"You want it too, don't you?" You nod, hips wiggling against him in a desperate attempt to gain friction where you need it most.

He slowly slides his right hand up your body until it rests on your throat, pressing with just enough force to make you feel it.

“Tell me what you want, Princess, and it’s yours.” You whimper softly, thrusting and rocking your hips against his firm hand.

“Please, Geralt. Please fuck me.” He groans against your neck and shifts away from you for just a moment. You whine then moan as he pushes his long, thick cock through your folds. The tip bumps against your clit and you squeeze your eyes shut.

“Please Geralt. I need it. I need you.” That’s all it takes for him to stop teasing you, lifting you by the waist a few inches out of the water with one arm securely around your waist, while using his other hand to guide his impressive length into you.

A long, wanton moan leaves you at the feeling of him stretching your walls, and he groans at the sound. “Fuck... you’re so tight...” You nod, reaching back and grabbing his hair and arching your back. The arm around your waist holds you tightly, keeping you steady while he slowly starts thrusting up into you.

You whimper, holding onto him as he stretches your walls over and over with each and every nearly painful thrust.

“G-Geralt!” He stops thrusting, lifts you off of him effortlessly, and spins you around so you’re facing him. His amber eyes stare right into your soul and he leans down. Your lips crash together in a sloppy and extremely heated kiss, his tongue easily winning the battle for dominance.

He lifts you up by your hips again and pulls you onto his cock once more, your legs up over his arms. The new angle makes your eyes roll back and Geralt chuckles.

“A woman of many words, and now you’re speechless?” His voice is tight and slightly weak as your walls flutter and clench on his cock. He moves you, fingers digging into the soft skin of your waist as he forces you up and down on his cock. You can do nothing but take it, your body pliant for his use.

Your head falls back, neck bared for him, and he scrapes his teeth over the sensitive skin there.

“You take my cock so well. Such a small thing yet you take me like you were made for me.” You whimper at his words.

The water splashes up against the two of you, masking the sound of his hips meeting the underside of your thighs. You moan loudly, scrunching up your face as the coil in your belly tightens.

Geralt’s blunt teeth nip at your pulse point and he soothes the sting with his tongue.

“I-I’m...” you trail off, nails digging into the skin of his forearms. “Yeah?” He asks, voice low and husky and positively sexy.

He pulls your earlobe between his teeth and a jolt goes through you at the feeling. You arch your back again, lips parting in a silent scream of pleasure as you get violently thrust into an earth-shattering orgasm.

The intense clench of your walls around his cock and the blissed-out look of pleasure on your face makes Geralt lose it. He presses his lips to your neck before letting out a nearly feral moan, his thrusts stuttering as he fills you with his cum.

He holds you in his arms for a while as the two of you catch your breath and even once you’re both recovered from your highs, he keeps you against him, his cock softening but staying locked inside you.

Your cunt flutters as you think about what just happened and he groans against you, pulling back to look into your eyes.

“Watch yourself, Princess. I won’t hesitate to fuck you until you can’t walk properly.” You moan and he smirks, lifting you up a bit, just enough for his cock to slide out of you, then lowers you to your feet.

Your legs tremble and Geralt smiles.

“Come on. The Bard will be waiting for us. No doubt writing a song about the two of us.” You giggle and follow him out of the water, not even trying to be discreet about the way your eyes follow his figure.

“Stop staring.” You roll your eyes, giving him a playful glare as his own eyes rake over your figure.

“Stop staring, Geralt.” He pulls his trousers on then walks to you, hands resting surprisingly gently on your waist.

“You’re mine, are you not?” You look up into his eyes and nod helplessly. “Then I’ll stare if I want.” You lean up onto your toes and kiss his lips gently before turning around and pulling your clothes on.

“Geralt of Rivia. Who would’ve thought that an Elf would be your undoing?” He chuckles and shakes his head, pulling his shirt on and buttoning it up as he walks back to where you both know Jaskier has been waiting.

“Finally! I never thought you’d finish! You know, you’re both quite loud. It’s really, very disturbing. I think I’ll have nightmares for months,” the Bard complains.

You and the Witcher only exchange smiles. If only Jaskier knew that this would be just the start of all his problems with the two of you.

[plus-size-reader]

Jealousy

Geralt of Rivia x Plus size!reader

Word Count: 1166 words

Warnings:none 

Summary: Traveling with Jaskier and Geralt. Jaskier is a huge flirt and won’t stop trying to charm you...until Geralt gets jealous

———————————————————————————————————

The deal was simple.

Your father decided that the best way to transport you, a princess in your land, to another city state, was by hiring the Witcher to babysit you.

Personally, you thought it was ridiculous.No one who knew anything of you would bother to stop you on the road, though it made some semblance of sense that if you traveled by carriage-you would be robbed.

Common thieves didn’t care much about who they were robbing, it was just about what they could steal.

In that regard, you had a lot to lose.

Though as soon as you met Geralt of Rivia, you went back to the old way of thinking. You would rather be robbed on the road by some highwaymen than ever travel with such a rude, stubborn beast of a man.

He was far too much to handle.

Never in all your days had you met a man so disrespectful. It made no sense that he would be that way, not after all the things he’d seen. You thought that a man that cultured would at least know how to speak to people.

“Witcher please, we’ve been sitting in this bar for hours. Surely there must be something of value here” you sighed, the two of you had been sitting here for hours and nothing had come of it quite yet.

You didn’t know what he was waiting for but it was terribly boring.

This was the first time that you’d ever been out of your father’s kingdom and so far, the outside world was more boring than just sitting in your room. However, Geralt ignored your complaints.

He didn’t care much for your whining.

As far as he was concerned, it wouldn’t matter if he dropped you off tomorrow or days from now...nothing would come soon enough. Nothing he did would ever change the fact that you were nothing more than a spoiled little girl.

However, as if an answer to your pleas-another man approached the table.

As best you could tell, he had just been booed out of a performance.

He may not have been much but if nothing else, he had to have been more entertaining than the current company you were being forced to keep.

“And who may you be?” You interjected. The men had only been talking in the witcher’s direction at first but at a certain point-you got bored of listening. Listening had never been your strong suit, especially not as you were used to being the one talking.

You could already tell that this new man was more talkative than the white-haired abomination you’d been traveling with. You only hoped that he would also better company.

Geralt kept you alive, but other than that, he wasn’t doing much for you. You needed someone to entertain you, and perhaps this goofy bard was just the ticket.

“Jaskier” he smiled, bowing ever so theatrically in your direction. Where you came from, there were no men like him. There were men, of course there were, but most of them were pig-headed and vile.

Most of them were princes, men that your father hoped you would marry but you never paid them much mind. Instead, you chose to spend time alone more than anything...ignoring the foolish men he’d drop at your feet.

You didn’t care for any of them, but none of them had ever approached you in such a comical way. They had always wanted something from you, something that you just weren’t willing to give.

None of them ever amused you.

“I am Princess Y/N of the Skellige Isles” you smiled, standing from the table as best you could in this wretched dress. The corset was tied so tightly that you could hardly breathe in it, led alone move.

The man returned your smile, reaching out to take your hand in his own. Slowly, he brought your hands to his lips, brushing a kiss over the back of your knuckles. “Lovely to meet you”

Jaskier was charming, and very friendly but nothing got you more than the way Geralt’s gaze burned into you when you smiled back at the second man.

You had never thought that he looked at you in any way other than with distaste and annoyance. You doubted the Witcher even had feelings for anything or anyone in the first place.

However, you had seen that look before.

You had seen that look shining in the eyes of many people in your life. In the eyes of the women you passed around the courtyard as they eyed your jewelry and gowns. In the eyes of men when they glanced at your mother and father together at feasts…

It was jealousy.

You would know it anywhere but you had no idea why Geralt would be jealous of some god awful bar entertainer. It made no sense to you, but you knew better than to think about it too much.

...The witcher didn’t have feelings. Everyone in all the realms knew it but it didn’t matter.

Right now, all you were focused on was having a good time with this new man, the object of your current attention. “I’m horribly thirsty, do you think you could get me an ale?” you purred, your eyes sparkling as you looked at Jaskier.

You could have easily gotten it yourself but you didn’t want to. You wanted him to get it for you, just to prove that he would-and of course he would. You had never met a man in your life that would refuse you.

Though, as soon as the second man was gone, the Witcher turned his attention to you. “You shouldn’t waste your time Y/N, he’s a loser at best”

It was the first time that he’d addressed you using your real name. Usually with Geralt, he always called you ‘Princess’ or ‘Girl’ anything to avoid calling you by the name your parents gave you.

“And what are you Witcher? Would you be a waste of my time?” you wondered teasingly, resting your elbows on the table with your head resting in your palms. You were looking at him with those eyes, those eyes that sparkled like gems in the sunlight, and it was almost too much to bear.

He knew that you were being cruel and that you were only kidding but part of him wanted to agree. Never in his life had he been more captivated by human than when he knew you.

However, his admiration toward you had not been instantaneous. At first, he thought you nothing more than a stupid little girl with too much money and too much to whine about.

In some ways, he still held that opinion, only now, he also wanted to grip  you tight and never let you go. Perhaps it had something to do with that silly bard and his obvious attraction toward you.

Whatever the case, of the few emotions the Witcher could feel, jealousy was clearly one of them.

[dr0wning-in-hell]

Care - Geralt of Rivia

Summary :  While traveling the continent, Geralt and his child surprise stumble upon a Kikimora, and while Geralt and the others are trying to find a place to hide the child surprise she wonders off and well... chaos assumes.

Word Count : 1k+

Warnings : chaos, just chaos, angst, angry!geralt, blood, fighting, fluff at the end

Pairing/Characters : Geralt of Rivia x child surprise!reader, Jaskier, Yennefer

Prompt : “ Hello! Please could you write something where the reader is Geralt's child surprise (instead of Ciri) and the reader wanders off while Geralt (and his companions if you'd like to include them) aren't looking which results in the reader finding an animal which appears to be harmless but isn't and while she's running back to Geralt she falls (and doesn't get back up) so the animal/monster is much closer to her than Geralt and it's just a chaotic mess?...Sorry 🌷 “ - anon

A/N :  So I’m gonna have the timeline the same but the reader will be a young adult in this, even though Ciri is a teenager in the show.

new masterlist | prompt list | color prompt list

They had all been travelling for what felt like forever, but in reality it had only been two days. The nearby townsman had said there was a monster in the swamp, and Geralt seemed to know what it was instantly, but refused to tell anyone what it was. 

As the group of four neared the swamp Geralt started telling them what this mystery beast was. While he was explaining everything, Y/N had begun to wonder off throughout the swamp without listening to the Witcher. She moved closer to the edge of the water, a bubbling came from the middle of it, but she didn’t seem to pay attention to it. She reached into the water slowly with her hand, just to touch it, but instead had something very large and sharp wrap around her wrist.

Y/N let out a blood curdling scream, one that could be heard all the way from where Geralt and the others were. The sound of the scream had everyone’s head turning, all of them now on the lookout for the child surprise.

“Y/N!” Geralt began shouting as he drew his sword. “Y/N!” But there was no answer. Yennefer and Geralt moved quickly through the swamp as they tried to find her,

Meanwhile, Y/N had managed to slip out of the monster’s grasp, he wrist and hand were cut and bleeding but the pain of it didn’t seem to exist as she ran for her life. She stumbled continuously, running and breathing heavily as she was trying to find the way in which she had originally came. 

“Geralt! Please, Geralt help!” She cried out as she began to slow. The girl was losing blood quickly, far to quickly for her body to handle. Behind her she heard the screech of the monster, which only pumped adrenaline through her veins and kept her moving. 

Geralt and Yennefer heard the screech of the beast and went sprinting in the direction of the sound. Y/N was still running, and the closer she came to where she thought she had come, the clearer the outlines of the Witcher and Sorceress. Her face lit up in a manner that could easily be described as of relief, but as she began to pick up her pace her foot was caught on a large log. The princess fell, her head smacking against the large chunk of wood. The sound sent a cold shiver down Geralt’s spine as he watched the girl fall.

From behind her though the beast was gaining speed, getting closer and closer but Y/N was not getting up. Without a second’s hesitation Geralt and Yennefer were sprinting towards the fallen princess. Yennefer uttered an incantation, slowing the beast’s movement just enough so that Geralt could get Y/N out of harms way. He placed her limp body next to Yennefer, who was losing her grip on the magic hold. 

“Go! Get her back to Roach!” He shouted just as the spell was broken and the monster was now at full speed. Geralt distracted the beast so that the witch and Y/N could get back to the horse safely. It didn’t take too long for the beast to go down, but Geralt wished it could have happened quicker. 

Once Geralt had enough strength to get up from the ground he quickly made his way to Y/N and Yennefer, who was trying to stitch up the bleeding on her wrist and hand. “Why isn’t she waking up?” Geralt huffed.

“She hit her head pretty hard, but she’ll be okay. She just needs to rest.” The witch had finished cleaning the wounds on her friends’ skin and caressed her hair while Geralt and Jaskier had decided to set up camp. Since Geralt didn’t usually sleep as it was, he stood guard outside of Y/N and Yennefer’s tent to make sure that there wouldn’t be any more monsters attacking them.

When morning came his senses went into high alert when he heard Y/N groaning from inside the tent. He quickly entered to find the girl holding her head and squinting as light beamed through the entrance of the tent. 

“For fucks sake close the damn curtains,” She huffed as she tried to hide her face.

Geralt was livid, he was angry and it showed. “You stupid girl! I told you not to wander off and that’s exactly what you did! You wandered off and look where it got you, you could have been killed!” The witcher bellowed as he shook his head. The man sighed and sat next to Y/N who had a look of pity and regret written across her face.

“I’m sorry,” She mumbled softly, “I didn’t think anything would happen.” She looked up at the golden eyed man with big doe eyes that she knew he couldn’t stay mad at, “It won’t happen again, I promise.”

Geralt nodded and did something no one ever saw him do, be affectionate. He placed a tender kiss to the top of the girls’ head and nodded, “Just rest a little bit longer and then we have to get moving again.” He said and stood up. As he was walking out he turned and mumbled, “I’m glad you’re okay, Y/N.” And then left to catch some breakfast.

“You really do something to him, you know?” Yennefer said with a smile, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen him care about anyone as much as he cares about you.”

[letstalkaboutshtufff]

Geralt x reader We're Married? Part 1

Hey guys, thank you so much for all the love for my other story! I was so nervous posting it and you guys were just the best💕 this story was harder to write and I'm not sure it's as good as the other one but I'm gonna post it anyway. 

This can be read as a part 3 to the injured reader story:)

Part 2 here

Pairing: Geralt x Reader

Warnings: Cursing, blood, mentions of death, mentions of past sexual abuse.

*********************

Out of all the places you'd traveled too with the witcher, this had to be one of the nicest.

As you walked through the kingdom known as Servia you couldn't help but stare at everything around you. Vendors lined the streets selling everything you could possibly imagine, shining jewelry, beautifully woven fabrics, and oooooooh well well well what do we have here!!!

You made a beeline for the tray of freshly baked pastries, a seductive look on your face,

"Well hello boys...which one of you wants to come home with me hehehe, or perhaps I should take you all home? Oooh your so bad hehe, well if you insist hahahahaha".

From afar Geralt sighed and Jaskier just looked on with disturbing confusion, "Geralt? What exactly is she doing?" His face twisted uncomfortablely as you continued talking and giggling like a maniac.

"She has a thing about....desserts" Geralt closed his eyes and shuddered as he remembered the one time he left you alone in an inn and you used up all of his coin to order one of literally everything on the menu. He practically had to roll you away afterwards.

"My God geralt shes scaring the baker now".

Jaskier scrunched his mouth as he watched you continue to whisper to the pastries, completely unaware of the weird looks people were giving you." I swear brothel whores are more subtle.."

Geralt grunted and made his way over to you, "We'll uh...take however much this will get us" he placed a coin in the bakers hand and watched your eyes glint like a maniac when he handed you the box.

"There now that you have your sweets, can we please hurry! We can't be late!" Jaskier pleaded pushing you in the correct path again.

"Alright alright no more stops I promise....wait does anyone else smell chocolate?" You look around frantically.

"NO" the both of them shout in unison and drag you forward.

"Ugh ok, I was just asking geez.."you pout.

"Remind me again who we're meeting?" You questioned, looking up at Jaskier who rolled his eyes back at you.

"Ugh how many times do I have to tell you?!"

"His name is Yavert, hes the advisor of the royal family here and he also happens to be the man who requested our help".

You nodded your head, "oh yes I remember now" ok you actually had no idea what he was talking about but whatever, you'll figure it out.

Some time later you found yourselves gawking at the massive architecture that was the Castle de Servia. Calling it massive would be doing it a disservice. The structure went higher than your eyes could see and wider than any other castle you've been to. "Holy fuck.." Jaskier whispered in awe.

Geralt shook his head as if he was already fed up with it all, "let's go"

The guards led you through the castle and into a small side room. Red carpets lined the floors along with a beautiful mahogany table. The walls had several portraits, obviously of the royal family. You saw an older man, a woman, and a young girl about your age all ornately painted. Hmm why do people always look so upset in portraits. Couldn't the artist just add a smile?

A creak at the door gained everyone's attention. A man, probably in his mid fifties, entered. He was balding and on the fluffier side, dressed in a puffy sleeved shirt, with a velvet red vest over it.

"Welcome, please, have a seat, you all must be tired from your jouney" he said gesturing to the chairs.

"You have no idea what a relief it is to have you here Geralt of Rivia" a look of exhaustion fell over face.

"So what's the job" Geralt asked, straight to the point as usual.

The man looked uncomfortable for a moment before he scooted closer and leaned in as if he was telling a secret,

"Well..our...problem, began a few weeks ago when the alliance between Targeris and our own kingdom was official. Since then there have been several banquets of celebration, as there are still many things being discussed and processed. One of those being the upcoming wedding of our Princess Annora and their Prince Edgrin. Hence the big celebration we are having this evening, an engagement party of sorts."

"And the problem?" Geralt cocked a brow.

The man swallowed before continuing, "Well..since the alliance, there have been disappearances..."

"Dissapearances?" You echoed interested.

"Important Servia officials have suddenly been going missing..the first on the night the kings signed the peace agreement, the second when the marriage was announced.. and then.." he looked around wearily and lowered his voice even more, "things have gotten much worse.."

"How exactly did they get worse" Geralt inquired, suspicious of how Yavert was acting.

"At the last party, about a week ago, one of our ambassadors was found dead.."

Geralt narrowed his eyes, "what aren't you saying.."

The man gulped, " it was the way he died, no man could have..." he paused closing his eyes, obvious memories making him shudder. "No man could have done it, it had to be a monster".

"How can you be so sure?" You asked leaning in now intrigued.

"The body..was so mangled we could barely identify the man. His innards were ripped out and his eyes...they were gone. Clearly it was the work of a beast."

Geralt narrowed his brows, "I have never encountered a monster before that hand picks their pray." You nodded in agreement.

All the monsters you'd faced just destroyed everything in their path. And why would a monster suddenly decide to start targeting officials from Servia? It just doesnt make any sense.

"Please witcher, help us with finding and slaying the creature and we will pay whatever means necessary" he placed a large pouch in front of us.

"Hmm" geralt thought for a few moments, then turned to you wordlessly asking your opinion. A new habit that did make you feel more like partners.

You shrugged your shoulders in a "why not?" Sort of way.

"Alright what the hell.." he grabbed the pouch and stood up.

"Wait, theres a few more things you need to know.." Geralt sat back down with a grunt.

"It is important that you are discreet, no one can know who you or your companions are, not even the king and queen themselves.."

"What?!" Your eyes widened.

"They dont know?" Geralt asked completely bewildered.

"I have advised the king and queen since they first began their reign many years ago. They trust me with their lives I would never lie to them...except..." he sighed and continued, "we have been at odds with targeris for so long, and finally peace is withing our grasp.

But if the king catches wind of what's going on, he will no doubt blame Targeris. Our king is good, but his fault lies with his hate for Targeris. It took much convincing from everyone to finally have the king agree to peace. But he would quickly jump to accuse them. I have no doubt a war would begin if this were to happen...for the sake of peace, they cannot know.." he looked down in shame.

"And the king just doesn't notice all these officials have gone missing?" Geralt shook his head in disbelief.

"Well...we have done our best to cover them up...but the king is getting suspicious, which is why we need to figure out what exactly is going on before anything else happens."

Everything about this job just seemed off. A monster who hand picks their prey, disappearing officials, and the king hasnt even the slightest idea?

"How are we supposed to find this monster without having our identities revealed?" You cocked your head in question.

"Ah yes well, I have prepared an airtight alias for the both of you, after all if you're going to fool people, you will need real identities"

"Fool people? Why cant we just stay in the shadows until something pops up?". Monster hunting in your experience was much easier when there weren't people around. Probably monster hunting rule #1.

"Unfortunately you would not be able to as the king has eyes and ears everywhere, it would not be long before youd be questioned and ultimately found out." Yavert explains.

"Alright.." you say hesitantly, "So how are we supposed to track the monster then?

"So far all the accidents have occurred during nightfall. By blending in as elite members of society, no one will question you as you move about, not even the royal family."

God this just keeps getting more confusing..

"So not only do we have to worry about finding a seemingly brilliant monster, but also worry about being found out?" Jaskier piped in for the first time this entire conversation.

"Yes that's correct.." he nodded slowly.

"Unfortunately I was only able to manage 2 identities, you will be known as Sir and Lady Trestin. A well known name, although the couple is known for not socializing so the risk of someone recognizing that you're not them is extremely low, here are your official invitations you will have to present at the door." He slid some documents our way.

"Wait I'm sorry did you say couple? As in couple of friends? Couple of siblings? Couple of cousins??" Surely he didnt mean-

"The lady and sir Tristan and husband and wife..is that a problem?" He questioned eyebrow raised.

"No of course not.." Um maybe a little! Sure I've fantasized about it before *cough* but now to actually act it out?? This was going to be an adventure for sure..

"What about me?" Jaskier pipes in again.

"You can be our dog" Geralt says not missing a beat.

"Oh that's low geralt" he recoils dramatically.

"How about servant boy?" You offer with a shrug.

"Do I have to?" He gives a puppy dog look to Yavert.

"I'm afraid it's the only way" Yavert smiled slightly.

"Alright, now then, this is the address you will go to for preperation my lady and for the sirs, you'll come with me" you all stood up and parted ways.

Geralt as your husband? This could actually be fun..

‐------------------------------------------------

"OUCH" you yelled for the thousandth time at the stupid woman who's mission was to tighten your corset until your eyes popped out.

"I'm sorry my lady but this must be done.." you sighed holding the wall for support.

"Especially a lady as...." she trailed off.

"Curvy as you.." did this bitch just?!?!

"You're job is to get me ready not tell me I've eaten too many sweets in my day" you rolled your eyes.

"Besides its nearing winter, I need the extra fluff for survival purposes"

"Well I think a little extra meat on a girl is highly attractive" a new voice chimed in.

"Jaskier? When did you get here?" You couldn't help out the small laugh when you truly got a good look at him. He wore the typical servants garb but his hair had been slicked back. He looked like a boiled egg.

"Don't you laugh too! I swear you and Geralt are so mean to me" he dejectedly sprawled himself out on a cushioned chair.

"Speaking of.." you looked at the door, "Where is he?"

"Hes still getting ready, a sir takes much longer than a mere servant." You laughed at his miserable tone.

"Oh lighten up Jaskier, servant boys have plenty of fun at these parties too, I'm sure some lady will see your puppy face and take you in" you smirked.

"Let's hope so.." another girl came in this time holding a few brightly colored dresses in her arms.

"Turn around boy" the older woman scolded.

"And you, arms up!" You complied as she slid the softest fabric you've ever felt over your body.

Your turned to look at the mirror, "Eww gross no way, Jaskier look! I'm a pineapple!" You both laughed annoying the girls. "Alright next!"

*insert shopping montage with corny music here*

"This one?"

Nods head

Next!

Both nod heads

Maybe? Actually nevermind..

No

No

No

Next

Eww what even is this color barf in the spring??

No

WAIT! HELL YES!

Jaskier nods in agreement.

*Montage ends*

An hour later you were ready, the beautuful _____ colored gown was the perfect shape on your body. It wasnt like most of the boring dresses you had tried on. And you decided to ditch the corset..

"It isnt proper!" One scolded.

"But you have to admit, it's a hell of alot sexier.." Jaskier nodded looking over me.

"Plus I can actually breathe!" And besides how were you supposed to fight monsters if you couldn't move? You left that part out obviously.

The girls just shook their heads in exasperation and finished up your hair and make up in another room.

"There now you're ready" the ladies smiled in satisfaction and left. You thanked them and made your way out to where Jaskier was.

His eyes lit up when he saw you, "Y/n! You look amazing! Although you always look beautiful" he smirked taking your arm.

"Thank you Jaskier, after everything those ladies put me through I better look like a fucking goddess" you both laughed remembering how he had to hold you down while they waxed your legs.

Together you left the shop and you swore for a moment you forgot how to breathe. Now Geralt in full body armor is one thing, but princely Geralt? Well your dreams were Surely going to be wild tonight. Never had you seen the witcher so finely pressed before. It was very...refreshing.

His gaze rose as he finally noticed the two of you. You forgot how to breathe when he looked over you. "Well? What do you think?" You asked a little embarrassed.

"Well...no one will be questioning who you are when you're looking like that" the corner of his lips rose slighty and he stepped to the side, gesturing us into the waiting carriage.

That was a compliment right?? He meant like because you look so beautiful so one is going to ask questions right? Not, well you look like a snooty aristocrat so no one will question???? Ok I'm going with the first one. Stop overthinking geez.

The ride to the castle was quick and soon you were arm in arm with your "husband".

"Come along boy, don't dawdle" geralt teased behind him.

"Dont be mean" you lightly shoved him but couldn't help but laugh as well.

"What great friends I have.."he mumbled....

******************

Ok so that's part 1, lemme know if it's any good. Also I'm kinda new to this so I don’t know the tagging etiquette lol so I just tagged whoever asked. Also part 2 will be uploaded tonight too as soon as I finish editing xoxo 

@marvels-gurl @shane-isa-shame @waitingtobeimpressed @viking-raider @dream-alittlebiggerdarling