#geraltxreader

[jessiexcorner]

‘Destiny is she.’

Kerack.

 Just a small town with not much going for it, though it was known for its alcohol and the pirates that used to raid the people there centuries ago. 'Not anymore.' Yennefer thought as she drank. After the red death, the once-powerful kingdom fell into shambles. At least they still had their beer going on for them.

"TOSS A COIN TO YOUR WITCHER!" Yennefer winced, hearing the familiar song buzzing in the back.

  "Ugh. If I have to hear that blasted song one more time, I'm going to kill myself." Yennefer turned to see the drunk bard who wrote it.

  "Jaskier?" He turned his head to look up to see the sorceress. He gasped.

  "You! Oh No! I've had enough of you! Y-you harlot witch!" Yennefer rolled her eyes. 

"What? Your girlfriend dumped or something? Also, I'm a sorceress, not a witch."

"No, you ruined my friendship with my only friend! Just cause you had problems in your relationship with him didn't mean you had to ruin mine!"

"We didn't have a relationship."

"It doesn't matter now! I don't need him; I have plenty of friends. And women who want me!" Yennefer turned to order another drink. She didn't want to deal with this right now. A few gulps later, a young girl with blonde hair walked straight toward them.

"Hey! I know you!"

"You do? Oh no. Did I sleep with you?" The girl ignored Jaskier and continued talking to Yennefer.

"You're Yennefer of Vengeberg, aren't you?" Yennefer sighed.

"Look, kid, I don't sell magic anymore. Find someone else."

"Actual, I have a proposition for you."

"Not interested."

"I think you will be-"

"Get lost, kid, before I put a curse on you."

"Weren't you the one looking for a way to conceive?" Yennefer froze. Yes, it's true; that is what she wanted a way to be able to have a child again. But it's not as if she announced it to the world.

"Who told you that?" The girl shrugged with a smug smile.

"Call her destiny." Yennefer scoffed.

"Destiny?" The young girl nodded.

"Everyone knows about her. There's a legend on her. They say that if you ever want to change all the bad that has been done to you; change the fate you've been given, then follow the river upstream to the cottage in the woods. There be a woman, full of grace and beauty, but be careful what is said to her for destiny is she."

"First of all," the drunk bard who had been listening in began, "that doesn't rhyme."

"It's not supposed-" the blonde tried to argue.

"Second of all, who's 'they'?"

"What? No- Look, that doesn't matter, I'm not even talking to you!"

"You know he has a point," Yennefer said.

"Huh?"

"Who is this 'they'?" She said with a cheeky smile. The blonde girl turned redder than the drunken bard and stomped in anger.

"You know what! I don't care! I did what She told me to do and delivered the message! I'm leaving!" She marched out of the bar.

"Say, did you catch her name? I think she fancies me." Jaskier mumbled. Yennefer took a deep breath and finished her drink. 'let's find out who this destiny person is.' She thought, heading out.

                                                       . . .

'Well, what do you know there is a house.' Yennefer thought. She noticed there was a protection spell around the house covering it like a thick fog. She walked towards the house, trying to create a pathway for herself. 'Damn,' This was harder than she thought it would be. 'Why would anyone need such a potent protection spell?' As she tried to move through, it became harder to breathe. Yennefer could feel a headache coming on, it felt as if something was pushing her to fall asleep. She falls and gets knocked out by the gas. Before she falls completely unconscious she notices the end of a flowy robe walking towards her.

Yennefer wakes up feeling as if she has the worst hangover of her life, she notices a blanket covering her and a bed. "What the fuck?" she mutters noticing her surroundings for the first time. A bedroom with a fireplace, cozy and warm but what stuck out the most was the fact she didn't remember how she got here. The door to the bedroom opens before Yennefer can investigate her surroundings more thoroughly.

"Ah, you're not dead. Good." a woman with (h/c) hair wearing a simple white flowy gown exclaims. Yennefer startled immediately turns defensive shooting a gust of magic toward the woman who waves it off as if it were nothing, almost as if, annoyed by Yennefer's reaction.

"Now, is this any way to repay hospitality Yennefer?" The woman says practically scolding Yennefer like a misbehaving child.

"You knocked me out!"

"No, you knocked yourself out." She sat next to the violet-eyed woman, raising her hand near her making Yennefer flinch from the unexpected movement. 

"Relax, I'm only helping your body get rid of the poison from the mist." She sighs moving away after she is done, Yennefer does feel a bit better, less like she had a massive hangover. The woman stands and walks near the fireplace, lighting it with a flick of her fingers, sitting down on a couch with a tea set on a table. "Well? come sit," She points at the other chair meant for Yennefer. Yennefer gets up and slowly walks to the woman sitting on the chair. "Cream?" She offers the raven-haired woman.

"..No," Yennefer declines not wanting any other foreign substances in her body.

"Suit yourself." The woman shrugs, pouring some cream for herself, and lifts her cup taking a sip.

"Why did you want me here?"

"Oh, did my little birdy not tell you?"

"No, well, yes but- that's not- look do you really have a way for me to conceive or are you playing games with me? Because i should warn you i am not in the mood." Yennefer huffs.

"Of course!" The (h/c) haired woman claps her hands making the tea set disappear, with a small vial and a contract replacing it. "This little bottle of magic can bring back anything that was lost. It'll fix you right up, grow back your uterus, and let you keep your good looks," She winks with a smile at Yennefer, who looks at the paper carefully.  

"And I’m guessing this contract I am supposed to sign ensures I do your bidding?" The stranger's grin widens.

"Clever girl. it is fair, after all, i am only asking very little in return for a high reward." Yennefer scoffed but then again she was desperate she wanted this, badly.

"And what would that small favor be?" She questions the woman. "Am i to find you someone and bring them to you?" she rolls her eyes sarcastically commenting.

"Well, yes, that is exactly what I want you to do."

"Right. Sounds simple enough."

"Hm, simple." she hums in agreement, "I just need you to bring me Geralt of Rivia."

...What? "No, no! Absolutely not! What could you possibly need him for?" Yennefer protests, making the other woman rolled her eyes.

"I'm not going to eat him, or kill your lover boy,"

"He's not-"

"Come on Yen! All you have to do is bring one witcher here, and I'll give you the ability to conceive again, don't you want that choice back?" The woman circles Yennefer, "They took everything from you, yen. They took your right, your decision. Not only am i offering you your freedom, but i am also giving you an option that doesn't require sacrificing your beauty or power." She twirls a lock of Yennefer's hair around her fingers. "and all you have to do is bring me one measly man." Yennefer hesitates. This can't be real, this had to be a trick, but what could she do? the dragon plan didn't work, Geralt was an arse and she had nothing and no one left. "Tell you what, since you have so many issues with me," The woman picks up the vial and hands it to Yennefer. "You can try the potion of mine, and once it works, and it will believe me you will know if it does. You will bring me Geralt." Yennefer's face reads of worry. "Come on you, poor girl, what do you have to lose? You already tried everything. What, you're worried about your man? What do you think I will do to the witcher? Think I will kill him? He's more likely to end me before I can touch him." Yennefer lets the words of this woman influence her, but she couldn't understand what she wanted with Geralt.

"..Fine, deal, if this works...I'll bring you your witcher."

"Lovely!" The woman smiles waving her hand making a feather appear and floats into Yennefer's hand. Yennefer pauses, feeling the softness of the feather. 

"...Before I sign this, I want to know your name, your real name. I have a feeling it isn't 'destiny'" The woman chuckles once again walking behind Yennefer, placing her soft hands onto her shoulders.

"(Y/n), a pleasure to meet you, Yennefer."

#the witcher #henry cavil x y/n #henry cavil x reader #yenneferthewitcher #geralt of rivera #geralt x yennefer #geralt x you #geraltxreader #geralt of river x reader #henry cavill geralt #yennefer of vengerberg #yennefer x reader

[pikapeppa]

I’m not saying this thought keeps me up at night but it definitely DOES, I swear I need more GeraltxReader just so we can have Geralt defend reader like “that’s my WIFE”. A sword pressed against the enemies throat is optional 😌

LOVE U

OOOOH YOU HAD ME AT "THAT'S MY WIFE" HAHAHA. Honestly though, I've been chatting about Witchems with another dear friend, and she sent me this game trailer for TW3 which I had somehow never seen even though it's years old, and YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND HOW FAST MY HEART GOT SWOLE WITH LOVE FOR GERALT AGAIN. I just love Geralt so much [sobbing]

I wish I could say there will be more Geralt x Reader someday, though I can't promise anything! If/when the inspo strikes, I will try and remember "THAT'S MY WIFE"! 😂❤

-- love from your friendly neighbourhood Pika! xoxo

#the witcher #the witcher 3 #tw3 #geralt of rivia #geralt/you #geralt x reader #geralt x you #geralt x y/n #fanfic writer's life #thank you for thinking of me!! 😂❤❤

[dreamingofmilk]

Do You Remember?

Synopsis: You and Gerald reminisce about conceiving your first child 

Word count - 2,341

Warnings: smut, cursing, aggressive sex

Enjoy you guys!!

You jerked up out of bed and waddled to the bathroom as quickly as you could. Damn morning sickness always came at the worst times. The sour taste at the back of your throat only made you move that much faster.

Geralt woke up as soon as you got up and followed you. He rushed to grab your hair and rub your back while you retched into the toilet.

"Are you alright?" He asked quietly while he pulled your hair into a ponytail.

"Are you alright?" You mocked. "Splendid, just casually puking my guts out for the fifth time today. It's a wonder there's anything left in my stomach."

"Hmm." Geralt didn't even bother hiding his smile. You were pregnant with his child and he couldn't be happier. Finally he can right the wrongs of his parents and raise a child with the woman he loved. He couldn't shake the thought of a little girl with white hair and your eyes who'd call him Papa and play with Roach.

You could feel how smug he was, and it just pissed you off more. Three months you'd been carrying this child and it's already taken a toll on you. You were constantly sick and you were showing far more than a typical woman would at this stage. Fuck Geralt and his big ass baby genes. You had no idea how you were going to make it through 6 more months of this. The baby might kick and rupture an organ. Damn Witcher.

You got back on your feet and went to rinse your mouth. You could feel Geralt rubbing your stomach the entire time. He was pretty much always touching your stomach nowadays. Equal parts love and fascination on his face as he studied all the ways your belly has changed to make room for his baby. It was a side of him you hadn't seen until recently. Geralt always seemed aloof, unbothered by everything and everyone. 

After you cleaned yourself up, he helped you back to the bed and spooned you. This was one of the only positions you could handle without getting sick. 

You shuffled around to find a comfortable spot and once you found it you groaned with relief. Finally you could get some sleep. Geralt couldn't hold back a small chuckle at your dramatics. 

"You sound very comfortable." You could feel the vibration of his chest against your back, the small breeze of his breath on the back of your neck. It was honestly one of the most comforting things you've ever known. 

You turned just enough for him to see you raise your middle finger, but your eyes remained closed. "Fuck you, Witcher."

That only made him laugh harder. "Hmm. That's what got us here in the first place." Cocky bastard is really enjoying this. "Do you remember the day we made this child?" He asked with his face buried in your hair. 

Of course, you remembered. Consequences aside, it was some of the best damn sex you've ever had in your life, by a longshot. You clenched your thighs together to try to ease the heat you felt rush to your core. 

"Fuck, you do remember. I can smell you" Geralt started running his huge hands down your body starting at your chest, pausing at your belly, then down to where you wanted him the most. "You were so damn hot for me that day. Couldn't even wait to get home."

He was right. You thought back to that day and remembered that you had been horny pretty much the whole day. Geralt had hunted a particularly nasty monster. He definitely got his ass kicked. That thing really threw him around, but he eventually got the upper hand and cut its heart right out of its chest. Then he grabbed it and crushed it with his bare hands to make sure it couldn't revive itself. Maybe you were a little messed up but something about watching him squeeze the organ until it gave out was sexy as fuck. Blood spattered over his face and all the way up to his arm. He looked like a savage, and you could’ve really used some savage dick at that moment. 

You and Geralt had been messing around casually a bit at the time, actually, it was pretty much a daily thing at that point. There was never a time he wasn’t inside of you when you two were alone, and... sometimes not alone. You both were addicted to the crazy, rough, animalistic fucking that you could only get from each other. It honestly was a surprise he ever had time to hunt any monsters. The two of you were insatiable.

After watching his ruthless display of strength you were ready to fuck. He could worry about the rest of the mission later, he had more important things to take care of right now. He caught your eye and smirked once he realized your current state. 

"You really are fucked up Y/N. What woman gets turned on by death and gore?" His chuckle shot straight through you.

You shrugged and walked close enough to run your hands down his chest, making sure to touch all of your favorite parts. "I'm no average woman, Geralt." 

He scoffed, "You're a crazy one though."

You smiled brightly. You couldn't even argue that. You leaned even closer and whispered in his ear, after licking a bit of his blood off his cheek. "A crazy bitch with crazy good pussy."

He groaned, "Fucking right."

Nothing else needed to be said. In seconds your clothes were ripped and you were on your hands and knees. Your back formed that perfect arch and his huge dick was pounding into you. You two didn't need much foreplay, watching him kill the beast with the great display of strength was more than enough. He drove you crazy, hell his dick drove you crazy. It was like he was actually trying to destroy your pussy. And although his strokes were rough, you sucked it up and took it like a champ. 

"Fuck, you feel so good. That’s it Y/N. Take it." He grunted right in your ear. "Always so fucking tight!"

He grabbed the back of your neck and pushed it to the ground, his body towering over yours. You could feel the mud on your cheeks but you didn't give a damn. Geralt leaned over your body and clamped his teeth into your throat and bit just hard enough to break skin. You scream and clenched around him. 

"Shit! Geralt! Fuck, I can’t-"

His teeth released your neck, but he just replaced it with his hands, pushing your face further into the mud. "Shut up and take it! You always take me so fucking well." His thrust was harsh and pleasurable. 

You couldn't do anything but clench around him. Your body became so weak as your orgasm approached. You tried to pull his hand from the back of your neck but his grip only tightened. You hiss in response, your body humming in pleasure. After a moment, he grew tired of your hands trying to move his, so he grabbed both of your wrists in his hands and yanked them backward. 

“Stop fucking moving.” He groaned out. 

The new position allowed him to use your hands like handlebars and his thrust only felt as if they were hitting deeper and deeper! It was honestly too much, even a bad bitch has their limits. You tried to inch forward a bit to relieve the pressure on your g spot, but Geralt had other ideas. He let go of your hands and wrapped an arm around your waist, his fingers circling your clit. The pleasure became too much. His thrust was much rougher, the extra amount of force pushed you to the ground again. Geralt’s fingers remained on your clit, his other hand regained its position on the back of your neck holding you down. His thumb made its way between your lips for you to suck. 

Geralt smiled at you in the new position. 

“Seems like the bad bitch can’t handle it. Are those tears I see.” Geralt mocked you, the wetness between your legs causing loud lewd sounds in the air. You wiggles your hips in an attempt to remove some of the pressure off your clit. “I told you to stop fucking moving.

He grunted, "Seems like you can't follow basic fucking instructions so I've got something for you." He pulled you up by your hair so you were kneeling and started pounding into you again. He wrapped both of his arms around your torso and bounced you up and down like a rag doll. It felt like he grew even bigger in this position and you couldn't handle it. 

You started screaming. Loud. Obscene curse words mixed with gibberish Poured from your lips. To bystanders, it might have sounded like you were being attacked. But you knew the truth. Your pussy clamped down so hard he almost had trouble pulling his dick out. His strokes faltering from your wet hot tightness. 

You squirted. Continuously. All over the place. Your body shaking wildly, and this crazy deranged fucking beast didnt miss a beat. He kept the same pace and hummed. Fucking hummed. You couldn't stop cumming and your stomach was starting to cramp from the onslaught but you couldn't escape his hold. Your body was jerking and twisting, trying to get away from the man who was making you crazy. Stars exploded across your vision. You couldn't see anything, couldn't hear anything but the blood rushing through your head. All you could do was cum and cum and cum. 

After what felt like a lifetime of constant orgasms his thrusts became sloppy, and you could feel his dick twitching inside you. Usually he cums on your chest or your face since he loved to see you painted in his cum. His words, not yours. You prepared yourself for him to pull out and douse you.

"Fuck, gonna cum. Gonna cum so fucking hard Y/N."

You wrestled one of your arms free and started to fondle his balls. "Give it to me. Cum all over me."

He bit into your shoulder and moaned. "No, gonna cum in you. Gonna flood your shit.” He smiled blissfully. “I'm gonna cum so fucking hard in you you'll be leaking for days."

You clenched even harder on him. Your pussy was down with that. But there was one thing he was forgetting. "Geralt, wait.” You tried to catch your breath. “Mmphm. I'll be pregnant if you come inside me."

He shifted positions again. He laid you on your back and spread your legs as wide as they would go. He started making deep lunges in your pussy and you could feel him bottoming out and hitting the back of your pussy. 

A wicked smile fell across his face as he looked up at you. You could see the predatory glint in his eyes. "Exactly. I'm gonna knock you up. You're gonna have our baby. You want that right? You want to have my baby?"

Where the hell did this come from? You couldn't contain the shock on your face. "I didn't know you wanted a baby. You don't exactly like children."

He was shaking his head before you finished. "We've been doing this for years Y/N.  Did you really think I'd waste that kind of time with someone I didn't see a future with? You are important to me. I want to have a family with you. I want you to stay by my side."

Geralt's thrust had slowed to a conversational pace. And though it still stirred something in you, you couldn’t help but want to finish the conversation. 

You would be lying if you said you weren't in love with him. You just figured he wasn't interested in that kind of relationship so you took what you could get. Your heart fluttered at the chance of a real relationship with Geralt. If he was ready to have a child, then so were you. You two would be the best parents in the world. You both grew up with terrible parents so you would make sure the child would get all the love and attention you two never did. 

You grabbed his face gently and looked into his eyes. "Yes, I want to have your baby. I love you, Geralt."

He thrust one, two, three more times and exploded. You couldn't help but come again at the feeling of him filling you up.

He nuzzled your neck, "I love you too Y/N."

He pumped into you until he was spent, then rolled over and pulled you onto his chest. You both laid there in silence while your breathing slowed. 

You broke the silence first. "Well that was something."

He chuckled, "Definitely something. I meant what I said, Y/N. I want a baby with you. If I didn't knock you up just then, then I'm gonna keep going until I do."

You laughed aloud at the memory. "First time was the charm I guess."

Geralt nuzzled even closer to you, hands absently rubbing your belly. "I still had to give insurance." The humor was very apparent in his voice.

You shook your head, a goofy smile on your face, "Of course you did."

He hummed, the vibration calmed you instantly. "I love you Y/N. You and our baby."

You smiled and rested your hands on top of his. Over the child you were growing. The child that would be a perfect mix of you and him. The child you loved and would protect with your life already.

Both of you started dozing off, relaxed now that your morning sickness seems to have passed for a while. But you made sure to answer him before sleep claimed you completely.

"I love you too. You and your big headed baby."

#witcher geraltxreader milkyfics geraltofrivia #witcher #geraltxreader #witcher fic #milky fics

[lilith-of-rivia]

The Bards Sister  Geralt XFemale!Reader Part 1

Part 1  Part 2  Part 3

Masterlist 

Summary: Geralt of Rivia and his long time travel companion Jaskier find themselves in Jaskiers home land. A place geralt had not only never seen nor heard of. Jaskier is ready to reunite its his family after traveling and exploring the world for 20 years. The one person he missed the most was his baby sister (Y/N). Who he hadnt seen since she was 5. The journal is long, but the pay off is grander then they would ever be able to predict. I know i am trash at summaries.

Trigger warnings: NONE a lot of Geralt and Jaskier in this first part. Your charicter doesn’t come in till closer to the end.

Pairings: GeraltxReader JaskierxSister!reader

Word count: 6,095 longest fanfic I’ve ever written!!

A/N: hello my loves!!! I got my Insperation back!! I’m hopping i will be regularly posting agin!!! I ove you all so much you consistent love and supoort has not gone unnoticed. The constant likes and reblogs truly means the world to me. I love every single one of you so much. Thank you for believing in my writing the way you do. All my love -Lilith ps. I have reviewed and edited but I will be doing a more in-depth review soon!

“Where are we going, Jaskier.” The Witcher’s brooding voice echoed threw the flowered valley. His horse trotted not far behind his companion. Jaskier looked back at him and just rolled his eyes.

“How many times have you led me on endless roads, towards the middle of nowhere speaking little to no words to me no matter how much I ask?” Geralt said nothing. Jaskier snorted looking back towards the road.

“Exactly. No shut up, your brooding is giving me a headache.” The bard was giving the witcher a taste of his own medicine. The idea that Jaskier was leading him to somewhere he had no idea of the location, made him uneasy. Did he trust his bard? Absolutely without a doubt. Would he ever admit it to him? No never.

Their travels continued till the sun was barely hanging in the sky. The air had grown crisp replacing the harsh burning of the full summer sun. Jaskier pulled his mare to the side of the road, climbing off her, tying her to a tree. Geralt followed, realizing they were stopping for the day.

“We still have a couple hours of daylight left.” Geralt said as he took Roach’s saddle and tack off.

“We don't need a couple hours, we are nearly there. Maybe an hour and half.” Geralt cocked an eyebrow at Jaskier.

“Then why did we stop?” Jaskier pulled his saddle bags off his horse, putting them beside a log as he gathered some sticks for the fire.

“Because I have to debrief you as to who we are going to see and you must bathe before we do so. The stream here will do the trick.”

“Gods Jaskier, will you just tell me where we are going? The secrecy is bullshit.” The broot of a man was losing his patience with his friend.

The duo had been on the trip for nearly two weeks. They left Tramieria and headed east. Much further east than Geralt could ever remember traveling. Yet the bard seemed to know exactly what turns to take and when. The closer they drew to their destination the more the witcher could hear his heart beat faster.

“Jaskier if this is some stupid plot for me to protect you from some man who’s wife you slept with again-“

“It's not Geralt-“ Jaskier pinched the bridge of his nose, his stress causing a minor headache. “Just go bathe then I’ll tell you everything.” Geralt studied his friend, his eyes searching his face, his ears tuning into his heart beat trying his best to figure out what he was getting himself into.

With a low grunt the witcher grabbed his last set of clean clothes and the bar of soap from the bard's hand before stomping off to the river.

“Clean EVERYTHING!” Jaskier yelled over his shoulder. Only getting an unfriendly finger in return.

Nearly an hour later, the sun was completely hidden behind the canyon, the glow of the fire Jaskier started illuminating their small camp. Jaskier’s fingers strummed mindlessly at his lute, his eyes fixed on the stars that were making their presence known more, humming to himself softly. He heard his friends footsteps as he approached, his hair was wet at his shoulders. A fresh white Cotton tunic hugged his muscular build, black trousers hugging his legs. He smiled nice for once. All thanks to the lavender and honey soap Jaskier had received as a gift.

“Now don't you look better.” Jaskier said with a chuckle. The witcher sat down across the fire from him, his golden eyes staring heavily at the bard.

“Spill your guts Jaskier.” Jaskier rubbed his hands over his face and nodded. His eyes looking anywhere but at his friend.

“I haven't been completely forward about my family life.” Jaskier’s eyes landed on the moon above them. It was nearly full, he was doing well with time. He knew they would reach their destination well before the next full moon.

“Jaskier.” Geralt’s harsh voice broke the silence. With a loud sigh Jaskier finally looked his friend in the face.

“I’m royalty Geralt.” The Witcher’s expression did not change. He just looked at his friend. He could hear Jaskier's heart beat become uneven and unsteady. At first he thought it was a joke but the nervous energy radiating from his long time friend made him think better.

“My family, they are wonderful people. My mother, bless her, taught me everything I needed to know about writing and music. Convinced my father to let me train at Oxenfurt Academy. My father is a noble and loyal king. He served our people well. Still does to my knowledge. I haven't been back in nearly 20 years…” the bard trailed off, his eyes fixated on his hands, his fingers twildilling with a ring he had on. The ring was that of his family. Their crest engraved into the gold.

“I was never meant to be a noble. I lived for adventure, for more than just sitting on a throne and watching people come and go. I was never fit to be king. My parents knew that. They understood. Understanding people they are.” His voice trailed off again, hopping his friend would say something. Ask a question. Anything. He didn’t know where to go next.

“Why didn't you ever tell me?” Geralt finally asked.

“Because it never came up. My family never needed me. I never needed them. I love them all dearly of course. But we were never the closest people in the world. Well, my sister and I were.” That caught the Witcher’s attention. His eyes narrow slightly, he made sure to not let his expression scare the bard into not telling him more. He was genuinely curious about his family. But he couldn't lie and say he wasn't disappointed that in the 7 years they traveled together he never heard of them.

“You have a sister?” The bard's eyes lit up. His memory raced with images of his tun little sister chasing him around the courtyard screaming, yelling his name. Her giggles and laughs pulling at his heart strings.

“Yes. Her name is (Y/N). She is about to be 25. Big age for a princess. I havnt seen her since she was very little.” His heart started to break softly. His neglect to his baby sitter weighting heavily on him.

“I write her often, as much as I can. She was...well, a surprise to my parents to say the least. I was 15 when she was born. I left home at 20. I was only around for her toddler years. I never got to see her grow, blossom into a young woman. I missed so much.” Jaskier had to fight back the tears, his throat becoming tight and dry. His body filling with regret.

“I just kept pushing it back Geralt. I alwasy said I’d make it home. I alwasy had it in the back of my mind to go back and see her. But I never did.”

“Why now?” Geralt asked.

“She wrote me a few months back. It was nearly a book. It was filled with tales of her new travels around our country. She had been training heavily with an unmanned matester of combat. She traveled the countryside with the man. She referred to him as an uncle. In the letter she asked me if it was true that I’d been traveling with you. She said the songs and tales of Jaskier the Bard traveling with the White Wolf made it to her ears.” Jaskier stopped talking for a brief moment, rummaged around his rut sack and pulled out a notebook. He untied its string and a large pile of papers fell out into his hand. He unfolded the parchment and scanned the writing.

“I wrote her back that week. Only to receive this in return.” He began to read;

“Oh dear Jaskier!! I cannot believe its true. I thought he was only a legend. The white wolf. Please tell him he is a hero here. We love his stories. Many have written books of him. Children run round calling themselves the butcher of Blaviken here to save the damsel and distress. I love his stories, mainly because they involve you. Please come visit me this year. I miss you terribly. I want to hear of your travels with the wolf. Mother said he is more than welcome to stay if he wishes to travel with you. I do miss you Jaskier. More than I think you know. I do not mean to guilt you or make you feel bad as i know you are traveling the world to your heart's content and would never want you to feel as though I do not support you-“ Jaskier stopped reading for a brief moment. A small tear dripped onto the page he was reading. Geralt listened to every word he read. He couldn't help the small tug of his lips when he read about the children pretending to be him. It was a breath of fresh air for the witcher. He had constantly been told he was a monster. To hid your children from him. Yet here was an entire country that loved him, yet he had no idea. Jaskier cleared his throat and continued. “But i miss my brother. And maybe, just maybe. I could come with you. If you deem me fit. I have been working tirelessly with a friend of fathers. He trains me in not only swordsmanship, but Herbology, and monsters as well. I can name nearly every monster that has inhabited the Continent and how to slay it. He thinks I’m ready to leave the nest and I think mother and father are getting a bit tired of me as well. I cannot stand another somber, dull, dinner party with nobles who look at me like a piece of meat. So please. Visit me soon. Come and stay a few days. Catch up with your dear sister and maybe, if he isn't too busy and if it doesn’t inconvenience him, bring the Wolf with you. He’d be a welcomed hero. All my love dear brother. Xoxo Love always, (Y/N) Irene Pankratz

Jaskier folded the letter, placing it inside his notebook before safely storing it inside his sack again. He ran a hand over his face, his eyes slowly moving from his hands to his best friend. They sat in the silence for a while. Geralt’s brain replaying the words he had heard from his friend.

“You could have told me about her Jaskier. Why didn't you? You’ve been in contact with her all this time, planning to see her and your family again. Bringing me along for the ride, yet not a single word in 7 years. Do you not trust me with such a secret Jaskier?” Jaskier was taken aback by his friend's words.

He never knew his secrecy would have such an impact on his friend. When it came to Geralt he learned long ago, the little words, the better. The witcher can only handle so much before he loses interest and stops listening or walks away. He never in a million years would have thought he cared about his life that much. It warmed the bards heart to know his dear friend, the only brother he ever had, cared that deeply for him.

“It has nothing to do with not trusting you Geralt. Is has everything to do with the shame I hold for not seeing her sooner. For treating her like a dirty secret form the world. There is no logical reason for me to keep my family such a big secret. Yet I have. For 20 years.” Geralt’s hands rubbed together softly as he listened to his friend. He understood the secrecy. He was a box full of secrets that nobody could get into.

“Its okay Jaskier. I understand the secrecy. Is that where we are going tomorrow?” Jaskier nodded, a smile appearing on his face.

“Her birthday is the next full moon. I’m hoping my gift will be a good start in time lost.” Geralt looked at him curiously. He hadn't noticed any major item in Jaskier’s possession that could make a good gift for a young princess.

“You’re her gift Geralt. I wrote her back after that letter and told her I’d be back for her next birthday. But that you simply were to busy with your work. I told her that you greatly appreciated her support and that youd consider writing to her in the future. She has no idea your coming with me.” Geralt didnt know how he felt about being a gift. He never ever saw himself as a gift to anyone. More of a burden the a gift. He shook his head at Jaskier and tutted at him.

“Jaskier if your that broke you could’ve asked me for a few extra coins for a real gift.” The witcher attempted to joke with the bard. It made Jaskier smile more. Geralt could be funny, but his humor was incredibly dry, much like Jaskier’s father.

“Geralt! Did you just try and joke around with me??” Geralt rolled his eyes, laying down stretching his muscles as he looked up at the starts.

“Best get some sleep Jaskier, you’ve got a rather big family reunion tomorrow.”

The next morning Jaskier was up and awake before Geralt, a rare sight. He truly hadn't slept more than a couple hours that night. His nerves kept him awake. He feared his sister wouldn’t be as loving as he pictured, she had every right to be mad at him, hate him even. By the time Geralt was up, Jaskier had bathed, changed and had his horse completely ready to go.

Geralt had to do everything in his power to not laugh at his friend. He looked rather ridiculous. His normal bright attire was replaced with a royals outfit. A green and blue velvet tunic and some extremely uncomfortable looking black trousers. His hair was combed back and his face was freshly washed. He even cleaned under his fingernails. He looked rather ridiculous in Geralt’s opinion. He couldn't help the low chuckle that left his lips as he put his bed roll away.

“I don't understand why you're laughing. I have some clothes for you to put on as well.” Geralt’s expression changed instantly, from humorous to angry.

“No. Absolutely not. What I’m wearing is perfectly fine. I’d wear it to meet any king or queen.” A bag was chucked at him, he barely caught it before it smacked into his face.

“This isn't any normal king and queen Geralt. This is my family. And besides, you are no ordinary witcher in my kingdom, you’ll be treated as royalty there. You may as well look the part.” Geralt huffed and threw the bag of clothes back at his friends feet, glaring daggers at him. He hated dressing up with a burning passion. Everything was too tight, not easy to fight in. If anything happened he’d have to rip the seams on every piece of clothing to be able to maneuver his weapons properly. And fancy clothes dont have space for weapons. He didn't like that one bit. Jaskier looked at his friend. His eyes pleading with him.

“Please Geralt. Just for today and her birthday. I couldn't care less what you wear at any other point on this trip.” He had walked closer to Geralt now. About a meter away from him. He extended his hand, the bag in his hand. Geralt looked from the bag to his friend. His teeth and jaw clenched.

He let out a loud huff and grabbed the bag from the bard.

“Fine.” He said through gritted teeth and began taking off his clothing. Jaskier smiled before turning his attention to Roach, getting her stalled and tacked so when Geralt was dressed they could leave.

“If we move with a bit of a haste we could make it there before breakfast.” Jaskier said as he mounted his horse, looking at his friend. His hand slapped over his face. The witcher looked utterly ridiculous in his new attire. The bright red and orange vest a-top a cream tunic, his legs tight in some disgustingly ugly corduroy pants. The pants were obviously smaller than the seamstress he bought them off claimed them to be. The ends of the pants came nearly mid calf on Geralt’s legs. His pasty white ankles and feet shining in the early morning sun.

“Jesus Geralt. Those are worse than the ones I got for Pavetta’s party.” The bard could no longer hold in his laughter. Did Gerarlt look like a nobleman? Sure, but his size, white hair, and bright yellow eyes really didn't help the situation.

“Jaskier, I will kill you for this.” Geralt grumbled angered as he pulled his socks up his feet and over his calves. Luckily for him (and Jaskier) his boots went higher than his pants, making it harder to notice that the pants he was wearing were way too small.

“At least I’m not making you wear a big hat with a feather, those are truly hideous.” Geralt mounted Roach, more carefully then he normally does in fear his pants could bust at the seams.

“I had to wrap you up nice and pretty to present you to my sister.” Jaskier commented as he led his horse; Napoleon to the main road, Geralt and Roach in tow.

The two men rode in a comfortable silence for some time, but as they got closer and closer to Jaskier’s home, all Geralt could hear was his frantic heartbeat. Jaskier’s palms get sweaty and his throat dry, no matter how much water he drinks from his water skin.

“Jaskier. You need to calm down. Your fucking heart beat is driving me insane.” Geralt hissed. They could see the end of the valley they had been traveling in. Geralt looked out in the distance, his eyes saw the castle first. It was very far, but he could tell how beautiful it was from where they were.

“Maybe you just shouldn’t listen to it then.” Jaskier barked back.

“You know I have no control over it, idiot. Take a deep breath. I know you're scared, I understand. But from the sounds of it your sister desperately misses you, I don't think she would ask you to come see her if she was going to hate you.” Geralt didn't talk much at all, that everyone knew. He was a man of few words. But when he did speak it was wiser than most people ever expected. People tended to forget the age of the white haired man, as he stopped ageing physically in his late twenties.

Jaskier smiled softly at his friend's words, he listened to him and took a few deep breaths, calling himself down. Geralt was right. His sister seemed eager as ever to see him again.

The two men approached the entrance to the city. Geralt was more than shocked. He wasn't sure if he had ever seen a city so beautiful in his entire life. The streets were lined in beautiful stone, flowers, vines, greenery all around every corner. The banners that were hanging on the outside of the main gates caught Geralt’s eyes. The crests on them were brightly colored in greens and blues, a very large diamond in the center. Their horses rode into the entrance of the town. Jaskier’s heart was calm, steady, his face was bright and had a smile Geralt had never seen on him before. He was finally home.

“Welcome to Inritha (In-Rithe-A) the capital of Unthya (Un-The-A) Geralt. Welcome to my home.”

Their horses traveled down the stone brick road slowly, the city was buzzing already even with it being the early hours of the morning. Geralt was surprised to see everyone look so...happy, care free. Enjoying their lives. They looked as though nothing was a fret, no monster looming. Geralt was mesmerized by the city. The buildings were built out of what looked to him like limestone, a building material he so rarely saw in other parts of the Continent. The buildings were being taken over by vines and moss, flowers all over. He’d never seen so many butterflies in his life.

“Jaskier-'' his voice was barely a whisper, the bard turning to look at him as they rode side by side. Jaskier couldn't help but smile as his friend admired the beauty he himself had so easily forgotten over the years.

“I know, it's beautiful. I've forgotten myself.”

The two men continued riding their horses up the road closer and closer to the castle. The longer they road tho more attention they got from passer buys. Geralt could hear their whispers.

It couldn't be. Could it?

THE Geralt of Rivia? Here in Inritha?

Mummy look! It's the butcher!!

Has Prince Jaskier finally returned home?

For the first time in what seemed like his entire life, the hushed whispers Geralt heard as he rode through a city were not of hate and disgust. But of admiration and curiosity. The entire time Geralt and Jaskier rode through the city, he never once had the urge to grab either of his swords that were at his side.

The two men approached the gates of the castle, four armored guards stood outside. The put their hand up in motion for the men to stop. One who looked as tho to be the commander of sorts stepped forward poking between both men. Eyes lingering for a long while on the two.

“State your name and what business you have in Inritha at this early hour.” Jaskier dismounted his horse, waking a few feet forward.

“My name is Jaskier Alfred Pankratz son of Dastrill and Alvere Pankratz. This is my companion Geralt Of Rivia, we are here on behalf of my sister, (Y/N) Irene Pankratz’s 25th birthday.” Jaskier bowed his head lowly, keeping eye contact with the commander in front of him.

“Prince Jaskier?!?” The man clearly looked flustered and embarrassed for not recognizing the prince of his own kingdom. All four men quickly bowed their heads.

“Please accept my apology your highness, we welcome you home. As do we welcome your honored guest.” Jaskier smiled and told the men to not trouble themselves with an apology. Geralt continued to watch from atop Roach, still not use to being idolized instead of feared. Honored guest. Geralt thought to himself. He could get use to the new treatment. Jaskier remounted Napoleon the gates to the castle walls opening. The both road threw, all four men bowed their heads as the two walked threw. Not once did they threaten Geralt’s life. They were led by a guard to the stables where they left their horses.

Geralt could hear Jaskier heart beating again in his chest as they were led inside the castle. Geralt tried to concentrate on his friend, to be there for him but he couldn't help but let his eyes wander all over the castle's walls, it was a bright exterior. The walls polished, candles everywhere. Large windows allowing for natural lighting. Nothing dark or gloomy about the castle at all. He felt uplifted..cheary almost. As they neared the entrance to the grand hall where the King, Queen, Princess along with some others were. Geralt could hear the light conversation, and the clicking of silver on plates, they were eating breakfast. But he could still hear Jaskier’s heart beating in his chest. Geralt placed a comforting hand on his friend's shoulder as they walked, giving it a soft squeeze. The action made Jaskier more worried if the witcher was feeling alright, as it was abnormally out of character for the man. But he said nothing, appreciating the gesture.

They got to the door and just as the guard was about to push the doors open Jaskier grabbed his arm.

“Could we maybe skip the loud over dramatic announcements of my arrival? I have not seen my family in years.” The guard only nodded, bowed his head and walked back outside to his post. Jaskier looked over at his friend, as he put his hand on the door ready to push it open.

“Now or never.” Jaskier said as he opened the door. Both men walked into the large room, the talking stopped almost instantly. Geralt stood at the door, not wanting to impose on the important reunion of his friend and his family. He followed Jaskiers gaze to the table ahead of them in the front of the room. The room was lined with huge floor to ceiling windows, the light of the early morning sun shone brightly making the marble floors glisten.

“JASKIER!!!” The loud scream of a girl nearly made Geralt jump out of his skin, his hand reaching back for a sword that wasn't there in instinct.

It made Jaskier jump but the smile that covered his face was even bigger than the one he had seen as he walked through the city. Geralt followed Jaskier’s gaze to a young woman. The sight of her alone made Geralt want to pass out. He wasn't sure if he had ever seen someone so beautiful in his entire life. Her hair was the same chestnut brown that Jaskier had, but it was long, hip length. She had it pulled back slightly out of her face, a few baby hairs framed her face. Oh her face. Geralt thought as though he was looking at a living breathing angel. He heard her chair scrape roughly on the ground before it loudly crashed on the floor. She raced around the long table from her mothers side and sprinted to her brother. She practically threw herself on him. Her arms wrapped tightly around his neck. He quickly wrapped his arms around her, stumbling back a few steps. Everything was quite as the two embraced. Geralt's eyes went to the king and queen who were now standing. The queen looked just like (Y/N) but her hair was black, long stripes of grey peeking through her hair. The crown atop her head glistened in the light. Her right hand was tightly around her husband's arm, her other hand placed softly over her mouth as she looked at her children. Her husband looked much like Jaskier. His hair was the same color as both of their children, but much like his wife’s, much of it had turned grey. His eyes were the same cornflower blue that Jaskier had.

Minutes passed in silence before Jaskier put his hands on his sisters shoulders, pulling her away from him. He put one hand on her cheek as he examined her features. Her pale cheeks were damp with tears. But not sad tears. Tears of joy.

“My sister, how you’ve grown.” Geralt could hear the tears in the bard's voice. He couldn't see him but he could hear everything.

(Y/N) fingers gently brushed over her brother’s face as she smiled at him.

“My brother, how you haven't aged a day. You look just as I remember you. Maybe a few more wrinkles.” She teased. He laughed softly. Wiping his eyes with his hand before pulling her into another bone crushing embrace. She was much shorter than Jaskier, barely shoulder level with him. Geralt was shocked to remember she would be turning 25 in two days. She was still young in the face, beautiful. He wanted nothing more than to see her more up close.

While the siblings spoke their parents moved from the spots at the table, standing behind (Y/N). Alvere was the first to pull him into a tight embrace after her daughter let go. Her fingers gently combed through his hair as she inhaled his scent deeply.

“My dear son how I've missed you.” She whispers slowly into his ear. Geralt was starting to feel bad for eavesdropping. Not that he could help it. He was still standing at the entrance to the grand hall yet he could hear everything.

Jaskiers father hugged him next, it was not nearly as long as the outer two but both men were okay with it. Understanding that their relationship had never been one for long father son hugs.

“It is good to see you again my boy.” His hand clasped down on his son's shoulder.

The four of them stood close together, smiling more than Geralt ever thought possible. It almost made his heart turn. Deep, deep, deep, down the witcher longed for a family that would look at him the way they looked at Jaskier. He often cured the universe for not giving him an option when it came to what he had become. He clung to the few memories he had of his mother. But as years passed they became harder and harder to remember, more painful. But he had. Made a new sort of family over the years. From Jaskier, to his brothers at Kaer Morhen.

“(Y/N), mum, dad, there is someone I’d like you to meet.” Jaskier turned his head towards the door to the hall. Geralt stood tall, shoulders pressed back, his hair framed his face gracefully. Even in the entirely ugly attire he was in, he made himself as presentable and as proper as possible. (Y/N)’s eyes grew bigger when her eyes met his. He once again was taken aback by her beauty. Her eyes were a powerful emerald green matching similarly to the color of her brother's tunic, but brighter. Her mouth fell slightly agape when she realized who it was. The eyes were a dead give away that he was in fact a witcher, but once she saw the silver medallion that rested on his chest, she knew.

Jaskier nodded his head for Geralt to walk forward and he did, his footsteps were light, his pace slow and steady as he walked closer to the royal family. (Y/N)’s hand gently covered her mouth in excitement. Her eyes flickering to her brother who grinned at her.

“A bit of an early birthday gift.” He winked. Once Geralt was closer to the group Jaskier turned so he could introduce them, at his sister's side. All eyes were on him. Even the few people who were still seated at the table were looking at him. He started to feel a bit more uneasy. He started to remember how far away his swords were if he needed them. This alone was beginning to make him panic. He was not used to being welcomed into royal courts unless it was specifically for a hunt.

“This is Geralt of Rivia, one of the most feared, renowned, and skilled Witcher’s the content has to offer. And also my best friend.”

Geralt's eyes were back on (Y/N)’s, his worries dropped more when she smiled brightly at him. Her eyes gleamed.

Geralt bowed his head to the three of them, “ it is an absolute pleasure to meet you, your highnesses.” (Y/N) was nearly blown over by the sultry sound of his voice. She had only heard stories of the witcher. Never see him for herself and definitely had never heard him speak. She never expected a monster hunter to be as handsome as he was. She admired every feature he had. Her eyes fixating on his chiseled jawline, the light gray stubble across his chin and cheeks.

“My, what a pleasure it is to meet such a famed warrior as yourself Geralt!” The king spoke before (Y/N) could, which she was happy about as she did not trust her voice to not waver at his beauty in that moment.

“You my dear are very popular around here. Your stories are legendary. The school children even host yearly plays, Reenacting your most beloved stories.” (Y/N)’s mother added her finger pointing light hardly at Geralt. Her hand came out gracefully from her side to shake the Witcher’s hand. He gently took it, a small smile pulling at the corners of his lips. His attention returned to (Y/N).

“I’m terribly sorry I’m the birthday gift from your brother this year.” She shook her head almost as soon as the words left his mouth.

“Do not be sorry Geralt-'' the way she said his name made him feel as though he could keel over. “I would like to thank you, for protecting my brother for the years you have. He never skips on his gratitude for you in his letter to me. For that we are all eternally grateful for you.” She reached her hand out. Geralt wasted no time in grabbing her hand, shaking it gently. He was dying inside, but he couldn't let her or anyone else see. He took a gentle step towards her, his head lowering softly, his soft lips were placed on the back of her small hand. The small action made the young girls' faces burn red. Her eyes flicked to her brother who smugly smiled, knowing danm well his gift was going to take the cake.

“Well, you both should come join us, we just started eating.” The king said with a smile, with a quick wave of his hand two more places we set.

(Y/N) gently removed her hand from Geralt’s. Walking towards the table, both men in tow. As she reached her spot she moved her plate and glass to the middle seat that had been prepared, leaving Jaskier a seat next to their mother and Geralt a seat next to her. They all sat and waited as food was served to them. (Y/N) could feel Geralt watching her as she ate, her brother deep in conversation with her parents about his most recent travels. But she wasnt listening. Her attention was only on the man seated to her left. She looked over at the man, eyed him up and down then turned to her brother. For the first time she noticed how ugly their attire was.

“Gods Jaskier who dressed you two?” She asked as she sipped her orange juice. Both men looked at her. Jaskier looked a bit hurt and Geralt only snorted.

“I told him the clothes were horrendous.” Geralt said beside the young woman making her giggle. The sound made his heart beat faster. This was also when he realized how sensibly everyone else in the room was dressed, and how much they stood out. (Y/N) was in a thin white cotton dress, it was around knee length and a light sweater was on her shoulders. Her mother and father dressed similarly. Their clothes looking normal, comfortable.

“Oh my dear brother. What have you done to the poor witcher.” She laughed, turning her attention to him. She could see how uncomfortable the clothes made him. The vest was way too tight and he was practically bursting out of his pants, not that she minded, she gladly enjoyed the view.

“He is torturing me. That's what.” Geralt scoffed and she couldn't help but giggle again.

“You're so dramatic Geralt it's truly not that bad.” Her head flicked to her brother.

“Jaskier don't be rude.” She tutted him like a mother, it made Geralt snort under his breath as he took a bite of his eggs. She stood and walked behind him. He was stiff at her movements.

“Do you mind?” Her fingers were on the strings of the vest. He shook his head no and she quickly untied the tight strings, and it fell from his shoulders. She took it off and handed it to one of the maids

“You can burn that horridly ugly thing.” She said as she sat back down.

“I do not remember you being so rude, little sister.” Jaskier quipped.

“What I think is rude is how you made sure you got the more presentable clothing and dressed your poor friend in those horrendous colors. Have you seen his pants, Jaskier?? It's a miracle he can still breath.” Her eyes looked towards the witcher who was already looking at her with a cocky smirk on his face, glad she was putting Jaskier in his place for the ugly outfit choice.

“I can take you to the seamstress later today, if you’d like Geralt.” Her smile was like a drug.

“I’d appreciate that m'lady.” He said softly.

“And I can show you around the city, both of you. But in return I would like to hear some of your stories, first hand if that’s doable.”

“That sounds like a reasonable trade.” Geralt quipped back.

“Then it's a date, Witcher.”

“A date it is.”

#henry cavill #henry cavill imagine #henry x reader #witcher netflix #geralt fanfic #imagines #witcher yennefer #geralt #smut #geralt of riva #geralt x oc #geralt x yn #geralt x reader #geralt imagine #geralt smut #witcher x y/n #witcher x reader #witcher jaskier #jaskier x y/n #jaskier #witcher 3 #geralt x you #geralt x (y/n) #geralt x y/n

[slasherwife]

Little Wife

GeraltxReader warnings: female pronouns, fluff

Summary

Geralt, stranded with Yennefer and in need of shelter, brings them both to Geralt‘s cozy home deep in the woods which he shares with his sweet little wife 🍄💕😊

Rain poured from above, seemingly endlessly in the cold and dark pitch of the night. Geralt could see his breath in front of him, and he clutched his sword at his hilt, hair standing on end. His eyes were slanted, tired, yet glowing like embers. A raven-haired girl stood behind him, following the large man through the forest grove to a path with which led to a small home. She was alert as well, distrusting eyes to the trees around her.

It was a nice looking home. It would look even nicer if it weren’t pouring rain in the middle of October, where one drop makes you shiver in brittle bones. A warm glow from within the home made it beam out of the small glass windows, framed with a light green that looked like dark moss in the night.

Geralt seemed to walk faster once he saw the home, and Yennefer had to speed up her steps to keep up with him. Once he reached the door, he wrapped a large hand around the handle, and almost ripped it open, almost desperate to see his beloved, for the warmth of the home that he shared with her.

A woman, hair that was soft and long, pinned up messily, in her night gown jumped in fright in the other room. She heard the booming steps that shook the ground, and she turned behind her quickly to open her junk-box where she pulled out a long knife.

Her husband had taught her way around the blade— and as much as she never wanted to use it, she was always prepared.

She cursed herself for the clatter she made of her jewelry with old trinkets in her junk box, but a voice stopped her in her tracks.

“Y/n?” Geralt’s voice reverberated off of the walls in the small home, and she froze. The knife clattered back into the box and she, in her bare feet and nightgown, charged out of the room to stand in the hallway where her husband stood, soaked and freezing, in her kitchen. With a woman.

“Geralt!” She said, her voice shrill yet soft as she broke in a scramble to get him within her grasp. Geralt’s arms reached, his eyes holding galaxies in them for her as his breath caught in his throat. He took a step forward, forgetting the fact that he was soaked and cold, before she was on him. She felt so warm against his cold chest, reminding him of the fresh out-of-the-oven cakes that she would make for him when he came home from a hunt.

It seemed to all come back to him. Her lips against his in the soft light of the sunrise, a cool breeze making her hair twirl. He remembered how perfect she fit against him, warm bodies pressed together in a fit of passion. He remembered their moans late at night, how beautiful she was, an angel. He could listen to her talking all day long. Her diligent cooking, her cakes, how she would bring him tea and a slice of fresh bread whenever he came home injured, as she tended to his wounds with her delicate hands. God, he loved her more than anything. He loved her more than he loved himself. And if she got teary eyed because his wounds were bad, or because she missed him too much— he doesn’t know what he would do. He’d kill himself. He loves her so much. His little wife, Y/n.

Her cheeks were flushed as she pressed herself to him, breathing out how much she missed him and how she’s been so lonely without him. Geralt buries his nose in her hair, listening to her voice like it was heaven to his ears.

His wife then pulled away from him, soft hands reaching up to his stubbled face to pull him down a little.

“Are you hurt?” she asked, eyes worried but gentle. Geralt shook his head.

“No, darling. We needed somewhere to stay the night.” He said softly, Yennefer amused that he was so gentle and affectionate to this woman. She was curious as to who she might be.

“You’re freezing,” Y/n said, massaging his arms affectionately as she started to calm down from seeing her husband after many weeks.

“Come to the fire, i’ll make soup.” She said, and Yennefer and Geralt obliged.

“Who is she?” Yennefer asked quietly, genuinely curious. Geralt heard her question but didn’t answer. He only watched his wife with his face practically glowing as she boiled some water and prepared some herbs and spices.

The woman turned to look at him, and smiled a warm smile at how he looked at her so softly. She left the stove, and stopped at his feet where she pulled him down to give him a much-waited for kiss. It was soft and chaste, like they were kissing souls and not flesh. They lingered, and Y/n smiled.

“What did I tell you? Go sit.” She said softly but firmly. Geralt chuckled and pulled away. The water on the stove began to boil, and Y/n turned away, her touch on his arm lingering as she tended to the small kitchen.

It then came apparent that she was only wearing her nightgown, and Y/n became embarrassed as she chopped vegetables. Geralt had noticed when he saw her but only felt a tinge of lust and a lot of warm joy.

Yennefer watched her curiously as she turned to Geralt. “Wife?” She asked, and Geralt only cast her a glare that said that it was none of her business.

#geralt of rivera #geralt #geralt x reader #the witcher #the witcher x reader #yennefer #yennefer of vengerberg #jaskier #i made a thing #geralt x wife reader #thriller #love #romance #cute #soft!geralt #cottage #fanfic #the witcher fanfiction

[queenxxxsupreme]

Hey! you up for Witcher requests? All good if not!just skip the next bit, but I was I thinking of something real angsty of a geraltxreader inspired by Hostage/Watch by Billie Eilish? Maybe something about unrequited love and Geralt and the reader having this really close nearly intimate relationship? She wants so badly to be with him and they get close and than Yen comes into the picture? Just a suggestion! If you have another idea go for it of course! You're the writer 😁😁 a good one too!

A/N: Aww babe thank you!! I absolutely loved this prompt!! It’s such a good one and I think it’s helping me out of my writer’s block shit because I punched this out in three hours I think This takes place the night before the events of Bottled Appetites (1x05) before Jaskier finds Geralt at the river hunting for the Djinn.

Warnings: implied smut but no actual smut, nakey Geralt and reader, short tempered Geralt because he’s a sleepy baby. oh and angst because it was in the request and I love me some good ol angst :)

Note: I did this part with Hostage by Billie Eilish while the next part will use Watch by Billie.

The room was a little more than warm with the help of the fire in the hearth across from the bed you were laying in with Geralt. The air was heavy with the scents of lavender and sex. Prior to your time with the witcher in bed, you burned lavender in hopes that the scent would calm him down and help him rest. 

Your hair was a tangly mess and Geralt’s white locks were left down, tousled and not even close to being parted accurately. 

A thin layer of sweat covered your skin and his too, but that didn’t make you shy away from him. You were on your side facing the White Wolf tucked beneath his bulky arm and into his side. One of your hands rested on his chest while one of your legs was bent so your knee crossed over him just above his groin. One of his hands rested on your lower back, his calloused thumb brushing circles into your soft skin. This was your favorite position with the witcher after your more intimate moments together. It was a warm and comforting position, one that assured you he couldn’t slip away while you slept without waking you up. One that assured him that you would always be by his side, always be there for him. 

I wanna be aloneAlone with you, does that make sense?

The both of you had been quiet for the last nine or ten minutes, catching your breaths and coming down from your highs. 

You cheek pressed against the front of his shoulder, your eyes watching his chest rise up and down slowly, steadily. You brushed your fingers across him, enjoying the soft scratchy feeling that came from his sparsely hairy chest.

 Your fingers glided over the cold metal from his medallion every now and then but you never made an effort to actually touch it. It was just an accident. He didn’t like when anyone messed with the medallion. 

“You think you can sleep now?” You finally decided to speak, wanting to hear his gruff voice. 

“No.” His answer was quiet but his voice was deep and gravely, even more so than usual. His voice post-sex was a sound you could listen to for the rest of your life. 

You lifted your head from his shoulder to look at him. His golden eyes were focused on the ceiling above you two. One of his hands was propped behind his head. 

“Perhaps another go….” You trailed off quietly, unsure that you could last another round with the witcher. His round usually lasted an hour at the very least. His stamina and strength combined with his gentleness and desire to please made him the best lover.

He grunted softly at your suggestion but didn’t decline. It was like he was thinking about it. 

“You should sleep. It’s been a long day.”

“I’ll sleep when you do.” You put your head back down to settle against his shoulder. “I don’t mind staying up to keep you company.”

He fell silent. This usually happened. He wasn’t big on talking. He much more preferred to be silent than speak. You learned over the years you’d known him that a lot of times he didn’t talk because he knew many didn’t listen to him. They didn’t care what he had to say and they didn’t care to waste their time with him. 

You, however, always encouraged him to talk. You always listened to him, taking in every word he told you and keeping it sealed away in your heart for safe keeping. 

I wanna steal your soulAnd hide you in my treasure chest

“You know that I’m here for you if you’d like to just talk, right?” You asked him quietly, looking up at him through your lashes. He turned his head to gaze down at you with those liquid honey eyes you adored so greatly. 

You chose to lift your head once again to get a better look at him. His eyes followed you as you propped yourself up on one elbow. His hand on your back moved to your thigh, softly groping your flesh. 

His silence was eating away at you. You wished you could see inside his mind, hear his thoughts. It would be easier to interpret what he was thinking if you could. You were usually very good at reading people, but Geralt of Rivia always looked grumpy and irritated. You, however, could look in his eyes and decipher his emotions - most of the time. 

Right now, you couldn’t figure out what was going one behind those beautiful honey orbs. 

“Say something.” You murmured, rubbing his chest. 

Still, he watched you for a while. Was he trying to think of something to say?

And then, after what felt like eight hours, he leaned over to kiss you. His lips didn’t find yours like you’d hoped, but instead chose to kiss at your jaw. His teeth gently scraped across your jaw just below your ear and then he moved down. 

Your head lulled to the side, offering him easier access to your neck. Your eyes fluttered shut and your fingers curled into his chest. 

His lips were cool against your flushed skin, his tongue swiping out every now and then to tease you. His hand on your thigh squeezed you a little tighter and you shifted closer to him - if that was even possible. 

I don't know what to doTo do with your kiss on my neck

And then he was pulling away from you, not even giving you a chance to return the kiss. You thought maybe he was just readjusting himself to get into a more comfortable position or perhaps to lay some other way that would make kissing you easier. But instead, he pulled the linens back and slipped out of the bed. 

You frowned, brows drawing together as you sat up. You clutched the sheet to your chest though you really didn’t need to hide yourself from the witcher. 

“Where are you going?” You sounded like a scared child, your tone weak and brittle. This happened sometimes after the two of you engaged in sexual activities. He’d leave you to go elsewhere. Oftentimes if you fell asleep afterwards, he’d leave without saying a word, leaving you to wake up alone in the morning.

“Down to the tavern.” He answered as he pulled on his trousers. 

You licked your lips and brushed your hair over your shoulder, trying to think of what to say next. 

His belt was put on next and then his boots. 

Your throat felt scratchy and your nose tingled, itching with the urge to cry. Why would he leave after you offered to keep him company? After kissing you like he had just done?

As he was tugging on his tunic top, a soft gray color, you bit your bottom lip. The laces at the top were left undone. You knew what he was going to do and your stomach twisted into knots while a weight formed on your chest. 

“Please, just stay.” You whispered, bringing yourself to look him in the eye. 

I don't know what feels trueBut this feels right, so stay a secYeah, you feel right, so stay a sec

He held your gaze for a few agonizingly long heartbeats before softly shaking his head. 

“I can’t.”

“Sure you-Sure you can.” You choked on your words. “I-I’m here and we can just-,”

“I said no, Y/N.” His voice hardened as he tied his hair back.

You dropped your gaze to the linens where he’d once been. Your heart was thumping loudly in your ears and you were sure that you were trembling. From what, you weren’t too sure. Your stomach churned and churned, threatening to make you vomit at any moment. 

His actions towards you often gave you whiplash. One second he was soft and sweet to you, calling you gentle pet names and making love to you like you were the only woman on the continent for him. The next, he’d push you away, his tone cold as he told you he had plans with a woman in town or he was going to a brothel. 

Sometimes when he left you after sharing a bed with you, he’d go to a tavern and find another woman, one who he’d stay with for the rest of the night. 

It had gotten worse lately. He was more restless, more eager to never settle down. He couldn’t sleep and the fact that his nights were so restless made him frustrated. Sex and ale were his way of coping, you guessed. 

And let me crawl inside your veinsI'll build a wall, give you a ball and chain

But it frustrated you knowing that while he treated you this way, you were quick to accept his soft touches and gentle caresses. You couldn’t say no to him. You couldn’t turn him down. You were all he had right now. Jaskier was away with his on-off lady friend and performing to make coin for himself. 

Your hands fisted the linens until your knuckles turned white. You didn’t realize you locked your jaw so tightly until you opened your mouth. Your jaw ached. 

“I can’t believe I’m stupid enough to stay.” The words were harsh and cold as you gazed down at the linens. 

He stopped moving about and instead chose to look at you, his brows drawn together. 

“You-You do this every time.” You shook your head, tears blurring your vision. “And I’m an idiot for thinking that you’d change.”

“You aren’t an idiot, dove.” He murmured. “But if I stay, nothing good will happen.”

“Nothing good?” You finally brought yourself to look up at him. “Nothing good will come if you stay here and lay with me in bed? If you-If you talk to me and let me know what is going on inside your head?”

He sighed heavily through his nose but said nothing. 

“Are you saying I’m not good for you?” Your voice was frail and soft. He could hear how close you were to losing it. 

It's not like me to be so mean, you're all I wanted

“Get some rest, Y/N.” He spoke in a hushed whisper. 

Without another word, Geralt left the room. 

The second the door closed, you took in a sharp breath. Your hand flew up to cover your mouth. You knew he could’ve heard you. His hearing was ridiculously good. 

Your head fell forward as you sobbed into your hand, doing your best to muffle the noise. 

He thought you weren’t good enough for him. You weren’t good. But of course you weren't. You weren’t like every other woman who he had come across. You weren’t as thin or as flirty. You weren’t as dainty or soft as them. You didn’t wear dresses and you didn’t carry yourself around like a lady should. 

You should’ve learned from your mistakes, from doing this with him before. It was a bitter cycle but you couldn’t let him go. His hold on you was far too powerful, too strong for anything to ruin it.

Just let me hold youLike a hostage

The Next Morning

The warm sun beat down on your skin as you basked in the sunlight, sitting in a bright green patch of undergrowth on the embankment of the river. You leaned back on your hands, your head resting on your shoulder as you listened to Geralt throw the net back into the water. You took the opportunity to rest your eyes, having not gotten any sleep the night before. 

You and Geralt hadn’t spoken since the night before, save for a few words here and there when you were riding atop Roach with him to your current location. You couldn’t find the right words to say to him. You kept wanting to be angry and upset, but also comforting and apologetic. You decided that you’d let him speak first. When and if he decided to do so, you’d answer as neutrally as possible. You didn’t want to sound needy or rude. 

When Geralt let out a heavy sigh, you opened your eyes to see what he was up to. He threw the net aside and gazed out over the river before his eyes found you. You shifted a little in your spot, taking a soft deep breath. 

Then he was moving towards you. You sat up, straightening your top and brushing your fingers over your hair. You weren’t too sure what you were doing but you wanted to keep your hands busy. 

Wordlessly, he sat down next to you in your sunny little patch of green. His knees were bent just slightly and his arms rested atop his knees. 

“M’sorry for last night.” He couldn’t meet your eyes as you looked at him, your head turned so you could admire his profile.

“You’ve nothing to be sorry for.” You told him, mentally cursing yourself. Why would you say that? Going so long without proper sleep had made him moodier than usual so you had to give him a pass on this.

“But I do, though.” He picked up a thin stick from the ground beside him and began to mess with it. “I care for you, Y/N. I really do. But I shouldn’t be treating you the way I have, like you're disposable.”

“I-I don’t mind it.” You lied, dropping your eyes to your hands. “I’d rather you use me than leave me.”

He finally looked up at you, his brows drawn together in pain. It hurt him to hear you say those words.

“You don’t deserve that sort of treatment, Y/N. I’ve been using you and it’s not okay-,”

“But what if I’m okay with it?” You turned to face him a little more, moving around so you sat on your knees.

You were frustrated that his focus returned to the damned stick in his hand. You took the stick from him, discarding it over your shoulder before you grabbed his hand. 

Gold on your fingertipsFingertips against my cheek

You placed his open palm against your cheek, your eyes fluttering shut at the feeling. 

“You’ve no idea how badly I need you. You…. You’re the only person I’ve got in my life.” You let out a shaky breath. 

When he said nothing, you released his hand, thinking he’d pull his hand away. Instead, he kept his hand there, his thumb brushing across your cheekbone. 

You opened your eyes to find his honey gaze on you. 

“You deserve someone much better than me.”

“But what if I want you?”

Gold leaf across your lipsKiss me until I can't speak

He said nothing and instead chose to lean in and seal a kiss on your lips. It didn’t last long and it was chaste, but your heart still raced. A little smile came to your face.

His hand fell from your face to your knee as he looked out over the river once more. You knew he was thinking about that damned Djinn.

“You need to sleep.”

“I can’t.” He sighed heavily, standing to his feet. 

“You haven’t tried.”

You saw the way he locked his jaw and you heard the deep grunt come from within his chest. 

He was so damned stubborn. 

You recalled just a few months prior when the two of you shared a bed. You were tucked into his side like always and his arm protectively held you against him, afraid to let you go. He had kissed you softly and with such a fondness that your head spun just from recounting the memory. The two of you had laid in bed for hours, talking about nothing and everything, just keeping each other company until the other passed out. You, as usual, were the first to succumb to your drowsiness. 

Gold chain beneath your shirtThe shirt that you let me wear home

You recounted how you woke up the next morning and went to dress, only to find your shirt had quite literally been torn. Geralt was restless the night before and impatient, not being able to wait for you to untie the laces properly. He gave you his shirt, smiling a little arrogantly as he kissed you. 

You blinked back to reality, seeing that Geralt was back to throwing the net into the river. He was exhausted, you could see it in his eyes and in the way his temper was short. His patience had grown thin with just about everything. He snapped at a few civilians on your way through town that morning, something he rarely did unless provoked. 

You sighed as you pushed yourself to your feet and made your way over to him, brushing the back of your trousers off. 

“We can come back for this Djinn later on tomorrow, Geralt.” You spoke softly to him. “We can go a few towns over to that nice inn we passed. We could get a room and take a bath.” You placed your hand on the back of his arm but he shrugged your hand away. 

“I need to get the Djinn, Y/N. Once I get it, we can do whatever the fuck you want.” His tone was harsh but he sounded irritated. 

“I’m worried about you, Geralt.” You admitted to him. “You aren’t immortal. You’re human too, and you need to rest your body and your head.”

“M’fine.”

“Geralt, I really think-,”

“Y/N, I would really appreciate it if you just leave me to my work.” He cut you off, glancing to you out of the corner of his golden eyes. 

You opened your mouth to snap back but you couldn’t bring yourself to be upset with him. Perhaps you were just irritating him, poking the sleep deprived bear. 

“Okay, Geralt.” You nodded your head, forcing a smile to your lips in an attempt to not cry. “I’ll, um, I’ll go keep Roach company.”

At least she doesn’t push me away. Gold's fake and real love hurtsBut nothing hurts when I'm aloneWhen you're with me and we're alone

Taglist: @riviawitch3r @notyouraveragemochii @dev1lbella @rosyghosty @merendis @lalalalemonade11 @wayward-dream @whatanicepanohthatsjustme @tshuuls @havenoffandoms @queen-sands @crazzyter @katiejmac @bucky-did-nothing-wrong @jennylovelyheart @whitewolfandthefox @itsallyouhavegotinsideyourhead @hm-fck @mactho @msgeorgiarae @tragicmisfits @randomzxx @alwayshave-faith @rahdaleigh @lizliz3107 @turtlefordestiel @d14n4ol @asix122747483 @minervalavender @agniavateira @hina-chans-stuff @dressed-up-heartbreak @persephonehemingway @bitterstar88 @scarlettwitcher @ayamenimthiriel @romancebibliophilia @jessevans @xoxoarts @jocelynscloset

#geralt of rivia request #geralt of rivia angst #geralt of rivia x reader #geralt angst #geralt request #geralt x reader #the witcher netflix #the witcher #henry cavill #request #queenxxxsupreme

[spottedlekkudancer]

Masterpost

Mun: Hey lads. Long story short I have Executive Dysfunction. Not really and excuse to why I haven't touched any of my WIPs in a year, but at least you know why it happened now. I have one very hard ask to complete and several things to update including but not limited to: Same Heart, Lady of the Stars, and a new Dadalorian fic. Hopefully with working 12 hr days at a desk job I can still find the will to write. 

Series:

Passive Pursuit - You were never one for biting off more than you can chew, and yet you keep finding yourself in loads of trouble. Now you have several of the one percent-ers on your back paying out the ass to have you brought in by the best. DinXReader Part 1, 

 Lady of the Stars - You, a former student of Luke, have made a modest life in the smuggling profession. It’s not glamorous but it meets your needs. Staying out of trouble and under the First Order’s radar was a top priority of yours, but after you are cornered at the edge of the galaxy by the KOR you find your self lost on a primitive planet. Will your new found companions be able to help you off world before Ren comes for you or will you be stuck here forever?  StarWars Witcher Xover GeraltXReader Part 1,

Same Heart - You are a Colonel from the Battlecruiser Absolution now aboard Finalizer in an attempt to close a banking deal for the Order abroad. Not much has ever given you cause to seek a significant other before, however, when several people on the ship start taking a personal interest in you things may change. Kylo/MattXReaderXHux Part 1,  Part 2, Part 3, 

Drabbles and One Shots

Goatman - (Modern AU) You and Kylo head to the Old Alton Bridge to hunt for the legendary Goat Man. KyloXReader

Campfire - Ben Solo tries to ignore his uncle Luke as he tells scary stories to the other padawans.

Trick-or-Treat - It’s nearing an Autumn holiday on the planet where you are from and Hux catches you eating candy on the Bridge.

Under Control - (Modern AU) Luke is hosting a Dungeons and Dragons campaign at his Uncle Ben’s house.

Fallen - Reader is captured and detained by the First Order after coming out of seclusion. Her interrogation proves to be useless and Hux himself take it upon his duty to get her to cooperate. HuxXReader

Holograms - You arrive in Hux’s room at his command. Hux however is no where to be found. How will you cure your boredom. HuxXReader

Silence - You and Ben are two of Luke’s top students in his Jedi academy and have become quite close over the years. Close enough to assist one another with your most present fears. Fears that keep you both up at night. BenXReader

Headcanons and Asks

Pumpkin carving (OT)

Earth Jobs (OT)

#masterpost #star wars #star wars fanfiction #starwars #Star Wars Drabble #star wars ask #star wars imagine

[inber]

Giving Geralt a Nickname Imagine

"Snowflake."

Geralt grunts.

"Daisy."

He shoots you a sidelong glance.

"Moonhead."

"No."

"Starshine."

"Stop it."

"...Milkdrop."

He rolls over onto you on the bed, covering your mouth with one hand as you giggle.

"Fff-wy."

"Can't hear you, sweet." He rumbles.

You lick his hand.

"Oh, like that's going to stop me."

You bite his hand.

"Ouch! Little--"

"Fluffy." You grin, toying with a strand of his hair.

"I love you more than anyone that has walked this world, but I will lock you in the closet."

You consider this, silent, and he grunts contentedly as the victor.

"...Powderpuff." You whisper, and he growls, hoisting you from the bed, thrown over his shoulder. You squeal and wriggle in his grasp.

"That's it. You're sleeping in the stable with Roach."

"Sugarduuuust!" You yodel, and it breaks him; at the foot of the stairs, he starts to laugh.

"What the fuck am I going to do with you, hm?" He manages, pulling you from his shoulder and into a bridal-style carry.

"Tolerate me until the end of my days." You bat your eyelashes.

"Yeah," He sighs, smirking handsomely, "I suppose I shall."

Is this even headcanon/imagine? Idk. I'm sleepy.

#the witcher #netflix the witcher #the witcher fandom #witcher #geralt x reader #geraltxreader #headcanon #geralt imagine #imagine #fluff #out of character

[inber]

'I'm Half-Asleep, Here's a Sitting on Geralt's Lap/Cockwarming' Headcanon 🖤

Jaskier is playing at a crowded inn

You've sequestered Geralt away in a dark corner to half-listen

Some jerk makes off with your chair whilst you're getting more wine and you have no choice but to use his lap to sit

You suspect he may have nudged the chair away, but that's beside the point

Something has set him off; you don't know what, but he's very handsy

When no one is looking, he's nuzzling your neck and nipping your earlobe

His hands are beneath the bottom of your shirt, grazing skin

Then he growls lowly in the hollow of your neck, "I could slip my cock from my trousers and be so fuckin' deep inside you right now, and no one would even know."

Your eyes are huge as you try to act as if nothing is amiss, sipping your wine, but you grind your ass back against him

That's enough invitation for him

The crowd applauds Jaskier as Geralt adjusts himself slightly under you; you raise off his lap just a little

Only to sink down slowly onto his thick length

Both of you have to suppress your moans at the sensation as Jaskier launches into another song

You're unable to do much without drawing attention, so you squeeze the muscles of your cunt, hearing his soft grunts muffled in your hair

You use your tiptoes on the floor to ride him - slowly, so damn slowly

Every now and then you 'shift' in his lap so he can thrust into you, even just for a moment

The public setting, the lewdness, the heat of you is too much for him

"I'm-- fuck, I'm gonna fuckin' come," He growls into your ear at the next round of applause, his hands tight at your waist

You press back into him as hard as you can and flex again

He buries his face in your neck to hide his orgasmic expression, but you can hear his little groans and huffs as he floods your pussy in public

When he's spent, he stays sheathed within you and lounges like a king, looking utterly satisfied

You squirm in his lap to fuck with the aftershocks and he jolts a little, growling

"When we get upstairs, I'm going to feast on your cunt until you can't walk in a straight line, darling." He promises you

You haven't come yet, but it's all such a turnon that you can't wait for Jaskier to finish

You both withstand two encores, to your credits, before you vanish to your room

"They never come to my concerts." Jaskier pouts later, when he can't find you in his adoring crowd

You're coming, though

Just not at his concert

#headcanon #witcher fandom #netflix witcher #witcher fanfic #witcher fanfiction #the witcher #geralt #geraltxreader #geralt imagine #geralt of rivia #geralt x reader

[inber]

Feral - Headcanon Smut

Just working out my own kinks don't mind meeee. Warnings: Adult, cum-marking

You hear the door slam and sit up from the novel you were lost in, blinking, not expecting Geralt home from his hunt so soon.

"Darling?" He calls, and you hear the creak of his leathers when starts to shed his armour as he goes through the house, dropped on the floor in his wake. There's something dark and desperate about his voice, and you stand.

"In here, love!" You call, opening the bedroom door that you'd closed against the night breeze to greet him.

At the top of the stairs, you realise the reason for his tone; the elixir he's taken has yet to wear off, and he's ravenous, trembling.

You open your arms in offering and he lifts you from the ground, his kiss a vessel for you to fill with moaning, his teeth a sharp sting on your lips, his tongue a dance of dominion.

Wrapping your legs around him, you fist his hair with one hand and deepen the lip-lock; with your other you reach down and undo his buckle and buttons, deft. He snarls.

When his legs hit the first available surface, he sits; you tug the knot of your robe free to reveal nakedness that he groans at the sight of, wasting no time at all to feast upon your tits.

You purr and whimper in encouragement, shifting slightly forward in his lap to pull his cock free from his pants. It's slick with precum, raging and red, twitching with his pulse. He needs you, he needs you so badly.

Kissing his head, his brow, you arch your back 'til his dick is settled between the cheeks of your bum, and rock forwards and back, the weeping drip from his tip more than enough lubrication for the smutty rut.

"Fuck!" He gasps as the ridge of his cock glides in delicious friction against your lower back. With every bounce, your wet cunt hits his pelvis and you hiss in delight at the sensation, your clit smacking flesh.

Mindlessly he guides you, his sclera robbed of gold, his teeth a pearly glint as he snarls. You feel him throbbing thickly at your ass, and quicken your pace.

"Baby, I can't," He bites out, ragged, "Can't hold-- m'gonna fuckin' cum," His abdomen is a knit of steel, his corded thighs rigid, "Fuck, fuck, fuck!"

You have rocked each curse from him with a more purposeful, directing roll of your hips, and he's powerless to do anything but burst in orgasm. It's an obscenely gorgeous thing to behold; falling back with you atop him, he roars as the first jet of his cum shoots over your head to hit his chin and neck, before the scalding streaks stripe up your spine, settling in your hair, spilling across your lower back. He's holding you so tight you'll be bruised, but you don't care, fascinated by this primal release and obsessed with the heat that bathes you.

When the shudders slow and you've coaxed the last of it with your backside, he's sweat-slick and gasping; your entire back is glistening, decorated with his pleasure, your ass dripping. You grin at him proudly, and he huffs out a small laugh.

"Oh, look at you. So clever and coy, hm?"

"And look at you, your own cum on your chin," You lean down to lick it from his cleft, and he rumbles, "But still outrageously hard. What a conundrum."

"I'll give you a fucking conundrum, baby," He threatens, gripping your thighs, hitching you up his body as you squeal, "Sit on my fucking face."

Because you're a good girl, you do as you're told.

#the witcher #the witcher fandom #netflix the witcher #witcher #geralt x reader #geraltxreader #head canon #headcanon #geralt imagine #geralt #geralt of rivia #geralt x you #geralt x y/n #smut

[inber]

Lessons - One Shot

Hello pals! I felt like bashing out a quick one-shot this evening, so here it is. Zero plot, one hundred percent smut. I know there have been a few thief!reader fics circulating, but this isn’t exactly as it might first appear; I promise I’m not trying to steal ideas! I hope you enjoy. Not my gif!

Summary: You think you can steal from the White Wolf. He thinks you need to be taught a lesson.  Pairings: Geralt x Reader Warnings: Smut. Rough sex. I guess if you reeeally stretch it, almost dub!con, but I have taken pains to make it clear that all parties are safe/on board – still, I make mention of it, in case it’s sensitive for you. Dom!Geralt x Sub!Reader. Word Count: 2128 Tags: @p3nny4urth0ught5​ @didi0666​ (Let me know if you want to be tagged!) Master list here. You can donate for my time here if you want.

Your felt-booted feet are soundless on the uneven cobblestone of the alleyway. It is dark, almost too dark for you to make out the hulking silhouette of your mark as you creep towards him in the blanket of shadow the wall affords you, unhurried. One small step at a time, your limbs taut and steady, your flesh hidden beneath black cloth. Even your skirts had been hitched and tied properly so they would not swish against the ground or disrupt your movement. You were a wraith, unseen; you were a phantom born of moonlight mist on the last day of a waning moon.

The target in question appears oblivious to the danger he is in, muttering lowly to his horse, who seems to be fighting him on the matter of being tethered to a post. The animal doesn’t sense your presence, which bolsters you, and soon you are close enough to hear the man’s smoke-and-whisky baritone.

“Roach, I won’t even be long this time. I swear that last time was not my fault. No, don’t look at me like that. There’s fresh oats in it for you if you– fine then, ripe apples. I’ll spend my hard earned coin on apples. Gods, but you are spoilt – hey, now. Be nice. Do we have a deal?” The horse prances in place, nudging him solidly with her head, and he chuckles. The scene almost stops you from your mission. But not quite.

As he loops the chestnut mare’s bridle ‘round the post to secure her, you make the final few steps behind him, taking the opportunity as he bends over to brush your light fingers over the bag of coin at his waist, pulling the cord that holds it secure with a gentle tug, feeling it give and begin to fall into your waiting hand–

–at the exact same time you find yourself gripped by the shoulders and pushed up against the wall face-first on the other side of the alley, the broad-shouldered man’s forearm around your neck, squeezing with just enough pressure to let you know that making a sound will not play out well for you.

“What have I caught myself here?” His voice is at the side of your face, and it sounds like a brush of freshly-cut grass; rough and scratchy against the delicate seashell of your ear, making you shiver. “A little pickpocket. A thief that thought that she’d be able to lift coin from my belt.”

“A simple misunderstanding, I can assure–” You choke out, ‘til he tightens his forearm just long enough to make you dizzy, and you gasp when he relinquishes the pressure.

“You’d take me for a fool, thief? Hmmm.” His hands slink to your waist, then to the curve of your ass in that shortened skirt. “Well, I’d take you for a whore in this outfit.” Fingers dig into the supple flesh of your rear, and in an automatic reaction, you widen your stance and whimper. “Oh-ho. It appears I’m right.”

“Geralt,” You whine, and he relaxes his hold enough so that you can look at him over the curve of your shoulder, all wide eyes and pouting lips, “I’m getting better. I almost had you.”

His lips brush your ear again, and he captures your lobe in a nibble, before he rumbles, “I knew you were in the alley the second you made a single step. I’d know your scent anywhere. I’d pick it out in a crowd of thousands, Y/N.”

You squirm against the wall, only serving to brush your breasts against the stone, and push your backside into him. He growls in response.

“In some places, they punish thieves by taking their fingers.” He informs you, running palms flat down the length of your arms ‘til he captures your hands, raising them up and pinning them against the wall above your head. “Luckily for you, I am far more magnanimous in my judgement.”

With your legs spread and your hands on the wall – he does not need to pin them in order for you to know that moving them is not allowed – it’d be impossible for him not to smell your arousal, or to feel the shivering of your pulse double-time in the cage of your chest. “It’s not fair, though.” You pout, “You can smell me, see me in the dark, hear my footsteps. It’s like pitting a sheep against a wolf.”

“I never said I’d play fair when I agreed to teach you, little pet.” Smugly, he runs his mouth down the length of your neck, and you immediately tilt your head to allow him full access to your flushing skin, biting the end off a moan when he sucks the flesh at your collar. There will be a mark there tomorrow, angry-red, a visible claim. “You know that I could fuck you right here in the alleyway, outside in public, and nobody would bat so much as an eyelid? Just a whore with a customer. My secret slut, squirming for me in the dark.”

It’s not a threat when he says it; you have a choice, as ever, but his words ignite a firey war inside of you. Gods, you want him to take you exactly as he chooses. You know how he can make you feel. But there’s the tiny voice of reason that pleas with you to take this inside, behind closed doors, where there is no fear of discovery.

You squash that voice with the weight of your next words. “Then punish me as you’d see fit, Witcher.” Breathy acceptance accompanied by a smile. “Fuck me, right here, right now.” It’s a challenge; it’s one thing for him to tell you that he will, but it’s another for him to carry out the promise. You know how possessive he is over you; if another man happened upon your tryst and made so much as a remark about your virtue, he’d find himself missing an appendage in very short order – probably his head. There was also the question of reputation; his, and your own. You can see this battle in his sun-struck eyes, and Gods help you, you can’t help but poke at his conscience with a stick.

“Unless you’re willing to concede that I almost had you, and you’re getting soft– oh!”

There is nothing soft about the length that he grinds into your ass, hard, and his thundering growl is your reply to the taunt; hastily, he shoves the skirt up to your waist, bunching the material further. His nostrils flare and you feel him tense behind you when he realises that you have purposefully foregone undergarments this evening, a surge of desire bolting up his spine.

“No wonder I could smell you, my little whore. So fucking naughty.” He rasps, lowering one hand to rub against your slit; you’re so damn wet for him, coating his blunt fingers, and he slips the middle one inside of you with ease. You cry out, but his free hand traps the sound, covering your mouth. “Shh-shhh. You have to be quiet for me, little pet. Wouldn’t want anyone finding you in such a compromising position, would we?” He punctuates his words with a few quick thrusts of his fingers, and you spread your legs just a bit wider, trying to rock your hips against the uneven rhythm. Your body screams for more, even if you can only muffle a moan into his fingers.

You hear the sound of fabric rustling behind you, but you dare not move from where he’s positioned you; in moments, you feel the large head of his cock nudging your entrance, and greedily you arch your lower back in a silent plea; yes, please, please use me, take me, please!

He rumbles in satisfaction at your physical response, and you think he might use the hand at your waist to lower you back onto his cock, but instead he employs his impressive strength to hold you still as he hilts his entire length inside you with one powerful thrust, huffing out a breath that is entwined with a sound of pleasure as your cunt clenches his cock at the intrusion, a vice-like spasm that forces you to bite down on his hand so you won’t squeal. He barely notices the sting of teeth, breathing shallowly in your ear as he gives you a few moments to adjust to the size of him, and himself time to reel his control back in, because you’re so fucking tight and hot and it’s heaven.

When he does begin to move, it’s not a steady lover’s rock, no gentle build-up; he uses the muscle of his legs and the support of the wall to begin a power-fuck that is anything but romantic. There’s no room for flowery feelings or gentleness; it’s all primal, raw and needy lust. The slap of his balls against your soaking pussy is lewd and the sound seems to echo through the alley, but in seconds you don’t give a good Gods-damn if the entire village turns up to watch him rut you. It feels incredible. He has your hips tilted to perfectly punish the nerves of your g-spot, and every time he bottoms out, the slant of his pelvis kisses your swollen clit.

You’re unaware that you’ve become vocal again until he pants at your ear, “Hush, I said. Fuck, Gods, you’re so fucking tight.” His words are dark, broken by the steady thrusting as he pistons his cock in and out of you with precision rhythm, and they make you keen, “Don’t make me fucking gag you.”

You don’t know if it’s the threat, the illicit location, or his unparalleled skill when it comes to manipulating your body, but your orgasm explodes out of nowhere, forcing you to press your torso into the wall for support as he fucks you mercilessly through it, your lips parted in a wordless scream; savagely, your pussy milks him in a fluttering rhythm that advertises your release, begging for the warmth of his seed, and only then does his tempo suffer; groaning lowly, he slows, tempted to spill within you. But no – you have not been punished enough yet.

On tip-toe, your legs are shaking visibly, and he removes his hand from your mouth so he can grip both your hips, trusting you to employ the stone in front of you to lean upon, and he takes you exactly like you are actually a whore to be used for his pleasure, his thrusting wild and relentless, the strength of his fingertips enough to bruise your skin, if you could feel anything but mindless bliss. With his hand gone, you can’t suppress your cries any longer, but he doesn’t seem to notice; single-minded, he grunts with you, skewering your cunt, cursing every time you pulse around his shaft, the hard flexing of him against your snug walls tell-tale of his approaching climax.

The pleasure builds again, knotting in your abdomen until it cannot coil any tighter; with an incoherent gasp-wail you peak again, and this time he’s powerless to do anything but join you, hilting himself fully and pushing you hard into the wall with a short roar as his angry-hot cock explodes deeply inside you, a veritable river of seed throbbing from his tip and filling you, his balls drawn up taut against his body, his hulking frame shuddering behind you. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” He chants, gasping, his voice charcoal and gravel, “Yes, fuck, yes.” You do not have the coherency for curses, but you whimper your agreement as your velvety walls instinctively draw every drop from him, milking him, clutching and coaxing until he has nothing left to give you.

The aftershocks shiver through both of you. His arms wrap around you, drawing your hands back down the wall, and he holds you to his massive chest, still balls-deep within you, supporting you.

Dazed, every limb quivering, you let your head roll back to hit his shoulder as you stare up at him with moon-eyed reverence. Your breast heaves with your panting. “I’m– I’m never gonna execute your lessons properly… if this is how you punish me for it.” You tell him, your words lazy, and he chuckles warmly.

“Fuck it,” He reluctantly slips from your swollen folds, and you feel the warmth of his seed begin to spill from your body, 'til he withdraws a clean cloth from his pocket and places it between your legs, “Maybe I’m not cut out to be a teacher.” The hemline of your skirt falls back into place as he tugs at it, and you stumble drunkenly. Without hesitation, he lifts you into his arms, intent on carrying you back to the room you share.

“That’s okay,” You whisper, tracing the cleft of his chin and the line of his jaw with reverence, “I’m sure I’ll find other uses for you.”

#the witcher #fan fiction #fanfic #fanfiction #smut #geralt x reader #geraltxreader #the witcher fandom #netflix the witcher #witcher #the witcher fanfiction

[inber]

Just a Girl, Part Three

I have no self control and I guess my muse is pretty nice right now, because I got this part out today, too. One chapter a day isn’t too bad! This part is told from the reader’s POV. Gonna be honest, there’s very little plot here. I mean, the whole series hasn’t exactly been highbrow, but this chapter is just straight up smut. It’s smut-town, babey! I promised you some, and here it is. I could leave this series here, but I might do a ‘next day’ of this; we’ll see. As ever, leave some love if you enjoyed it – it fuels me! I have other ideas in the works for Witcher fics.

Pairings: Geralt x Reader

Warnings: Smut. Oral, both ways. Squirting (no, it’s not a made-up porn thing, don’t @ me). Not for young readers.

Word Count: 2391

Part one here, Part Two here. You can donate for my time here if you want.

Your eyes fly open in the middle of the night. You know instinctively that you are not alone in your inn room any longer. Slowly, one hand inches beneath the pillow beside you to touch the dagger you’ve hidden there, when the presence makes the softest noise, and you realise just who it is seated in the over-stuffed chair in the corner. You breathe a sigh.

“What are you doing in my room, Geralt?”

He would have known by the change in your breathing that you were awake, but he has the good grace to clear his throat a little, as if caught out. “There are all sorts of unsavoury men staying here tonight. I wanted to make sure you were safe.” His voice is all kinds of almost: almost an apology, almost a wish, almost a promise. That’s exactly what you have been with him – almost.

“Yeah,” You agree, stretching sleepily, “I know. There’s a Witcher here, I heard.” You laugh humourlessly, but he does not join you. He simply grunts, and shifts slightly in the chair.

“Did it ever occur to you, Geralt of Rivia,” Sitting up, the sheet covering your body falls and pools at your waist, “That I might not need protecting? That I am actually wholly capable of caring for myself? It’s been, what, ten years since I saw you last? I’m not just surviving, I’m living. And–” You cut yourself off when you note the glitter of his eyes has widened, and he’s staring blatantly at your exposed breasts, his fingers clenched on the armrests of the chair. “–What? It’s warm tonight.”

He clears his throat again, this time with purpose, and manages to capture your gaze, his jaw tight. “I didn’t mean to watch you tonight as a gesture of offence, Y/N. I just… I’ve felt… since I met you, I’ve felt like…”

“What?” Crossly, you shove the sheets away and stand up so that you may confront him. You are all woman in the high moonlight, ample curves that glow ethereal, brilliantly exposed before a man that you were once too frightened to even properly look in the eye. “You’ve felt like I’m too young? Too stupid? Just a girl?”

“I’ve felt like you were important.” He snaps, pushing himself to stand as well, and he towers over you, muscles whip-tight with unspent energy. The electricity in the air crackles between you, refusing to be ignored, stinging your skin. “So I ran. I ran from you, like an idiot. I should have kissed you that day, but I didn’t, and I’m sorry, and I’m stupi–”

But he can’t finish his rambling apology, because you’ve taken two large strides towards him, wrapping your arms around his neck as your mouth finally meets his, urgent. It feels like the answer to a long-asked question, like a missing cog in clockwork, and you know he feels the same way when he engulfs your body in his massive arms and moans into your mouth, kissing you fearlessly; you lick at the heat of his mouth and graze his lower lip with your teeth and he sucks your tongue, laves your cupid’s bow, leaves you stubble-scratched and panting. You only part for oxygen, which seems like an afterthought, and when his eyes meet your own again, they are ablaze. A shudder thrills through your body, despite the warmth of the room. Shifting your arms from their perch on his shoulders, you place your palms against his chest, and shove at him; he could resist your strength if he wanted to, but he collapses back into the chair obediently.

“Y/N, what are–” His voice is burnt-honey, smokey and delicious. You want to fucking devour this man.

“Shh.” You tell him, quite content to not let him finish a damn sentence this evening as you drop to your knees and part his thighs with your palms, making yourself comfortable between them. He’s straining against the cloth of his breeches, and you wet your lips with intention. The sound of his breath hitches as he realises exactly what that intention is. He goes to speak again, probably to tell you that you don’t have to, or something else you don’t want to hear, but you lock your eyes with his, and the intensity of your dark gaze shuts him up. “I want you to lace your hands behind your head, Geralt.” You purr, “And I want you to keep them there. If you move them, I swear to the Gods that I will kick you out of this room without remorse. Am I clear?”

He sets his mouth in a hard line and narrows his eyes like a glinting gold knife-edge, but slowly, he raises his arms. As he does so, you tug at the hemline of his shirt and pull the garment free from his body, discarding it behind you. His large fingers knit together behind his skull, and silently, he regards you; perhaps you are on your knees, but you are powerful there, and both of you know it. Smirking, you slide your hands up his legs, over the washboard definition of his abdomen, and through the coarse hair of his chest, finally feeling the scratch of it against your greedy fingertips. He makes a sound that could be pleasure or impatience, but he doesn’t move, and his eyes do not shift from your own.

Your hands are at the tie of his breeches next, skillfully making work of the double knot there and unlacing them with ease, and his thick cock springs free of its cloth prison at last. He exhales sharply with relief, only to draw in a breath between pinched teeth as your hand circles his impressive shaft, stroking, rubbing a bead of pre-come ‘round the ridge of his head like a precious elixir. “I’ve heard Witchers have great stamina,” You tell him, and his gaze turns questioning, “I want to know for myself.”

Bare breasts brush his thighs as you push yourself up, your tongue flat on the underside of his length as you lick upwards, and he flexes his legs with a low rumble. It isn’t enough of a reaction, and so you waste no time in parting your plush lips and taking him in your mouth, your practiced throat relaxing and near-hilting him in one swallow.

“Fuck, Y/N!” He hisses, as he instinctively jerks forward, his hands almost leaving his head to cradle your own ‘til he obviously remembers your threat and fists his hair instead. You suckle at him deliberately as you draw him back out of your mouth, delighting as his abs clench and his cock throbs powerfully against your tongue. Maybe now would be a good time for some clever remark, but in all honesty, you just want to hear him moan.

You get your wish as you pleasure him with purpose, bobbing your head in his lap as you stroke him with your tongue, your kiss-swollen lips tight on his flesh. He freely lets you know exactly how much he’s enjoying your attention with wanting groans, his whole body taut as a bow-string, his hands an absolute mess in the mane of his pale hair. You hum appreciatively around the base of his cock as you draw him in again, one free hand cupping his balls, gently toying.

The shudder of his body tells you that he’s trying to hold out, trying to make this last, but the increasing pulse in his cock tells you that he’s close, and you don’t tease him; the sound of you sucking him off is obscene in the small room, and his moans turn guttural, almost animalistic. “Y/N, dear heart, if you don’t stop–” He chokes on his sentence as you swirl your tongue 'round his crown, “F-fuck. Fuck, I’m gonna fucking come.”

You almost purr in agreement, sinking your lips back down and taking him as far as you can into his throat as he roars some incoherent form of your name, his body hunched forward as his cock pulses powerfully in your mouth, hot jets of his come spilling almost faster than you can swallow them as he suffers a full-body shudder, panting hotly above you, his fingers so tight in his hair that his knuckles have turned ivory. His orgasm is long and vocal and hot, and you dig your fingertips into his thighs as you coax every crashing wave from him, drawing it out as long as possible, until he slumps back into the chair, utterly had, panting and staring at you with such worship in his eyes that you cannot help but smile as you release him with a parting kiss on the tip of his cock.

His hands are still on his head, you note, as you clean a stray strand of his seed from your lower lip, examining him through the dark veil of your lashes. “Oh, no.” He growls, his words heavy and almost slurred, “You don’t get to look at me like that, all demure. Not whilst you’re licking my come off your pretty lips.”

You giggle, pleased, and use his thighs to push yourself off the ground. “You can move your hands now, Geralt. You did so well.” The praise is nearing a taunt, and he makes a low sound in warning. “I had no idea you’d taste so good. Certainly not like any other man I’ve– oop!”

It’s your turn to be interrupted now, as the Witcher stands and circles your waist with his huge hands, lifting you like you weigh absolutely nothing at all, manipulating your legs over his shoulders as he backs you into a wall for support, effectively bringing his face directly level with your cunt. “I don’t fucking want to hear about other men.” He tells you, darkly, and you want to see how possessive you can make the rasp of his voice sound until his mouth claims your cunt, and then you forget everything except what he’s doing between your legs.

“Oh!” You squeal in delight as his tongue spears you, thrusting into the dripping heat of you, before running flat up your slit to apply pressure and suction against the button of your clit. The rasp of his stubble is sharp against your inner thighs, and contrasts beautifully with the way he laps at your folds. Blindly, you reach out to grip the wall sconce beside you with one hand, and twist the other into his long hair. He grunts at the sensation as you tug, spurred, and begins to suckle your clit harder, lips trapping it, one of his hands coming between your legs to tease your opening, the other pressing against your stomach so you are properly anchored against the wall.

“Ger-alt,” The whine leaves your lips as he enters your pussy with one thick finger, pumping it in time with the movement of his mouth, his tongue strong and relentless against you, and you can’t help but rock your hips as much as the restrictive position will allow, mindlessly trying to get more – more of what, you don’t know, but you just don’t want him to ever stop what he’s doing. He plays your body like an instrument that only he knows the music for, growling against your clit when your walls begin a tell-tale flutter around his pistoning finger. He adds a second and curls them come-hither, putting pressure on the rough nerves inside of you, steadily stroking as he swirls his tongue in circles 'round your swollen nub. “Please, please, fuck, oh Gods,” You chant, still trying to ride his face, but he does not change his rhythm; it’s steady and perfect and very soon you feel your entire body beginning to jerk unbidden as the pleasure crescendos to a point.

“Yes! Ohfuck-fuck yes, Geralt!” It doesn’t matter that your scream is barely understandable as a language, because your orgasm hits you with a force that seems impossible, making your thighs shake 'round his head as your pussy clamps down on his fingers hand enough to push them from your body, a wash of your juices soaking his chin and running down his neck as he laps at you, still rumbling that low noise, teasing every jerk and spasm from you like puppetry, toying with the aftershocks until you have nothing left, glad for the support of his hand, because you are boneless.

“Hmmmm.” He purrs, apparently satisfied with your reaction; he lifts you from the wall as if you are the most precious treasure in the world, and carries you to the bed, laying you upon it. Blearily, you blink at him; his chin is glistening with evidence of your pleasure, and his teeth are pearl-glints as he smiles at you.

“I didn’t even know I could do that.” You inform him, too dazed to care that you’re probably fuelling his ego; of course you’d come before, but squirting was something new. He chuckled roughly.

“I’m glad to help you discover a new talent.” He tells you, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand. “You taste fucking delicious too, by the way.”

“Mmmm.” You acknowledge, curling into his side, uncaring that you’re sweat-slick. His body feels good against your own. Somewhere in the back of your head, you remember your taunt about endurance; you know he’s hard again, but he’s not demanding of you. In fact, he’s happy to let you use his bicep as a pillow as you bask in the afterglow of what transpired.

“Y/N?”

“Hmm?” Words were difficult for you to navigate.

“Is it.. can I stay here with you? Until tomorrow?”

You want to make some joke about him using you for your bed, or about how you don’t let men stay the night, but you find that you don’t really want to. You don’t want to hide behind your sharp wit this time. “If you’re not here when I wake up, I’ll hunt you down, Geralt of Rivvv…ia.” The last syllable is barely spoken before you’re out, completely spent.

He smiles, and presses a kiss to your crown. “I’ll be here.” The promise is made to the darkness of the room and your even, slow breaths.

#witcher fanfiction #fan fic #the witcher #fanfiction #geralt x reader #geraltxreader #smut #witcher fandom #netflix the witcher #witcher #fan fiction

[inber]

Misplaced: A short fluffy domestic headcanon

I thought after making you sad yesterday, you might appreciate something playful & soft today. Definitely ooc!geralt, but hey, who cares?

"Love?" Geralt's voice calls out in your home, from the bedroom.

"Hmm?" You answer, lazily pottering away in the kitchen, slicing juicy tomatoes into cubes to add to a simmering pot for dinner.

"Where are my pauldrons? The studded ones?" You hear him rummaging in a cupboard.

"You had them repaired last week - are they not in the chest at the foot of the bed?" Carefully, you drop new ingredients in the stew, watching for hot splashes.

"I looked there." He gruffly retorts.

"Well, look again."

"It's not a big chest, darling, I can't have missed them." The exasperation is creeping into his voice, and you sigh.

"Linen cupboard, then? Remember when you left your favourite belt in there?"

"Hmm." He agrees, and you hear the squeak of more hinges, more rustling.

"If you make a mess in there, you're cleaning it!" You trill, stirring the mixture, tasting for seasoning. Pepper.

"I know, I know." He grumps, "They're not there, either."

"Maybe you dropped them." You offer, purposefully unhelpful, trying to keep the smile out of your voice.

"...How? I wear them strapped to my arms, I can't just drop them." Hook and sinker, he's sulky now, and you disguise a snort as a cough.

"You're a very talented person, Geralt, my love. If you set your mind to it, I'm sure you could unwittingly lose your favourite pauldrons."

"Your faith is equally sweet as it is annoying, darling." He growls, and you remove the stew from the heat.

"Supper is about ready! Come slice the bread and stop acting like a worried mother hen."

You hear his heavy bare footsteps on the stairs. "I'm not acting like--" He's stood in the doorway, stopped in his tracks, staring at you.

You're dressed with the lost piece of armour slipped over your summer dress; on you, the shoulders are comically massive, and you're swimming in the leather. They make your head look teeny-tiny. "Two or three ladles?" You ask, innocently, as he blinks.

His laughter sounds like a growl at first, beginning low, until it's thundering in his chest, shaking his body with mirth; you join him, your peals of giggling causing the armour to jostle about and furthering his amusement. Tears bead in his eyes as he supports himself on the doorframe, wheezing to catch his breath.

"You look..." He gasps, "So ridiculous."

You wipe your eyes, grinning. "I'm a Witcher." You inform him, making a poor imitation of his gritty voice.

"You're in trouble." He decides, striding over to you; you squeal as he hoists you over his shoulder -- stolen pauldrons and all -- and exits the kitchen.

Both of you laugh all the way upstairs.

#the witcher #netflix the witcher #the witcher fandom #witcher #geralt x reader #geraltxreader #geralt imagine #imagine #headcanon #head canon #fluff #short

[inber]

Geralt Takes Care of You - Smol, Silly Fluff Imagine

Your eyes feel gritty when they creak open, and the sunlight is too bright. When you swallow, the soreness of your throat makes itself known. You groan. "Geralt...?"

"Hmm?" He's waking up, too; it's not one of his strengths. Once you had to lure him out of bed with strategically placed plates of bacon.

"I don't feel well." You manage, hearing the nasal quality of your own voice.

"What do you mean?" Suddenly he's awake, trying to examine you, his sleep-bleary eyes heavy with concern. "What's wrong?"

"Head-cold." You guess, sniffling. "Could you run into town and get some willow bark, and orange juice?"

You hear him move from the bed, and curl into the warm space he'd just occupied, shivering.

"Of course. Don't move, okay? I'll be really quick." You open one eye to watch him hop on one foot, tugging on a boot gracelessly. The sight makes you smile.

"There's no rush." You inform him, letting sleep snatch at you again; you hear the door click closed as he leaves on the errand.

"My love?" His voice filters into your dream; it feels as if he's been gone mere minutes. He's sat on the edge of the bed with a cloth bag, and a glass of juice.

"Mmh." You grate, pushing yourself up to sit, accepting the glass gratefully. "Thank you. Did they have willow bark?"

"Yes!" He enthuses, and pulls a vial from the bag, setting it down. "I also fetched valerian root, lavender oil, fresh ginger," He produces each item as he speaks, "Thyme tea, honey, six lemons," By now, both of your eyebrows are raised, "A fennel and horehound tincture, ground flaxseed--"

"Geralt!" You interrupt him, incredulous, "It's just a cold."

He lifts his chin stubbornly. "Yes, and I'm going to fight it, and win."

You pick up the ground flaxseed and shake the bottle at him. "You're aware this is a laxative, right?"

He grunts, and shrugs. "Well, I wanted to be... prepared."

You start to giggle at the sheepishness that creeps into his lovely golden gaze; he pouts until your amusement dissolves into a coughing fit, and then he's kneeling at your side. You smell peppermint oil.

"I'm gonna win." He murmurs, rubbing the scented liquid onto your chest. You press a kiss into his forehead.

"Of course you are, my heart. My big, strong, paranoid, slightly dim-witted--"

"How much flaxseed did you want in your next glass of juice, again?" He deadpans, "Three or four tablespoons?"

Again you laugh, and this time he joins you, settling onto the bed to cradle you in his large arms.

#the witcher #fan fiction #netflix the witcher #the witcher fandom #witcher #geralt x reader #geraltxreader #the witcher fanfiction #geralt imagine #imagine #head canon #headcanon #fluff