#the witcher oneshot

[redskull199987]

Of Thoughts and Actions

Jaskier x fem!reader  word count:0.9k Warnings:spoilers for season 3, apart from that just fluff Summary: You didn't see your friend Jaskier for a long time, since he split up from your group after the events at Kaer Morhen. So, when Geralt suggested that you ask the bard for help, you were more than happy to see your singing friend again… Masterlist

You watched the scene in front of you unfold with a smile on your face. Jaskier´s sweet voice was slowly lulling Ciri to sleep, after you had spent the evening playing cards against each other. Jaskier, of course, had lost all of his money to the young girl. Finally seeing her smiling again, having fun again, after all she's been through lately, made you feel like it was still worth fighting for. For Ciri, and her future. “What are you thinking about?”

Your head shot up, as Jaskier suddenly stood in front of you, his slender frame towering above you. “Just thinking about our journey so far”, You mumbled, as you slowly stood up, starting to gather the plates at cups from the small table you had been playing cards at, until a few minutes ago. “Anything in particular?”, Jaskier smiled, as he helped you clean up, picking up a plate. “Oh, maybe the one time, Geralt and I saved your ass?”, you chuckled, playfully hitting his arm. Jaskier mockingly opened his mouth, acting like he was utterly shocked by your words.

“Fine then”, he mumbled, stepping closer to me,”Remember when I taught you how to dance, that one particular evening where you had too much ale?”

You felt your cheeks redden, as you remembered how much of a fool you had made yourself. even Geralt had laughed at your sloppy dance moves, and Geralt never laughed, ever.

Jaskier had seemed to notice your discomfort and slowly stepped closer. He looked down at you for a second, before carefully grabbing your hands. “You know, I always thought you were the most beautiful Dancer, I had ever seen in my life.”, he smiled, causing you to blush even more. Since when were you so easily flushed? You were a great fighter, that had been through many battles along with your companions. But  now you were a blushing mess in front of the smiling bard. When you didn't say anything in return, Jaskier just continued to recount the story:”Not because you were the best at dancing or the most experienced, but because you enjoyed yourself. You were having fun to no end, just being yourself. That's what I´ve always loved about you, Y/N.” You were speechless at this point. You always knew that what you felt for Jaskier was different than what you felt for Yennefer or Geralt. It was more than friendship. But you never believed that he was feeling the same way, in fact you still didn't believe it. 

Against all your better judgement, you slowly pulled your hands away from Jaskier and excused yourself, saying that you needed some fresh air. And within seconds, you had left the small hut, stepping out into the night. 

Taking in a deep breath, you looked up admiring the stars that glistened in the sky. Upon seeing your breath come out in small huffs, you realised how cold it was. You slowly started walking around a bit to conjure some warmth, but it had no effort. After two laps around the hutt, you were still shivering. You debated going back inside for a second, but you didn't quite know if you were ready to talk to Jaskier again. 

The decision was made for you, as you felt how Jaskier´s coat was being wrapped around you. The purple material easily engulfed your form, preventing you from shivering. You turned your head to see said bard standing behind you, one of his hands was resting on the small of your back, as he wrapped the coat further around your form. “Thank you.”, you mumbled, looking back down. “You seemed cold”, he smiled, now stepping in front of you. His hands came up to adjust the collar around you. You felt his touch linger, as his bright eyes shifted towards your face. “Y/N”, he suddenly said. His hand rose to gently caress your cheek. Slowly leaning into his touch, you listened to his shallow breathing to calm yourself down.

“Jaskier.”, you finally said, looking up at him. He only sighed, seemingly not really knowing what to say:”I-I havent been honest with you,Y/N” “About what?”, you uttered quietly. He didn't say anything for a second, just staring at you as if you were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

“I really want to kiss you.”, he suddenly blurted out. You only smiled at him:”then do it.”

It only took Jaskier mere seconds to press his lips to yours. You felt his hands pulling you closer by the waist, as he deepened the kiss, his lips softly working against yours. Only as you parted, you actually realised what had just happened. Yours eyes widened, as you looked at his dreamy face. “I've wanted to do that for ages”, he admitted. A smile crossed your lips at his words:”I´m glad that you finally did.” “Oh I could kiss you again a thousand times, my love”, he chuckled, slightly squeezing your waist. “I wouldn't have a problem with that”, you whispered, before connecting your lips with his once more. Bonus: Ciri´s eyes slowly fluttered open, as the soft sunlight hit her face. Upon sitting up in her bed, she started to look around the room in search for her two friends. She expected them to be in their separate beds, still sleeping but Ciri couldn't help but to smile at what she saw in front of her. Right there, just a few metres away from her, you and Jaskier were huddled up together in the tiny bed. She could barely see your smaller form, as Jaskier was laying on top of you, his head resting on your chest. “I knew it”, she mumbled to herself, before slowly getting up to get ready for the day.

#the witcher #witcher #the witcher edit #the witcher edits #the witcher ff #the witcher fanfic #the witcher os #the witcher oneshot #the witcher jaskier #jaskier #jaskier x reader #jaskier x fem!reader #jaskier os #jaskier ff #geralt of rivia #cirilla of cintra #yennefer of vengerberg #fanfiction #oneshot #the witcher season 3

[shutuplilith]

the witch and her cottage, part 1 - geralt of rivia x reader

the witch and her cottage, part 1

ciri's pov. (takes place after the ending of season 1, episode 8. yennifer exists in this, but not as geralts love interest but as his best friend)

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"Geralt." "Hmm?" "Where are we riding to, exactly?" "We're going to visit an old friend." With that, our conversation came to an end. For two days already we had been roaming the lands, and if I hadn't been by Geralt's side, I was sure we would have gotten lost long ago. But his presence gave me security, as did Roach, his loyal bay mare, whom nothing could upset. Even if she hesitated once, Geralt's grumble calmed her down. We were approaching the sea. I could hear the sound of the sea getting closer, could feel the salty air on my lips and the stormy wind dancing in my hair and on my face. We left a small forest and arrived at a meadow. Only a few steps later did I realize that we were on a vast cliff. To our right, meadow and forest stretched, unperturbed and endless. But ahead of us, the meadow gradually narrowed. The wind continued to whip in my face and by now we were shrouded in a thick fog. The wind continued to whip, and we were surrounded by a dense fog. Nevertheless, I recognized a small building in the distance. I squinted my eyes and thought I saw light burning in the windows. The closer we got to the house, the more fiercely the wind raged, and Roach also became increasingly restless. " Calm down," Geralt murmured, but this time the mare was not so easily soothed. By now we were in the immediate vicinity of the house. It was a small cottage with many flowers and surrounded by a small stone wall. Finally I understood why Roach had been so nervous. In front of the house and behind the stone wall were several horses. They were staring at us as confused as I was at them. My gaze slid past the horses, and I spotted a young woman standing on the edge of the cliff behind her house. Her (y/h/c) were swirling in the wind, and her hands were moving through the air. We watched her for a while, and finally she lowered her hands, and the storm abruptly stopped. She turned around, and her lips formed a wide smile.

#the witcher #the witcher netflix #geralt of rivia #geralt x reader #geralt x f!reader #geralt of rivia x reader #the witcher imagine #the witcher oneshot #geralt of rivia imagine #geralt of rivia oneshot #the witcher x you #geralt of rivia x you #roach

[whydoyouwantmyname]

Imagine hearing a familiar voice

You had left your companion alone in the inn, demanding him to bathe while you tried to secure a hot meal for the both of you to enjoy in comfortable silence. Of course he had protested, in a strange city the last thing he wanted was for you to be traveling in the darkened streets alone. However all you did was smile before whispering, “Do you not remember who trained me?”

“Just…. Be careful, and take your dagger.” He grumbled as you kissed his cheek, “Always.”

As you pushed open the tavern doors you couldn’t help but lower your hood in the soft candle glow as you pushed through the crowd, all their eyes casted to the center of the room. However your eyes were fixed on the bar, as the sound of a lute began to play, creating a longing in your heart, as you remembered a time where all you wanted to do was break a lute. As your hands met the hard wood of the bar however your head whipped towards the center, as you heard the familiar tones of a voice you hoped to hear again.

“I hear you’re alive, how disappointing, I’ve also survived no thank you either of you. Did I not some glee Sir and Lady oh look at me. Now I burn all the memories of you, All those lonely miles that you both must ride, no one but each other by your sides, Did you ever even care about anyone but her, with your swords, and your stupid hair, Now watch me laugh as I burn all the memories of you.”

“Ladies and Gents, don’t forget to toss a coin if you can, you have been a beautiful audience. If anyone needs me, I will be at the bar.” You could hear the floor boards beneath him creaking, sure he was walking around the room to gesture to that blasted hat he collected funds in, “What for d'you yearn?, It's the point of no return, After everything we did, we saw, You both turned your back on me, What for d'you yearn?, Watch that butcher burn, At the end of my days when I'm through, No word that I've written will ring quite as true as "burn!", Burn, butcher, burn, Burn, butcher, burn”

With the crescendo of Burn, Butcher, Burn you saw him slowly backing out of the crowd, his back to the bar as he sang those six words, and then proceeded into a chorus of Burn, Burn, Burn. At the fifth burn however he turned his back to the crowd, fully Immersed in the moment, normally this is point he would leap into the wood of the bar, and belt out that final Burn all the memories of you, but you watched as the color drained from his face, his eyes meeting yours. His voice softening as he looked at the face he never thought he would see again, and his eyes filled with Horror that Geralt would appear any moment and ring his neck for the awful song he had created. As his voice died away, signaling the end of his song, you turned your head to the tavern owner, “I need three ales, and three suppers, all to go if you’ll allow.”

“Aye, coming right up lass.” He grumbled as he walked away, raising your voice however you spoke, Jaskier, are you just to stand there like an idiot or are you gonna come help me carry these to the inn.”

“You left me…” he said, his voice shaken as he remembered the mountain of Niedamir, however you quickly replied, “If I remember correctly, you left us.”

“Well what can I say, his blessing came true, I am sure you…”

“We fought over it.” You replied, your eyes meeting his again, “After you left, I told him what he said wasn’t fair, and that I didn’t blame you for leaving. He was sour with me over it for two days. He will never admit it, but he misses you too, now when he returns with the food, you are to collect your share, and come home.”

“Will he even…”

“I will handle Geralt, you handle the entertainment, I’m sure he will love to hear your newest addition.” You smiled, as Jaskier’s color drained even more at the thought of Geralt ever hearing Burn, Butcher, Burn

#the witcher imagine #jaskier imagine #the Witcher imagines #the Witcher one shot #the Witcher one shots #the Witcher oneshot #the Witcher oneshots #the witcher fanfiction #the Witcher fanfic

[wrongdodo]

Murderous knaves and perverts

Pairing: Geralt x Jaskier. But like… don’t tell anyone, because it’s a surprise.

Summary: Jaskier knows a thing or two about witchers. After an impromptu gig at a local tavern gets weird, Jaskier enjoys the long walk home with Geralt and they both let off some steam

Warnings: oral sex (m receiving). More plot that I intended to write.

Word count: 3.6k

Authors note: Bit of Geraskier for your nerve! I always thought I’d write super short smut, but I accidentally some plot again. Oops.

Tag list: @madamemelancholysstuff (different to the last two, hope this is up your street!)

Click below for filth only if you're 18+!

Jaskier knew how to get a crowd worked up. Performing was his bread and butter, after all.

Despite the fact that this tavern was at the bottom of arse-fuck nowhere, by the end of his second verse, some of the dreary locals were even clapping along. The bard might have wagered that nobody else had ever played for the tiny village of Baincord... Or Bincord, or whatever it was called.

As the final chords of Toss a Coin to Your Witcher rang through the tiny tavern, Jaskier swore he even heard some people singing. Tunelessly and barely in time, but definitely there. But it should hardly have come as a shock; he didn’t doubt that there were some individuals here tonight who’d never seen a lute- let alone heard one. His rendition of The Fishmonger’s Daughter ensured that the crowd were eating out of his hand, and even encouraged some of the more bashful locals to join in.

What had started as a charitable gig to alleviate some boredom and impart a bit of culture to this dim shithole, had become pretty enjoyable. He decided to finish his set with a soulful ballad, pacifying the crowd and challenging himself to tug at their heartstrings. On the right night, Jaskier’s ballads could pull tears from even the most hardened ruffians.

After taking a bow to the relative-roar of the small crowd, he lifted a jug of cloudy mead from the bar and settled into the most comfortable-looking spot he could find. Spread out along a ragged, barely-cushioned bench, Jaskier took a moment to bask in a job well done. Such was his comfort, he almost dared to rest his boots on the chair adjacent - but stopped short when the scary innkeeper gave him a look.

As expected, it took mere seconds for a pair of new-found fans to approach.

“Can we join you?” one of them asked, coyly curling a ringlet of jet-black hair around one finger. One tall, the other short - the women stood arm-in-arm, pouting and doe-eyed. Jaskier smiled warmly, spreading his arms wide in a theatrical gesture of welcome.

“Please! Ladies, it would be my honour. Did you enjoy the show?”

The duo settled eagerly into the wooden chairs opposite, batting their eyelashes and grinning inanely. The performer smiled back, and idly thought that he was the most famous person they’d ever meet in their plain little lives.

“Oh, it were amazin’!” the red-haired woman beamed. “Felt like bein’ at some fancy party in the city. You rich an’ famous or somethin’?” She could barely contain herself, Jaskier thought with amusement – her entire body jittering with excitement.

“You could say that,” he sipped his mead, slurping in a particularly-chunky bit of something that threatened to make him gag. “I’ve played for a few courts here and there, the odd palace, a royal wedding or two…”

“I said to Ema you was famous!” the dark-haired girl grinned, giving her companion a playful shove. “I knows that song you did! That one about witchers!”

Jaskier could freely admit to himself that he enjoyed attention. This attention, that attention, any attention – he’d take it as it came, soaking up every last drop like gravy on a slice of bread. And although he wasn’t remotely interested in anything else these women had to offer, he could still enjoy a bit of their attention.

“Ah, yes. That’s definitely a crowd-pleaser. One of many crowd-pleasers, I should add. I believe I noticed you two lovely ladies singing along to the chorus?” They looked at each other, giggling shyly.

“Of course, how could I forget such… angelic voices?” The bard’s fibs instantly caused the pair to blush.

“So… you ever actually meet a witcher?” Ema asked –bright eyes sparkling with curiosity in the dim light. Her voice became hushed and breathy. “Daryna reckons there’s one in Baincord. This night.”

“I did says that – seen him with me own eyes, in fact.” The dark-haired woman, Daryna, sat up stiffly in her chair and folded her arms across her buxom chest. Jaskier noted that her tits were almost threatening to pop out the top of her shirt. She suddenly looked quite serious. “Two swords, he had. A grey cloak… and piercin’ eyes, yellow as the moon.”

Jaskier wasn’t surprised that Geralt’s presence was causing a stir among the locals – it often did, especially in smaller villages like this. Still, if all these girls wanted to do was talk about witchers… well, he couldn’t help but feel a bit irritated. Even in absence, Geralt somehow managed to spoil his fun.

“Look, all my works are based on fiction. Myths, tales, legends...” The bard drawled, unable to hide his mild annoyance. It was a disclaimer he’d well-rehearsed. Still, the women seemed not to hear, and were engrossed now in their own conversation, gossiping like loons while he sipped his mead silently. Fucking lovely.

“Devils, they are. Just as like to kill a monster as to kidnap a woman an’ kill her ‘ole family. Murderous knaves and perverts.” Daryna nodded with conviction while she spoke, and her listeners could tell that she truly believed what she said.

“Well, that’s not entirely accurate –“ the Bard cut in, immediately wishing he’d held his tongue. “You know, based on my extensive research. Which was very… extensive.” Nice save, he thought.

When Ema turned to Jaskier, she did so coquettishly – hazel eyes alight. Her gentle smile still managed to show that she had a fair-few missing teeth. “My cousin once bedded a witcher.” Ema reached out to stroke the supple leather of Jaskier’s sleeve, her soft voice far-off and dreamy. “Well, not bedded exactly – ‘cos it were a cowshed... But he loved on her like a man possessed, he did…”

“That weren’t a witcher, you daft cow!” Daryna huffed, snapping Ema from her trance. “That were a weaver. He made baskets.”

“Oh. Well, don’t matter…” the red-head mumbled quietly. She grasped Jaskier’s arm now with a fresh expression of wonder, looking deeply into his eyes. “I heard Bards are even better.” She winked.

That’s more like it, he thought, smiling as he shifted in his seat. Time to flex the old charm. Jaskier’s face settled into a well-practiced expression of flirtation.

“Ladies, ladies… believe me when I say; you’ve heard correctly.” They giggled – no, cackled in response.

But the merriment was short-lived… because Daryna wasn’t done talking about witchers – somethingthat was quickly threatening to bore the bard senseless. She droned on and on; “Unnatural creatures they are - make my skin crawl. My Da says if he catches one sniffin’ round here, he’ll be strung up and gutted like a dog.”

Jaskier bit his tongue – then released it. “Your Father sounds like a treat.”

“He’s the landlord.” she grinned smugly. The scary-looking, bearded chap behind the bar eyed Jaskier as he wiped tankards - with a look that could only be described as quite deadly.

The bard took a nervous mouthful of mead, bits and all, and swallowed it with a gulp.

“Ladies, your interest in the inspiration behind my works is flattering. But wasn’t there something else you’d rather discuss?” Jaskier loved to flirt, and wasn’t going to give up on flexing those particular muscles just yet. He loved the way he could hold someone’s attention, turning on the charm at the drop of an eyelid. Some might say he was out of practice lately, but he’d had plenty of experience to know when someone was into him – and he had suspicions he could have these women hanging on his every word.

Both women reached towards him now, leaning over the table and running their hands over the sleeves of his favourite jacket. The sudden reduction in space took the bard by surprise, and he felt uneasy. Now they were closer, the smell of cheap perfume was rank among the scent of tobacco smoke and ale-soaked wood.

“Well, we was thinkin’… you should join us upstairs. Both of us…” Ema winked – this time Jaskier noticed the ugly way her freckled nose wrinkled when she did. The woman nodded towards her companion as she spoke. “You know, she does this thing with her mouth -”

“- I call it the slimy cockatrice -“ Daryna cut in, waggling her tongue lewdly as she looked deeply into Jaskier’s now-terrified eyes.

“Yeah, that’s the one. Want us to show you?”

Jaskier couldn’t hide a look of pure, unchecked disgust. It could have been the mead, but felt the colour drain from his face as his stomach tumbled.

“Ladies, listen. What I’m about to say I mean with upmost sincerity...” The pair somehow managed to lean even closer as they goggled him expectantly.

“That sounds completely fucking horrifying and I will be sure to have horrible nightmares about it.”

Both women withdrew in an instant, as though stung, and eyed him bitterly. “Suit yer-fuckin-self. Arsehole.”

When the sound of barking cut the silence, Jaskier thought he’d never heard a more blessed, welcome sound. It was as though every scruffy guard-hound in the village had been roused – and it was a sound one quickly became accustomed to when traveling with a witcher.

When Jaskier stood from the table, he did it so briskly that the table lurched across the floor with an ugly scrape. “It’s been a pleasure, it really has. But I believe my ride is here.”

Striding away from their sour stares, Jaskier noticed how his boot-buckles pleasantly jingled as he moved, and wondered why on earth he’d chosen to use the word ride. When he reached the door, it swung easily on rusted hinges.

Geralt stood in the moonlight, cloaked and mysterious beside the gravel road which snaked through town. The bard prayed that his sigh of relief went unnoticed as he approached.

“Not staying?” inquired the Witcher. Jaskier didn’t even stop to shake his head – he briskly began striding down the rudimentary path and hoped Geralt would be right behind him.

“No, I’m not staying. No, thank you. I’d like to go far, far away from here as soon as possible.”

Geralt let out a growl of affirmation. “They didn’t like the music, then.”

Not exactly, Jaskier thought. In fact, he was pretty sure they bloody loved it. But it was easier to let the Witcher assume he’d failed, than to go into specifics. Jaskier decided to choose his next words carefully.

“I think it’s something to do with… a lack of culture.” The dim light of the inn was still uncomfortably visible when Jaskier glanced back. “This is a backwards place you’ve dragged me to, Geralt.”

“Hmm.”

“How was your night?” If he could draw the Wolf into a bit of chit-chat, Jaskier hoped, then maybe he could take his mind off the evening’s… discomfort. “Did you find out what was lurking by the cemetary?”

“Hmm.” Geralt seemed not to have heard.

“Was it a pack of ghouls? A troupe of goblins? A cluster of fiends?”

Geralt continued to ignore the bard - which was fine, because Jaskier loved guessing games.

“Ooh, a gravier? An imp? An alghoul?”

“Foxes.” The Witcher’s response was as gravely as the path, and much shorter.

“Come again?”

“It was foxes. No monsters.”

Jaskier knew better than to laugh, but couldn’t stop his mouth splitting into a wide grin. “Wow, you must be pretty pissed off.” But it was more than that - the dark look of aggravation on Geralt’s face was hilariously delicious. “Sounds like we both had shitty evenings. How far back to our splendid lodgings?”

“7 miles. Think you can handle that in your ridiculous boots?” he rumbled, finally confirming Jaskier’s suspicions that he hated them.

“I’d walk on my hands if it meant getting further away from that forsaken shithole,” the bard stated plainly. He meant it, too.

There was a long pause, and Jaskier was beginning to think they’d spend the rest of the journey like that - walking doggedly in silence. The young man knew he was always treading a fine line with the White Wolf – somewhere between outrageous annoyance and what he hoped might be genuine affection. Although Jaskier generally considered himself someone that could read people… it was rarely easy with Geralt.

“You made friends tonight.” Geralt’s low voice in the darkness brought the bard away from his thoughts. Like many things the Witcher said to him, he could never be sure if it was a question or a statement. At that moment, he realised that the smell cheap perfume lingered plainly on his clothes.

Well, the bard thought hotly, a little surprised by his own defensiveness. Am I not allowed a bit of fun?

Geralt and Jaskier had a thing. And whatever thing they had, it had never been discussed. But there was something. It felt fragile to Jaskier – like it might to fizzle into nothing if he so much as thought about it for too long.

It was relaxing by the campfire, wrapped in the Witcher’s arms. It was Geralt’s lips against his own during a stolen moment. It was drunken, wordless nights at the inn. Sometimes more, sometimes less. They’d go weeks without addressing it, then days where it was impossible to keep their hands off each other. Geralt was more hot and cold than a… really hot-and-cold thing.

The knot in his stomach reminded Jaskier that he should probably answer.

“Yes, friends. Delightful girls.” The words tasted funny in his mouth. “They said they’d heard of me, knew some of my songs...” Jaskier was quiet for a moment as their heavy footfalls crunched in the gravel. “They said they wanted to bed me, Geralt.”

“Sounds like they wanted to rob you.”

The remark struck a nerve – more than one, in fact. Really, he thought, as if Geralt found it so difficult to believe that someone else might want to sleep with him. But the worst part was that the Witcher was probably right… although he wasn’t convinced that the slimy cockatrice had many takers.

Jaskier leant against one of the more sturdy-looking fence posts that lined the path, needing a moment to level his pride. Geralt watched with interest as the bard lifted one foot, busying himself by picking tiny stones from the sole of his stupid boots.

Eventually, Jaskier spoke. “You know, there was a time not that long ago when they probably would have managed it. Robbing me, I mean.”

Geralt had stopped walking now. Only he knew he knew the playfully curious expression with which he was eyeing his companion. “What changed?”

“I think you know what changed.” Don’t make me say it, I don’t want to be the one to ruin it. But it couldn’t stay undisclosed forever, until it died like some malnourished baby bird. “I’m talking about us. When we… do things.”

For someone who was supposed to be gifted with language, the bard found it simply impossible to find the right words. Geralt loomed closely now, but Jaskier didn’t dare face him. It wasn’t until he felt a gentle touch on his arm that the younger man realised how near they were.

“You’ve changed your whorish ways?” Geralt eyed Jaskier with a smirk, taking him in easily under the moonlight.

The bard allowed himself an awkward chuckle, daring to glance at the Witcher now and meet his gaze. It had already occurred to the bard that, without Geralt, he’d have been forced into a miserable night back at the tavern, too scared to venture back along the path in the dark. But around the Wolf, it was easy to feel safe.

“As a poet, I’d put it a different way…” He responded, easing into a sing-song tone that he hoped might draw some amusement. “I’ve tried the best, so I’ll forget the rest-

“You’re a shit poet.” The Witcher growled, connecting his rough lips with Jaskier’s ear and causing his eyes shut to tightly. Fuck this stupid man - the thoughts ignited brightly in the bard’s mind - he can do whatever he wants to me and I don’t fucking care.

Geralt knew it too. He loved how easy it was to make Jaskier shiver, how the bard bent and snaked in response to his touch. He was used to it with women, but seeing it work on Jaskier was exciting. Pinned between the Witcher’s lips and the fence post, the bard’s knees quivered, as they both knew they would. Geralt ran a lazy hand up Jaskier’s thigh, across the front of his trousers, and tugged purposefully at the waistband.

The owner of the trousers gulped. “You want to do this here? Now? By the road?” He was suddenly pulled uncomfortably away from his lust, and the knot of nerves was back in his stomach. “What if someone sees?”

Geralt’s smile could be felt against the bard’s neck, before rumbling into his ear. “Don’t tell me you’ve never had your cock sucked under the stars.”

The poet held his tongue, knowing it was probably not a time for honest answers.

Geralt knelt in the gravel, briefly looking up with pale eyes that seemed to reflect the moon. Through nerves, Jaskier bit his lip - but didn’t stop the unfastening of his trousers. There was little doubt in his mind that he wanted it, and when Geralt spoke, all remaining doubt was slain.

“I want to make you feel good.”

Fuck,something about the Geralt of Rivea ­uttering those words made Jaskier crumble. For all his bombast and confidence, he’d never thought a man like the Witcher would want him like this. But from the first time it had happened, he’d thanked the Gods each day that it had.

When Jaskier’s cock sprang forwards, Geralt wasted no time wrapping his warm mouth around it and drawing a breathy moan from the bard’s throat. They’d never discussed Geralt’s experience with men, but Jaskier had always suspected it was scanty. Not because the Witcher lacked any particular skill, but because of his totally uninhibited enthusiasm. Geralt’s eagerness to please was incomparable to anyone Jaskier had ever been with. If he was inexperienced, the Witcher certainly seemed to relish every chance to practice.

Leaning against a rickety wooden fence under the stars, the poet imagined how they’d look to some local passer-by. Geralt on his knees, serving cock with his mouth, grasping the bard’s narrow hips in his strong hands. Jaskier’s head lolling back, eyes shut in bliss. If those tavern girls could see me now, they’d lose their fucking minds, he found himself musing, with more than a tinge of smugness.

Answering the ache in his jaw, Geralt drew his lips off the bard, gripping his cock in one hand and lapping eagerly over the head. He was enjoying each little groan he could elicit, just by jerking his hand up and down - rotating and sliding the bard’s slick cock across in his palm. This, Jaskier thought, Geralt was particularly good at.

The Witcher rose to plant a heedless kiss on his lover’s shaky lips. When he rolled his pelvis against the bard’s, it drew another groan, allowing the hardness of his own cock to be felt between them.

Jaskier didn’t wait to be asked. Sinking to his knees, trousers pooled around his ankles, he released Geralt’s splendid cock from the confines of his clothing. The white-haired man couldn’t help feeling impressed by how skillfully the bard managed the transition. It was his turn now to lean headily against the wooden fence as Jaskier took the Witcher’s thick cock into his mouth.

There had always been something about sucking cock that Jaskier just adored - but when Geralt filled his mouth, fingers laced in his messy hair, the bard felt transcendent. He settled a hand over his own cock, jerking it skilfully as he enveloped his prize. Hungrily, he worked his lips along the Witcher’s length, tasting every inch with his tongue. They both knew the bard took pride in his ability to please a lover, and in the few times they had done this, it had hardly taken Geralt any time to cum at all.

The Witcher announced his climax breathily, moaning his lover’s name and pulling his pretty mouth deeply against his cock. Gods, how Jaskier fucking loved to hear Geralt moan his name. As he groaned his own reply, the bard spilled his own orgasm messily into the gravel.  When Jaskier carefully withdrew his mouth, he ensured every drop was savoured.

The bard glanced up at his lover curiously, watching his broad chest rising and falling against the stars. He was eventually able to stand with only a minor stagger, licking the remnants of his own orgasm from his fingers in a way he hoped was subtle.

“A public footpath, Geralt…”  he mused, beginning to fix his trousers nonchalantly. “Never knew you were so filthy…”

“Hmm,” came the gruff reply from the witcher still leaning against the fence. “Not sure I knew either.”

Jaskier smiled, feeling brave enough to plant a kiss on the stubble of Geralt’s jaw. He idly noted how pleased he felt to have the taste of rank mead gone from his mouth. The notion made him smile stupidly.

By the time they met their destination, a tired Jaskier was sure he could see the first pinkish light of dawn creeping from the east. Geralt, of course, had noticed long before. The rest of their journey had passed without incident, giving them both much-needed time to reflect.

If you enjoyed this fic (or even if you didn't) I'd die for feedback of any kind! I'm very new to fanfiction so it would be much appreciated. Thanks :)

Jaskier still hoped that they could leave Bincord as soon as possible, and took comfort in the fact that he wouldn’t be leaving alone.

***

#geralt x jaskier #the witcher smut #witcher sex #the witcher oneshot #geraskeir

[spielzeugkaiser]

Season 3 really brought the S1 Geraskier vibes back for me and I can't really explain why or how, but I just love it 🥺 they are deep in their cups (well. Jaskier is!) meanwhile Ciri under the cut:

They are very cute but she is tired. CIRI HAS SEEN THINGS

#the witcher #the witcher netflix #geraskier #jaskier #geralt of rivia #art #I have been reading some post S1 oneshots again #GOOD TIMES

[thewritersaddictions]

Request: The Witcher: Geralt Of Rivia- Brutal Life

Pairing: Geralt of Rivia x Fem!Wolf!Reader

Pov: Geralt

Warnings: Kissing, injured reader, fake monster sighting, camping, jaskier being his normal self, lone wolf, romance, fluff, dreaming.

Summary: A hurt wolf is marked as a monster so Jaskier and Geralt go to investigate. Geralt knows something is off though so he tries to be helpful.

WC- 2.0k

A/n- Firefly-graphics for dividers; Remember that Geralt of Rivia here on my page will continue to be written as if Henry Cavill is playing his character.

The Witcher Master List // Requests Master List

There was commotion going on just outside of the small town that we were staying in. Damn people and there need to intreput my dinner time. Jaskier was already apart of the drama happening outside. He came running back into the bar. “Jaskier what is it now?” A roll of my eyes gave tell to that small fact that I didn’t care or want to go outside to deal with commotion going on. 

“Geralt you just have to help these people. You’re the witcher for fucks sake.” Jaskier wasn’t kidding. He was dragging me or at least trying to drag me towards the door of the bar. “Jaskier would you stop it already.” I mumbled out. “I’m coming alright, are you happy now.” Just outside the door the dark and loud rumbles of a growl could be heard. My interest was peaked to say the least as people ‘ohh’ and ‘awwd’ at whatever monster they had decided stupidly to surround. 

By the time we got outside there was more then a gaggle of people surrounded it. Forcing it down into a tiny closed circle. “Oh the great Geralt Of Rivia here to save the day as always.’ A cocky old gente. I ignored him as I did with truly everybody in my life. “What seems to be the problem here?” I asked loudly into the crowd of people that was steadily growing. 

The ‘monster’ was ovibouly not that scary, or dangerous as the crowd drew louder and crazier with every passing second. The rambles of talking and screaming, and everything else that humans are so great at doing. The smallest of whimper I heard in the crowd of people. “Can angbody get their heads out of their asses and tell me what the fuck is going on.” I asked loudly, my voice moving through the crowd. 

A little girl is the one that answered me. Her voice was squeaky, and high pitched but she came forward. “Witcher it’s just a pour lonesome wolf, her leg is injured a little. She’s a whimpering mess over here.” The little girl said. I was impressed, but then the immediate stress of the world came crashing down on me. If that was so not a true monster then I wasn’t needed here, but the whimpers were so damn hard to ignore. 

“Alright gents and gals it’s time to get your noses into something else that isn’t this clear none monster.” My voice boomed loudly across the field. Their were sighs, and disappointing words flying in through the sky. The growling started as soon as the crowd cleared the field and I got closer. The closer I got the more protective the wolf seemed to get. Jaskier as always was whining behind me. “Geralt let’s just go if you say it’s just some wolf then theres no need to sit around and wait for it to bite on of us.” Jaskier blabbled out. There were many times I wished that I had told Jaskier to shut up, but going to do a task was better for me right now. 

“Why don’t you go gather our things from the bar, and Roach. I’m staying here to help this little one out.” I looked over my shoulder at Jaskier. There was an odd look on his face, then a shrug of his shoulders before he left the two of us in the field. The growled hadn’t stopped not even when I was talking to Jaskier.

 I turned my attention back to the wolf on the ground a growling and whimpering mess. I reached one of my hands out, “Y/n is that you?” The words pouring softly. Even strange to my ears. Her eyes were so damn familiar, and I hadn’t seen her in years… more then years. It felt like decades had passed. The last time I had seen her was when we were young children. Playing and before the world had separated us. The hand that I had reached out was getting closer and closer to being bite. 

“How about we try something different huh?” I suggested, she growled lowly, and kept her eyes on me the entire time. “How about if you want help you just have to follow us.” I wasn’t one for having tag alongs but Jaskier had broken that record, and the wolf well if she was Y/n then there was nothing I would do to help her. Jaskier returned everything in his hands. A small huff of frustration falling from his lips. ‘Are you fucking insane Geralt, I can’t go around having people think I’m just your servant.” With that Jaskier dropped every single one of the bag interlocked in his arms and fingers. I rolled my eyes and walked away from the wolf towards Roach. 

Petting her muzzle and then her mane. I turned and gave Y/n a knowing wink before walking towards the bleak basically dead treeline. Winter was on its way and the further we got away from the cold the happier that Jaskier would be. I kept an eye behind us as we travelled. Jaskier walking beside Roach, I kepther on the right track. “Who’s following us?” Jaskier prayed. I looked down at Jaskier. I wondered for how long had he been standing behind me, while I was talking to Y/n. “Nobody.” I clarified, as I got Roach back on the right path. 

By the time that night fell on the sky, and treeline disappeared behind the dark sky I knew it was time that we stop. The last tiem I had seen Y/n walking behind us was before the sun set, and I was purposely walking Roach slower then normal for Y/n to keep up with us. Yet another thing that Jaskier commented on. “Why are you walking Roach so slow? Is she sick? You aren’t going to put her down if she’s sick are you? I’ll kill you if you do.” Jaskier rambled on, and with that the first question was forgotten behind Jaskiers concern for the well being of the horse.

The moon was high in the sky when we finally managed to settle in the small camp that we had… that I had made for the two of us. I could Y/n far in the distance, close enough to the heat. Far enough away from being caught, or taunted by either on of us. A fire burning that crackled with each burn of leaf and stick. The most scariest thing for Jaskier was the wolf, she had come to camp. A limp in her walk and still forever staying far away. A full moon had just passed and so from what little knowledge I had on wolves I assumed she would be changing form tonight in the darkest of night. 

The wolf had decided that when of course she was comfortable she would join the camp. Jaskier being the scared little puppy he always was about everything wasn’t having it, and retreated to his sleeper. I tired my hardest not to laugh as Jaskier hurried away underneath the sheets of his cot. “If you feel comfortable, my lap is open for you to sit.” I muttered towards Y/n. Her ears peaked up, as she gave me a weary look. The truest of black eyes staring me down as I wondered what might happen. The growls had stopped, and the whimpers had began as Y/n walked on her paw. Small winces could be seen down her snout and with the curve of her brows underneath the prettiest fur I’d ever seen. 

I waited for what seemed like a few moments. Time passed and the fire crackled against the dark sky, I waited until I felt the softest of nudge on my hand. When I did look down it was Y/n, her paw was placed gently on my hand almost bracing herself on me. Her eyes watched me with intent, keeping everything in a close enough gaze. “Y/n just lay down I promise I wont hurt you.” She took only a few seconds before making the quick choice and snuggling into my lap. 

Warmth from her fur exploded into my clothing and skin. I wasn’t about tp pet her, but the closeness was enough for me. It had been so long that I hadn’t even thought of Y/n, but seeing her like this stuck in this form and hurt. My mind raced as I thought of what a cruel human being could have done this. The question popped into my head. Looking down at the curled up wolf in my lap her head rest on my thigh. “Who did this to you Y/n? You must tell me.” Gently the words flowed out soft around the edges and waiting for a response. 

She just looked up and then nuzzled her nose into my thigh. A wet imprint from her nose stained my trousers, and I wondered if she’s ever tell. If she’d ever get the chance to the mutter the name of the horrible, vile, straight up disgusting human had hurt her this way. I moved ever so slightly and took Y/n with me as I lowered myself into the cot. “For now we will sleep and tomorrow you will tell me who hurt you. We have much to discuss Y/n.” I whispered into the cold winters air. 

I dreamt that night for the first time in a long time. A small boy chasing a beautiful young girl. Her hair flowing in the wind before her mother had told her to cut it all off, or rather before the girl had taken a pair of shears to her hair and chopped it off at all sorts of angles uneven with each other. 

I watched as she grew into a beautiful women. With piercing eyes, and a beautiful smile that made me melt in the knees. The only women to ever bring me to my knees was Y/n, the girl that hadn’t thought about in such a long time. Even has I slept the smell of Y/n whafted into my nose. Dirty, blood, but a hint of rose, and lavendar. Calm was everything that Y/n was, she was peace next to me. 

In my dreams I saw a her standing there waiting for me, open arms and the widest smile on her face. Kind eyes that made you fell safe, I ran and ran as fast as my feet would let me. I wanted to feel the warmth of her body, the warmth of her heart pressed up against mine. When I reached her the batted breathe I let out felt like thousands of pounds being lifted off my shoulders. 

She was the one to kiss me. Y/n lips felt so soft, not chapped and cut like mine due to the work I did. Her hand coming to rest comfortalbing in my hair as she tug and pulled me close. No fighting for dominance within the kiss or teeth scrapping against each other. We weren’t haste for time, so we took it for what it was. A peaceful, calm, deep, and loving kiss. The first of many and the best for a first. I wished that I didn’t need air, and Y/n was all that I needed in order ot survive. Y/n was my life line. In her arms I feared nothing and wanted nothing more then to be there in that moment forever with her. 

A brutal life was one of waking up with her gone. Nothing was left behind as a guide of hope, just as she was here she had gone. As luck would have it for me I hope, Y/n might just come back into my life. “She went into the woods. If you move your ass you can catch up to her.” Jaskier yawned. “By the way she stole your coat. I think she might have shifted last night.” Jaskier mentioned, as I wiped the sleep from my eyes and hopped up. In search for maybe just the right person for me.

Completed on: 03/07/23

Posted on: 03/17/23

The Hero's-

#geralt of rivia oneshot #geralt x y/n #geralt x reader #geralt of rivera #geralt of river x reader #geralt of rivia imagine #geralt of rivia x reader #geralt of rivia x you #geralt of rivia fanfiction #the witcher netflix #the witcher #geralt #the witcher x y/n #the witcher x reader #the witcher x you #geralt of rivia #jaskier #fluff #the witcher fluff #geralt of rivia fluff #requested #requests #request #request answered

[cowboygenesis]

one: redanian ale | geralt x reader

part 1 of the "threads of fate" series: masterlist.

pairing: geralt x reader

chapter warnings: blood, animal death, mild gore

word count: 3.9k

series summary: geralt begrudgingly accepts a monster contract issued to him by a strange girl, thinking it to be an opportunity for some quick coin. nothing goes as planned.

notes: i haven't posted a reader insert since middle school, but since ive been getting into the witcher again recently i thought this would be a fun project :) ill try my best to keep everything canon, especially pre-existing characters, but some things will be made up! additionally, the reader is written to be afab. keep that in mind since there will be smut in the future chapters...

Geralt stepped down the element-worn cobblestone road with a quiet huff, Roach trailing alongside the man’s figure with a seemingly matched sense of fervor.

The homes of the outskirts lined up in tight rows, alternating between maintained and otherwise decrepit wooden skeletons of a once lively hearth. Every stained-glass window emanated a warm light from within, casting onto the solemn sidewalk that led into the main square. Similar structures surrounded the tiled area, adorned with wooden plaques representing various businesses: a butcher, blacksmith, herbalist; something typical of towns on the continent.

It was a chilly afternoon, and the amber treeline of the backdrop was a colorful testament to the arrival of autumn’s harvest. The edge of the cracked pavement carried a lively array of wildflowers, growing sparsely out of the famously fertile earth of the region. It was strange, seeing such an abundant land give birth to such impoverished people. They swarmed the town in a hurry, cloaked in rags and somber faces, occasionally turning to gaze up at the flaxen-haired man with abhorrence, hatred, and curiosity.

Their sunken features flooded the street in the silent mayhem of impotence, weathered muscles bravely carrying the weight of their harvest into the beating heart of the city.

Coarse linen bags lined the trunks of carts for the lucky few being able to afford such transportation, others tried their strength at stacking the burden on their dominant shoulder. A permanent slouch was often a good way to identify the economically wounded. He furrowed his brow at the thought.

The cool air nipped gently at Geralt’s nose, fingers numb as they tightened around the leather horse reigns. His pace quickened, strides bold and purposeful as he spotted the centerpiece of town above the bobbing crowd ahead.

The cobblestone smoothed below his feet, transitioning into a sleek brick that led into the hexagonal center of town. People swarmed out of the tight street and quickly dispersed along various stalls lining the courtyard, allowing Geralt’s lungs to expand with fresh breath once more.

His eyes scanned along the walls, noting the uniform architecture of homes surrounding the plaza. Up ahead, sticking out like a not-so-sore thumb, stood the main attraction of the town. Its broad structure spanned significantly further than any surrounding shop, walls towering high into the third floor.

The off-white plaster was embellished with masterfully painted embroidery: a composition of roosters, red flowers, and various greenery; a traditional kind of adornment in these parts.

Unlike the other businesses, this particular building adorned a shiny, metallic plaque by the heavy-set doorway. It was written in a foreign language, carved into the slate in mechanically-even letters. Geralt approached this unfamiliar sign, fastening Roach to the wooden fencing to the side and leaving her with a soft pat on the muzzle. She neighed in response, a sound debatably considered sentient and acknowledging.

“Won’t be long, girl,” He reassured with a half-smile, adjusting his harness before stepping through the doorway.

The tavern air was drastically different from the outside world, hitting his complexion with a soothing warmth as the soft scent of baked goods and freshly poured ale filled his nostrils. The sensation scored a subtle smile from the witcher, hand swiftly unclasping the twinned holster of his weaponry.

He hummed lowly, scanning the crowd of people in sight: drinking, singing, dancing; warm bodies moving in rhythm to the upbeat ballad of a female bard taking center stage with her polished flute. A song about a lost love, druids, bloodshed. Geralt had recognized it from one of Jaskier’s performances, noting how polarizing the tune sounded with a change of instrument.

He continued walking alongside the wall, finally deciding to take a booth seat near the tinted windows of the northern wall. He propped his equipment against the table, positioning himself closest to the wall. The stained glass poured a soft light onto the scratched surface of his table, outlining every crevice and mug stain with a brilliant azure.

“Welcome to ‘the Manticore’, may I take your order?” Came a quiet voice, somehow bleeding into the chaos of the bustling tavern despite coming from his immediate right. Geralt turned his gaze towards it, eyes met with a pair of rheumy eyes.

A doe.

So was the witcher’s immediate thought at the sight of the skittish-looking servicewoman taking his order.

Her skin looked pallid, almost greyish in the soft light of the candlelight, cheeks pudgy yet somehow betraying her otherwise ghastly appearance. The subtle spread of freckles on her cheeks was the only memory of livelihood in the sunlight, spreading to her temples and ending in a single mole above the girl’s untamed brows. They were thick, straight, and resembling a man’s with how unkempt they appeared.

She held her fists firmly against the dip of her hips and her spine declined forward, giving the woman a folded, relaxed posture; a strange mix of confidence merging with a subtle sense of doubt reflected her apparent social abstinence.

“Redanian ale,” He spoke back, arm extending to rest on the plush couch, gaze wandering.

He first took note of the woman’s boots, how worn the leather seemed with the dried mud still clinging to the nooks and crannies of the laces. Her worn, moss-green blouse shamelessly revealed a perched bosom, held up artificially by the corset hugging her waist snuggly, perhaps uncomfortably.

Finally, he caught the attention of the silver amulet that lay comfortably against the flushed skin of her chest, embellished with a large, iridescent crystal sat in the middle. An opal, maybe a moonstone. It felt out of the ordinary, gleaming with a bright light that seemed to come from within the stone itself.

“You should be wary with that kind of necklace in your ownership,” Geralt warned under his breath, chin dipping to subtly signal towards the girl’s jewelry.

Her eyebrows furrowed at the comment, though her gaze instinctively followed his own. She brought a hand up to toy with the pendant, letting the metal move between her fingertips as if it were her first time seeing it.

“Oh, this old thing?” She questioned, a hint of apprehension lacing her voice as she held up the amulet, “It’s a fake, just a trinket I keep around,”

Despite her reassurance, the witcher’s comment seemed to have fuelled the baseline suspicion a barmaid would hold towards most customers. Simultaneously, she seemed genuinely inquisitive about the man’s opinion, her brow perched high on her forehead.

Her pinky traced along the side of the silver base, running down an array of intricate engravings carved into the metal by hand.

“Looks expensive. Different kinds of folk hang around these parts, you’d know best,” Geralt continued, tone flat yet assertive.

He never once meant to threaten the girl but rather tried offering a kind piece of advice based on his own experiences with such riches. Her prideful display of such an eye-catching jewel could land her in more trouble than she could have expected. His curiosity threw her demeanor off, eyes trailing to her feet. A moment passed without contact, then another.

“That’ll be it, girl,” he hummed, attempting to brush her presence off with a final word to the conversation. She shook her head left to right, almost like exiting a trance, and nodded at him hurriedly. Her nose tinged rouge. She turned heel, boots squeaking as she made her way through the boisterous crowd and back towards the bar.

The man allowed his gaze to linger on the girl until she disappeared into the sea of other bodies, huffing at the comfortable feeling of solitude once again. He let himself sink into the seat below. His eyes turned to study the crevices of the oak table he resided at, keen eyes suddenly focusing on something in the distance.

A raven-haired man sat hunched down at an adjacent booth, head clad in a pristine cloak that clasped off at his chest. The witcher stared back in an unspoken manner of competition, his watchful gaze scanning each visual intricacy the man had to offer. The pigment in his robes was intense and rich, an exotic indigo staining the thick linen, lined with silver thread that connected at the neck with a metallic amulet. It might have been adorned with small studs and jewels, from his position Geralt could not tell for certain.

His pale hands perched atop a leather-bound book surrounded by scattered cards, at least two decks. The fingers were scrawny, bony, wrapped in intricate rings that reflected the same blue light of the stained glass. His eyes bored into Geralt with a certain might, pools of sapphires flickering with candlelight.

They both lingered that way endlessly, both trying to intimidate the other into looking down, a gentle admit of defeat. The man smiled.

“And… there we go,” Came that one quiet voice again, accompanied by the dull tap of a glass mug placed firmly on the table. “Can I get you anything else?” it continued as Geralt made a last-ditch effort to squint at the cloaked man in the back of the room. He seemed satiated by this exchange, quickly returning to shuffling a fresh deck of cards sitting just beside his ale.

“…Hello?” The doe-eyed girl waved her hand to Geralt with a confused look on her sunken face, thick eyebrows furrowing with a twitch of her upper lip.

He turned his gaze towards her, quickly noticing the sudden emptiness around her chest— the amulet was gone. She must have taken his words to heart, or perhaps, more unfortunately, found them to be a kind of veiled threat towards her well-being. The skin of her chest was reddened, maybe hot to the touch.

“You’re a witcher, aren’t you?” She said matter-of-factly. Geralt raised an eyebrow at the sudden inquiry, otherwise maintaining his demeanor. It wasn’t so unusual.

“That’s right,” he replied tactfully, fingers tracing the handle of his mug before gripping it tightly and taking a hefty swig. The alcohol hit his throat with a delicious burn, trailing down the throat and leaving a tinge of plums and spice in its wake.

With a look as infamous as his, Geralt was undeniably used to being spotted out, even in the smallest of hamlets such as Posada. He didn’t mind the musings of others, as most of his encounters happened to be quite harmless and an inconvenience more than anything. He decided to enjoy his drink in peace and allow the girl to ask any questions she might be curious about. If he got lucky, the conversation could score him a new contract; Gods knew that was the kind of excuse he needed to occupy himself for the upcoming days.

“My, my…” The woman whispered, eyes widening a fraction as her fingers began skimming the edge of her apron in contemplation. There was an air of anticipation surrounding her, as if eager to ask about his dangerous lifestyle but abstaining for the fear of rejection. Same old.

“That makes you a frequent traveler, doesn’t it?” She piped up squeakily, clearing her throat after.

“Somewhat,” Geralt replied dryly, aiding his parched tongue with another swig of the drink. Exactly what he ordered, surprisingly. The girl didn’t bother cheating her way out of extra coin.

“And why do you find yourself in Posada, witcher?” the girl questioned, bright-eyed. Her hips twisted towards him, legs shuffling back and gently resting against the frame of the booth opposite to him. Geralt huffed, placing his ale firmly on the oak below. His face remained in its neutrality.

“Not staying long,” he mumbled with a backhand to his upper lip, cleaning the wetness from it with a smooth swipe. He spotted the barmaid’s coy gaze looking down as she swiftly positioned herself on the seat. When she looked up again, their eyes met.

There was a scar on her temple, kissing the hairline of the frizzed locks growing there. It looked well-healed with time, the weathered strip of skin standing out with the raised edges of its pale, pearlescent grove.

“Just for a rest I assume, then?” she smiled softly, the scar curving with the movement of her muscles. Geralt nodded. Her gaze seemed to falter at that but sharpened a mere second later.

“Just a drink, not much else to get done around here,” he spoke lowly, taking a knowing glance around the tavern; townsfolk swarming the bar in rugged clothing, some barefoot, all baring sunken faces. “Seems like it’s not monsters your town needs helping with,” he scoffed.

The barmaid’s eyes followed Geralt’s gaze, but she seemed to refrain from commenting. Her bony fingers clamped into loose fists before dropping to her lap. She moistened her lower lip with a slow flick of the tongue, shoulders rising and falling with each breath. She stayed silent for a moment, contemplative, then suddenly perked up with a furrowed brow.

“We’ve got monsters, witcher,” the girl mumbled. Geralt’s brow twitched at the comment, but he gave her a nod in recognition. She nodded back. “Something’s been killing off the townsfolk in the night when they go foraging,”

“Foraging? Why at night?” he questioned.

“For Mooncaps. They fluoresce in the dark and so are easier to spot that way; we use them for skin salves, tea, that kind of thing,” the girl explained, “They grow in the woods.”

“Mooncaps…” the man acknowledged, “And the foragers, how certain are you that they haven’t just lost their way back?” Geralt pressed on, fingers tensing around the handle of his mug.

“Rescue teams have been sent out before, but they never come back,” the girl said, “Sylvanus was the only one to make it home in one piece. After the fifth expedition, there were no more volunteers left. We didn’t want to risk any more casualties, you know? I grew up there, too. But I don’t dare go back now, not after I’ve heard the rumors,” she continued.

“Sylvanus?” Geralt interrupted, feeling the name out on his tongue. It sounded foreign to the land, but unfamiliar to him personally. The barmaid nodded.

“He’s this witch-hunter from Temeria. Well, that’s what he says, anyway,” she breathed out, eyes squinting, “He’s not from around here, you’d from the things he wears. Nice things, well-fit and expensive. Arrived one night and asked for the largest room we had, room seven. That must’ve been a whole month ago by now,”

Geralt’s eyebrows furrowed, gaze focusing on the table he had been examining beforehand. Nothing. The cloaked figure was gone, leaving behind a vacant table and that deck of cards.

“We’ve got spare rooms, plenty of them. I could arrange one for you if you’d like, maybe a hot bath to go with it,” the barmaid piqued in with the same smile, soft and genuine as her gaze seemed to bore into the witcher’s own eyes. She pursed her lips, anticipating an answer, perhaps one in favor of her declaration.

Geralt used a gloved finger to tap the wooden surface of the table, the rest of his body remaining perfectly still. “I’ll camp out,” he declared, hand raising his mug as the last drops of ale trickled down his throat. He still felt parched.

“As you wish,” the girl nodded, a glint in her eye as she reciprocated with a polite smile. Her arms stretched across the padding of her seat, relaxing her muscles before she swiftly stood up. Her hand grabbed onto the upper rim of the empty mug, removing it from the table with a huff.

“It’s on the house. Thank you for helping out,” she added quietly, smiling.

“Hold your appreciation, girl. I haven’t done anything to earn it just yet,” Geralt replied, earning a soft chuckle from the woman. It was airy and warm. Her half-lidded gaze met his own.

“You’ve offered your kindness, it’s all I could ask for these days,” she replied quaintly, taking a few steps back while her fingers tampered with the iron handle of the mug. She looked down briefly, then back up. Her smile had disappeared.

“Geralt,” he responded half-mindedly, out of habit. He assessed the name she had given him carefully, letting it echo in his mind.

“Farewell, then, Geralt,” she giggled once more, sounding somewhat bubbly at the reveal. Her smile stretched wider this time, revealing a pair of dimples adorning each flushed cheek with a shallow grove. She nibbled at her bottom lip, breathing in deeply before turning away, yet she held her gaze with his, somewhat determined to keep the witcher’s attention. She whipped around, her overskirt twirling gracefully around her hips before she leaped away. Geralt caught one last glance of her locks before she disappeared into the crowd again.

He breathed out, eyes closed tightly. His meeting with Ciri would have to wait another day while he took care of the monster plaguing this off-road town. He imagined it to be a Noonwraith, maybe a Werewolf in the worst case. It would be dirty work, but quick, and perhaps the town could spare a decent amount of coin for putting an end to their unfortunate endeavors.

The man stood up with a grunt, eyes scanning the crowds of clientele once again. His mind tried focusing on a certain head of raven-black hair amongst the sea of bodies, but his efforts were fruitless. The witch-hunter was gone, or at the very least in hiding… perhaps somewhere nearby. Geralt recalled the barmaid’s testimony, how she confessed they had rented the man a room just a few nights back.

The witcher’s eyes shifted to the broad staircase at the edge of the room, oddly empty and lit dimly by candlelight adorning the wall. He walked over in a few smooth strides, eyes narrowed and focused. He set his boot on the first stair, hearing it creak pathetically under his boot. He climbed another, another, continuing til the very top.

The gleeful tune of the lute sounded muffled and dull at this level, reverberating through the walls and getting eerily distorted in the process. Geralt lurked down the hallway, passing wooden doors adorned with handmade numbers and watching for light seeping through the gap where the planks met the floor.

He stopped suddenly, faced with number ‘7’. His gloved hand reached to grip the doorknob slowly, but with a firm squeeze, he twisted. To his surprise, it was open.

He stepped in, nose catching the vivid aroma of rosemary and myrrh. It carried in the air heavily, a thin stripe of smoke weaving through the air and connecting at the tip of an incense stick sat on a desk to his left. It was messy, clattered with books and one-off documents stained with slim rings of plum and violet.

“There you are,” came a gravely, monotonous sound. Geralt turned to face it, his eyes met with sapphire ones. They were bulbous, almost too large for the socket, threatening to pop out at any moment. The intensity made the witcher stay put. “Geralt of Rivia!” the man exclaimed theatrically, arms extending wide as he made his way from the bedside mirror. Geralt realized he hadn’t noticed the man when he entered.

“And you are?” the witcher asked firmly.

“You know my name,” the man replied, a smile adorning his lips. There was a thick scar running across them, connecting to his right brow.

“Sylvanus, is it?” Geralt replied, deciding to back into the doorway with his backside. Hearing the hinges squeal as they shut, Sylvanus seemed to relax. His mulberry cloak fluttered as he moved closer, head low. The whites of his eyes were glazed, shimmering like tiles of water. “There’s a monster roaming the woods, I’ve been told you know of it,”

“Certainly, yes,” He replied diplomatically, moving soundlessly to take a seat by the cluttered desk. The incense was shriveled now, copper tray piled with ash. “You’d like to know of this beastie? It was relentless. Ghastly and pale and crimson, drenched in innocent blood. Female in appearance and winged, like succubi,” Sylvanus explained, hands flailing wildly as he recalled the creature’s looks. His tone was low. “It is quite a miracle I made it out with all my limbs still intact,” Sylvanus sighed amongst dramatics.

“It seems we’re dealing with a harpy,” Geralt replied with a nod, hands now placed firmly on his hips as he watched the man before him go dark in the face. His eyebrows furrowed, eyes still bulging as he approached in a swift stride. He pointed a long finger at the witcher’s chest, gaze holding his fervently.

“That is no ordinary harpy, witcher,” the man hissed, offended at the mere suggestion of it. “I’ve seen nothing like it. This is no ordinary occurrence, I’ve come to realize…” Sylvanus carried on, retracting his arm that slivered under his cloak like a snake returning to its lair.

“This town, you’ll learn to know, is cursed. Plagued,” he finished slyly, almost hostile in his manner.

Geralt sighed at the man’s warnings, eyeing his lowly figure as it trailed back to the padded armchair by the desk. His snake-like arm slid out once more, thin and splotchy. It grabbed a match, striking it quickly against the table’s surface to illicit a pale flame that he used to light a fresh incense stick with. The room became smokey within seconds, a thin veil of grey dancing in the light breeze of the window open ajar. When he was done, Sylvanus tossed the match to a pile of similarly decrepit ones.

“If you want to know how I survived, well,” he trailed, “the beastie is weak to light. It fears daytime, sunlight, fire… anything that burns,”

“How did you find out?” Geralt questioned,

“Trial and error,” Sylvanus shrugged with a grin, eyes squinting. He slumped into the chair, tossing and turning until he seemed comfortable. “It only comes out on moonless nights, that’s when it goes out to feed,” he added. Geralt nodded, stopping for a beat to let the man continue on his tirade, but there was nothing else he wanted to say. His focus had now shifted to an opened book on the desk, his fingers skimming through the pages feverishly.

Geralt cleared his throat, eyeing the man once more before turning around to leave. “Thanks for the info,”

“Don’t make yourself allies in Posada, Geralt,” a voice called out behind him, deep and dark. “It might just turn on you,”

Geralt halted. He nodded, head tilting but not enough to catch the man’s figure again. The witcher shuffled away silently, shutting the door behind him with a ‘click’ of the hinges. A soft shuffling came from within, cloth rubbing against cloth and stacks of papers being ripped frantically, in a strange hurry. The flaxen-haired man let the commotion unfold without interruption.

He spotted an ornate window peeking outside, his eyes squinting at the bright lights of the colors flickering around the main square. It was getting late, and he would have to make camp soon. His feet stomped down the flight of stairs, faded music coming back in full effect.

He took note of the blonde-headed bard singing her heart out, and the slowly declining yet continuously vast crowd of townsfolk swarming the vivid scene. His gaze trailed to the bar instinctively, hovering over about a dozen heads that he knew instantly didn’t include the one he sought out.

A soft breath escaped his chapped lips, hands swiftly reaching for the cover of his cape’s hood. As the warmth of the tavern slowly faded from his body, Geralt felt his fingers ache in the cold of the night.

#geralt x reader #geralt x you #x reader #reader insert #fanfiction #ao3 #geralt of rivia #geralt z rivii #the witcher #my writing #cowboygenesis #smut #eventual smut #slow burn #magic #oneshots #writers on tumblr #ao3 writer

[willowsages-blog]

Forbidden love: Geralt rivia x female reader

You're a princess awaiting marriage. Every girl has to marry a prince even if the girls do not want to marry,

they have no other choice.

At this moment, you are wandering around your garden, admiring the flowers. As you were leaning down to smell the flowers feeling someone's

as you kneel down to pick a pretty one, you hear someone coming behind you,

you immediately got up and turned around and saw an older prince that you had a crush on for a while now.

''My princess' geralt rushes towards you, and you do the same.

you smile widely. my prince

he pulls you into his grasp. holding onto you as if you were leaving him at any moment.

Y/N, i can't let you leave to someone else, he says seriously

looking down, heartbroken,

hey, he lifts your chin! making you look at him,

Geralt lifts your chin. making you look at him. he then takes a deep breath. caressing your cheek,

I'm running away.

before you could say anything, he cuts you off, and you're leaving with me,       

#geralt of rivia #the witcher #geralt x reader #yn #romantic #fanfic #multi fandom blog #oneshot #henry cavill

[missjadesfics]

Hello my loves welcome to my blog, make sure you turn on notifications and follow so you don’t miss out on any of my stories.

About me: I’m Jade. I'm from Australia. I'm 25, going on 26. I'm an aspiring actress and writer. My primary blog is @majestyjade. Pronouns are she/her. I’m straight. I’m a world class insomniac, I have a healthy obsession with Jason Momoa, Austin Butler, Timothee Chalamet, Elvis Presley, and Heath Ledger. I also have an unhealthy but perfectly reasonable obsession with too many fictional characters.

This is an 18+ blog; it contains sexual themes not suitable for those underage. Please do not interact if you are. I don't want to get in trouble for exposing you to anything.

Request status: OPEN; submit your requests in my submit section or Ask Me Anything. I'll still receive your request either way.

Requests in progress

To be added to my tag lists, comment on this post. You can have one or multiple tag list requests, but please be specific.

Time zone: Australian Central Daylight Time (ACDT)

I’ll update my masterlist as time passes, so don’t worry; more characters and fandoms will eventually be added.

Masterlist under the cut

FANDOMS I WRITE FOR:

Dune

Avengers | Marvel

Fast and the Furious

One Piece (Live Action)

DC

Bridgerton

Game of Thrones | House of the Dragon

Star Wars

The Sandman

The Witcher

More fandoms list coming soon

CELEBS I WRITE FOR:

Jason Momoa

Austin Butler

Timothee Chalamet

Chris Evans

Henry Cavill

Cillian Murphy

Tom Hardy

Taz Skylar

More celebrities list coming soon.

#dune #marvel #dc #thesandman #starwars #game of thrones #house of the dragon #fast and the furious #one piece live action #bridgerton #the witcher #dune part two #oneshots #headcanon

[whitewingsh]

You know what is saddest thing to me?

It's when you get into fandom and it existed for a while so now it's dead and barely alive. Like no new content or nothing, not even new fanfics 😨 I get only comfort from those tt editors.

But the sad truth is if show or game ended fandom ended too (at least most of them) and I still so upset by it

#fandom #game of thrones #house of the dragon #bnha #demon slayer fandom #the witcher #the witcher x reader #avatar x reader #avatar 2009 #fanfic #writers on tumblr #this is so sad #pokemon fandom #pokemon #anime #one piece #oneshot #demon slayer #alive fandom #imagine #dead fandom

[redskull199987]

Heyy hii I'm not sure if you're still taking requests, but I'll try my luck. Can you write something about Cahir and the female Witcher reader? Thanks in advance if you write.

If I am being brutally honest, I had a lot of fun writing this. Season three renewed my love for Cahir, so I hope you like this:)))

A Bond

Cahir x female!witcher!reader Request

Word count:0.9k

Warnings:it's all fluffy. I probably got carried away and let my inner Jaskier come out

Summary:You and Cahir had been friends for a long time and as he needs your help, you don 't hesitate to be there for him…

Masterlist

You and Cahir had known each other for a long time. You had met him on your travels through the country, as he was attacked by the beast, you were hunting. He was rude at first, but still thanked you. 

The rest was history.

You started running into him over and over again. To a point where it was inevitable that a friendship would form. With you, Cahir could be himself. He was just a normal Person. No Nilfgaard, no white flame, no war. Nothing of that mattered to you. You were neutral. All you were interested in was his person. And he knew that your interest was genuine. And he let it happen. He let the friendship form and prosper. An unfeigned friendship that connected you. 

And when he was cast out, thrown away by his master, like an old doll he didn't want to play with anymore, Cahir came to you. He found comfort in you. He had been through so much, but for once in his life, he felt safe. At peace. He might even say “Home”.

Of course, he would never tell you that, but it surely was on his mind, everytime, he looked at you. Everytime you returned to his small hut, after finishing a Witcher contract. Bruised and battered, but back with him. And only him. Only Cahir got to see you like this. He took pride in knowing that he was the only person in this world, you would trust this far, besides your brothers maybe.

But you told him that you only saw them once a year, in the winter. You told him stories of Kaer Morhen and how you had grown up there, under Vesemir´s care.

You told him that it was hard for you at first, being the only female Witcher. But it had gotten better, the older you got. The more you learned and saw in this world. You realized that no one really cared, as long as they could use you for their dirty work. 

“How was it?”, Cahir asked, forcing himself to return to the present moment. He had let his thoughts wander, after a pleasant silence rose between you, as he carefully cleaned your wounds.

“It was alright.”, you finally said,”It was a small kikimora. Still young and inexperienced.”

“In fighting?”,Cahir asked, not really knowing a lot about the beasts that your job involved. You had told him some things, but a kikimora was new to him.

 You only smiled at him, before finally answering his question:”No, not in fighting. In killing."

He was quiet for a second, not knowing what to say, upon that statement. But luckily, you just continued recounting what had happened.

“The Monster´s head was worth a lot of coin though. I won't have to leave for at least a month. The money will be enough.”

Cahir smiled at you, glad that he got to spend more time with you.He slowly got up from his place in front of you and sat down beside you on the bed:”Thank you. You don't have to do this. Supporting me in my exile, I mean. But you still do it anyway. And for that I am thanking you.”

“Oh Cahir.”, you smiled, your hand rising to softly caress his face. He closed his eyes, letting himself fall into your gentle touch.

“I would proudly ride into death for you, without hesitation.”, you mumbled, as he opened his eyes. You heard how his heart picked up a beat. How his breath stocked for a second, his eyes lingering on your lips, instead of your yellow orbs, which were intently watching him, awaiting his next move. 

You had often thought about your relationship with him. Often let your mind wander to what ifs.

 What if you were more than just close friends? What if you knew that you wanted to spend the rest of your lives together. Never leaving each other. What if…

“I love you.”

At first you barely heard him. His words were so quiet. His voice shaking and his eyes darting everywhere else, but your face.  He wasn't usually this hesitant. He was an outgoing and stern person. Always sure of himself and his capabilities. He used to be a Nilfgaardian officer after all.

“Cahir.”, you mumbled, after a few seconds of burning silence. He finally looked at you. His expression now a bit more confident. His heartbeat had slowed and he finally dared to look you in the eye.

“I love you, Cahir Mawr Dyffryn aep Ceallach. With all my heart.”, you smiled, your eyes almost glowing with excitement.

Cahir didn't need to hear anything more, before he finally leaned in. Your eyes closed and his lips collided with yours. He was gentle and sweet. Passion laid in his actions. And you knew that he meant every little bit, he had told you.

“I love you.”, he said once again, before slowly pushing you back against the bed. You followed along with his movements, until he was hovering above you.

“I love you.”, you also repeated. You were bare in front of him. Not in a physical way, but emotionally. No one had ever known you as Cahir did. Not even your brothers. He knew your heart and soul. Something that you had shown no one before.

And as he slowly lathered kisses over your body, your moans and whines mixing with his groans. As you fully let him in, you knew that he was the only one  you would ever love this way. He became part of you and you part of him. 

 An unfeigned bond, that was never to be broken again.

#the witcher #witcher #the witcher edit #the witcher edits #the witcher oneshot #the witcher fanfic #the witcher cahir #cahir #cahir edit #cahir edits #Cahir Mawr Dyffryn aep Ceallach #cahir os #cahir oneshot #Cahir x reader #cahir fanfic #cahir request #Eamon Farren #geralt of rivia #yennefer of vengerberg #cirilla of cintra #jaskier dandelion #os #fanfic #request

[shutuplilith]

the witch and her cottage, part 2 - geralt of rivia x reader

the witch and her cottage, part 2

ciri's pov. (takes place after the ending of season 1, episode 8. yennifer exists in this, but not as geralts love interest but as his best friend)

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊

As she walks toward us, out of the corner of my eye, my gaze falls sideways to Geralt, who also wears a grin on his lips. "Gera... oh, hello, Roach, what a pleasure to catch sight of you again," she says as her hand gently strokes the nose of Geralt's faithful mare. At that moment, Roach seems to enjoy the tender touch, and I feel an invisible bond forming between the two. After a few precious moments, she gently disengages from Roach and takes a few steps back. She looks to Geralt, "Oh Geralt," she grins, "it's good to see you again as well." A smile plays around his lips as she pulls him into a warm embrace, which he returns without hesitation. As they break free from the embrace, hergaze shifts towards me, her luminous (y/e/c) eyes studying me intently. "Oh, and you must be Ciri; I've heard so much about you," she whisper, her words hitting me like the sound of an ancient spell. I furrow my brow, and inside my head, my thoughts start to dance wildly. My gaze returns to Geralt once more, who meets my look with a faint grin. "I am, by the way, (y/n)," her voice once again captures my attention, pulling me back from the dizzying expanse of thoughts into the here and now. "I am filled with joy to finally meet you."Curiosity overtakes me, and I inquire, "How do you know Geralt?"A mysterious smile graces her lips as she replies, "I’ll tell you this story later. For now, let's make our way inside; it's about to get uncomfortable out here."As if in response to an invisible signal, Geralt and I both turn our gazes sky, which has once again been swallowed by dark clouds. The howling of the wind, previously just a faint whisper, now pierces our ears louder and more menacingly.

#the witcher #the witcher netflix #geralt of rivia #geralt x reader #geralt x f!reader #the witcher imagine #the witcher oneshot #geralt of rivia oneshot #geralt of rivia imagine #the witcher x you #geralt of rivia x you #roach #the witcher roach #ciri #cirilla of cintra #princess cirilla

[fangirleaconmigo]

Rated Teen. Geraskier. Jaskier says I love you..

The first time Jaskier realizes that, despite appearances to the contrary, Geralt listens to him when he rambles on, he is pulling the pins from his hair and preening in the mirror.

"And then I said to him,” he rants, voice muffled from the hairpin in his mouth, “I said to him, I've written one that will have you crying and begging for your mother.” Jaskier spits out the hairpin and suddenly his voice is clear again just to utter the words, “you arrogant hack, you dickish dilettante,”

“That's Silver Winter, right?" Geralt cuts in.

Jaskier's hand stops where it is arranging a ringlet. He blinks and stares at Geralt in the mirror, as though his dear friend and object of his most passionate affection has transformed into a talking rat.

"What?" demands Geralt, sounding irritated. "Why are you looking at me like that?” Geralt’s hands idly pat down his hair and check his teeth for stray greens from lunch. It is only when he is checking his tunic for obvious stains that Jaskier clears up the mystery.

"Nothing! Nothing, Geralt. It’s just. You were listening."

Geralt rolls his eyes. "Every man, woman, and child in Posada is listening. You’re so loud you give no one a choice.”

"No,” Jaskier said slowly and thoughtfully. “I don't mean now. I mean. When I was talking earlier about that poem."

Geralt shrugs. "Yes. That's the one you wrote for the bardic competition in Gors Velen this spring. It starts off..." Geralt's eyes wander up until he is staring at the ceiling. "Right," he says, finally finding the words he is looking for. "It starts off...the cracks like frozen lightning...right?"

Jaskier slowly turns. He loses sight of Geralt in the mirror, then sees him fully as he looks at him head on. "I get to submit two poems for that competition." He says it as though he is testing the waters.

Geralt nods. "Right. The other one is A Rose Thicket." He says it as though he is reciting something well known. Something that should be obvious.

Jaskier blinks in disbelief, eyes wide with wonder and delight.

Geralt grunts. "Why are you gaping? Close your mouth or you’ll catch flies.”

Jaskier plops down on the bed next to him, head still swimming from the revelation. “I don’t know, i suppose I’m just surprised is all.”

“What because I’m old? Witchers keep their minds and memories sharp well into their third century if Vesemir is any indication. See?” Geralt clears his throat and recites again from memory. “That's the bardic competition that's being judged by Valdo's old mentor, and you don't know whether that's a point for you or against you, since Valdo fucked him and who knows what kind of mess he left behind."

Geralt startles when Jaskier leans his head on his shoulder, the remaining hairpins jingling softly.

"I love you."

Jaskier says it as though it is easy. As though it’s normal. As though anyone outside of Kaer Morhen has said that to Geralt in years.

Geralt’s heart swells painfully and he doesn’t know what to do with the feeling that he is bursting and will overflow. Impulsively, he kisses the top of Jaskier’s head, getting a stray lock of hair stuck to his lips and having to blow profusely to get it off.

Jaskier relaxes and even though Geralt cannot see his face from this angle, he can feel the smile on the bard’s face. Geralt does not know what to say, so he blurts out, “You have poor judgement."

Jaskier pinches his side and he yelps.

“I know.”

Geralt cannot hide the smile that plagues his face for the rest of the day.

#the witcher #jaskier #geralt of rivia #geraskier #i have not been normal #since the day I read in the books #that dandelion curls his hair sometimes #sorry #but Jaskier always has curls now #i don’t make the rules #descarada writes #descarada writes geraskier #tumblr oneshots for the witcher fandom

[sarahisslytherin]

two left feet || geralt of rivia

summary: there’s a festival in town, and you’re taking the witcher dancing whether he likes it or not. contains: nothing, just like, tooth rotting fluff. a/n: in mourning of the rightful geralt of rivia. *cough* fuck off gale *cough*

the chatter of the townspeople and clinking of cups rang through the tavern. your eyes widened in wonder as you took in the scene. couples danced merrily on the floor, old friends exchanged stories over drinks, booming laughs nearly drowning out the music. 

geralt’s figure loomed behind you like a shadow, a steady and protective hand on the small of your back as you weaved your way through the crowd, leading him towards an empty table.

“what fun!” you giggled as you sat down and the witcher took his place opposite you. “look at all the people!”

“hmm.” he huffed, eyeing the room cautiously.

“geralt.” you sighed. “lighten up, no one will pick a fight with you here. they’re too busy enjoying themselves, you ought to try it sometime.”

his lips curled into a smirk at that, amber eyes meeting yours. “is that so?”

“yes!” you laughed. “it’s a festival! a time to be festive! now, come, you old grump. dance with me!”

“no, no.” geralt shook his head, squirming away from your reach. “you can dance, i’ll watch.”

“like hell you will!” you insisted. “on your feet, witcher!”

“but-”

“no buts!” you hollered as you began to pull him into the crowd. you knew he hated this but you also knew he loved you, and if he could handle any sort of monster he could certainly handle one night of dancing.

“wait!” he called, and you stopped in your tracks. “i can’t.”

“why not?” you asked.

“i, i don’t know how to dance.” geralt admitted, his eyes falling to his boots, still covered in snow. “it’s foolish, i know. it���s only that you’re so graceful and lovely and i’m, clunky and a bit of a brute is all. i wouldn’t want to embarrass you.”

your jaw must’ve dropped to the floor because soon enough he was giving you a look of annoyance. “don’t look at me like that.” he grunted in that voice of his.

“i’m sorry.” you couldn’t help but tease. “ i just never took the big, bad witcher for someone who cared about other people’s opinion.

“your opinion.” he corrected swiftly. “i care about your opinion.”

a smirk crept upon your face as your arms slithered around geralt’s torso. “you want to know my opinion, geralt?”

“hmm.” he grunted. you knew what he meant.

“i don’t give a shit that you’ve got two left feet.” you whispered for only him to hear. “i think you’re amazing in every aspect of the word, and i won’t go into detail for fear of your head getting even bigger than it already is.” he tickled you in the side for that.

“come, witcher. you can’t be good at everything.” you chuckled as he let you pull him onto the dance floor. he took the proper stance at first, your hand in his, a hand on your waist. but when the time came to move, it cost him. he was so large, and he couldn’t find the rhythm to save his life. you couldn’t help but giggle at the scene.

“don’t laugh!” he scolded you, chuckling himself.

“i can’t help it! you’re too adorable!”

“oh, shut up.” he pulled you in for a deep kiss, effectively shutting you up before trying once more. stubborn mule, you thought fondly. this time was a tad better, your bodies closer together and more in sync than before. the music was jovial, enough to put a smile on geralt’s face when you looked up at him, or perhaps it was you who had put it there. either way, he was smiling. 

tagging: @velvetcloxds​​​ @havenchy​​​ @leahsficemporium​​​ @gilmore-angel​​​ @mgcllovdrms​

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

[marchtothefuckingsea]

Nothing Without You - Geralt of Rivia

My Masterlist.

Soulmate AU!! But basically just hurt/comfort with a bit of soulmate au to spice things up lmao, hurt/comfort, angst, x female or female identifying reader (for plot, but they use they/them pronouns if any are used at all)

Word count: 2.4k

Warnings: Injury, injured reader, blood, canon violence. Not proofread.

Summary: Soulmate AU where your eyes are the colour of your soulmate's; except it's just a bit different for witchers and theirs.

Before Geralt had become a witcher, he remembered the colour of his soulmate's eyes; of his. A striking shade of green - greener than all the leaves in the spring.

I remembered the colour of my eyes: of my soulmate's. They had been a warm brown; the warmest shade of brown I had ever seen. Warmer than all the reds and yellows and oranges of the autumn, and browner than the darkest of chocolates, but when the sun shone on them, they held the most beautiful of golden sunsets; But shortly before my 10th birthday, I awoke with striking yellow eyes. My parents were shocked. My mother demanded to throw me out, to be rid of the witcher child. My father had gone as far as to leave her, taking me with him. He was killed when I was fifteen; by angry townspeople who thought he had to die for protecting me and loving me unconditionally. I was a monster to them.

And so that was what I became.

I traveled, living the way of a witcher and hunting creatures for coin. It was not the life I would have expected or, in all honesty, would have wanted for myself, but it was the life I now lived. I did not blame my soulmate, but sometimes I wondered if I would ever meet the person who had damned me to this way of life.

It was that path that had been the easiest to take. People believed witchers could not have soulmates, that the bonds were broken when they had gone through the trials. Those like me often took to the roads, in search of their witcher soulmate; Once you met them, your eyes would turn their true colour. It was almost impossible to find them, since the eyes of the witchers did not take the colour of their soulmate's. It was completely up to chance whether you met them or not. Very few were lucky enough, but to them it was the only chance at a normal life.

I had taken the route of no return, simply going along with the facade. There were certain perks to the job, the air of fearful respect from the villagers and getting to travel the lands, none of which I would have had as a normal woman back in my village. All because of my eyes.

I gazed at myself in the dusty mirror of the tavern, took in my tattered state and the slight darkened look around the edges of my golden eyes. I had grown accustomed to them, growing to love the colour of my soulmate's eyes as much as I could, given what grief they had forsaken upon me. Living the life of a witcher made me come to have all the more respect for them, whoever they may be.

I sighed, straightening up and shrugging my cloak on, as I prepared to continue tracking the beast I had come here for. It was a vile creature, living mostly in the forests, disguising itself as a fallen tree to the average passerby. It had begun to pick people off at first, just the average villager; but the beast fed off of magical energy, and edged ever closer to the village, searching for a food source. It was soon preying on healers and small-time magicians, people with magical powers. It had even been said to fell a witcher. It grew ever more powerful as they sent sorcerers one after the other, each failing to return as it consumed their magical energy. Soon it wasn't even bothering with the average townsfolk anymore; it was well fed.

I was quite confident with my abilities to slay the creature; I did not possess any sort of magic, so therefore it would regard me as an average villager, hopefully not even bothering with me, I thought as I slung my sword over my shoulder and clipped my sheathed axe to my hip. Unless my witcher eyes counted.

"'It's not very far.'" I muttered to myself, pausing to lean against a tree and catch my breath. I had been told to keep an eye out for a cabin. Among the old, rotten firewood behind it was where the beast supposedly hid. It would be easy to tell from the others, it would have no moss growing and attaching it to the ground like the others. It simply wouldn't have been there long enough for that. I'd find it, chop its wooden heart out, and collect my coin, easy-

My head jerked up when I heard a creaking sound, swinging back and forth, trying to see what it was. I saw nothing, no movement at all, but the sound was unmistakably loud.

I stumbled back as a fallen log to the right of me rose up. Its hollow eyes staring right into my soul. I watched as it grew taller and taller, stretching its branches and limbs out and shaking dirt and leaf litter off of itself.

"Fuck." I guess my eyes did count.

I jumped back, barely dodging its first swing. It swung another branch at me, this time catching me. I managed to duck away from the large branch, but the smaller branches and twigs whipped against my bare forearms, covering them in small cuts. I hissed, pulling my axe out of its sheath.

The next time it slashed at me, I swung the axe in a huge arc. The unbelievably sharp blade sliced through several smaller branches with ease. A horrible screech split through the air, causing me to cover my ears. I scrambled back when it reached for me again, turning and running for the edge of the clearing, just out of its reach. I watched from a safe distance as the beast grabbed for me, growling and crackling in frustration before suddenly stilling, standing upright like a normal tree. Did it think I was that stupid?

A deafening cracking sound echoed throughout the woods, but the 'tree' did not move. It was followed by a rumble, and the ground tremored. I watched in horror as it ripped its roots from the ground, the dirt falling from them. It stomped over in my direction, and a surge of panic went through me.

I dove for the cover of the brush. Just before I made it, a branch wrapped around my ankle, sharply jerking me back into the clearing, hard. I cried out, my ankle audibly snapping. I struggled against it, to no avail. It suddenly let go of me, and I scrambled back for the bushes once again; And once again, it grabbed me and harshly dragged me back. A strangled cry escaped my throat. I felt the bones in my ankle shifting and floating around. If it hadn’t been broken before, it definitely was now.

The tree creature whipped me up off of the ground and slung my body through the air as if I were a rag doll. My body came into contact with the ground with a thud, muted by the layers and layers of leaf litter on the forest floor. If it weren’t for the half-rotten log hidden beneath, it would have been an otherwise cushioned landing; but of course, I wasn’t that lucky. My head whipped forward and hit the side of the log. I tumbled over the log, continuing to rollI several feet through the mud and brush before I stopped. My head pounded, and my vision blurred dangerously. I closed my eyes to blink in an attempt to clear my vision, but I was unable to open them again.

I tossed my head side to side, straining my arms against the branches that held them down. I opened my eyes, lifting my head to see what restrained me. The thick branches continued to wind around my wrists and ankles, and an even larger one emerged from the ground and began to coil around my middle. I continued to struggle weakly against the monster’s ‘arms’ as they sapped my energy relentlessly. My breath hitched in my throat when the branch around my broken ankle suddenly constricted it, causing the fragmented bones to shift.

An axe suddenly sliced into one of the limbs restraining me, missing my hand by less than a centimeter. It chopped into the rest of them, freeing me from the monster’s clutches with a horrible scream that echoed around the clearing. I rolled onto my side, pushing myself onto my hands and knees. Ignoring the way my head spun, I staggered to my feet. I stumbled over to my own hatchet while the beast was distracted with the white-haired man. I fell back onto all fours as I reached down to grab it, wasting precious time to stumble back onto my feet. The man was fighting against the tree still, his eyes unable to meet mine. He grunted when it brought up a large limb to meet his axe, ripping it away when the blade became stuck in the wood.

I suddenly rushed up to the tree, its heart hollow exposed, and sank the blade of my small hatchet into its heart. I stood slowly, swaying on my feet. My yellow gaze darted up to meet his, and I could have swore I saw his own golden eyes flicker a shade of the warmest brown I had ever seen, before I slumped to the ground in an unconscious heap.

The worn bed frame creaked and groaned beneath my weight as I shifted onto my side with a low whine. My head throbbed painfully when I lifted it. The room was old and abandoned, and cobwebs and dust clung to every crevice. I blinked in confusion. How did I get here?

I propped myself onto my elbows, before forcing myself into a sitting position. I ignored the fatigue pulling at my limbs and the pounding in my head, glancing around. Panic began to set in as I came to my senses and realized I had no idea where I was.

Heavy footsteps suddenly sounded from behind the closed door, and I was immediately on defense.

"You're safe here." The man from earlier reassured me, shutting the door behind him. I eyed him warily, though a strange, reluctant sense of calm washed over me with his presence.

"Who are you?"

"Lie back down." I didn't budge, and he huffed in frustration. "Lie down and I'll tell you."

"I'm fine." I argued stubbornly.

"I know you're in pain. Lie down." He demanded, pressing a large hand to my chest. I obliged without complaint this time. My body immediately relaxed into the bed, all my muscles and nerves finally quieting their screams of protest. I watched him curiously as sat on the bedside. I uncomfortably shifted over to put some distance between us.

"Geralt of Rivia." He introduced himself. "You’re not a witcher.” His voice rumbled as his eyes searched mine curiously.

“Oh here we go again with all this sexist bullshit about how women can’t be witchers-” I grumbled.

“Your eyes aren’t gold.” He said matter-of-factly. “They’re green.”

“What?” I asked him, dumbfounded. I began to struggle back into a sitting position, the sudden need to find some sort of reflective surface too much to bear.

“Stay.” He grunted. He dug into a backpack sat by the wall, retrieving a flask and handing it to me. I brought it up to my face, staring at my reflection in shock. My eyes were no longer the striking yellow I had grown so used to. They were now an almost equally stunning green. The unfamiliar eyes gazed back at me.

“I’m your soulmate.” My eyes darted up to his face.

“No, there’s no way-”

“Your eyes were golden when I found you in the woods. They’re not now.” He said simply. I suddenly recalled his eyes flickering brown as I met his gaze before I passed out.

“Your eyes are brown..” My voice trailed off.

“So that’s what they were.”

“I remember, your eyes were such a pretty shade of brown. Then they turned yellow when I was eleven or so, I think.”

“The trials.”

“The witcher trials?” He simply nodded. My eyes wandered unseeingly. I was completely lost in my thoughts.

“I’m sorry.” He said quietly.

“For what?”

“I imagine it couldn’t have been easy for you. Not if you’ve taken up the life of a witcher.”

I shrugged, wincing when the motion pulled at some injury on my shoulder I didn't even know I had. "It was the easiest thing to do."

"Was it?"

"I guess so." I hesitated. "I don't know. I just went where the fates took me."

"It's a curse."

Silence hung heavy in the air.

"I never thought I'd find you, you know? What were the chances?" I admitted, glancing back at him.

"Very slim." He agreed.

"You're free to live a normal life now." He said after a moment.

"Do you really think I'd want to? After everything I've experienced?"

"If I were still in my village, I'd already be popping out kids as a housewife," I continued. "But because of this whole thing–because of you– I've been able to do all this. Hell, I'm known as the one and only badass female witcher, I've convinced people of the supposedly impossible; I'm not giving up that title."

"So that was you." He mused. "What are you going to do now, then?"

It suddenly hit me that I no longer had the one thing that allowed me to get this far: my golden eyes. I could put on my act all I wanted to, but that couldn't save me from the fact that I was now a fraud.

"I…I don't know." I admitted quietly. "I'm nothing now."

"I can't just go back to normal, Geralt. I can't, I'd kill myself out of boredom."

"Come with me." He offered suddenly.

"What?"

"Travel with me. You're more than capable, if you've managed to convince people you're a witcher."

"But I'm not anymore." I argued. "I'm a fraud. A phony. I’d just drag you down further." He snorted at that.

"That doesn't matter."

"You don't seem like the type to make that offer. I thought you'd prefer to be alone."

"I do, but I can make an exception for my soulmate."

#the witcher #the witcher geralt #the witcher fanfic #the witcher fanfiction #geralt the witcher #geralt of rivera #geralt fanfic #geralt of rivia #geralt x reader #geralt imagine #geralt angst #geralt hurt/comfort #geralt oneshot #geralt of rivia x reader #the witcher soulmate au #soulmate au #the witcher angst #the witcher hurt/comfort #hurt/comfort #angst #geralt of rivia angst #geralt of rivia soulmate au #witcher #the witcher fluff #the witcher fic

[thewritersaddictions]

The Heros: Geralt Of Rivia- A Pair

Pairing: Geralt of Rivia x Yennefer x Fem Reader

Pov: Everyone

Warning: Smut, 18+, many partners, fluff, yearning, size kink, vouyer kink, p in v , finger fucking, FOR ADULTS, breathe play, NSFW, oral (F and M receiving), unprotected sex.

Summary: Geralt can't wait to get you and Yennfer in his bed.

A/n- firefly-graphics for dividers

WC- 3.1k

The Witcher Master List // The Heros Master List

Had he meant to be snooping and peaking around half way closed doors.  Probably not if it wasn’t for the loud moaning that was coming from behind the door than Geralt wouldn’t have done a damn thing. He stood there, just a few feet away from the doors, he didn’t know who was in that room. He wasn’t really concerned, but that hard on pressing into his trouser was growing worse and worse. Hard to keep his attention away from.  

Had the door been left just a crack on purpose. Geralt didn’t know, and honestly it wasn’t like it mattered anymore. The closer that Geralt managed to walk towards the doors. The louder the moans got, the more it became clear exactly who it was.  

Yennefer and Y/n.  

There they are. Laying in silk sheets, a deep purple that make the two of them pop out of the dark room. Geralt continued to watch the two of them. Yennefer and Y/n were so close, little gasps getting lost in the quiet air around them. Geralt had always found Yennefer graceful, and then there was Y/n, a new idea of beautiful. Something that was just so drastically different about these two girls.  

He had yet to notice the fact that Yennefer was stripping Y/n clean of her clothes. The teasing was driving Y/n up the wall. Her fingers trying desperately to grab at the regal women that was standing in front of her. “You’re so beautiful you know that Y/n.” Yennefer said, as she lifted the dress over Y/n’s frame. Tits bouncing as the fabric passed them by.  

Yennefer was right, Y/n was beautiful. All the curves of her body, the bounce of her tits, and how dumb like she looked sitting there waiting for Yennefer's next move. Eyes glazed over by the idea of sex. Geralt had to quiet his breathing. He didn’t want to get caught with his hands shoved halfway down his trouser. He didn’t wanna get caught palming himself to the thought of getting to watch the two fuck each other. 

Harsh words Geralt thought but that was he wanted. He wanted to see the two of them come undone around each other. He wanted to see Yennefer with her mouth suckling around Y/n’s little tits, he wanted to see Yennefer with her hands in Y/n’s hair pulling her further and closer to her drenching pussy.  

He wanted to see everything, but he didn’t want the girls to know he was there and that’s in fact what happened. He got a show of his life. Yennefer had been sucking and licking at the skin around Y/n’s neck. With Y/n hands came to comb through Yennefer's hair. A small pull here and there that would cause a deep groan and moan to come from Yennefer.  

Geralt couldn't help himself. He pulled his cock out from his trouser. Red mushroom tipped cock that was smeared with pre-cum. Leaking practically right down his hand. He felt drained and he hadn’t even cum yet. But the scene that was happening in front of him was sending him over the edge. Yennefer had teased her fingers down to Y/n’s clit. Her folds making the most delicious wet noises. Geralt watched as Yennefer fingers disappeared and reappeared a coat of slick them.  

Geralt was drowning in the scent of sex, all while he watched the two girls. Yennefer finger fucking Y/n. Both of them moaning into each other mouths. A load was coming fast and hard, as Geralt continued to pump his cock. Teasing himself, his hand getting tighter around his cock before he would look back up. Finding Yennefer eyeing him through the large enough crack in the door. All while she kept her fingers deep within Y/n’s soaking pussy. A wink from her as Geralt pumped his cock, he was so close.  

Cut off when a puff of purple magic drifted up to the door. Slamming it shut. There he was standing up against the wall, holding his cock in his hand. So close to the edge, Yennefer was a bitch sometimes, but it was the best feeling in the world.  

--- 

Geralt was a little surprised the next time he was in room with you. You were drunk, not like you didn’t know what was happening. He wasn’t that sick to just fuck you and then leave you in an old ratty bed. You had never noticed just how much bigger Geralt was compared to you. He was so big, large enough hands that you had many dreams about his fingers sinking into your pussy. All you thought about was Geralt. Although he was a big man, that lead you to wonder just how big his cock was under those skin tight trousers he wore no matter what.  

Large shoulders that all you could imagine was grabbing onto them while he fucked you hard and rough. Up against the wall outside the bar, that had been a large dream of yours. Had it been a bad idea, no? You even thought that it might happen tonight. You wondered, you hoped that it would. Yennefer had talked about her and Geralt. How huge his cock was, just how much control he would have over your body.  

The words circled your mind just like the alcohol did. Your veins pumping with the idea of sex and the scent of alcohol. “Geralt, you’re so hot did you know that.” You spoke. The booth was tinier than you remembered it being when you first walked into the tavern. But you weren’t mad, you were leaning up against him, shoulders touching, knees grazing together. The tavern was busy, nobody was able to hear your words as Geralt chocked on his drink. His face was always stoic, so it was amazing to see the expression of shock. Curious to what Geralt was think you continued to talk. “Just so hot that all I can think about is just how big that cock of yours is.” You said creeping hands and even your body over into his lap. He swallowed his drink, looking over at you finally. Yellow eyes looking into yours.  

In a whimper “I wanna know all the dirty things you can do, Geralt.” You spoke. You’ll never know if that’s what broke the thinning string between Geralt or if it was your hands that cupped his cock squeezing him perfectly. You’d had never seen Geralt get up so fast, that you thought you had done something wrong, but you were far from right.  

Hell, you had never been dragged off to a room so quickly.  

Dragging you up the stairs, you always forget that’s there's little room up there. Little room that aren’t meant for the giant of person that Geralt is. The room isn’t meant for him, so what makes him think that the shitty bed will be able to hold him and you.  

Geralt dumps all of his belongs on the floor. Trousers that look like he’s uncomfortable, you stare right there. Your cheeks are warm to the touch and you can’t manage to catch your breath all because you were finally getting what you had been dreaming of.  

Was this really happening? Was he really going to fuck you just because you had pressed a few nerves? Had he been thinking about what you tasted like? Had he been thinking what it you be like to fuck you hard, so hard that the people below them would groan at the loud moans and breaking of furniture?  

You shivered at the thought. The thoughts. They swirled around your mind that you hadn’t even noticed that Geralt was already undressing you. A dress falling down your firgure. The lace up corset had been discarded... More like destroyed a large rip in the fabric. A groan as the fabric fell caused you to come back to reality. All in your thoughts you hadn’t notice that Geralt had discarded his own shirt.  

Muscles on full displace for you and only you to see, touch and lick. Geralt looked like a damn god. Toned and all there for you to touch. Your fingers had a mind of their own. Going out to reach for his body, he was so cold but it was great contrast to the heat that was erupting from your body.  

He dragged the both of you over the bed. The back of your knees hitting the small bed underneath you. “You look so damn good. Perfect little tits for me to suck on.” Geralt said laying you down nicely on the bed, his knee coming to sit between your open legs. You were in heaven, he smelt like fucking heaven and it was intoxicating. His mouth landed on your pulse point, eyes rolling back into your head. Your hand came up to tangle in his long silver hair. Suck, Geralt did on everything, every bit of skin he was able to find with you laying there just for him to take.  

Your tits were his favorite, sucking, teasing, and playing with him as he licked at your skin. “Gods you’re just so tiny, just a fuckable little thing, all for me to have for my own.” He said as he lifted up your tit. His eyes were glazed over with something you’d never seen before. Was the idea of having sex with you? Or was that Geralt had waited just as longer, if not longer to finally get you underneath him? You’ll never know, but it’s not really important is it.  

Not when he’s stripping himself of his trouser his cock hitting his tone stomach. The smack was enough to makes you soaked right there, not that you hadn’t been. You could imagine what you looked like under Geralt. Bruised with little nips here and there across your skin, dark red and purples hickey where Geralt had sucked at your skin trying desperately to get all of you in his mind. Like he didn’t want to forget you.  

You had never been teased like Geralt was teasing you. Just standing there, looking over at you. As he teasing the tip of his cock at your soaked pussy. He was drowning in the feeling, he was trying so hard to not just sink in, growing exasperated. You lunged forward wrapping your legs around his waist. There was no more teasing anymore. His cock felt like it was ripping you apart. “Fuck Y/n, so tight. Just for me. Just for me to fuck right.” He groaned out. His hand falling beside your head, the pace was nonsexist but you knew what was coming. Once Geralt was at full hilt it was fair game to fuck you with all of his strength. Your walls sucking him in with every thrust, your eyes rolling into the back of head.  

Your moans filled the room, probably falling past the walls and down the stairs for everyone to hear. Neither of you cared. Geralt continued to fuck you groaning each time, his cock continuing to nudge at your womb. The feeling had you right at the edge already and you were loving it all. Loving his hand that switched from leaning on the bed to grabbing your throat. “You gonna cum all over my cock Y/n?” Geralt groaned as your pussy fluttered around his cock. You moaned, but the thrusts stopped and instead his cock was still. “I want an answer Y/n.” Geralt said turning my head to look up at him. You were so drunk on the sex, that you did just what you were told. “I’m so close, just keep fucking me... Please Geralt, please just.” You said through breathy moans.  

“Such a good little slut, a good little slut that wants to cum.” Geralt said, his thrusts coming back to a nice rhythm. Your vision went white and all you heard was the grunting of Geralt above you and then the breaking of the bed. Geralt was fucking you so hard that the frame of the bed had broken. A hand came to wrap it around your waist. Picking you up as Geralt continued to use you til his cum slipped deep in your womb.  

Had Yennefer meant for that to happen? No she hadn’t meant for it to happen that way, but it was driving her insane. THe constant back and forth between the three of them. After she caught Geralt watching her and Y/n, she was more then okay with creating a nice little spell for Y/n, and Geralt to finally fuck each other. A spell that had caused a few damages to the tarven that they were in that night. 

Yennefer would never call herself a jealous person but the things that Geralt and Y/n, did that night was all she talked about. Y/n loved that her dreams had finally come true, she talked about just how big Geralt was, how he had made her cum three times that night. She was starting to hate the fact she had shared her Y/n. Shared the body precious little body that was Y/n’s.  

Jealous of Geralt would never admit that. Jealous that she hadn’t used her spell, her ruse to get Geralt to fuck her instead. Yes, that’s why. Was that why Yennefer was up in the last night hours coming up with yet another spell, a cast that would make all their dreams come true. After Y/n and Geralt had returned from their night in the tavern yes all she talked about was Geralt fucking her, breaking things and then doing it two more times. Y/n also talked about the fact she never got to chock on his cock.  

Had Yennefer created a sex monster with Y/n. She was addicted to the feel, the way the highs come and would go through her body. She was obsessed with everything. So, she asks herself again, what was she doing in the dead of night creating this spell.  

Well, she fulfilling her needs and Y/n’s. With the greatest fix of them all. 

Geralt of Rivia.  

Her spell went out with a hitch. Spreading between the three of them. A night that had been a tiresome one. It brought cool and deep sleep, that's when she did it. The purples hues could be seen drifting around the room, that night Yennefer went to sleep for the first time feeling refreshed and pleased with her work.  

The next night after the spell is when shit hit the fan. In the best way possible. There's a deep grunt that comes from Geralt, he’s itching to get out trouser. Yennefer can hear the desperate feeling, it’s the same feeling she’s got going on right now. Her cunt flutters around nothing, but the thought of Geralt's tongue diving deep within her cunt is sending her into overdrive. Y/n can also be seen shifting and rubbing her thighs together, itching to get some sort of relief.  

A little moan falls from Y/n’s mouth. It’s enough to tip the scale. Geralt is stripping himself of his clothes. Trouser and shirt flying through the air landing in a growing pile of Yennefer's dress. Then there's Y/n who’s still rubbing her thighs together to get some sort of traction. She desperately, teasing herself. Her fingers playing with her tits squeezing them through her dress. The two watch her tease and play with herself. Yennefer can’t help herself, so she leans over kissing Geralt hot on the mouth. Geralt can’t figure out who to pay attention to. His mouth is on Yennefer's mouth, but the corners of his eye is watching Y/n grope at her tits.  

“She’s so fucking hot isn’t she?” Yennefer asks Geralt. The kiss ending. Geralt's bits his lip, looking between him. “I have an idea.” Geralt says. Walking over to Y/n he pulls her from her frantic teasing. “You wanna help me with my idea doll?” Geralt asks Y/n, she’s quick to nod her head, wanting nothing mor then to be back in Geralt's arms. The only one that’s not naked is Y/n, so with the help of Yennefer and Geralt they are quick to undress her. Just like always her tits bounce when the dress fabric passes them.  

“So, what’s your idea Geralt?” Yennefer asks him. He lays down showing her instead of saying anything more. His cock is standing at attention waiting for a mouth or a cunt to seep down or into. The two most beautiful women are standing in front of him. “Y/n what did you say you were mad you didn’t get a chance to do?” Yennefer asks Y/n, she was exposing her but that didn’t matter not right now.  

“I wanted to suck Geralt cock but didn’t get the chance to.” She says sweetly. Geralt groans and his cock twitches from the words. “Well come over here sweet thing.” Geralt's says putting out a hand to guide Y/n over to his cock. “Fuck your mouth is so good.” Geralt says as Y/n kitten licks and sucks at his tip. Yennefer stands and watches all of this. She’s loving the way that Y/n is practically just a little fuck toy for Geralt to use right now, but she wants Geralt's swearing mouth on her cunt more than anything.  

“Geralt?” She speaks. Her words are more seductive. “Fuck, yeah Yen.” Geralts is already half lidden with Y/n sucking his cock. But with a quick motion of her body swinging around his body and up to his head are throwing a loop in his groans and moans. It causes a twitch in his cock when he sees Yennefer's soft cunt above him. Y/n’s moans at the twitch and sucks harder around his cock.  

“Fuck Yen, you have such a pretty little pussy, don’t you?” He says, his tongue poking out through his teeth. He’s desperately trying not to buck into Y/ns mouth with her constant moaning and gripping of his over sensitive cock. “Will you eat me out Geralt?” Yennefer asks him. She just wants to ride his face. She wants to come all over his lips and cheeks. She wants to remember the feeling of his tongue fucking her. She wants to have that toe-curling orgasms. Like she did so many years ago when they first met.  

The slurping sounds can be heard from behind her as Geralt slams her down on his face. The force is so hard that it takes the breath out of her. She moans almost automatically at the feeling of his lips and tongue playing with her pussy. Yennefer feels just a little bad that Y/n isn’t getting any pleasure but she assumes that the cock in her mouth is enough to keep going till the dawn of time.  

That night, Geralt pulled enough orgasms out of the two girls that he can’t even touch them gently to take care of them without them melting them. At one point Yen, and Y/n are both licking and sucking at Geralts cock. Cupping his balls causing his deep groaning to turn whinny and high.  

At least they aren’t dancing around each other anymore.  

Completed on 12/30/22

Posted on: 12/31/22

The Heros-

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