#geralt x brothel!reader

[l4long-winded]

i. the freefall (ergo, the beginning)

summary: you're bored with the available clientele you're scheduled to appease. you're on your way out of the tavern when you stumble upon, literally and figuratively, geralt of rivia. how long had he been sitting there? (geralt of rivia x afab!reader)

reflection: i couldn't sleep and i had the idea for this lodged in my brain. it has undergone little editing, but persevere. there is some story in there... kinda. enjoy, and feedback is always encouraged and appreciated.

warnings: brothel!reader, mention of the word whore, cursing, dirty talk, oral, riding, destiny, p in v, overstimulation, praise, longwinded descriptions, obedience, teasing, girl talk, thumb sucking, original characters (please let me know if there are other warnings i need to add)

word count: 4,367

previously: prologue

( this work has been cross posted to ao3 )

It’s a busy night at the inn, there are scattering men jesting about their conquests and journeys at every turn, all talking at once until the voices meld into one another, white noise buzzing in your ears as you search across the bar for possible clients. It’s a birthday party of some sort and you’re degradingly a part of the package they signed up for in celebration of their mate… who is currently laying face down in his barstool right next to you. You grimace as you nudge his drooling face away from you, recalling how he fell asleep through a few minutes of conversation. Next door, a ten minute distance, is the brothel that you and your colleagues work for. Seeing that it’s only you and two other women, Janci and Talla, both of whom are chatting up possible prospects, you groan in your solitude and opt for a mug of mead to drown your sorrows away. Parties such as these hardly did your commission’s rate any good. By contract, you’re required to be paid by attendance. The bare minimum that is. If you wish to earn and save a living, you must actually participate and garner it, for the establishment and for your sake.

You hopelessly sigh as you watch the drunkards play games that make little to no sense, basic questions asked with the purpose of drinking no matter the answers presented. At this point, you don’t think you want to take any of them to bed in this state. They’re handsy when they’re inebriated and entitled in such a fashion that implicates how well you can stay in character. You stand from the stool, prepared to head out and confess your weakness, your failures back home, the door beckoning you up ahead behind a shirtless man with an overgrown beard. It’s about time to cut your losses and stay up in bed disappointed rather than sulk and do so in public at an inn’s tavern. Your heels click on the floor, four steps away from the bar, your hands lifting your heavy skirts so you can continue walking without restricted movement. In doing so, a man’s back bumps into your shoulder with enough force to knock you down to the floor.

You stagger as you fall backwards, aiming for the nearest seat as there were so many sporadically placed from men moving them about, switching spaces the more excited they became. Accurately, you do land into a seat, but it’s not a chair. It’s a person and you somehow missed him this entire time, he must’ve slipped in undetected very recently. It’s a miracle, you think, how such a large man slipped under your radar, how the cloak over his head conceals rigid, masculine features you believe prove the existence of the divine and how she has her favorites. You glance to the left to see sunglow emanating from this patron’s eyes, to see that sunglow completely focused on you, the woman who fell clumsily into his lap. The warmth of his irises contrasts the ice of his silver hair, of his pale skin tone, of the opaque he dons in body armor that’s digging into your side. Come to think of it, you don’t think you’ve ever seen anyone like him.

“No respect, fools of influence,” he mutters, baritone entrenched in his tone, gravel sitting nicely on his vocal chords. You’re glad your first experience hearing it is so close to your ear, it’s almost as if he intimately whispered it just for you alone. From how loud the inn currently is, he might as well have.

“You’re clear to stand,” he says and it’s tempting since it was a previous desire, but he’s drinking from his mug now, his adam’s apple bobbing as he gulps the liquid away. His jawline comes down when he’s done, the mug set down into the surface behind your body. You should stand, but you’re entranced by him, under a silent incantation. It’s not like he’s bolstering or pushing you away, either. His eyes trace your movements, how little they are, and he resolves something in his head as he allows his hand to travel to your hip. The steady weight of it tells you he’s made peace with the circumstance.

“Or stay there. Take your time.” He leans back into his chair, his legs outstretched to give you a better seat, more room of muscle mass that you can feel flex from the adjustment. You maintain your balance by hanging onto his shoulders, a slight gasp leaving your mouth from how your skirts ride up your knees and thighs. You catch his glance there and then his eyes are glued back to yours. Something in the pit of your stomach gnaws away at you from how intense his gaze is. You would usually shrink away from someone so intimidating, that is, if that same intimidation didn’t spur fire within you like it’s presently doing.

“What’s your name?” He asks, the hand on your hip coming back to memory as he strokes his thumb along you. You shiver at the contact, even somehow through the layers of fabric he’s doing this through.

“Clove,” you say, rehearsed as ever that he squeezes your hip for.

“Your real name?” He questions next, but you’re unable to divulge that much. You shake your head, and he nods his own in understanding to your surprise. He doesn’t even pry further than that, other men would have tried to and then thrown tantrums.

“So, Clove, any reason I shouldn’t usher you off my lap so I could acquire a room and get some sleep?” He nudges you, changing the subject. You could feel your confidence depleting sitting atop of him. It’s mimicking your luck for the night and you’re afraid he would refuse your advances. You’re afraid you wouldn’t be able to handle him.

“I… I’m not sure,” you stutter out. This isn’t your first time picking a man up, but god were you bad at it. None were as patient as this man is, who taps your hip, calling attention to his stroking again.

“You’re not?” One arm rounds your waist, trapping you into him. You swallow harshly as you shift your hips involuntarily. It’s friction that lights your core, a shaky sound slipping from between your lips. No one else turns to look, but the hardened tent beneath you illustrates how this man heard you loud and clear. He inhales with purpose, gathering the fabric of your skirt between his fingers. You don’t know what he could be thinking about, but he’s regarding you with hunger you’ve seen and are familiar with at least.

“I may…” you slide your hips back, locating his arousal to grind against. His grip on your hip tightens, limiting your gyrations, how dull the pressure is as you chase his clothed cock with your desperate attempts. He grunts into your ear and already you’re imagining this with less clothing, with less individuals, with less discussions surrounding you, with only each other in a private room to do whatever he wanted. “I may know how to ride.”

His hands cover both your hips, halting your motions much to your chagrin. Your first instinct is to believe you’ve done something wrong, your eyes tracing his facial features to decipher what it could have been, if you went too fast too soon, or maybe you moved in a way that he didn’t like. Except, as molten gold meets your gaze, it’s a thinner ring of pigment as he roots you into him, dilation honed in on you, caused by you. You had him the second you fell into his lap, it’s your revelation because you’ve barely said a thing and he’s sizing you up, gauging you like a predator and its prey. You could feel his cock throbbing like this, expanding with pulses right up against your leaking center. He’s interested, been interested, and he’s gripping your jaw into his hand.

“How much?” He all but growls.

Geralt of Rivia, the name of the man who signs his name for a room with you, lavs at your cunt until you’re preening and kanting your hips towards his face. It rocks you almost violently and it shocks you how quickly it happened. He licks you through the aftermath, caresses your pulsing button with the flat of his tongue in efforts to appease the sensation floating over you in deep waves. You mewl as he removes his mouth, as he sits up on his knees to wipe it with the back of his forearm and wrist. His lips still glisten with you after the fact, with the sweat coating his brow and thinly coating his free chest, his shirt and armor discarded carelessly through the eagerness you both let get the best of you. You fumbled with the key to the room as Geralt stood behind you, his voice promising of what he would do, dropping in octave and volume as if you weren’t already alone, as if he were reciting a secret in confidence. Nerves visibly danced in your hands and he did nothing to help, amused by your struggling, cool and collected as his nose nuzzled against your neck and shoulder.

“You’re trembling,” he noted, “That won’t stop… I won’t stop.”

When you finally pried the door open, he displayed to you how little of his resolve he had left since he immediately pushed you up against it. His lips and teeth occupied themselves with your neck, your leg hooking him by the hip to bring him closer. He used the opportunity to lift you by it, doing so as if you weighed nothing, carting you to the bed to sit and pull your skirts up while he removed his upper layer of clothing. It’s quite a sight to recognize how the armor’s mold has been crafted to represent muscle, but it’s another to see just how much of it was hidden away under there. It’s like he somehow got bigger if it were even possible.

It’s prominent to you now as you stare up at him, skirts disheveled about your hips, thighs spread open, his form right in the middle of the space. He commands attention, the lantern of the room illuminating his features. He uses two fingers to trail over the seam of your entrance, gathering the wetness, your voice surrendering to a whimper. You will yourself not to close your legs from how stimulating it feels post-orgasm, you don’t know if you’ve ever been so sensitive to touch in your life.

“So soft,” he murmurs. The pads of his fingers are rough, but astonishingly gentle, perfect for friction, not perfect for recreation. It’s not possible to replicate with your own hand. You’re just going to have to make this night count for all it’s worth.

Geralt stalks the weight of his body over you, his hands caging you in from how they plant on the mattress below at either side of your head. He stares at you without saying anything. He observes you cautiously, doesn’t move a muscle despite how you’re panting underneath him. It’s because of how wound up your body is, how short of breath you are from chasing and reveling in your high thanks to him and his skillful mouth. A mouth you want to kiss, but there are rules in this, rules that you can tell he knows without having to be told. Just as he’s not your first client, you’re not his first whore. So, you feel a surge of pride at the slick right under his bottom lip, at how it descends to his chin. You wish you could taste his tongue to taste yourself on it having never done that before, but you’ll settle for the next best thing.

Your hands cup his face as they would if they were bringing someone in for a kiss and Geralt allows it. He, and all his power, doesn’t stop you as you guide his head down towards you. He’s puzzled by what you’ll do, quizzical in his expression as you don’t attach your lips, but you do lick along your own lips as you conjure the courage to carry on with your plan. Then, you lap your tongue over your slick, what he missed still on his face. You can hear his knuckles crack from how he tightens his fingers into the sheets below. It’s fucking filthy, and he knows it, you’re sheepish as you fall back down into the bed, staring up at him with doe eyes that he sees right through.

“Wrap your legs around me,” now not necessarily said aloud, but punctuating his sentence in essence with the minacious look he levels you with. You do as you’re told, your legs claiming his torso, and suddenly, the world spins and you’re sprawled on top of him. Geralt grabs a nearby pillow and he maneuvers it under his head, gesturing after to your spread thighs on him.

“You’re going to ride me,” he begins, “You’re going to show me what you know.”

You feel dumbfounded. It’s what led you to the bedroom, but there’s extra pressure at stake. You want to please him as he’s pleased you and now it appears to be a tall order in comparison. You’re not sure how you can rise to the occasion, trembling from how good his tongue felt on you, from how needy he’s rendered you when it should be the other way around.

“But I’m… shaking,” you admit. It’ll hinder your performance. Unlike him, you’re not at full strength and you’ve been blindsided by his prowess.

“I’m aware. You’ll sheath my cock wonderfully,” he reassures you, an encouraging hand on your hip making you believe him. If he praises you like that again, you’ll believe you could fly and leap off a tower if he professes it.

You undo the laces of his trousers and summon your ability to focus on the task without paying mind to your clumsy fingers. He’s patiently watching you from above. It’s conflicting. One, because he’s giving you free reign to dictate the pace and you’re unfamiliar with such a phenomenon. And two, you’ve been told and taught for years that a man should be writhing and squirming to get inside you, that’s what desire is. You fear the possibility of desiring him more than he’s desiring you. Surely, it’s insecurity with someone so experienced, but you’re the one being paid here. You’re striving to honor him, to satisfy him and earn his coin, not make him feel as if he was robbed.

Soon, his laces are undone and you utilize your hand to slip him free of his trousers. He hisses at the contact, his hips slightly shifting into your hand. The girth of him in your palm throbs, a pearly substance dribbling from his tip in thick beads that run down his shaft. You fight the urge to taste him and shuffle your skirts up to align yourself with him. Geralt’s hands find your hips to aid you in lowering yourself down, the fat head of him breaching your entrance, nudging your walls apart past a limit you didn’t know you had. You brace your hands on his chest so you don’t fall forward and gravitate away from the deep stretch his cock’s bending you into. He lets out a grunt as you gradually slide down until he’s at the hilt, your hips rocking enough to create minor adjustments for comfort, for your knees, and curiously, he mutters “fuck” in reaction. Your head snaps up to assess his features and he’s already staring right back at you. Only, his eyebrows are creased and his hands compress the hold they have on your hips. You squeak, your walls hugging him tighter in that instance and he pulses faster, more incessantly. You can almost feel it on your clit.

“You better move… before I move you,” he relents. Finally, a tell that he’s drawn up as tight as you, his control slipping by the seconds.

You do as he wills, your back erect as you sit up tall for him. You lift your hips up and then lower yourself onto him, his cock spearing deep inside with every fall downwards. It’s heaven being split this wide open for Geralt, hearing the obscenities that fall from his lips as you repeatedly sink on him. He’s hot and swollen inside of you and you can feel every ridge of him from how his width pushes up against your tightening walls. You moan to the ceiling as he separates his thighs and outstretches them in the same fashion that he did earlier with you in his lap (well, how different is this, really?) and it causes your own to stretch further. You sink lower by proxy and it catches you so off guard that your upper body hangs forward, one hand on his pectoral, the other on his rib. You have a better view of his face this way, hair strands fall into your vision as you trace his eyes and continue your gyrations. Your mouth falls open as your hips crest back, impaling yourself on his length, watching the pleasure overtake his features as he groans along with you.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, you weren’t ly-... lying,” he sputters, his thumbs finding the junctions under your hip bones that he clutches and tests. Your flesh feels like it’s on fire and you double over, milking his cock without pause, digging your fingernails into his skin and the scar tissue you find collected there at your right hand. You mewl as he ruts his hips up into you, meeting you on the downstroke, jabbing beautifully at that bundle of nerves inside of you that you could never reach with your fingers, much less with other men. “Fuck-fuck, I want to fuck your mouth,” he rambles, discarding your hip from his hand so he could cup your cheek. The image springs to life in your head and you cry out as he cradles your chin, as you continue to desperately fuck yourself on him and corral your hips despite being bent over him.

His thumb traces over your lips, your moan vibrating into his skin. “You’d let me, wouldn’t y-you?” He dips his thumb into your mouth and you immediately latch on with roaring enthusiasm, the tip of your tongue licking the pad. “You’d let me f-fuck your mouth, gods, nngh,” you suck his thumb in tandem with your moving hips, “until I filled it, hm? Until I’ve f-filled it full of m-me.” You have no choice but to moan at the lewdness of it, against his thumb still in your mouth. His fingers tighten on your jaw and you feel like you might float away at this rate, slick on him, lightly coated in perspiration from gliding along his cock. “Just like I’m going to pump y-you full right now,” he growls, removing his thumb and hand so he could push you back by your shoulder.

You sit up on him and take the hint, maneuvering faster on him, humping him with voracity you didn’t know you were capable of. You’re chasing after another high at the same time that you want to deliver him to his. As you busy yourself with your speeding hips and your thighs silently crying out in protest from the strain, you watch Geralt’s hands pushing your skirts away from your center, where the two of you connect. It reminds you of when you were trying to get the key into the lock earlier, frustration in his movement that doesn’t resemble the steel control he had before. Unlike you, however, he doesn’t keep trying until the skirts are in a suitable position for him… he simply tugs and you hear definitive rips resound throughout the room. The fabric is finally out of his way so he could buff his thumb, the same one that was in your mouth, the same one still doused in your saliva, over your keenly sensitive clit. He runs along it with your hip rolls and it’s perfect, satisfying, mind-bending, and then it’s all too fucking much at once.

You croon as you climax, mindlessly rocking your hips through it, and thankfully, Geralt doesn’t move his thumb over your pulsating clit. It’s so stimulated that you know your spine would stutter in reaction. He just keeps it there, nobly letting you orgasm with warmth and security you deserve, driving his hips up to settle his cock deep within you as he cums. Hard. His neck strains as he moans, as he fills you to the brim just like he prophesied moments ago. The flood seeps from where he’s still buried inside, oozing from your outer lips down to his base and pelvic bone. You feel boneless, and that much is shown with how you crumble on his chest, panting in the afterglow of ultimate euphoria. Geralt draws shapes on your back, the thrum of breathing heard as you both come back down together.

You can hear his heartbeat like this. It’s not erratically beating like yours is, but the tempo is heavy. Like the heart of a horse.

“Skirts aren’t cheap,” you whisper, frowning as you think of the new slits Geralt made in your attire, right down the middle where you conceal your money maker under. Said money maker who’s currently raw and gushing, beaming with delight of the cock that shreds away her vacancy.

“Hmm.”

Geralt doesn’t say anything. You already know he’s a man of few words. From how short your exchange had been earlier in the tavern, you understand how he likes to get to the point. You’re grateful for it since you loathed the small talk, the flirtatious personality you had to don on for simple-minded suitors who fell into your hands. If you had known of his bluntness, you would have fallen into his lap sooner.

You’re comforted. Oddly so. He pushes your hair away from your shoulder and works his mouth against it. Your eyes slip closed. It tickles, his stubble does, but it’s… it feels different. Geralt is different.

You’re suddenly moaning again as Geralt thrusts up into you. He’s still hard, again proving to you that he’s different because it’s rare for men to have this much stamina, to be hard again after that much stimulation. His strong arms hold you to him and you weakly cast your eyes up at him. He thrusts once more, your head hiding in the crook of his neck as you brokenly mewl for more. More, more, more, you think, and as if he can hear your brain, he snaps his hips up.

“You’re shaking,” he recites, humor in his tone. You gasp as he shifts you to your back, his cock still inside. He hooks your knee up at his hip. “Like a fucking leaf.” He pounds into you, then, with no abandon, your tight channel slick with his cum.

He did warn you he wouldn’t stop.

You’re sitting with your girls, listening as they chatter on and on about their bouts from last night. They’re mostly complaints and usually, that’s how it goes. You join in, they take your side, you all condemn men, and then you laugh. It’s a routine of the morning after. Though, this morning, you’re having trouble focusing on any word coming from Janci’s mouth. You just keep thinking about Geralt, how you woke up distorted and alone in your room. The bed was still warm and it gave you indication that it hadn’t been long since he left. A bag of coin sat in his empty spot and it’s bittersweet because it’s good payment, but it certainly doesn’t compare to the man’s body it replaced. You held it to your naked chest as you recollected the events, much like you’re doing now as Janci speaks, and then dressed so you could deliver it to your madam Grix.

Speaking of the devil, you can see Grix pass by the table out of the corner of your eye.

You realize your name’s been called about four times by Janci and the image of Geralt sliding his tongue over your clit slowly fades away from your mind’s eye. “What was… what was the question?”

There’s a fit of laughter. You know it’s at your expense since you were daydreaming, and you would really like to get back to that, but you wait for it to clear so Janci could fill you in.

“I asked how it went for you. It’s like you disappeared. One second you were alone at the tavern and then none of us heard from you for the rest of the night!”

“Oh, I heard her last night,” Cecil says into her cup, her utterance low, the giggles fleeing from mouths yet again.

You could feel your face burning at the accusation. You don’t have time to defend yourself as a clink of metal resounds on top of the table. A bag of coin sits in front of you, you all look at madam Grix standing there with her usual grimace. She pats your shoulder.

“Your witcher was generous,” she says. The sound of the word witcher ironically ceases all conversation among the girls. They stare at you blankly, no longer in amusement. This is… this is your commission. You just wish Grix didn’t hand it off to you in front of the others. You can just feel their eyes burning on the bag as your own head tries to decipher what the hell a witcher was.

You don’t say anything else, you just reach for the bag, thank madam Grix, and you stow away to your room. You open the bag and place its contents with your other savings. This is not the amount you agreed on, you thought it felt too weighted earlier. It’s more actually, and you’re unsure why madam Grix let you keep it, she’s notoriously greedy. Then, at the bottom of the bag, you find a scrap of paper. It’s in handwriting you don’t recognize, but you know who it belongs to. And it makes you smile.

For your skirts, it reads.

#henry cavill #no longer occupation #the witcher #geralt of rivia #geralt x brothel!reader #geralt x reader #the witcher fic #the witcher x reader #l4l.writes

[ultralightpoe]

Spellbound - Geralt

Spellbound - Geralt

Authors Note: I’m back because I quit my job and have a better schedule at the new job 

Warnings: semi smut 

Word Count: 4012

Description: geralt fights his feelings until you get trapped in a spell 

brothel worker! reader x geralt 

Enjoy!

Geralt was going to tear whoever did this to you to pieces. He would gouge their eyes out and make them eat them. 

That was just one of the thoughts that rang through his mind as he cradled you in his arms, your nose bleeding onto his now naked torso, the shirt you had torn off of him a mere moment ago nearly in the fire. 

This was not supposed to be how this happened, this wasn’t supposed to happen at all. He had made himself stay away for this exact reason, everything he loved was destroyed. 

The witcher had always been against you joining the group. 

You had been a brothel worker when you came upon Jaskier six months ago, walking the streets with achy legs from a long shift, smelling of the salt water you had bathed in when you saw a group of men holding him up and beating on him. 

A yell had crossed your lips and without thinking you picked up a log near your feet, launching at the men and swinging anywhere you could to scare them off, hitting a couple of them harshly before they finally scampered away leaving you standing in the mud with a log and the poor fool laying bloody and beaten on the ground. 

You had brought him to your tiny rooms at the brothel, helped him clean up and soon enough he was asking you to join them. You hesitated for a moment, watching him use one of your rags to dot at the cuts along his face before shrugging. 

Anything is better than the life of a brothel worker, right?

Wrong. 

Brothels didn’t have the annoying attitude of Geralt the fucking Witcher. Okay well some did since Jaskier admitted to Geralt being a frequent guest of them, but you had never seen him and you wished you never met him either. 

He spent every waking moment snapping at you, or blatantly ignoring you when you were trying to ask questions. It was either you didn’t exist or everything you did was wrong, and you could never figure out why the way he treated you bothered you so fucking much. 

Men had done far worse to you in that brothel, but Geralt giving you the cold shoulder nearly brought you to tears? What?

Then again none of the men that came to the brothel were like Geralt at all. None of them had those melting golden eyes or the firm touch of a protector, none of them could turn a sword in their hands the way he does or make anyone feel at ease in his presence. 

Well……anyone but you. 

Maybe he knew you had feelings for him, maybe he hated your guts. Many reasons why he never wanted to talk to you filled your head and none of them were good. 

You spent your days obsessing over a man that barely glanced back at you, your horse in the back of the group with Jaskier always a force between you both. 

Geralt takes a moment to tie the corset of your dress so you weren’t exposed before pulling you into his arms and laying you on his bed, moving to grab a cloth from the basin in the corner of the inn room. 

When he returns to your side he takes a chance to slide the hair from your face, swiping the damp cloth along the blood trail your nose left in soft strokes as he watches you sleep. He would make sure you were breathing and comfortable before he went out and broke some limbs. 

It had been six months of that behavior, and it was truly beginning to wear you down. 

The days were spent either passive aggressively ignoring him back for scoffing at any mistake of yours he pointed out. Today was a passive aggressive silent game. 

He had woken you up by snapping in your face and the months of travel and anger were beginning to catch up so you had slapped his hand out of your face, watching a small amount of shock fill his face before his eyes narrowed in anger. 

“You overslept….again.” In the beginning you would have a snarky retort, something mocking his breath or face, but now you merely rolled your eyes and turned your back to him as you packed up your bedroll. He doesn’t seem to understand your silent game since he tries to piss you off once more. “We are going to be behind if you keep sleeping like this.”

It would be so easy to turn around and tell him to shove off, but then he would know he had that effect so you simply picked you belongings up, fixed your boots and walked to the horses where Jaskier sat atop his own. 

The bard gives you a knowing look as you mount your own horse after fixing everything onto it, legs swinging with a natural ease and a slight warmth on your thigh. When you look down you see Geralt's hand placed on it, and you realize he had helped you up. “Are you angry with me? Or have you lost your voice?”

“Just matching the treatment given to me.” You snark, a feeling of pride in your chest when you see him all but snarl. You kick the horse into gear after that, this time taking the lead as his hand slips from your thigh and he rushes to Roach. 

By the time he catches up he makes Roach walk alongside your horse, his face furious. “The treatment I gave you?”

You hum out, moving to speed up your horse but Geralt is too quick, within moments he has the reins of your horse in his hand, pulling on them until you are close enough for your thighs to touch. 

“Answer me.”

You hum again, your heartbeat rising and you wonder if he can hear it when his eyes cast down to your chest before looking back at you. 

“Humming is not an answer.”

You hum once more, moving to snatch the reins but his hand reaches out to grab your jaw. “I need to hear your voice.”

You slap his hand away once more and snatch the reins, giving him a glare before moving forward. 

“I don’t understand.” He grunted to Jaskier later that day, fixing his travel pack on roach as the bard leans against the same post the horses were tied to. You had gone to the market to grab some necessities and when Geralt demanded to go with you he had been met with another empty hum and Jaskier had told him to back down. 

“She’ll avoid attention if she isn’t traveling with a witcher, not to mention she knows how to bargain for cheaper prices when she isn’t flanked by your glare.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He growls, watching the bard smirk.

“The market workers like the attention she can give them-”

“We agreed she didn’t have to do any of that stuff if she traveled with us.”

“She does this willingly, and even so it’s not the same as in the brothel. She doesn’t have to offer up her-” A heavy growl slips from Geralt and Jaskier chooses not to finish his sentence, instead rolling his eyes and moving to his own horse. “I think you would be better off if you just told her you love her.”

“I do not-”

“Oh hush. I see you watch her sleep every morn, then I see you yell at her for waking up late because you forgot to wake her up.” He laughs. “And I see you hover whenever she mounts and dismounts Lugo. Not to mention the way you give her the bigger rations of whatever we eat and-”

“Fuck off.” 

Jaskier takes the win and turns away from the witcher, fiddling with the lute while Geralt tries to make himself look busy. 

After a moment of silence the witcher stands quickly. “Why won’t she speak to me?”

A laugh escapes the bard once more. “Because you ignore her any chance you get?”

“I do not.” 

“Well I know that. But she doesn’t, because you never even bother talking to her. You’d rather silently pine like a lost-” He trails off when he sees you emerge from the hills, sacks of produce in your arms with a small smile on your face. “Fresh hells.”

“The men were ready to lose their money today boys!”

“Did they bother you?” Geralt growls and you give him a glare back before shoving the sack of apples into his chest. 

Once he is sure you are breathing properly he covers you with the blanket, before moving to grab his sword, careful not to wake you up. 

You spend the rest of the day simply ignoring them both, too busy being proud of the way you scammed the merchants and all you had to do was lift your skirt to your knee. 

Geralt kept Roach near your own horse, and Jaskier took the back for once, all of you traveling in silence until Jaskier begins to whine. 

“It has been forever since we slept indoors.”

Silence follows for a moment before Geralt turns to glare at him. “And Y/n just saved us so much coin we can each get a room in the next town.”

“This is true! I did!” You laugh, turning to look at Jaskiers mopey face. 

“Fuck.” Geralt grunts, turning back to the road so he doesn’t have to look at either of you again. 

Jaskier is still sitting in the hall with his lute, strumming softly in the drunken daze as the crowd they had gathered earlier has finally died down. 

“Bard.” Geralt grunts, trying to get his attention. But Jaskier doesn’t move, simply keeps his eyes closed as he plays a chord. So Geralt kicks his chin. 

The bard before him jumps up with a shout before his eyes land on the white haired witcher before him. 

“I got us all rooms and I found you in a hallway.” 

“I was merely resting for a moment.” He sighs, reaching down to grab the ale mug filled with coins he earned from his performance. “It’s hard to be a -”

The silver amulet is shoved in his face before he can finish the sentence, eyes widening as Geralt grunts. “Who gave this to Y/n?”

“The charming blonde who had been dancing with her all night while you sat in the back and glared.”

“Where did he disappear to?”

“You mean after you snatched her?”

By the time the three of you made it to the next town your ass was worn from the saddle and you were a bit wobbly when you got down, Geralt standing behind you and you scoffed as you looked at him. “Waiting for me to fall so you can lecture me?”

He opens his mouth to respond and you find yourself excited that he is actually about to answer back before he huffs and glares before disappearing. And once more you are left feeling like nothing. 

You watch as he disappears into the tavern before turning to Jaskier. “I asked around at the market…”

“About?”

“About work.”

“Ah!” He smiles, moving to lean on you. “And what did you find for our dear witcher to do?”

“Not for him actually.” Your throat tightens as you struggle to find the words. Jaskier doesn’t seem to catch on to your solemn mood. 

“Oh? A performance for me? I’m sure I can prepare a lullaby or two-”

“For me.” You interrupt, pulling yourself away from him and crossing your arms uncomfortably as he stares at you. 

“For…..you?” You nod at his question, trying to gain some power here. “What do you-”

“Madame Horchels brothel is in this town, she is famous within word and if I met with her then I am sure I would be set up with a room and a hot meal a day-”

“Why in fucks sake would you ever want to go back to that?”

Tears were welling in your eyes as he stared at you and you struggled to find words. “I am just……tired of feeling useless and pathetic……”

“So you would go back to whoring?”

“You don’t have to act so disgusted!” You snap, shame filling you at his reaction. “I never saw you complaining about my past when I was flirting with guards or-”

“I am sorry, I never meant to judge. I just think…..” He sighs out and rubs his face aggressively before moving to pull you into a hug. “It’s been a cold couple days. How about we go in and get a drink, a good night's rest in actual beds before we make decisions? Yeah?”

A hooded figure passes you both to get into the tavern and you simply shrug. “I think my mind is made up Jask.”

“I think it would be a mistake and we would miss you terribly……..okay I would miss you terribly.”

“Why would you miss her?” Geralt snaps out from a couple steps away, eyes squinted in an angry manner. He had originally come to snap at you both to watch your surroundings but had caught the tail end of the conversation instead. 

“Y/n here was just rushing a decision. But we aren’t gonna talk about that, right now a round of ale on me.”

“You spent all your coin two towns ago on new strings for your lute.” Geralt reminds, eyes never leaving your figure. 

“Then I shall make more coin!” He cheers, pulling you into the tavern and snatching the room keys from Geralt. 

Things escalated from there, and any time Geralt asked about their conversation they changed the subject and he was beginning to lose his mind. Were you okay? Why would Jaskier miss you? Why was he so worried about this? He watched you drink all night, ignoring him, and he watched as many of the men in the tavern asked you for a dance. He knew none of the men were a threat, and you knew how to handle them, even if it got out of control he could have his sword to their throat with a mere minute. So he didn’t really pay attention to your dance partners. 

 But one in particular caught his attention, the hooded figure that had walked too close to you both earlier had emerged from his corner and asked for a dance, and something in Geralt screamed for him to go and get you away. But he didn’t, instead he sat back and drank, allowing you room to have fun. 

The blonde stranger whirled you around and spun you and bought you drink after drink. Your eyes glazed over and your smile was wide enough to split your face, a jealous feeling crept into Geralts chest and the urge to punch the stranger grew and grew as Jaskier played song after song. 

“Can I get you another drink?” 

“Hmm?” Geralts attention snaps from your figure to the tavern wench beside him, giving him a small smile. 

“Another ale?”

“I think I am fine. Thank you-” She doesn’t wait, walking away since she didn’t get more coin and when Geralt sneaks his attention back to you he can’t help but slam his empty mug down. 

The stranger had you turn around with you lifting your hair as he placed an amulet on your neck, kissing your shoulder and before Geralt could stop himself he lunged to grab you. 

One moment you are giggling about the gorgeous, the next you are thrown over Geralts shoulder as he shoves the gorgeous fae away from you, hauling you up the stairs of the inn with no care. 

“Put me down!” You shout, slamming your hand into his back as he walks through the first hall then up the next flight of stairs. 

“You’ve had too much to drink.” 

“And you care why?”

“Because that man would take advantage.’ He growls. 

“Well he gave me a necklace, that’s how the business works.” You giggle, reaching up to touch the necklace but the world whirls once more as Geralt places your feet on the ground and pushes you into the wall. His hand stopped your head from hitting the wood but the rest of you was pressed between him and the wall. 

“Don’t do that.” 

“Do what?” You ask breathlessly, watching his face with adoration. Had he always been so…..

“Joke about that. You need something then I will get it for you.” 

“What if I want the prettiest jewels in the kingdom?”

“Then I kill more beasts.” He was dead serious and the hazy feeling was taking over so before you know it you find yourself leaning in to whisper “What is I want an orgasm?”

A red tint crosses his neck but his face remains serious as he leans his head against yours to whisper. “Then you ask me.”

And for a moment you can’t breathe, you find yourself aching, every part of you wanting to touch him suddenly. But before you can he whispers once more. “But not tonight. My first time with you will be sober.” 

Then the wood behind you disappears and you realize he had pressed you against the door to your room. Landing in a ball on the floor he sends a small smile before slamming the door and the heat that had filled you dims for a moment. 

But just for a moment. 

You pull yourself up from the floor, moving to the bed before the aching returns and your body heats up twice as bad. Everything begins going hazy as a sweat covers you and then you lose it. 

“I need to go.” Geralt snaps, shoving Jaksier to the direction of the stairs. “You go watch her. Don’t let her make any more mistakes.”

“Where are you- Geralt? What happened?! Hello?!” Jaskier calls after the witcher, watching him storm through the tavern before slamming the doors on his way out. With a deep sigh the bard grabs his jacket and mug of coins before making his way to find the rooms. 

It had been an hour since he left you in your room and Geralt could not relax himself. Jaskier had just stopped singing and Geralt was still pacing the inn room, back and forth back and forth. 

The aching hard on he had refused to go away, the image of your dazed eyes all he could think about, and the way you whispered to him had him so close to snapping all together. But he didn’t, and you were safe in your room with him just two doors down. But the floorboards creaking by his door caught his attention, and he reached for the sword as the doorknob jiggled. 

Stepping towards it slowly as it creaks open only to reveal you, standing in the hall in nothing but your dress slip and a flushed face. “Geralt-” You moan out and his knees nearly buckle when you rush in and slam the door. 

The sword falls from his hands so he can catch you when you come hurdling to him, pulling him in for a harsh kiss. Your lips melt into his and you moan in victory when he kisses back, pressing yourself against him as your hands fly into his hair. 

His own hands find purchase on you hips, and before he can tell himself not to he moves them to start a grinding motion the both of your would like. It stays like this for a moment until you bite his lip on a particularly aggressive moan, pulling back to catch a breath as you press your hips into his harder than before. 

For a second he admires you, the way your face scrunches up in pleasure and the moans that he is pulling from your lips, letting out a heavy ‘FUCK’ when you circle your hips. 

“Pleasepleasepleaseplease.” You gasp out, hands dragging from his hair to his chest before you start tearing the clasps on his shirt, scratching it a bit in your struggle to get it off. “Ineedyou, it hurtssobad-” 

This makes him hesitate, pulling back a little just as you fling his shirt, your hands flying to undo the slip and he finally catches your eyes. Only they weren’t the eyes he had fallen in love with, instead they were a deep red. 

“Y/n?” He asks, heartbeat racing as he snatches your wrists in one hand, the other coming to grab you chin. “Look at me.”

“Geralt, please. It hurts.” You whine and the gem in the amulet glows the same red as your eyes. 

Dread fills him as he reaches down to tear it off you, the silver cutting you a bit before he chucks it across the room. 

He couldn’t breathe properly as he watched you come down from the spell, anger filling him. You hadn’t meant any of this, this had been a spell. 

He was a fucking fool. 

“Geralt?” You breathe out, taking in the room before looking at his shirtless torso and the small scratches you had made to get the shirt off. “What-”

And just like that you were gone. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head and your nose started bleeding as you passed out, he barely caught you before you hit the floor. “Fuck.”

You awake mid day- the sun blaring in through the blinds and you do your best to cover your eyes.  “Oh make it stop-”

“There are no covers for the window.” Jaskier sighs from where he is laying on the floor. “I tried stealing the blanket from you and you hissed at me.”

“Serves you right….” You mumble, taking in the room as you realize that last night hadn’t been a dream after all and a deep embarrassment fills you. 

“H-have…..have you seen Geralt?” You ask, leaning over the bed to look at him.

“He left around sunrise in a pissy mood.”

“Did he… did he say anything?” You felt like an utter fool, and you were doing your best not to be sick. 

“Said to watch you so you didn’t make any more mistakes.”  Jaskier shrugs before yawning. 

“He said that? He said mistake?” Your voice cracks as you wrap the blanket tighter around yourself. 

“He did. I assumed he caught you with the blonde gu- Y/n? What’s the matter?”

“I…… I have to go.” You rush out, jumping over him to leave the room. 

- - - - -

Geralt finds Jaskier waiting at the horses when he rides up, tired and cranky, and he gets even crankier when he sees that your horse is empty of all your travel bags. 

“Is she not awake? Do we need to get a healer?” He rushes out, launching from roach to get to the tavern only for Jaskier to hold the lute in front of him. 

“She woke up several hours ago, it’s nearly dusk.” 

“Then where is she?”

“Gone.”

“Gone?” His heart is racing too fast and he’s hoping that Jaskier starts laughing soon and this is all a joke. 

“I told her you said to make sure she didn’t make any more mistakes and she got really sad and started crying as she packed up.” He explains. “She went to this brothel and they wouldn’t let me in but they let her in and she came out to say bye soon after that.”

“She went to a brothel?!” He snaps, grabbing the collar of Jaskiers dress coat. 

“Don’t blame me! This is your doing!”

“How. So.”

“You were the one that made her feel worthless! Never looking at her and always in her business about her mistakes-”

“Her mistakes get her hurt, or worse, killed!”

“Then tell her that! Rather than yell at her all the time with no explanation-”

“Where is the brothel?”

“It’s no use.”

“Where. Is. The. Brot-”

“She made a deal! The madame owns her!”

“Not on my fucking watch.” Geralt snaps, mounting the roach in one fluent move before nodding to Jaskier. “Hurry.”

He had to get you. 

Part Two

#geralt x reader #geralt smut #geralt imagine #geralt angst #witcher #witcher smut #geralt of rivia #witcher angst #witcher imagine #witcher fanfiction #the witcher imagine #the witcher angst #the witcher smut #the witcher c reader #witcher geralt #henry cavill #Geralt Geralt Geralt #witcher season 3 #rory the frenchie

[negans-lucille-tblr]

Until Sunrise | Geralt of Rivia Drabble

Summary: Geralt doesn’t plan on leaving until sunrise. 

Rating: 18+ (Smut)

Pairing: Geralt x Reader (Y/N)

Tags: smut, prostitution, bathing, Geralt’s thick thighs, mentions of blood, thigh riding, p in v, sex, unprotected sex, orgasms

WC: ± 1K

A/Ns: Not new to smut, but new to Geralt so go easy 🥴🤣 Hope you enjoy my obligatory bathing Geralt turned smut offering to be accepted into The Witcher fanfic world ❤️

The Witcher Masterlist || Support my Writing Here

“Please, sir, allow me.”

Geralt scoffs to himself under his breath, but loud enough that she can hear it. He’s clearly amused by the very title she’s thrown his way. She knows she’s probably a little more coy than the other whores he’s used to, but that’s exactly how she likes to play it. 

“Do you know what I am?” he asks her, obviously still bemused as a smirk plays on his tempting mouth. 

“Of course,” she agrees, unable to stop the playful smirk from curling across her own full lips as she replies. “But you’re still going to pay me handsomely, are you not?” she adds, a playful glint in her eye as she wades through the water towards the witcher. 

She’s unable to take her eyes off of his broad, thick body, the way the blood soaks into his skin, the way the water ripples and laps against the tight muscles underneath, the slight curl in his pale blond hair as the steam of the bath dampens it. Y/N isn’t sure she’s ever seen a more perfect specimen before. If she thought she was pleased to have been selected by The Witcher when he entered the brothel earlier this evening, she’s even more pleased now she’s alone with him, naked and soaking in a warm bath together. 

Geralt’s eyes seem more golden in this lighting as she gets closer, and he brings his longs arms out to stretch them along the back of the bath, the muscles in his shoulders only bulging thicker, water evaporating from his skin before it has the chance to drip across the broad span of his biceps. 

Y/N reaches for a rag, wetting it in the hot water before bringing it to the witcher’s skin, dabbing at the dried blood staining it, careful to get every drop. A low hum vibrates through his throat and straight through Y/N’s core as he closes his eyes and takes a slow, deep breath, relaxing into her touch with ease. 

“Is it true what they say about you?” Y/N dares to ask, rewetting the cloth to bring it further across his shoulders, her fingers wrapping around his thick arm, digging into the impressive muscle as her thighs instinctively rub together under the guise created by the water. 

“What do they say?” he asks, his voice low and rumbling in his chest as he speaks, only serving to make Y/N even more desperate to feel him; taste him. 

“That your impressive stamina doesn’t end with fighting,” she smirks, watching as he slowly opens his eyes to look at her. 

He scoffs, staring directly into her eyes for a moment or two, and Y/N begins to wonder if she’s said the wrong thing and overstepped her line. But then a smirk grows wider on his lips. 

“Well I don’t plan on leaving here until sunrise,” he informs her matter-of-factly, before reaching for her wrist and pulling her closer, catching her before she can slip deeper into the water. 

He pulls her into his lap, her legs straddling his thick thighs, having to spread pretty far apart just to accommodate him, but she groans all the same, feeling his hands push into her hair, his large arms trapping her tight against his body. She can feel how hard he already is between her legs, trapped between her pelvic bone and his own. She reaches under the water, her hand seeking him out, her fingers wrapping around his length as she moans louder, realising they don’t even touch thanks to the girth. 

“You just keep on impressing me,” she quips, but Geralt only growls in response, tugging on her hair harder, pulling a whimper from her lips as she bucks her hips against him, her aching pussy dragging back and forth along his hard, muscular thigh. 

Another primal grunt escapes The Witcher as he lifts Y/N with ease, and when he drops her, it’s onto his cock as it sinks deep inside her, stretching her open with a burning pain she welcomes. Y/N moans, throwing her head back, her hair soaking in the hot water, her breasts pushing into his face as the stubble that adorns his chin scratches against her delicate skin. Geralt places chaste kisses to her chest, his teeth scraping over her hardened nipples, his fingertips digging into the flesh on her back as he instantly begins to fuck up into her. 

Y/N takes the brutality; welcomes it even. She’s never felt a pleasure like it, she’s never been fucked so thoroughly in such a short space of time before. Her orgasm is already building deep in her core, climbing higher and higher as her fingernails bite deeper and deeper into the witcher’s chest. 

“C’mon,” he encourages, pulling her down to send himself what feels like impossibly deeper, his cock throbbing inside her as she finally comes undone around him, her pussy clenching rhythmically as her orgasm ripples through every fibre of her body in a constant wave of ecstasy. “That’s it,” he hums, Y/N’s head flopping forward as she slowly begins her descent from the high of her climax back to the very bath they’re in. 

“Who needs stamina when you fuck like that?” she jokes, breathlessly. 

Geralt doesn’t reply, he just stands, lifting her in his arms with such ease that it only makes Y/N feel even more powerless. He’s still inside her, throbbing and filling her like she was made just for him. He carries her over to the bed, throwing her down onto it, and Y/N can’t help but stare up at him, even more in awe now she can see him in his impressive entirety. 

“I’ve already told you, I’m not leaving until sunrise,” he growls, grabbing her ankles to pull her closer to the end of the bed. “And I plan to get my money’s worth.” 

Liked this fic? Want to see more Geralt fics? Please consider leaving me feedback by replying or reblogging :) Feedback is fuel!

#until sunrise #geralt x reader #geralt smut #geralt of rivia #the witcher fanfic #smut #drabble #negans-lucille-tblr #lemon

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

For a reason I ignore, my taglists have not been working...so here's all the HotD requests I posted this week (feel free to send more!!)

A Song of blood and fire | Daemon x Reader part 5

Aemond x Brothel worker!Reader

Jacaerys x Alicent daughter!Reader

Aemond x Baratheon!Reader

Aegon x Reader

Jacaerys x Reader (coming tonight)

House of the dragon taglist: @khaleesihavilliard@domoron@ididliquorice@lover-of-helios@lover-of-helios@shine101@tanyaherondale@mikariell95@serrendiipty@lantsovheiress@gilliananderfuckme@shine101@tetgod@clayzayden@memeorydotcom@tnu-ree@futuregws@blackravena@winxschester@mysteriouslydelightfulchaos@xxlaynaxx@secretsthathauntus@pilarxxxaguayo@emmavan39@stargaryenx@erylilly@bbblackmamba@rainedrop97@dreamer087@gothicgay14 @ashlatano7567 @superkittywonderland@justaproudslytherpuff@evesolstice@buckysmainhxe@padfootsvixen@scarletmeii@evesolstice@dkathl@kaywsworld@tetgod@padfootsvixen@domoron@weird-addiction@angeliod@xjennyx2@adaydreamaway08@mymultiveres@secretsthathauntus@puffycreamcakes@thirsty4nonlivingmen@naty-1001@katiepie67@moshpot24x@hc-geralt-23@lovelynerdytraveler@saturn-sas  @zgzgh @sssjuico10@tabloidteen@timetoten@deekaag@wondxrgurl@aerangi@strmborns@astridyoo15@daemonslittlebitch@queenbeestuffs@severewobblerlightdragon@agentstarkid@msliz@vane1999-blog@fairyfolkloresposts@todaywasafairytale07@otomaniac@zgzgzh@thebeardedmoon@golden-library@kikyrizuki@hnslchw@camy85@winxschester

#house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #aegon targaryen imagine #aegon targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x reader #jacaerys velaryon x reader #jacaerys velaryon #daemon targaryen #daemon targaryen x reader

[kittenofdoomage]

Practice Makes Perfect

Fandom: The Witcher

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Geralt x female!reader

Prompt: she’s been practicing and wants to show him what a good girl she can be

Word Count: 898

Warnings: ex work, brothels, oral sex

Unlike the majority of the other patrons, Geralt of Rivia was generous with his coin and his time. You could always be guaranteed a quiet night with few drunken fights between patrons when the large imposing Witcher was sitting at the bar, golden eyes scanning for any sign something was about to awry. On the rare occasion he was in town for more than a night, he usually always stayed in one of the brothel rooms - one such stay had seen you as the lucky girl chosen to share his chambers for the night and it wasn’t one you’d soon forget.

He’d had his eyes on you for most of the night so far, and it was sending shivers down your spine in anticipation of his request for your company. Said request eventually came by way of Martha, the brothel madam, who had a peculiar twinkle in her eye when she instructed you to be at his room just after nine.

You were trembling when you were outside his regular chambers, fingers shaky as you rapped on the door three times. Geralt’s gruff noise was your signal to enter, and you did so with your head bowed, showing the proper respect. “My lord,” you whispered. “Martha said you requested me.”

Geralt was slouched across a chair, nude from the waist up and barefoot, his leather pants gaping open at the waist and showing a thatch of salt-and-pepper hair that dipped down underneath the fabric. “I did,” he replied, his lips twitching in a smirk as you pushed the door closed behind you. Standing with your hands clasped in front of you, you hesitantly met his gaze, feeling a little breathless. “You look nervous,” he chuckled, getting to his feet and towering over you as he approached. “Perhaps it was too much for you last time?”

Oh, you were nervous - everything about Geralt made most people nervous. But you weren’t afraid. “No,” you murmured, locking your eyes on his and trying not to smile at the increasing pulse between your thighs. “I’ve been practicing.” His eyebrows lifted in surprise and you stepped forward, lifting your chin to keep your eyes on his as you reached out with both hands and grasped the gaping waistband of his trousers. “Would you like me to show you?”

He grinned, holding his hands out in a gesture for you to continue, and your smile grew. With a gentle tug, his pants came down, and his cock sprung into your waiting fingers. You broke eye contact when you dropped to your knees, stroking him firmly, rewarded with a low pleasured grunt.

On his last visit, you hadn’t long started earning coin by pleasuring strangers. Geralt had not been disappointed when your enthusiasm made up for lack of skill but since then, you’d yearned to be able to please him the way you knew he liked. It had become an obsession and now, you finally had the chance to show him what you’d learned.

It was easy to work up some saliva considering how hungry you were for him, and he groaned loudly when you licked him from base to tip, slicking his skin until you were satisfied, before taking him between your lips. The first stroke was shallow and testing - you could already feel the stretch of your lips to accommodate him. The second was deeper and provoked another low moan that encouraged you to speed up and on the third stroke, the tip of his cock bumped the back of your throat. Tears sprang into your eyes but you ignored them, remembering to relax as you took him even deeper.

Geralt’s hand shot up to the side of your head as you finally buried your nose in his pubic hair, groaning around him and clinging to his thighs, feeling the burning need for oxygen as his thick shaft blocked your airway. When you eventually pulled back, the tears were worse, but when you looked up, the sheer desire on his face was enough to make you take him in again.

You picked up speed, using shallow thrusts to keep the momentum, taking him deeper on every fifth or sixth, hearing the odd “fuck” in among his moans and grunts. It was obvious by the steady taste of pre-cum on your tongue and the throbbing of his cock that you were getting the job done, and Geralt’s hand tightened on the side of your head. His fingers slid through your hair, bunching it in his fist until he was practically fucking your mouth, keeping the same rhythm you had but taking the pressure off your aching neck.

After a few moments, his balls tightened and you felt the flood of his cum in your mouth, the taste lingering as you swallowed it down. You didn’t pull away until he was done, drawing off of him and using your tongue to lap up the leftover spendings clinging to his skin. Sitting back on your haunches, you looked up at him with a coy smile.

“I told you I just needed practice,” you murmured playfully, taking his hand when he offered it to help you up. “But you do have me for the entire night.”

Geralt grinned wolfishly, pulling you close to slap one large palm against your ass through your sheer slip. “I’m sure I can think of a few things to do with you.”

#geralt of rivia #geralt x reader #smut #sinful sunday #the witcher #fanfic #fanfiction

[shmoopybop]

🤡

#can I please get #a Geralt x reader smut #where I’m not a brothel owner #*thanos voice* I’ll do it myself

[fandom-puff]

The Usual

Pairing: Geralt of Rivia x reader

@pinkandblueblurbs thank you so much for helping me out with this one Gill!! Love you all the world and I hope you enjoy this shameless piece of filth 🤪🤪 also sorry it took ✨ages✨

Also tried writing in third person again lmao

Warnings: prostitution (reader is a prostitute), possessive!Geralt, degradation, canon typical darkness and attitudes towards women, rough sex, slapping, blood (as in Geralt has blood on him), jealousy, face fucking, crying

Gif creds to owner

The small pouch clattered as the Witcher slid it across the counter. “My usual,” he muttered to the owner, who tipped the coins out and began counting the silver.

“You can have Maggie tonight,” the owner said, scooping the coins back into the leather pouch and sliding it under the counter. “YN’s with a client,”

With a small jut of his chin, the owner beckoned forth one of his whores. She was a pretty girl, with skin like cream and hair the colour of a raven’s feathers. Her plump lips turned up into a shy smile as she fixed her deep brown eyes onto the bloodstained Witcher. The owner made her spin, pointing out her pert breasts and round arse, but Geralt merely glanced at her. “I’ll have my usual,” he repeated.

The owner waved Maggie away and sighed. “You’ll have to wait, then. Though I shan’t expect ‘er to take long with that one. He’s normally in and out in fifteen minutes… pays well for YN though, so I mustn’t grumble…”

As the owner returned to counting his coins, Geralt waited in the dingy hallway of the whorehouse. He was surrounded by the lewd noises of customers with the girls: skin slapping together, exaggerated cries of pleasure, low post-coital conversations… a haze of pipe smoke wafted around him too, although the sweet incense burnt in several rooms masked it slightly. Geralt’s eyes were fixed firmly on the door at the end of the corridor, and he was sure he could hear the sweet little moans of YN, despite the grunts of her client.

Ten minutes passed, then twenty, and once twenty five minutes had elapsed since entering the corridor, the owner of the brothel lumbered through, rapping on the door. “You’ve paid for an hour, Arnie, times up. I’ve a client waiting,” he smiled apologetically at the glaring Witcher, as the door opened and a bloated red-faced old man limped out, scurrying away quickly when he saw Geralt’s looming figure, still stuffing his shirt back into his breeches, his shoelaces untied and trailing behind him.

As soon as the corridor was cleared, Geralt stalked into the room, shutting and latching the door behind him, ignoring the gasp of the girl stood by the washbasin, dabbing sweet smelling perfume on her damp thighs and wrists. She jumped, making to grasp for her robe, but Geralt held up his hand.

“You needn’t bother dressing yourself,” he said lowly.

She dithered on the spot for a moment before straightening up, pushing her breasts out slightly. “What will it be today?” She asked coyly, swaying over to him, ignoring the unpleasant sensation of leftover slobber and semen between her thighs.

“You kept me waiting,” Geralt muttered, seating himself on the bed, legs wide.

“I had a client. He paid,” she said simply, shrugging.

“Come here, girl,” Geralt patted the inside of his broad, strong thigh, smirking as she stood between them. “I’ve been stood in that corridor waiting for twenty five minutes,”

“He paid for his hour,” she mumbled, barely able to keep eye contact, her nonchalance slowly diminishing.

Geralt grasped the back of her neck, pulling her down to his level. He leaned forward, nudging the hair near her ear aside with his nose, murmuring “I’ve paid triple,” as his teeth grazed her earlobe.

With a soft moan, she melted, not caring about the blood smearing onto her bare skin as she wrapped her arms around the Witcher’s neck, initiating a burning kiss that he soon took over with ferocity that stole her breath, his long fingers grasping at her naked hips and buttocks, her breasts pressed against his bloodstained shirt. He pulled away, only a centimetre, to mumble “undress me, girl,”

Instantly she was stood up, scrabbling with the laces of his shirt, letting him yank it over his head as she unlaced his breeches and boots, tugging them off, seeing the outline of his half-hard cock through the linen of his underwear. “You’re practically drooling,” he smirked, diverting her attention back to him. “I bet you haven’t had a proper cock all day long…” she shook her head and he let out a rumbling laugh. “Poor girl… all those selfish men and stupid boys paying to have your cunt, and none of them using it properly… what do they even do with you?”

“I-I… they…”

Geralt smirked in amusement as she fumbled for words. “I must say, I’ve never encountered a demure whore…”

“They use my mouth,” she blurted. “And then… they lay in bed and drink until their time is spent, while I clean myself up,”

“And do any of them make you cum, girl?” Geralt asked, leaning forward, his eyes fixated on the gleam of the wetness between her thighs. As she nodded, he looked up. “Did Arnie make you cum?”

“A-almost… but then his hour was up,”

Seemingly pleased with the answers to his interrogation, Geralt gestured her over, crooking his fingers before pointing to the ground. Instantly she sank to her knees, hands on her thighs. “Come and suck my cock… I’d bet your poor throat hasn’t been properly stretched today,” she flashed him a shy smile, confirming his guess, before pulling down his underwear. Even only half-hard, he was impressive, and she could already see the throbbing of his veins. She mumbled something, wrapping her cool hand around his hot flesh. “What’s that, little one?” He cooed, shifting closer to the edge of the bed.

“I said… most men finish when I do this,” she murmured, nodding towards her stroking hand as it rasped along his cock, stroking it to full hardness. “Or when I lick here,” she added trailing her fingertip against the wet, sensitive head of his cock. “And,” she whispered, ducking her head down, “especially here…” her tongue formed a small point and she began teasing his slit gently, before wrapping her lips around the tip of his cock, suckling gently, her wide eyes gazing up at him.

Geralt grunted slightly as her throat relaxed more and more as she bobbed her head, taking most of him into her gullet. Her glassy eyes still locked with his, although they filled with tears as her throat spasmed. With a smirk, Geralt grasped a fistful of her hair, taking control of her movements, rocking her back and forth and moaning at the tightening of her throat with each gag. As her tears spilt over her lash line he growled, swiping them away before grasping the sides of her face, his large hands firm against her cheekbones. Thrusting twice more, he buried his cock deep in her throat, feeling the bulge from the outside as she gagged and spluttered around his length and girth, shooting ropes of thick musky cum down her throat. “Swallow,” he growled, but he could already feel the tightening of her throat as she struggled to gulp down his release, slobber dripping from the sides of her mouth, muddling with her tears as they dripped onto her breasts. Grunting, Geralt pulled out of her mouth, his softening cock glistening with her spit.

He hooked his hands under her armpits, hoisting her up onto her feet, smirking as she stretched her stiff limbs. “Come and lay with me for a while, little one… we won’t be interrupted,”

Dithering on the spot for a moment, she nodded, not used to displays of affection by her clients. As he laid back on the bed, she crawled up between his legs, before he wrapped his strong arms around her and pulled her to his chest, letting her sling one leg over his thigh as she rested her head against his heart. Drawing swirls on her back, he stared up at the ceiling breathing deeply as she relaxed, melting against the warmth of his body.

For almost an hour they lay in peace, tuning out the sounds coming from the other girls’ rooms, before Geralt glanced down at her. “You’re soaking. I can feel your cunt against my thigh, little one,” he murmured, smirking as she squirmed on the spot, almost making to hide her face.

“It doesn’t matter,” she whispered unable to make eye contact.

“Why not?” He replied, his brow cocked.

“I-I… my pleasure doesn’t matter. You’ve paid for my services, so your pleasure is paramount,” she recited the well rehearsed words like a pedigree parrot, the image of innocence despite the slick dripping onto the tense thigh between her legs.

Geralt’s jaw squared in annoyance. She was a well-trained whore, undeniably, but he found himself wanting nothing more than to undo her training, to mould and shape her until she was ruined for any other sorry man who exchanged a bag of silver for five pumps in her perfect cunt.

“You’re right. My pleasure is paramount,” he muttered, slowly rising and laying her onto her back. “And what would bring me the most pleasure is to see you completely drunk on my cock…”

“At your service, Witcher,” she whispered, her wide eyes staring up at him, filled with a mixture of fear and excitement and longing.

Geralt never stayed this long, she had noted. If he wanted his cock sucked, then he’d fuck her throat and leave. If he wanted to pound into her cunt and relieve some tension, he would, rutting into her like a wild animal, shouting out his release… and then leave.

Never had he stayed after his orgasm, never had he paid for more than what was necessary, never had he held her like his lover instead of leaving her to clean herself off and redress in her low cut corset like others would.

But as he parted her thighs and gripped his newly hardened cock in his fist, his eyes glinted darkly, pupils almost eclipsing his irises. Pushing into her, he gritted his teeth, feeling the walls of her cunt stretch to envelop his dick in their velvety heat, aided by the ample wetness at her centre. She whimpered beneath him, eyes rolling despite themselves as he kept going, his cock still not fully inside her, until she gasped as his balls slapped firmly against her. Wholly sheathed inside of her he growled, lips curling into a pleasured snarl as he slowly pulled out, the drag of his thick cock eliciting the most delicious noises from her parted lips.

“You’re tight,” he observed, his thighs quivering with the effort of restraining from ruining her… he was rather enjoying watching her struggle to maintain the façade of the dutifully faking prostitute when all she wanted to do was take her pleasure on his cock to satiate her own need. “How many clients have you had today?” The question flew over her head. “I said,” he hissed, his grip on her thighs tightening. “How many clients have you had?”

Her whole body trembling, she whimpered out the number eight, and he laughed, his hips snapping forward, finally filling her waiting cunt up with his cock again, smirking as she let out a genuine wanton moan, which came deep from her chest as opposed to the nipped, high pitched, over exaggerated cries from neighbouring rooms. “Eight clients and yet your cunt is as tight as a virgin’s,” he groaned, his hips slapping against hers as he hoisted them up off the bed, wrapping her thighs around his back, letting him pound into her channel. She practically sobbed at the new angle, every nerve ending in her being alive with sensation; the drag of his cock along her channel sending her into a pleasured daze, her hands scrabbling against his biceps, scratching at his shoulder-blades as she took her own pleasure.

With a low groan, Geralt wrapped his strong arms around her body, enveloping her as he gathered her up to his body, his heart drumming against his pale chest. "When I'm done with you," he grunted, changing into a grinding motion rather than thrusting, "you'll be completely ruined for any other man that comes into this room... would you like that, sweetling?"

"Yes!" she gasped, feeling his teeth scrape against the sensitive column of her neck, sucking bruises and bite marks onto the thin skin there.

"Yes what?" he coaxed, punctuating the question with a slap to the side of her thigh.

"Yes! I-I want- want you to ruin me, please, please" her words were a jumbled waterfall tumbling from her mouth, and all she could do was repeat those words over and over as he pumped her full to the brim, reaching between their bodies to press his thumb to her throbbing clit. The combined sensation of being filled for the second time with the Witcher's seed, this time with it pouring deep into her womb and not her stomach, the tight circles rubbed against her swollen nub, her nipples scraping against his scarred chest, his lips pressing a bruising kiss to hers, teeth scraping against her chapped lower lip... it was all too much for her exhausted body to handle, and with a broken cry of his name, she came, her body convulsing against his as wave upon wave of pleasure crashed over her.

Panting, Geralt pulled out, laying next to her, arm slung over his eyes. He pressed a small kiss to her sweaty temple, resting his large hand against her throat. She gasped, but he shushed her, stroking his thumb soothingly against the tender bruises her had left there. "Sleep," he murmured as the owner of the brothel rapped on the door to alert them that time was up. "I'll be back tomorrow... and the day after that..."

"It'll cost you a fortune," she mumbled, groaning as she shifted, feeling the beginnings of an ache blooming in her whole body. "Boss'll hike up the price once he knows what you're doing..."

"I don't plan on paying him for much longer..." he said, standing up and tugging his trousers back on.

"You're jealous, aren't you, Witcher?" she asked. It would've been considered coy and teasing had she not been slipping into sleep.

"No... not jealous... I said I'd ruin you for any other man, didn't I?" he smirked over his shoulder. "I intend to keep that oath,"

But his usual was fast asleep, and as he slipped out the room he pushed a small pile of coins onto the counter. "Let her sleep," he told the owner. "You won't make much out of her now anyway,"

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

[thedreamlessnights]

Masterlist

Completed works are bold.

Baldur’s Gate 3:

Astarion x Reader

• Someone to shed some light (NSFW, Multi-chapter - GN!Reader // After being raised as a commoner, you find yourself as the last in a royal bloodline, forced into a marriage with someone you've never met. He’s more than he seems.)

• Liability (Upcoming NSFW, Multi-Chapter - Astarion x NB!Tav // Two hundred years after being sentenced to prison by a corrupt magistrate, Arden is abducted by a nautiloid and subjected to a tadpole insertion. Little do they know, that very magistrate is on the same ship - and shares their uncomfortable affliction.)

• Fervency (NSFW - F!Reader // After falling into mysterious spores in the Underdark, you start to experience some... strange side effects. Astarion is more than happy to assist.)

• Fixation (NSFW - Ascended!Astarion x F!Reader // When a mistranslated ancient spell goes wrong, you're forced to suffer the consequences. Astarion takes a keen interest in your... predicament.)

• Aching (SFW - Astarion x F!Dark Urge // When you come across Gortash in Wyrm's Crossing, your past throws in a complication - like always.)

- Gale x Reader

• Distraction (NSFW x F!Reader // Gale is working in his study. You have half a mind to distract him.)

• Give The Devil His Due (Upcoming NSFW, Multi-Chapter - Gale x F!Reader // After Gale sacrifices himself to save Faerûn, you make a deal with a certain devil to get him back.)

The Witcher:

— Geralt x Reader

• Accismus (Upcoming NSFW - GN!Reader // After coming across a djinn, you wish for constant protection. He grants it by sending you a witcher.)

• Almond, Apple, & Maple (Upcoming NSFW - F!Reader // When a strange young woman crashes into your kitchen and sends you tumbling through time and space, you find yourself transported to a new world - one of monsters, magic, and witchers.)

• No Promises (NSFW - F!Reader // You hire Geralt to escort you through a dangerous patch of woods, and the two of you run into an aphrodisiac.)

Arcane:

(Note: I am no longer writing for Arcane)

— Viktor x Reader

• I've found hope in a heart attack (NSFW - F!Reader // A story in which, after a series of unforeseen events, you and Viktor end up on vacation together. Alone.)

• Not an end, but the start of all things (NSFW - F!Reader & Vampire! Viktor // Sick and desperate, you find yourself turning to a source of help you never could have predicted - a vampire.)

• Desperation - (NSFW - F!Reader // After Viktor becomes a little too devoted to his work, you find a way to grab his attention.)

• Shelter me my love, and I will shelter you (NSFW - F!Reader // Viktor being your nude model turns into something much more.)

• I’ve drunk the wine of ages - (Viktor x F!Reader // In which getting drunk at a party ruins your life. Almost.)

• Bad Influence (Gn!Reader // A drabble where Viktor takes care of you while you're sick.)

• How sweet a kiss can be (Gn!Reader // After teaching Viktor and Jayce how to bake, you get a very sweet reward.)

• Stay (Gn!Reader // After a long day at the lab, Viktor comes home to you.)

• Two Seconds (NSFW- F!Reader // After a priceless family heirloom breaks, Viktor’s the only one who is able to fix it to you. In trying to repay him, something else builds along the way.)

• Anything You Want (NSFW - F!Reader // As an anniversary gift, Viktor lets you do whatever you want with him. You give him a single rule to follow: he’s not allowed to touch you, or you’ll stop.)

• A Little Creative (NSFW - F!Reader // After a pounding headache has been killing your concentration at work, your friend Viktor lends you a painkiller. Only… you ended up grabbing the wrong medication, and now you’re absurdly horny.)

— Jayce x Reader

• Roommates (NSFW - F!Reader // Jayce (your super hot roommate) doesn't know how to knock.)

• No more keeping score (NSFW - F!Reader // Jayce lost in the Undercity (gone wrong) (gone sexual) AKA Jayce stumbles into a brothel.)

• Every night with us is like a dream (NSFW - Gn!Reader //This movie is boring, and, well - Jayce is sitting there, practically begging to be teased.)

• Only Yours (NSFW - Gn!Reader // Jayce gets ✨jealous ✨ )

#masterlist

[maxineswritingcenter]

I’m Already Cursed - Geralt x fem!reader  Part 2

Banner by maysdigitalarts

Based on the song Fairytale by  Alexander Rybak linked here

Geralt hears word of a bounty in Rivia, once arriving, it seems that the creature may be something he has never experienced before.

------

After the day’s ride it took to get to the village, Geralt and Jaskier arrived in the farm town where they would find, who Jask was referring to as, (Y/N) the undead mage. 

“Where to first, old friend, old buddy, old pal?” Jaskier asked with enthusiasm, eyes trained on the brothel. It was a rather large building, looking like it had once been a temple. 

“You will gather information on travelers coming in and not out of town at the tavern. I’m going to the brothel.” Geralt said, almost smiling when he saw the bard’s entire spark die at the thought that he couldn’t get in some extracurriculars on this mission. 

“H-how is that fair?” He asked, holding the strap of his leather bag tightly. Geralt only stared the bard down and hummed before handing him the reins for Roach. 

“If anything happens to her, your lute will pay the consequences.” He said gruffly before walking to the brothel on foot. 

As he was walking past, something glittering in the dark made him pause. On the side of the building, signs of a struggle were evident. Upturned dirt, broken foliage. He kneeled down to the ground and picked up what had been glittering, it was a golden tooth, blood covering metal. 

He grumbled and stood, sliding the tooth into his pocket and walking inside. The conversations dulled and the stares seemed to linger. He found the madam near the heart of the room, she stood at a podium with a leather bag and a book, a quill tucked into her hair bun. 

“Witcher, how kind of you to join us. Quest in the area?” She asked. 

“I am searching for one of your employees.” He looked around, trying to spot anyone undead. 

“Anything specific? Umira has a decent amount of stamina. Frenna is quite flexible.” 

“Not one of your girls. (Y/N), the musician.” The madam raised an eyebrow at him. 

“You want to buy a room with our violinist? I’m sorry but as per her contract, I agreed not to-” Her strong tone was cut off by the sack of coin being slammed down on the podium. She eyed him as she took the bag and counted the coin inside. It was more than enough to void a contract. 

-

Restringing her violin wasn’t something (Y/N) wanted to do today, but unfortunately it had to be done. After she ran in from last night, she grabbed her instrument and one of the strings had snagged on something. The poor thing had already been through too much anyway, the least she could do was fix it. 

A knock at her door brought her out of her concentration, Remira soon appeared in the doorway with a massive man behind her. But maybe not just any stranger. His black armor, white hair, and glowing yellow eyes were the tell tale signs of a very specific Witcher. The Witcher that a bard sang songs of, Geralt. 

“(Y/N), this handsome man has paid top coin for a night with you. It will be nice for you to have a well deserved break.” The madam winked and led the Witcher in before closing the door. 

When Geralt looked over the girl, he didn't see the telltale marks of the undead. He saw a woman in a ratty dress, her hair bluntly cut. She looked angry, clutching to her violin.

Already feeling her heart rate rising, she glanced towards the window, her only means of escape. 

“I’m not here to hurt you-” He began. 

“No.” She cut him off, “That’s what they all say. I’m not here to hurt you, I’ll treat you the way you deserve. All men ever do is lie.” She felt tears prickle at her eyes, “I don’t know what you want, but I refuse to do anything for you.” 

“I’m not asking you to. I just want to talk.” Geralt kept his distance. 

“Well...” She huffed, inching closer and closer to the window, “What do you want to know?” 

“How-” His question was cut off by the sound of screaming coming from downstairs. He turned back and opened the door, walking down the hall and looking down into the main room. Vines and the familiar bloom of the carnivorous archespore. 

“Fuck.” He grunted, running back to (Y/N) room, only to see that she had vanished out the open window, “Fuck!” He growled, grabbing the golden oriole potion from his belt and downing it in one gulp.  Taking his sword from its sheath, he barged downstairs and began to fight. 

-

(Y/N) ran fast, faster than she ever thought her feet could carry her. She had to get to the woods, get somewhere away from people. This can’t be happening again, she didn’t want this to happen again. She passed the tavern, looking behind her. A fire had started on the tall spire of the brothel and it was her fault. She didn’t know how that cult member found her, but it meant that he knew where she was. 

When she turned back around, she ran directly into someone exiting. They both fell with an oof. Landing on top of the man’s chest, his hands on her arms. 

“Whoa there, miss! Are you alright?” His blue eyes were blown with drink, staring at her intently as he helped her stand.

"Please let me go." Her voice trembled as she pulled from his grip.

"What's wrong? Is someone after you?" He looked back in the direction this girl had come from. It was complete chaos. The brothel was on fire and Geralt was running after them like a bat out of hell. 

“Grab her!” The Witcher called out, stopping to turn behind a swing his blade at a vine that was chasing him. 

“Wh-” Jaskier turned to look at the girl, who was already a good three yards away, “Geralt?” 

Geralt grabbed Jaskier by his arm and pulled him to start running, being chased by a creature that just kept going. 

“What is that fucking thing!?” Jaskier shouted. 

“Archespore! It’s attacking for her!” 

“How?!”

“They shouldn’t be smart enough for that.” Geralt said it more to himself. 

-

In the woods, there was a small abandoned cottage, (Y/N) could hide there. She opened the door, turning back to the ones chasing her. The Witcher and the man she ran into were running frantically towards her, the creature on their tails. If she went inside and didn’t let them in, the creature would take them, she would be free. But that wasn’t the right choice. She needed help. 

“Hurry!” She called, reaching out. When they were close enough, she grabbed the Witcher by his chest plate and pulled them both in, slamming the door behind her. 

Sliding down against the door, (Y/N) held her head in her hands. She shook violently, the sobs coming just as quickly. There was a ringing in her ears that dulled all sound. She could see the man in the corner of the room, clutching onto his instrument with fever. 

The man stared her down, taking everything in, “You’re afraid.” He whispered.

It wasn't until her shaking breath was knocked from her lungs as the Witcher grabbed her by her shoulders and stood her up, pressing her against the wall.

"Tell me what you did." He spat. 

"I-i-" She stuttered, hiccuping out sobs.

“Geralt, she’s scared!” The man said, grabbing the Witcher’s shoulder. 

"Jaskier!” The Witcher barked, the man backed down. Geralt turned back towards her, his grip loosening, “I cannot help you until you tell me." Geralt seethed between his teeth, his golden eyes growing dark.

"Okay! Okay, I'll tell you." He set her down, taking a step back.

Taking a deep breath, (Y/N) looked between the Witcher and the man. Both of them stared, silent accusations in their eyes.

"Years ago, when I was younger, I kinda liked this boy I knew." She smiled fondly at the memories that had once been, "He was mine, and we were sweethearts. T-That was then, but then it's true. He whisked me away to get married. I just left my home, didn't tell a soul where we were going. We came to Rivia. There's a field just outside the village."

Kaelus grinned back at her as he pulled her through the trees, their humble shoes crunching against the soft, fallen straw of the field. The dress she had made flowed around her; the flowers braided in her hair tickled her face. The moonlight lit their path to the center of the field where there were men and women circled around a fire.

"Kae?" She grinned as they came to a stop, "Are these your family members?"

Her husband to be smirked, looked around, and watched as the people chuckled: "You could say that."

And that's when her dread finally overtook the joy that she had been feeling. Looking around again, closer this time. These people were in robes, knives in their hands.

"Kaelus..." She whispered, her grip loosening on his hand. And then, much like wolves, the robed figures descended. They each took turns stabbing their knives into her. Eventually, when she couldn't fight them anymore, they all kneeled over her, chanting loudly. The final knife came from Kaelus, the man who told her that he wanted to pledge his life to her. He was staring down at her with a devilish grin.

"Why..." She croaked around her blood.

"It's nothing personal, sweetheart. But with your noble sacrifice, my music shall fill the ears of the entire continent." He jerked the knife from her chest. And they left her there for dead.

"I don't remember being saved." She had wrapped her arms around herself, tears making paths down her dirty cheeks. "I moved as soon as I was well enough to walk. But whenever I felt afraid of someone... They ended up dead."

"Wait." Jaskier stood up, hands on his hips, and turning to face the white haired man in the corner who looked deep in thought.

"Wasn't Kaelus the name of the bard who told us about this monster." He turned to (Y/N), "He blamed you for the killings, said you were a scorned lover, a mage, who was killing people to get back at him. The people who come after you must have been part of his cult." She took a deep breath in, fresh tears springing at her eyes.

Geralt stared her down, "The archespore isn't being controlled, it's protecting you."

"But you said they aren't intelligent enough." Jaskier said.

"They aren't. But with as much blood as you lost, it grew from your pain and suffering." Geralt sheathed his sword, "And we'll never be able to kill it unless we destroy it at the root."

"Meaning?" Jaskier asked. 

Geralt took her hands in his, pulling her to her feet, seeing that her shaking was making it nearly impossible.

"We're going back to Rivia." She swallowed thickly.

------

Read part 3 here!

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#the witcher fic #geralt x reader #geralt of rivia x reader #Maxine'sBirthWeek

[whatsnevershown]

Vulnerable (The Witcher Fic / Geralt x Reader

I rewatched The Witcher the other day !! I was really sad to see we probably get another season in 2021, so if you need something to keep you going.. This !! 

“What, would you rather y/n do it?” Jaskier asked, scrubbing Geralt vigorously.

“Perhaps she’d have a softer touch,” Geralt growled in return.

Y/n, who was sleeping—or attempting to—on the wooden bench a couple of metres from the tub, opened one eye at the statement, “If you think I’m getting anywhere near you and the disgusting stench you brought in with you, you have another thing coming,”

“You act as if you were the epitome of cleanliness when I first met you,” he replied coldly.

“I was without access to such luxuries,” she gestured at the bath, “you simply neglect them,”

Geralt grunted in response. 

“Now let me sleep,” she groaned.

“Oh no you don’t,” said Jaskier, “I’m not entirely convinced you aren’t on the verge of dying,”

Y/n had had a rough day. When Geralt had found her, she was rain soaked and shaking, unconscious. She still shook now, as much as the other two noticed she was trying to hide it, and the wooden bench wasn’t entirely the pinnacle of comfort. Of course, Jaskier had offered she share his bed, but she had declined, very aware of his tendencies with women in his bed. Geralt had felt no need to make such an offer.

“I am not on the verge of dying,” she said, opening her eyes, “I’m just a little cold. And oh so very tired, so if you’d leave me be, perhaps I could remedy at least one of those things,”

Without warning, Geralt stood up out of the tub.

Y/n gave a small outcry of surprise, “My virgin eyes,” she groaned.

“No one’s forcing you to look,” said Geralt, but the laugh in his voice indicated he knew exactly what he was doing.

“You take up half the bloody room, witcher,” she said, eyes now closed, “it’s not as if I was staring.

He gave a low laugh, a truly bone chilling thing.

“Fine, sleep,” he said, pulling a long shirt over his head, and moving towards the bed across from her bench.

Jaskier opened his mouth to remake his earlier offer, but Geralt caught him, “She said no, Bard,”

Jaskier merely shrugged, and got into his own bed.

In no time, the two of them were sleeping, soft snoring coming from both beds. Of course that bastard snored, y/n thought. 

But she couldn’t sleep herself. She had been downplaying her ailments to the men all night. She was freezing, and her lungs felt like they were full of razor blades, cutting her every time she dared breath in. Geralt knew that a man had attacked her and that she had fought him off, but he didn’t know of the beating she had received in the process, the bruises on her ribs.Or how long she had lay there, passed out in the snow, slowly numbing. Gods know what could have happened to her if she hadn’t had her dagger. She shuddered even more violently at the thought.

Suddenly, a set of snoring halted. The Witcher was awake, and she didn’t even have to look to feel his analyzing eyes on her, boring into her. She wrapped her arms around herself to cover up her shaking, but she knew he saw it. She tried not to give him the eye contact he clearly craved, but he was not giving up, staring as her until she turned to him and said;

“What?”

“You’re shaking,” he said simply.

“And?” 

“And the sound of your teeth chattering woke me up,”

He lifted the covers, a subtle move, but one with a lot of subliminal weight, an invite, for her to join him.

Y/n scoffed, but she was truly freezing, still unable to feel the tips of her fingers.

He didn’t speak, just held the covers open, raising a brow.

She was strong willed and stubborn, but he out-waited her, as the cold ate her up, she moved quietly into his bed.

As soon as she felt warmth, she became addicted to it, curling up against his stone torso, that burned like a furnace against her chest. She shamelessly pushed herself against him.

He didn’t even say anything, just moved to wrap his arm around her body, a movement absent of ulterior motive, simply a kindness.

Y/n hissed in pain as he touched her ribs, and he froze.

“What was that?” he said, his voice low.

“Nothing,” she replied, closing her eyes, but he didn’t let her.

“Y/n, show me your ribs,” he growled

“Take me to dinner first,” she mumbled, trying to sleep.

But he was fixing her with that look. That damned look. Geralt spoke with his eyes, she’d noted that a lot in her week with him. And the way he’d stare at her, that patient way, as if he had all the time in the world for her to obey him. The same looked that had gotten her into his bed in the first place.

She sighed and lifted her shirt, revealing her bruised ribs, that looked particularly nasty in the candlelight, all purple and yellow.

His face grew worried, and he looked at it thoroughly before looking her in the eye. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked, as softly as she’d ever heard him speak.

“It was none of your business,” she replied.

He put his arm around her, softly and carefully, “You can trust me, Y/n. I thought you knew that. I’ve seen you vulnerable enough times not to judge you,”

She laughed humorlessly. 

“Trust? That isn’t what trust is, Geralt. If only you took your own advice. Then perhaps I’d have seen you vulnerable. But I haven’t, because you’re so damned proud, and you never let yourself be vulnerable. You’re just a man who knows all of my weaknesses, and I know none of yours. That doesn’t make you trustworthy, that makes you a threat,” 

He took in what she said for a momend see him do it, mulling over all her words.

“You’re right,” was all he said.

Then, he pulled the covers off his torso, revealing his scarred chest.

He pointed to one of the scars, “Vampire. Caught me off guard. Disguised herself as a brothel girl,”

Then, to another one, “Bloodwolf. I don’t guard my left side as much when I attack. Got me right on the shoulder,”

Then to another, “Strignat—”

“Why are you doing this?” she asked.

“Because these are my weaknesses. The things that have gotten past my guard enough to make a mark. These are constant reminders of my vulnerability,”

She did’t answer, so he continued pointing out his scars, describing the stories behind them, stories about monsters and witches that she delighted in.

At some point, she fell asleep, and he was left there, holding her until morning. He did not sleep. He could not sleep, the sound of his pounding heart—the heartbeat that was to be slowest heartbeat among men—kept him awake until dawn.

And like, a bonus scene. If you want it.

“Really, Geralt,” Jaskier was standing over them. Y/n was still asleep in his arms.

“Did you really have to, do you understand how awkward that’s going to make things in the future?”

Geralt growled, “I didn’t bed her, Jaskier,”

“Right,” said Jaskier with exasperation, “And that’s why you’re half naked. In bed with her with your big meaty claws around her,”

“My big— My what?”

“Good gods,” the other man continued, “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but you are around the size of Roach. Are you sure she’s still breathing in that chokehold?”

“Jaskier,” he groaned, “I didn’t—nevermind,”

#the witcher #geralt x you #geralt imagine #geralt x reader #the witcher series #the witcher fic #the witcher imagine #geralt of rivia #geralt x regis #geralt #geralt of rivera #the witcher fanfiction #the witcher fluff #jaskier #the witcher x reader #the witcher fanfic #the witcher fandom #the witcher headcanons

[l4long-winded]

a snippet from my no longer occupation pinterest board ✨️

#inspiration high #motivation low #no longer occupation #henry cavill #geralt of rivia imagine #geralt x brothel!reader #geralt x reader #l4l.writes

[mary-ann84]

My turn again to write a little something for @cavillsthighs christmas challenge 😊

It's the 5th day of the Cavillmas. Today's prompt is Ice Skating.

Characters: Geralt x reader. Jaskier makes an appearance as well.

Words: 1.030

Warnings: none

The Witcher and his bard find shelter from the cold.

🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲

Winter has come to the continent. The blistering cold and heavy snow made traveling even more harder than usual.

Jaskier suggested they would seek shelter when they reached the next town. And stay there for a long period of time. At least till the roads cleared up a bit.

Geralt may not have always agreed with him but this time he did. 

But where would they stay? By the time they would get there the inn would not have any rooms left. Staying at a brothel was tempting. He could use some female company. But for that amount of money they could stay at the for a week. 

When he uttered those words to Jaskier he simply said.

"Have no fear my friend, for I know a place where we can stay and it won’t cost us a penny"

Geralt gave him a questionable look. 

“I’m sure you do, Jaskier. But forgive me if I dekline. I do not want to stay at someone else's house with the risk of us getting kicked out, because you slept with someone else, their wife.”

“Why Geralt. How dare you make such an assumption! Y/n is nothing more than a friend of mine. This is an insult if I ever heard one!”

Geralt rolled with his eyes. 

“A friend?”

“Yes Geralt, a friend. I am capable of having a friendship with a woman that does not entail any form of physical intimacy.”

Geralt just stared at Jaskier. Like he did not believe him. 

“I believe you can. But are you telling me that she is just a friend and nothing more?”

“Well yes. Not that I didn’t try. Geralt, why are you laughing!? 

“Just picturing you being turned down, that's all.” Geralt said. 

“Come Jaskier, let's find your friend so we can get out of this cold. 

And off they went. 

That all happened two weeks ago. 

When they found your house you welcomed them with open arms. 

Geralt saw the interaction between you and Jaskier, which was like how siblings would interact with each other. 

And for some reason that he felt relieved. From the moment he laid eyes on you he was mesmerized. He found himself constantly drawn to you. 

He helped out where he could. Not just for that reason but also he thought that if they didn’t have to pay for lodging he should do something. 

Jaskier noticed his friend’s odd behavior. And found it somewhat amusing. 

Whenever you were not around he would rub it in Geralt's face.

Not just to tease him but to find out how true Geralt’s feelings were for you, because he could tell you felt the same way. 

You and Geralt found yourself staying up late talking. Well you talked and he listened. But every so often he would tell you about him, his travels, how he met Jaskier. He felt comfortable opening up to you.

Then one day you asked if Jaskier and Geralt wanted to help out with organizing a little get together with the people from town at the nearby lake. It was frozen solid and they decided to go ice skating. 

Jaskier was excited and said yes right away. Geralt needed to be persuaded. He was not so keen on ice skating. Also he was not looking forward to having to interact with people that looked at him like he was trash.  

But he could not refuse you when you looked at him with your big eyes and said please. 

So here they are at the frozen lake. It was cold but it was bearable. He stood at the side all the while watching you and Jaskier skating on the ice. 

The smile on your face warmed his heart. You looked absolutely beautiful. But he also felt a bit jealous. Especially when Jaskier took your hand. He knew there was nothing going on, he  couldn't help himself. 

However when one of the townsmen stepped on the ice to skate with you he decided that it was enough. He bound the skates to his feet and stepped on the ice. 

He tried very hard not to fall. And succeeded to get where you were pretty easily. Which thankfully was not that far away. 

You noticed him before the man in question did and smiled. 

“Hello, Geralt.” You said. 

At the mention of his name the man turned around and his face turned pale. He apologized and left. 

Geralt kept an eye on the man and did not notice you were reaching for his hand until he felt your hand in his. He looked down and if you didn’t know better you could have sworn he blushed. 

At the same time Jaskier raced towards you so fast that he wasn’t able to stop in time and he knocked the both of you down. 

Geralt moved so that he broke your fall. You had closed your eyes to brace yourself for impact, but found that what you landed on was not cold and hard. But warm and soft.  Well at least softer than the ice. 

You opened your eyes and immediately looked into his eyes. Now it was your time to blush. 

“Are you ok? You are not hurt are you?” he asked. 

Shaking your head no, you both stood up. 

He placed his hand on your cheek to check if you truly were alright. Asking if you wanted to go off the ice or if, perhaps, you wanted to skate with him.

This was the last thing you expected. He didn’t expect it either. But he truly wanted to. 

Your eyes shined and you smiled when you answered him.

“I would love that Geralt.”

And with that he grabbed your hand, intertwined his fingers with yours and set off to skate on the lake until you lost the light and went back home.

While sitting in front of the fire you spend another late night together. Only this time it was in each other's arms. 

#cavillmas #day 5 #geralt of rivia x reader #jaskier #ice skating

[koogl001]

Tender Mind - Chapter 1

Yandere Geralt of Rivia x Reader Rated: M Masterlist

„Ann, give me back my skirt!”

Shouted Wendy, running around the house, chasing another girl, Ann. The sun was high in the sky, wind was howling. No clouds. Today was just the perfect day for a nice walk around the village. The folk was working, children were smiling and playing. One would actually think that we were a happy village. And we were… Until the Nilfgaardians settled in our lands not too long ago.

“If you catch me, I will give it back.”

Replied Ann, looking over her shoulder at her younger sister. Me, my name is (Y/N) by the way, Ann and Wendy were my sisters. At least, that’s what we called ourselves. A few months back, we were supposedly brought to this village by a certain old Witcher that goes by the name of Vesemir, who claimed that he found us on his ride to Novigrad. When we woke up, we couldn’t remember anything else than our names. Thankfully, the villagers were kind and they didn’t mind us there. So, the little village became our new home.

“I’m boooooreeeeed.”

Sighed Ann, who was now sitting on the grass near our house, looking at the clouds and whistling a soft tune.

“When will uncle Vesemir stop by again?”

She looked at me.

“He should be here tomorrow. Said he got an important job somewhere around here and that it should be finished by tomorrow noon at most.”

I said, standing up and walking inside our small house when my sight caught a few black ones on the road. It was getting late, and I wasn’t fond of staying outside when the drunkards were out, going from brothel to brothel while picking random fights on the streets. I preferred the safety of our modest household. Wendy was the exact opposite. In fact, she was actually one of the brothel girls, and she seemed to enjoy it. Dancing and shaking her hips for that filth was something she gladly did if offered the right amount of money for her services. Ann was a playful girl, she always found new ways to piss Wendy off. She was outgoing and didn’t mind voicing her honest opinion. Ann and Wendy don’t exactly get along well, and to be fair, even I don’t really like how Wendy was acting sometimes, but she wasn’t just all bad things. She could care about us and the house, and be responsible. But she was also trying to sway all the guys that Ann found charming, and then she threw them away like trash. That was why the two of them were always fighting.

“Do something useful then.”

“Oh, you mean like fucking some random by-passer like you do?”

“At least, I have a job that keeps us alive and Blah, Blah, Blah…”

There they are again, arguing. It’s getting really late, I should go get some sleep.

#geralt #geralt of rivera #geralt the witcher #geralt x reader #humans #mental disorder #mental illness #mentally ill #monster #panic attack #panic disorder #paranoia #reader insert #romance #fanfiction #sensitive #the witcher #witcher 3 #triss merigold #vesemir #witcher #witches #yandere #yennefer #yennefer of vengerberg #yandere geralt of rivia #geralt of rivia #yandere geralt #geralt of rivia x reader

[inmyfxith]

Meet again

Pairing: Jaskier x OC!reader

OC: Celda of Ard Carraigh

Warnings: None (I think)

A/N: Sisters' thoughts // The Sisters of Ard Carraigh / The Wolf and the Griffin / Friends out of interest / The End of a Myth

Words: 1 804

Since Geralt had dismissed her and Jaskier, Celda no longer believed it possible to return to the manor. It was by chance that she had come across the witcher. While she had traveled to Novigrad with her sister Nareth, a witcher too, duty and the latter's irresistible desire to fill her purse had quickly driven the two sisters apart. Not knowing how to get home because of the increasingly dangerous roads. Of course, this did not please the other sisters, who did not hold back from saying so.

[Cedrel] - You should have thought of that earlier, Nareth, before offering to take her with you.

[Deirdre] - Can't you take her with you?

[Nareth] - It's far too dangerous, I'd probably be out for weeks just finding him. She's a big girl, she'll be fine.

[Cedrel] - If anything happens to her, you will be held responsible, Nareht. You and Seirsa are the only ones allowed to leave the manor, and you know it.

[Nareth] - If she stays in Novigrad, I'll come and get her after I've taken care of that monster.

Helpless in the face of discord, and feeling guilty for causing a fight, Celda encouraged her sister to go on an adventure, telling her that she would not try anything foolish and that they would meet at the Passiflora, one of the many brothels in town, when she returned. One night, in an inn where she had recently been staying, a man had mistaken her for something she was not, and, to escape him, Celda entered a room at the back of the inn without really knowing what she was doing. However, as her gaze swept across the room, she was horrified to find herself confronted by two men, a young man with brown hair and relatively neat clothes and an older man with white hair, presumably trying to relax in a still steaming bath. The young woman's first reaction was to cover her eyes with her hands before apologizing several times and explaining the situation she was in.

“You have disturbed our moment of relaxation !” The bard, whom she would later learn was Jaskier, remarked with an annoyed look on his face like a child about to throw a fit. With tears in her eyes, Celda apologized again before asking what she could do to make things right. Of course, financial compensation was never too much to ask, so to make amends, she bought them a few more drinks.

The next morning, Celda woke up at dawn with a very specific idea. She asked the innkeeper about the route taken by her new acquaintances and followed him to find them. After walking out of the city, dodging the various gangs, she finally spotted the witcher on his horse and the bard walking beside him.

"You're a witcher aren't you?" Blocking Roach's path, the young woman thought she had already found her way home. Geralt, frowning, answered her with a grunt as Jaskier stared her down from head to toe.

"I need someone to accompany me to Kaedwen, to the north. I can pay you... I don't have the money on me, but once I get to the manor I'm sure my sister will be able to compensate you to the extent of your mission." Folding her hands, Celda put on an innocent face, hoping with all her might that the witcher would agree.

"Kaedwen is not next door, we have things to do, fighting monsters for example."

"I have things to do... you will no doubt find another witcher to accompany you to Novigrad."

The second meeting ended at that moment, Celda had watched the two men disappear over the horizon without losing hope.

Having decided to go alone, Celda quickly took the wrong direction, heading south when she should have been heading north. She arrived in the kingdom of Temeria, more precisely in the vicinity of the town of Vizima. She found refuge in a small house where the inhabitants had agreed to put her up for the night in exchange for a few coins. However, as night fell, she was awakened by screams. Outside, attacking a man who was presumably on his way home, some Barghests were feasting on his body. As if from the underworld, these creatures were violently feasting on their victims.

Celda was pulled inside the house by her host, who was obviously used to this kind of attack and when a witcher was in the area, he was inevitably aware of the existence of these specters.

Geralt was no exception, and when he happened to be in Vizima, Celda jumped at the chance to ask him again if he could accompany him. Because of her desperation, and against Jaskier's advice, he finally agreed. The relationship between Jaskier and Celda calmed down as soon as the bard realized that she posed no threat to his friendship with the white wolf. The young woman was to be only a stopover on the witcher's journey, so she was invited to Cintra's court and to Borch Three Jackdaws' expedition.

Understanding the bard's jealousy of Yennefer's arrival, they had stayed together throughout the expedition, making more or less kind remarks about the witch here and there.

When Geralt had finally unleashed his rage on the poor bard, Celda, as a spectator, had tears in her eyes because of the harsh words used. As Jaskier had announced his departure, Celda had approached the witcher, cautiously, before placing a small purse full of coins on the rock on which Geralt had leaned.

"Thank you, witcher, I will continue on my way alone." She had then walked a short distance with Jaskier, at least as far as the nearest town before they both went their separate ways, but not without promising to meet again one day.

In reality, Celda never went home. Not by choice, but because crossing the different kingdoms and territories seemed so dangerous that even Cedrel, the eldest of the family, had advised her to stay hidden somewhere until Nareth finished her current contract and could bring her back safely to Kaedwen. She went there without really knowing what she was going to study. The faculty of contemporary history finally opened its arms to her. Cedrel was an avid reader, and with her help, Celda quickly became an excellent student.

During her months of study, the young woman met a chemistry professor, Jean La Voisier, whose interest in her grew even more when he learned of the special connection between the girls of Ard Carraigh. She often found him in his laboratory where he asked her questions about what she could and could not do. With the help of the dean of the medical department of the academy, Professor La Voisier prepared a kind of potion that he thought would allow Celda to control her gift, i.e. to be able to communicate with her sisters when she wanted or needed to. However, it was a failure. Celda lost all contact with Cedrel, Seirsa, Nareth and Deirdre. When she concentrated on hearing their thoughts or see their memories, nothing came out.

Leaving the teachers to work out a possible cure, Celda tried to continue studying but without Cedrel's help, things were more complicated. Moreover, the young woman's mental state began to be disturbed as she could not have conversations with Deirdre as she used to do every night before going to sleep. So she stayed in her room, trying to occupy her mind and not go mad from hearing only silence. Things in Oxenfurt had changed since the Battle of Sodden Hill. Soldiers were clearing the streets of what they called "non-human vermin", staging a veritable pogrom. To clear her head, Celda agreed to follow one of the girls she was studying with to one of the town's taverns. After a few drinks, a bard began to sing. Celda could have recognized the voice from a thousand. The eye contact with the bard confirmed only too well what the young woman had already guessed. Jaskier was standing there, singing one of his secret songs. But he did not see her immediately.

Once his little performance was over, the young woman stood up to greet him.

"It seems a long time ago that we were both singing ��Toss a coin to your witcher”." Celda said, being positioned behind the bard at the time. Recognizing his interlocutor's voice in turn, Jaskier straightened his head, eyebrows furrowed, before assuming a bewildered look when he finally saw his old friend with his own eyes. Without asking her permission, he took her in his arms for a short while.

"Oh Lord, I love the smell of your hair... a mixture of flowers, old books and... of... of you." sitting down on a stool, the young man took his lute from his lap to try to retune it. He then asked his friend what she had come to Oxenfurt to do, and especially if she was safe.

"I arrived several years ago, you know, but I stayed at the academy most of the time. I study contemporary history, you know..."

Something was wrong with her voice, and Jaskier could hear it. He, who before seemed to be concentrating only on himself, put his lute to one side and turned to Celda.

"What are you hiding, little flower?"

"I lost my link..." Jaskier frowned, no doubt thinking this would make an excellent title for a new song "...I trusted a chemist and here I am cut off from the only beings whose flesh and blood I share."

Taking a piece of parchment and a quill, Jaskier began to write something down before looking up at the young woman.

"Tell me more, darling." Frowning, Celsa complied though.

"The pale potion was sweet, like its fruity scent, but regrettably it led to an accident. Oh Jaskier, if I had known I would never have agreed to drink this liquid which I thought was effective."

Scratching at his paper, Celda leaned over to see what he was writing, but at the last moment Jaskier pulled back enough to hide the contents. Upset, the young woman asked him what he could possibly be writing and especially why he wasn't listening to her.

"I am listening to you, my little flower, I am listening to you. But you see I can't keep my muse waiting. A new song comes to me as I speak to you, a masterpiece darling."

Astonished but knowing the bard, Celda let out a small laugh, being too happy to finally see her friend again. She let him finish writing before continuing his story. Together they talked for most of the night before Celda decided to return to the academy. Jaskier had cheered her up and, as a result, she promised to come back and listen to him sing whenever she could.

#the witcher #the witcher netflix #the witcher imagine #geralt of rivia #geralt #jaskier #jaskier the bard #jaskier x reader #oxenfurt #yennefer #yennefer of vengerberg #dandelion

[babylooneytoonz]

the Vessel [ Pt. 14 ]

— pairing: Geralt of Rivia x reader

— summary: You, Geralt and Jaskier are on the road again, and something is on the Witcher's mind. How would you react to it?

— warnings: a lot of fluff🥺

*Please reblog if you like it, do not repost or claim my work as yours.

[My Masterlist] [My Witcher Masterlist - Read the other parts here!]

"I'm still here, you know?" Jaskier deadpanned, kicking a stone that came his way, cradling his long lost lute like a baby.

You chuckled at his words and sunk back into your lover's arms, who was seated on the mare behind you, your head now resting against his sturdy chest as you looked up at him and he looked down at you, smirking slightly.

"Come on Geralt, Jaskier's jealous. He thinks you've stopped focusing on him now that I'm here," you giggled playfully as Geralt shook his head, amused and craned his neck slightly, giving your earlobe a bite.

"Well, I'm not jealous, but I definitely feel like a third wheel, and in dire need of an inn—"

"Or a brothel," you added, and Geralt hummed in agreement with you, his thick, veiny arms locking around your now wide girth making you feel ticklish and squirm, "On a serious note, Geralt. Can we stop? I really need to take a piss. And a bath."

"Gosh, [Y/N]." Jaskier pretended to cover his ears dramatically, "You're the Princess of Cintra!"

"So?" You scowled, taking your foot out of the saddle and jutting out your leg so you could kick your friend's bottom but he dodged it, "Do princesses not take a piss? Besides, I am not a Princess anymore."

"What?" Geralt and Jaskier said out loud, together. And you nodded. Whelp. In all the drama, you had forgotten to actually tell them why you had run away. Or that— you had run away.

"Well, I sort of left it?" You drawled, absentmindedly and Geralt nudged you slightly, looking down at you, concerned.

"Why?" He raised a brow.

"Well, it seems that not only did the Witcher had some things to hide," Jaskier began, and you glared at him, "by the looks of it, you have something to tell us [Y/N]?"

You scowled, running your hand sheepishly through your hair and began clearing your throat, when Jaskier interrupted, "Don't tell me Queen Calanthe decided to name your baby Podrick."

You gave him a look of disbelief at first; but couldn't keep a straight face, as you bursted out laughing.

"What's wrong with the name Podrick for a boy?" You asked, wiggling your brows at him, and Geralt shook his head, faintly, silently amused.

"Well, Princess [Y/N], if you have a boy, you are naming him after me. Jaskier, obviously?" He smiled at you, wiggling his brows in retaliation.

"Or maybe, Dandelion?" You began, and both Jaskier and Geralt muttered, "No." At the same time.

"I won't have my son named after a flower, for fucks sake," he grumbled under his breath, and you pouted, pushing out your lower lip as you felt Geralt's palm ghost over your belly, protectively securing his palm over the bulge of it and you smiled.

"What happened in Cintra?" Geralt suddenly asked, manouvring the conversation back to where it had started from, and you looked down at your hands, rubbing them against the fabric of your dress.

"Mother wanted me to marry Foltest."

Upon hearing your words, the Witcher stiffened, his hand slowly pulling away. Suddenly, he tugged at Roach's reins so hard, the poor mare stopped."Ouch," you cursed under your breath, and then tried to pacify the sudden uncomfortable silence between the three of you by making small talk, "What?"

"I'm sorry but your mother wanted you to marry that sister fucker? Isn't that right Geralt?" Jaskier nudged your foot that was in the saddle and you sighed, your shoulders tensing slightly. Geralt was morosely quiet, and although he was a man of few words, you felt like this revelation was going to stop the progress that he was making with you.

"She thought that's the only way to protect me. And this baby. Because a lot of enemies will want to get their hands on me. Although, it's stupid, right? I mean, I have Geralt to take care of me," you muttered absentmindedly, staring at the flock of birds that flew past your mare.

It was only when Geralt cleared his throat, a little to coursely, that you craned your neck slightly towards him and noticed how his jaw had clenched, and he was fisting the reins in his grip.

"Shall we move on? We should reach a village in an hour or two. We can see if an inn can accomodate us," he bluntly added, and you blinked, looking down at Jaskier and giving him a questioning look.

Lucky for the three of you, the three of you reached a nearby village sooner than you had expected. By that time, you were exhausted; your body sore at all the odd spots that you couldn't even put a name to or say it out loud. Geralt helped you get off Roach, his movements being tender, but he did not even once, try to talk to you.

The three of you entered the tavern, Jaskier leading the way in while you waddled through in the middle, as much as your bump allowed you to move. Geralt was in the extreme end, and you couldn't see much of him, or hear from him, except for a few occasional grunts you received.

Geralt got the three of you the last of the two rooms that were available and Jaskier disappeared into the first one, leaving you and Geralt to settle down in your own shared room.

You sat down by the edge of the bed, the bed creaking when you put your weight on it. Geralt placed his sword by the chair, before his hands came to rest against the fabric of his shirt and he started prying it off.

"Are you going to say something?" You finally asked, pulling both your hands together and rubbing them as though you were cold, "You've been sulking ever since I told you about what happened in Cintra."

Geralt grunted under his breath, and instead of replying to you, he moved past you to where a metal bathing tub, big enough to fit in the two of you, had already been set out, the water warm, and steam arising out of it. Geralt lowered his slacks, letting it fall to the floor as he stepped out of it, practically ignoring you. You could hear the sound of him wading into the water.

Sighing to yourself, you slowly lifted yourself off the edge of the bed, and turned to face the witcher, who was now seated against the tub, his arms holding the sides of the tub as he looked at you. Slowly, you let your tunic drop to the floor as you stepped out of it. It would have been a lie to say that you felt sexy, especially with your baloon belly that didn't let you look down at your feet. But you really needed that warm bath, to cure the soreness you were feeling.

Geralt threw out his palm towards you when he saw you step into the bathtub and you were thankful for it. He helped you get in and finally, you settled yourself in between the Witcher's legs, letting the back of your head rest against his sturdy chest, feeling the rise and the fall of it, "You're angry with me."

"Not with you. I'm just angry in general," Geralt retorted, and you couldn't help but roll your eyes at him.

"I'm not marrying Foltest. You should know that. Not after all that happened between us." You stared at the ceiling, while Geralt scooped some water into his palms and poured them on top of your head, trying to give you a head bath.

"When you said that, it got me thinking," Geralt suddenly began, as his fingers began to lather against your wet hair, his fingers rubbing through your scalp, making all the tension and the knots in your body melt away, but what words followed afterwards, only made the tension once again spiral back, "What happens once you give birth? Will you and the baby travel and be on the roads with a fucking Witcher? Who cannot settle in one place?"

"Geralt, where is all this coming from?" You turned to face him, letting your legs slide behind his body, with your baby bump now between you and his body forming a shield around it.

"Just got me thinking.. what kind of a life am I gonna be able to give you?"

Your fingers were now drawing intrinsic patterns over his chest, but your eyes were looking into his, trying to reach out to the man that hid beneath the facade of a cold, unemotional Witcher, "I don't care Geralt, all I know is that I want you."

"I want you too but I am thinking of your future." He said, stroking the side of your face with his wet thumb.

"I don't care if our love's forbidden, all I care about is that I want to be with you, I want us to raise our baby together," you slowly dropped your hand into the water, your hand finding his as you clasped your fingers with his and pulled out his hand. You brought it up to your baby bump, placing your hand tenderly over his. Geralt's breathing hitched, his huge palm draped protectively over your unborn baby and you smiled at him.

"I'm scared I will disappoint you. We Witchers weren't exactly meant to be domestic," He brought your palm up to his lips and planted a warm, chaste kiss on the inside of your palm, "I'm going to disappoint you and our baby. And you're going to hate me for the life I couldn't give you."

"No you won't. You underestimate yourself. You might be intimidating and cold on the exterior Geralt, but you—" Your smile widened, and Geralt popped his brow up, waiting for you to continue, "You are one big softie secretly."

"No, I'm not," he said, sounding fake serious.

"Oh yes, you are. You're a big bear," you playfully pulled your hand away from his, and splashed him with water. His eyes widened when the splash hit him, his lips pursing together.

"Geralt, I — I'm sorry."

"Oh, no love. This is war."

Geralt used his two hands to scoop as much water as he could and splashed you back and you let out a playful screech, "Geralt!"

"What? You called it. Come on now."

Geralt towered over the bathtub, the towel wrapped securely around his waist, covering his manhood, droplets of water rolling down his chest and his calves. He threw out a palm towards you and you whined; the water was too soothing for your exhausted body and you didn't want to get out. But there was no standing against the White Wolf. He slowly helped you up, making you stand, and carefully holding you by your waist so you didn't slip, as the pads of your feet were wet; he waited patiently for you to step out.

"Worried I'll catch a cold? I'm stronger that that." You drawled as you placed your hand into his.

Once you were out, he slowly turned you towards him to face him and wrapped a towel around your frame, using it to tap dry you all over.

"You pamper me, love," you smiled, letting your palm rest against your chest as he now worked to dry your hair.

"This is nothing compared to the happiness you are gifting me with."

You gave him a weak smile as you sat down by the edge of the bed, and slid into your comfortable slip, pulling it over your face and your neck, letting your eyes shut. After a few seconds, you opened your eyes, only to find the Witcher kneeling down between your legs, his eyes on your belly.

"You would never have been possible if it wasn't for your mother," Geralt whispered to your stomach in a tender way, momentarily glancing up into your eyes.

"Mhm, don't listen to the crap this man is feeding you with, Podrick."

"Not with that name again, [Y/N]." Geralt grumbled under his breath, but you could see a hint of a smirk playing on his lips. He let his forehead rest against your bump as he fluttered his eyes shut and inhaled your sweet fragrance, his hands holding you from your hips, "Besides, I have a feeling it's going to be a little girl, with eyes like her mother. She is going to take over on you. Not that I would have it any other way."

"Oh, Witcher, my Witcher ," You pulled him up to sit next to you as you leaned in to kiss him, and he slowly arched forward, his lips melting into yours as he mumbled between the kiss, "You might be a future Queen of Cintra, but you are my queen this day forward."

When you pulled apart, licking your lips, tasting the aftermath of Geralt's lips on you, you suddenly grabbed his wrists, and smiled cheekily, "let me do your braids, love."

"Go to sleep," he grumbled, moving away but you caught his hand again, giving him a sad pout, "Please?"

"Fine," he grumbled as he sat down on the floor in front of you, his back turned towards you, his elbows resting on his knees as he turned his gaze to the side, instead of turning to face you completely, "only this once." He turned back around, a small smile playing on his lips. Who was he kidding, he wanted you to braid his hair every single day. He fluttered his eyes shut, letting out an exhale as your fingers dug through his scalp, pulling his hair back.

Geralt woke up rather abruptly.

He sat up in bed, squirming slightly but when he turned towards you, sleeping peacefully on your side, your arm protectively draped over your beautiful bump, his heart swelled twice the size it was. You looked so innocent, so pure and you were his.

Gently, he pried the covers off, sliding his feet to the edge until the pads of his feet were resting against the cold ground. He stood up, and grabbed his discarded clothes that were strewn all over the floor, sliding into his slacks before he pulled his crumpled tunic over his head.

He turned to look at your sleeping form once before he slowly walked out of the bedroom, ensuring to let the door close as quietly as possible.

He dragged himself downstairs. He was starving after the night, but all he needed was a pitcher of ale to set him up. The tavern was empty, except for one or two men who did not have a steady job, so they had found themselves drinking at the tavern. The usual rush came in the evening.

Holding his pitcher in his left hand, he made his way to a table in the back, that overlooked the window. He sat down, huddling in a corner, bringing the pitcher up to his lips, when someone slammed himself in the chair in front of him.

"Rough night?"

"Speak for yourself, Jaskier, " Geralt smirked, as he brought the pitcher to his lips, eyeing him.

"Why on earth do you think I am hiding in a corner like this?" Jaskier blinked, wiggling his brows.

"Jaskier, don't drag me into the messes you create," Geralt hummed, taking a sip of the ale.

"You look different. You have a glow. Now I am curious. Did [Y/N] give you a beauty treatment?" He said smugly, letting his elbows rest against the table as he grabbed a piece of meat and tossed it into his mouth.

When Geralt didn't reply, Jaskier arched his body even more forward, leaning almost close to Geralt and Geralt scowled.

"I see you let her braid your hair."

"Fuck off," Geralt murmured, tight-lipped. He would have said more, but something in the back caught his attention, and his jaw dropped. Jaskier, following Geralt's gaze, slowly turned towards the direction where Geralt was looking at and that's when he saw what he was staring at— it was you.

You were standing by the counter, in a long, flowy dress, a beautiful white flower fixed to your hair, talking to the owner of the tavern. You slowly looked up from whatever you were talking to the owner about, and as though you had felt his eyes on him, you looked right at Geralt, the corners of your lips tugging into a warm smile. Jaskier looked from you back to Geralt, noting the smile that had formed on his friend's lips as you made your way towards him.

"Morning, husband. What do we have in here for breakfast? Your baby is starving," you gave Jaskier a wink, and Jaskier's jaw dropped, as he spat out the ale that he was drinking, splashing it all over the table, coughing and hitting his chest as though something was lodged into his throat.

You and Geralt looked at each other, and Geralt sat back, patting on his thigh as you sat doen on his lap, and Geralt locked his arm around you. "What did you say?" Jaskier asked, standing up, his hands on his hips, "HUSBAND?! You're married now? What happened in that bedroom last night?"

"Words, words, words and confessions?" Geralt's arm held you steady on his lap and you turned towards him, your nose touching his as you bit your lip, "Well, the Butcher of Blaviken declared he wanted to live his action packed life with me."

Geralt grumbled under his breath; and you kissed the tip of his nose, biting it teasingly, "Now husband? Where's the food?"

Geralt smacked your thigh playfully, and you immediately stood up, before Geralt was up too, "On it, woman."

A/N: okay for those who are wondering if they missed a chapter in between, wherein they got married then no you did not. I didn't write their wedding descriptively. They got married at the inn during the night, which I chose not to write because I had no freaking idea how to😂

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#geralt of rivia x y/n #geralt of rivia works #geralt of rivia x you #geralt of rivia x reader #geralt of rivia #the witcher x you #the witcher x y/n #the witcher x reader #the witcher #henry cavill #sherlock henry cavill x reader

[sinner-as-saint]

headcanons

cherry - stripper reader x mob! seb

cherry p2 - stripper reader x mob! seb

cherry p3 - stripper reader x mob! seb make up sex

cherry p4 - stripper reader x mob! seb

cherry p5 - stripper reader x mob! seb 

cherry p6 - mob! seb wanting kids

cherry p7 - jealous mob! seb x stripper reader

cherry p8 

cherry p9 - mob! seb x pregnant! reader

cherry!seb x brat!reader

cherry - soft!mob!seb x pregnant!reader 

cherry!seb x reader (lactation kink)

cherry!seb x reader sex on a rainy day

sebastian stan hc regarding the men’s health shoot.

y/n calling seb ‘daddy’ for the first time

christmas in the southern hemisphere w/ Bucky

seb edging you for a week before finally giving in

fight and make up sex with geralt of rivia

reader topping geralt of rivia 

steamy argument with geralt of rivia

geralt of rivia with shy reader

chubby! bucky taking care of reader on after a bad day

ransom drysdale nsfw headcanon

adore you - professor! seb x reader 

post endgame bucky x reader

ransom drysdale x innocent! reader 

white wolves (geralt + bucky) x reader

destroyer! chris as biker gang leader x shy! reader

ransom drysdale x step sister! reader

 making a mistake while filming a sex scene with sebastian stan

ransom drysdale taming bratty! reader

sugar daddy! sebby hc

quick bathroom sex with Loki

geralt of rivia x virgin! reader

dom! peter parker

sex against glass window w/ ransom drysdale

mob! seb with kids

biker! bucky 

ransom drysdale calling reader a dumb baby

charles blackwood x reader

geralt of rivia x reader working in a brothel

ransom finding reader’s sex toys

seb comforting reader 

drysdale twins x reader 1

drysdale twins x reader 2

ransom drysdale catching reader

drysdale twins w/ breeding kink

drysdale twins x pregnant! reader

mob! jake gyllenhaal x bratty! reader

dom! tom hardy x brat! reader

dom! bucky barnes x brat! reader

sebastian stan work out vid hc

dom!sophomore!Peter Parker x Senior!Reader

dom!sophomore!Peter Parker x Senior!Reader 2

sub! seb 

dom!ransom drysdale 

dom!dean winchester

waking seb up

jealous mob!jake

thigh riding kink w/ ransom drysdale

drysdale twins hc

dom! geralt of rivia x brat! reader

bucky barnes hc

blackwood twins hc

mob! chris hc

mob!bucky hc

after care w/ ransom drysdale

dom! jake g

spark - firefighter!bucky hc

frank (from endings beginnings) x reader hc

bodyguard! thor x reader 

soft ransom drysdale hc

jealous! seb x reader hc

professor seb! x reader 

frank (from endings beginnings) x reader hc 2

mob!bucky x mob!reader hc

drysdale twins hc 

ceo!stucky x shy! reader

viking!bucky x reader

jealous professor!seb x reader 

ransom drysdale meets his match hc

ransom drysdale x bratty reader 

professor!ransom x reader

mob!reader x innocent!seb

mob!seb x spy!reader

mob!seb x police chief’s daughter!reader

drawing bucky like one of your french girls

pornstar!seb x reader 

stucky x reader

vampire!seb x reader 

chris beck x reader (soft!dom seb)

ransom drsydale x bratty!reader

beefy!bucky x baker!reader

beefy!bucky as a quarantine partner 

mob!seb spanking reader while smoking a cigar

being obsessed with geralt’s medallion

bucky barnes x avenger!reader

hate sex with bucky while in quarantine

quarantine with drysdale twins

quarantine with sebastian in his apartment

mob!Quentin x reader 

morning sex w/ Seb during quarantine

boxer!seb x shy!reader

balcony sex w/ seb 

mob!seb x police chief’s daughter!reader 2

giving mob!seb a bj while he works

surrender - steve rogers x reader

mob!seb gets jealous

best friend! tom h. 

quarantine w/ ransom drysdale 

boyfriend!andy barber

smut w/ loki on the throne

sebastian x bestfriend!reader watching EB

oral sex w/ frank 

grabbing Frank’s ass during sex 

sebastian reading your daughter a bedtime story

needy and whiny bucky  

mob!bucky x virgin bestfriend!reader

jealous mob!seb

virgin mob!bucky x bestfriend!reader

andy barber x reader 

shower sex w/ andy barber

andy barber as a gentle lover

sex demons!evanstan x reader

quarantine with andy barber

mob!seb teaching his innocent!bff how to give a bj

mob!ransom x reader

beefy!boxer!bucky x reader

jealous roommate! bucky

curtis everett x reader

sending nudes to post endgame!bucky

seb calls you a ‘good girl’ 

mob!yelena x reader  

succubus!reader x steve  

bastard son!bucky x baker!reader

aftercare with bucky 

nomad!steve x brat!reader 

charles blackwood taming brat reader

being obsessed with bucky’s dog tags

cockwarming w/ professor!seb while he’s grading papers

bastard!bucky x baker!reader  

steve catches you while you’re playing with yourself

mob!seb teaching you how to touch yourself

mob!seb fucks you while million dollar man plays in the background

mirror sex with duke!bucky 

seb fucks his frustration out 

bucky x breeding kink 

morpheus x reader 

.

A/N: You may submit your blurbs / ideas / requests for headcanons. I will try to get back to as many as possible.

#sebastian stan headcanons #marvel smut #sebastian stan smut #marvel headcanons #sebastian stan fic #marvel au #bucky barnes headcanon #geralt of rivia smut #geralt of rivia #sinner-as-saint #bucky barnes x reader #marvel x reader #avengers smut #avengers headcanon #bucky barnes #stucky x reader #stony x reader #stony smut #stucky smut #geralt smut #the witcher #the witcher smut #the witcher netflix #ransom drysdale smut #cherry! seb #ransom drysdale x you #jake gyllenhaal smut #jake gyllenhaal x reader #jake gyllenhaal #andy barber