#geralt of rivia imagine
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Secret Encounters || Geralt of Rivia x Reader
Requested by anon
Summary: They know it's wrong, but they can't deny the desire and lust that overcomes them every time they are together.
Warnings: SMUT MINORS DNI, porn with a little bit of plot (not really), fingering, penetrative sex, mirror sex, rough sex, size kink, belly bulge, breeding kink, dirty talk, mentions of cheating (reader is engaged), fem reader (she’s a princess)
English is not my first language
Word count: 3900
Notes: I promise I'll stop writing tragic princess x witcher stories after this one. Also, sorry for the shitty summary but it's only smut so it was kinda hard to come up with something lol
Geralt had never been fond of royalty, but the moment his eyes fell on hers he knew she was different. He didn't really understand why, but he felt some type of way whenever she was near. Her perfume was intoxicating, a sweet scent that lingered on his clothes and skin and accompanied him wherever he went. He could not escape her even when he wandered alone through the forest in search of the beast he had been hired to kill... not even when he was lying in his bed at night, surrounded by the darkness of the room as he tried to rest. Her scent enveloped him at all times, awakening something deep inside him. It drove him crazy, crazy enough to act on his desires.
He knew it was wrong, it was inappropriate to take advantage of the king's hospitality like that. And she knew it was wrong too, she was a princess soon to be married, a woman of high value who had no business with a witcher like Geralt. And yet, neither seemed to be able to stay away from the other. It was as if there was some kind of energy force pulling them together, the very will of destiny imposing itself over their own. When Geralt showed up at her chambers she knew she should have turned him away. No matter how much she had been longing for him to take her in his arms and make her his, the right thing to do was to reject him and move on with her life. In fact, she had opened the door with the intention of doing exactly that, but when her eyes met the imposing figure of the witcher, towering over her as his amber eyes admired her face, she could not resist the temptation. She gave in to her desires, crashing her lips against his in a desperate kiss as she slowly pulled him into her room.
The feel of his touch lingered on her body for days, her skin permanently marked by the roughness of his caresses and the warm wetness of his mouth. The sound of his grunts of pleasure as he buried himself in her echoed in her mind at all times. He was all she could think about. She knew it was wrong, but she needed to feel his hands on her body again, exploring every inch of her skin as he showed her pleasure like no other man could.
Despite their desperation, they were able to keep their hands off each other for a while. Though all their self-control disappeared by the time of Geralt's last day in the castle. After slaying the beast —and collecting his reward— the witcher was ready to leave when the king made him an offer he couldn't resist. There would be a feast in celebration of the fall of the creature that had terrorized the town and Geralt, as their savior, was the guest of honor. He would normally have declined the offer, although the promise of free food and alcohol sounded enticing, he hated the idea of being stuck with a bunch of drunken noblemen. However, this time it gave him the perfect excuse to stay there a while longer and say goodbye to the princess the right way —the way he knew they had both been fantasizing about since their last encounter.
The party quickly turned into a game of cat and mouse, defiant yellow eyes meeting hers in the crowd, admiring her lips as she laughed and the way her body moved as she danced. She was doing it on purpose, accepting the proposals of all the knights who bowed in front of her to provoke him. She wanted to spark a reaction in him, see how far she could push him, how far she could push the boundaries of their secret relationship. The thought of being caught filled her body with adrenaline, her heart pounding so hard against her chest that he could almost hear it over the noise of the party.
She waited for the right moment and took advantage of the first distraction to escape to her bedroom. Her eyes met Geralt's before disappearing behind the side door of the great hall, her desire-laden expression a silent plea for him to follow her. She sat in front of the large mirror in her room waiting for him, removing the jewelry from her hair and combing her hair without any haste. And just as she expected, only a few minutes after her arrival, she felt the sound of the door's wood creaking as it opened. She saw Geralt lock the door behind him in the reflection of the mirror and she had to hold back the smile that wanted to form on her lips —a failed attempt to save some of her decency and not look so desperate.
"You're not supposed to be here." She said as if his presence didn't make her heart race. "It's wrong."
"That's not what you said the other night." Geralt's deep voice was music to her ears, his slightly mocking tone awakening that tingle under her skin. He walked up to her, holding her gaze in the mirror as if challenging her. He stood tall at her back, close enough that she could feel the heat emanating from his body, but not close enough to feel the brush of his hands on her skin.
"The other night was a mistake." She affirmed, setting the comb aside. It was true, their furtive encounter, though pleasurable, had been a mistake. But they both knew well that neither really cared. The desire they felt, the tension in the air, it was all too much, it clouded their thinking leaving them at the mercy of their most primitive feelings.
Geralt reached out his hands to her, brushing her hair aside so he could caress her skin. He noticed how she stifled a sigh through the reflection of the mirror, his warm touch awakening that flame within her. His fingers moved gently across her shoulders, up her neck until they reached her cheeks. She closed her eyes and leaned into his hand, losing herself in the moment. It felt just as she remembered it, warm and hard, yet strangely soft and comforting at the same time. It was as if his hands had never left her skin, as if his caresses were permanently carved into her body.
"Do you wish for me to leave?" he said, his voice barely a raspy whisper. He knew the answer to her question, he could read it on her face, smell it in the air, feel it in the vein in her neck that throbbed rapidly beneath his fingers. But still, he needed to be sure he was right, hear from her lips the plea for his caresses. He needed to know that she was as desperate as he was.
She didn't give him a verbal response, just rose from her seat and pressed her lips to his. Geralt's hands closed around her waist, pulling her body against his as he quickly took control of the kiss. She didn't bother fighting for dominance, acknowledging her subordination to him almost immediately. She didn't need to win, she just needed to feel his hands on her skin again, gripping and caressing every inch of her body in a rush of pleasure until the early morning sun forced them apart.
There was nothing tender and soft about the way Geralt's lips attacked hers, only lust and desperation, but she loved every part of it. She loved the way his tongue invaded her mouth and how his teeth nibbled at her lips before moving his wet kisses down her neck, sucking and biting at the skin without fear of leaving marks. He knew he could do whatever he wanted with her as she was completely at his mercy, surrendered to the pleasure only he could give her. She didn't care if she had to spend the next week finding creative ways to hide the evidence of their furtive encounter, she just needed to feel him. She wanted him to mark her, to declare ownership over her body. She knew she belonged to him, always would, even if she never saw him again after tonight.
Clothes soon became a problem, a barrier that kept them apart, so desperate hands worked carelessly to fix it. Her dress was the first to go, the expensive fabric pooling around her feet leaving her naked body completely exposed to Geralt's hungry gaze. She should have been embarrassed, but nothing but lust and anticipation pumped through her veins. He was looking at her as if she were the most beautiful and sensual woman he had ever seen, as if she were a goddess he had the privilege of pleasing. Never before had anyone looked at her in that way, so intense, so filled with adoration. She loved it, it made her feel special, powerful.
Geralt didn't waste a second, calloused fingers caressing every inch of exposed skin. It awakened a fire inside her, a tingling that spread throughout her body, concentrating on her core. His teeth nibbled at the sensitive skin of her neck, sinking his canines into her as his hands moved down to her breasts, earning a couple of sighs from the princess as he showed attention to her nipples erect with anticipation. He smiled against her neck, proud of himself as the scent of her arousal lingered in the air. It was an intoxicating scent, the sweet forbidden fruit begging him to take it.
When his fingers slipped between her wet folds, she let out a moan of pleasure as her grip on the witcher's shoulders tightened. It was as beautiful as he remembered, a harmonious melody traveling through him and going straight to his cock. It was the sound of temptation, of lust, urging him to carry on, to forget all rules of morality and decorum and take what was his.
“P-please, Geralt.” She pleaded against his lips. Her breathing was rapid and she looked up at him through half-closed eyelids. He slipped two of his fingers inside her with ease, pushing them as deep as he could and moving them until he made her moan. She looked so beautiful like this, her eyes closed in pleasure and her parted lips releasing those beautiful desperate sighs, completely at his mercy.It was an image that would stay in Geralt's mind for quite some time.
"I know, I know," he soothed her, his free hand coming up to caress her cheek. "I have to get you ready for me."
"I-I need to feel you, p-please." She whimpered in a pathetic, desperate attempt to get him to do what she wanted. She needed to feel all of him, his hot skin pressed against hers, his fingernails sinking into the skin of her hips as he buried his cock deep inside her, his ragged breaths in the hollow of her neck. She needed him as much as she needed the air she breathed and could wait no longer.
Thankfully he took pity on her, removing his hands from her body to unbutton his pants. She suppressed the whimper that wanted to escape her throat as she felt empty without his fingers inside her, knowing the sensation would not last for long. Geralt instructed her to turn over and her body obeyed him before she could process his words or wonder what he was up to. Her body no longer belonged to her, it belonged to him and always would.
He held her against his chest for a moment, one hand roaming her body while the other held her head steady facing forward. She could feel his hard member pressed against her lower back as his heat enveloped her completely. Their gazes met in the mirror once more and she saw the darkness of desire staining the beautiful yellow orbs. He buried his nose in her hair, inhaling her intoxicating scent before lowering his lips to her ear.
"I want you to look at yourself in the mirror as I fuck you, princess." Geralt whispered in her ear, his voice firm and slightly deeper than normal. His eyes never left hers in the mirror, studying her reaction in the reflection. "I want you to see how beautiful you look with your face scrunched up in pleasure so you'll remember it after I'm gone and your future husband can't make you feel this good."
He gave her no warning before pushing his hard cock into her tight wet hole, and he wasn't gentle either. A quick thrust of his hips and he was balls deep inside her as her velvety walls struggled to take him. Geralt was big, it was almost hard for him to fully fit inside her despite how aroused she was. But it wasn't painful, not in a bad way at least. She loved the way his cock stretched her, almost impaling her on it when it was all the way in. The burning only added to her pleasure, the knot in her belly tightening with the promise of her orgasm.
Geralt set a fast, torturous pace, earning a string of incoherent moans each time he touched that special place deep inside her. She could feel him twitching inside her as her walls closed around him, desperate to hold him in place. It was almost too much and not enough at the same time, a mixture of feelings born of her need for relief. The sound of skin slapping against skin combined with her cries of pleasure and Geralt's grunts filled the room. It was loud and she wouldn't be surprised if she discovered that someone passing through the corridor could hear them, but she didn't care. She felt too good to worry about anything else.
The pleasure she felt was so intense that she had trouble keeping her eyes open, her heavy eyelids closing involuntarily against the force of Geralt's thrusts. But each time she did, he tightened his grip on her jaw, growling in her ear for her to open them. The image reflected in the mirrored surface was too much for her to take. Her small figure wrapped in the strong arms of her lover towering over her and making her feel even smaller and more insignificant. The bulge forming in her lower belly with each thrust showed just how deep inside her Geralt was. His teeth on her neck, nibbling at the sensitive skin without taking his intense gaze away from her eyes in the mirror. And finally, her face, with parted lips letting out a string of melodious moans, and glassy eyes filled with tears that threatened to escape at the sheer intensity of what she was feeling. The expression of pure pleasure on her face was one she had never seen on her before —and she feared that after tonight she would never see it again.
It was all too much for her, and the possessive way Geralt was acting didn't help her in the slightest. He was determined to leave a mark on her, both physically and mentally. He wanted her to see traces of him on her own skin after he was gone, but he also wanted to make sure she remembered him. Make sure she remembered the intensity of the moment and the way he had made her feel. He wanted her to think of him every time her future husband left her unsatisfied, touching herself to relieve the pressure inside her as images of him in this very moment flashed through her mind.
He made sure to let her know his intentions between grunts of pleasure, feeling her walls close around his member with every word that left his lips. She liked it as much as he did and that only egged him on.
"Geralt, please," she begged, not quite sure of what it was she was asking of him. Please stop because the pleasure traveling through my veins is too much to bear? Please keep going and don't stop until I'm passed out from exhaustion and you've ruined me for the rest of the men? She wasn't sure, both options were equally valid.
"I know... just let go," he encouraged her, his warm breath crashing against the skin of her ear as he spoke. "Just let go for me, princess."
Her body took his words as a command and it wasn't long before the knot in her belly snapped, sending wave after wave of pleasure through her insides. Her orgasm hit her like a pile of bricks, leaving her completely stupid. Geralt's name escaped her lips like a prayer as she lost herself in pleasure. All thought left her mind, she could only feel as her lover's thrusts slowed, her body trembling in his arms from overstimulation.
She only had a couple of seconds to recover, whining as she felt empty when Geralt pulled away from her momentarily. Her legs were weak and she struggled to stand, so he took her in his arms and laid her down on the bed carefully. He settled into the space between her legs, taking a moment to admire her and caress her body before continuing. His hands ran over her warm, sweat-covered skin in an almost gentle way, an act that contrasted with the roughness of his behavior so far but was nonetheless welcomed by her.
The tenderness didn't last long, though, because once he slid his cock inside her once more, he returned to the animalistic grunts and punishing rhythm of his thrusts. This time it was more desperate and erratic, letting her know that he was close to his own orgasm. His cock twitched inside her, threatening to paint her velvety walls with his seed. The very idea was enough to have her on the edge again.
"You feel me, princess?" He said, taking one of her hands and bringing it down to her lower belly. He pressed it against her skin, trapping it between his palm and the bulge forming there from his cock. It added a new sensation and she couldn't contain the moan that escaped her throat. "Feel how deep inside of you I am?
"Fuck," she cursed, eyes rolling back as her free hand clutched at Geralt's wrist to make sure he didn't move it off her belly. The pressure felt too good, wave after wave of pleasure coursing through her with a force that left her breathless.
"I'm the only one who gets is deep, f-fuck, the only one who makes you feel this way." He wasn't asking, it was a clear statement, but still she nodded, letting out repeated affirmations between high-pitched moans.
"I belong to you... My body is forever yours, no one will ever make me feel this good." The animalistic growl he let out at those words almost pushed her over the edge, leaving her on the verge of her second orgasm. She knew he was close too, she could feel it in his erratic thrusts and the way his cock twitched inside her. She needed to feel him come undone for her, to paint her walls white as he emptied his seed inside her. She needed him to mark her, to claim her as his own. They both knew a relationship between them was impossible, but she would always be his in secret. Her body would always miss him.
"Please, I need to feel you." She managed to say between moans and ragged breaths. "I need you to fill me up, please." She sounded pathetic at this point, but she didn't care. All she cared about was feeling Geralt's seed trickling down her thighs as she tried to catch her breath.
The witcher groaned, a cocky smile playing on his lips. One of his hands flew to the headboard of the bed, the wood creaking under his strong grip as he adjusted his position. The new angle allowed him to reach even deeper —if that was even possible—, impaling her on his cock as she cried out in pleasure. Her nails dug into his back, leaving traces of red marks on his skin.
"You're desperate for it, aren't you?" he teased her arrogantly. "Don't worry, princess, I'm gonna shoot my seed so deep inside of you that you'll carry it for days. Is that what you want? You want me to mark you as mine? You want to feel me between your legs while you swear loyalty to your husband?"
"Yes! Fuck, Geralt, please... mark me, claim me as yours, please."
The witcher did not expect to find it so erotic to hear her admit her deepest desires, but he did. It awakened something inside him, a primal desire that took over his body. He became an animal, a fierce, possessive wolf that was desperate for some relief. After all, that was exactly what their relationship was, pure animal instinct, pure lust and desperation. An intense attraction they couldn't resist even when they knew how wrong it was.
He came with a loud grunt, emptying his load inside her warm, tight walls. She felt every drop of it, her cunt filled to the brim with his desire for her. The intensity of his orgasm triggered hers, her body trembling under Geralt's weight, her walls tightening around his cock, milking him for everything he had. His name fell from her lips as pleasure consumed her, a prayer begging him to stay with her. He knew it was impossible, but in that moment - mind clouded with pleasure as he felt her crumbling beneath him - he really considered it. He wanted to feel her body against his again, hear the sound of her voice as she moaned his name outside of his memories. He needed her.
But that was just a fantasy, the desire for the impossible. She was a princess who was soon to be married and he was a witcher who had nothing to do with the court and royal affairs. She was not his —even if her body was— and he was not hers. And that was the hard truth. So when he came to his senses he rose from his place on the bed, where he rested with her beside him. The princess watched him as he dressed, trying to ignore the strange feeling of emptiness that came over her at the thought that once he crossed the threshold of the door she would never see him again.
"Will I ever see you again?" She asked in a whisper, as if afraid of being heard. Geralt admired her naked figure on the bed as he contemplated his answer, liking the way the dim candlelight illuminated her skin covered in a thin layer of sweat. As wrong as it was, he would really like to see her again, but the truth was he didn't know if it would happen. The future was uncertain, especially in his line of work, so to give her a straight answer would be to lie to her.
"Only time will tell."
#geralt of rivia x reader#geralt of rivia x fem reader#geralt of rivia smut#geralt x reader#the witcher x reader#geralt x reader smut#the witcher#geralt of rivia#the witcher netflix#geralt of rivia imagine#henry cavill
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Safe
Summary: Geralt talks you through your orgasm.
As promised, I finished my essay, and as voted for by several of you, this was the fic you wanted posted first!
Warnings: smut, 18 + only! minors be fucking gone from here ! Vaginal penetration, unprotected sex, hurt/comfort, use of good girl, soft Geralt. Praise kink, brief mentions of panic. You know the drill. Female reader.
Please note I am not responsible for your media consumption.
The white haired Witcher encases you beneath him. His muscly arms holding steady on either side of you. His amber eyes show nothing but adoration for you as he thrusts his cock inside you.
“You’re doing so good for me” he groans, his thick cock twitches as you tighten around him.
It’s been hours, not that your complaining of course, Geralt exploring every inch of you with his fingers, his tongue, muttering praise and comments on how gorgeously stunning you are.
“Geralt” you whine, your pleasure building, your stomach beginning to swirl as it starts to cloud your mind.
“Your close” the Witcher observes, angling his cock so he hits deeper.
You wince slightly, he picks up on it, slows down a bit.
“your okay” he soothes, his big hands splaying across your thighs, squeezing, it provides comfort. “Look at me, love” his gravelly voice is soft, tender.
Your eyes flit to his, a half smile on his face
“There she is” he moves his hand to your face, runs a finger down your jaw.
He watches intently as your chest begins to heave, your pussy tightens round his cock.
“G-Geralt” you choke out, panicking slightly as your mind fogs.
“your safe, it’s okay, I’ve got you love” he assures you, his hand still cupping your face. Your eyes roll back as your orgasm begins to wash over you, your arm reaching to clutch Geralts. Nails leaving half moon indents in his skin as you moan beneath him. He snakes a hand down between you, callused finger pushing on your puffy clit. “Mm, keep making those pretty noises for me, your doing so well my love, you feel amazing wrapped around my cock” Geralt lets out a broken moan as he spoke, gritting his teeth as your pussy convulsed around him. “ Oh god Geralt, I’m gonna-
“I know, keep your eyes on me, breathe, good girl, good, that’s it” he hisses through his teeth as you clench hard around his cock. You whined as pleasure overcame your senses. Geralt cups your face, . “Let go, come for me” he demands, his stunning eyes wide with lust, brow furrowed slightly, you loose yourself in them as you release around him. Triggered by your orgasm, Geralts cock tightens and he paints your walls with his come, a low moan bubbling from his throat as he does. “Fuck my love that was incredible, you were incredible” he breathes, his voice cracked with pleasure. Your head is fuzzy with the aftermath of your climax, Geralts rough hands rub soothingly up your side.
“I’m going to pull out now, and I’ll clean you up my love, okay”. He states, his voice has that post orgasm croak that you just love and you nod.
You flinch slightly when the warm towel touches your core, Geralt leaning up on the bed on his side next to you. “Sh it’s okay” he soothes. “I love you” you murmur, shifting closer to him, you curl into him as Geralt pulls the quilt over the both of you. Wrapping his big arms around you he pulls you closer, encasing you. You feel safe like this, you always will. “I love you too my love” he smiles, placing a gentle kiss on the top of your head.
#geralt of rivia x reader#the witcher imagine#Geralt of rivia imagine#the witcher x reader#henry cavill imagine#geralt x reader#Geralt of rivia x female reader#Geralt of rivia smut
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Healing Hands by the Fire
geralt of rivia x afab!reader
words: 3,684
warnings: smut !! 18+ (minors dni) ; squint and you may see a casual plot
summary: Geralt visits Reader, a healer, with severe injuries.
a/n: very out of my comfort zone. however, i promised my friend to write this as her christmas present because writing fanfics are my love language. good thing i know basic things about the witcher heheehe.
How did she always end up here? Months without a word or seeing him. She had accepted the peace. Only occasionally did she perk up when there was a knock on her door, secretly hoping it was him. But only one could be so lucky. Instead, it was travelers from all over the Continent who heard word of her abilities.
She couldn’t complain. Healing others in exchange for seeds, food, and sometimes money. Not that it was required for her service but she couldn’t complain about the gratuity.
In fact, she enjoyed helping others. However, it was nearing winter and there were less travelers. They were most likely home to prepare for the violent winter storms that damned the Continent.
It was one of the first snow falls of the season. She had finished feeding the chickens and her horse Atticus. That was always her nighttime routine. Feed the animals, make some tea, study until all the tea is drunk, and finally get ready for bed.
Some might think the routine would get tiring, but there was never any guarantee. It was the one consistent thing in her life at the moment. She was content.
However, some nights, she heard the enchanted chimes outside that let her know someone was approaching. But before she made it to the door, it swung open, snow flurries drifted inside. The cold was sharp and pricked her nose, making her sniffle.
In most cases she would be alarmed. There was no telling what creatures or people were harmless and which ones weren’t. She clutched the nearest thing to her— a broom that always gave her splinters when she used it.
His snow white hair peeked from under his hood and she recognized the distinct low grumble that could be mistaken as a quake. He slowly closed the door, ensuring it was locked this time. “You startled me.” She said, releasing her grip from the broom, checking her hand for any loose wood.
“You should keep the door locked. What if I was a dangerous man breaking in?” She played it off as a joke, not seeing the concerned look on his face.
“Some might say you are dangerous.” She smirked. She never expected him to react to her jokes, but she could feel the warmth blanket around her when his shoulders relaxed. “Are you going to stand there all night?”
He limped further into the cabin. She could see the snow melting on his cloak, dripping on her floor. “You made a mess,” she huffed.
His head lifted and cat-like eyes met hers. It was known his abilities and job forced him to lack showing how he felt. But, she noticed right away how his eyes drooped that he was in pain.
She ran towards him, immediately untying his cloak so that it dropped to the floor. She gasped at the large claw marks scratched into his chest. He could withstand most injuries but the cuts had broken past the many layers of skin.
“Fuck, Geralt. What happened?” Her finger ghosted over the wound on his shoulder. Almost immediately he grabbed her wrist. But she didn’t pull away.
“I’m starving.” He took a moment to look her up and down before letting go of her wrist and walking past her.
Unbelievable. She scoffed and followed him into her den. “Are you serious? Geralt, you’re hurt and need to be healed before you get an infection.”
“I smell meat pie. Do you have any to spare?” He left no time for her to answer. He grabbed the plate on a table and began to shove them in his mouth. He groaned in satisfaction.
She wanted to be annoyed, but she had never seen him act this way. So instead she watched as he stuffed his face. He sat down slowly in a wooden chair. His large body mass made it creak, rocking it with the sound of the crackling fire. His spastic breathing mellowed out into a deep sigh.
He was definitely hurting from his wound but there was something else. She could sense that something was bothering him. Yet, she didn’t pry for an explanation. Instead, she let him watch the fire as she gathered her supplies of elixirs and jars. Then she picked up the pot full of water hanging above the fire and poured it into a bowl. The steam warmed her face that was still cold from earlier.
“Are you still hungry? I think I only have bread.” She sat her things on the table next to him, but not looking in his direction. However, she could feel his piercing eyes watching her every single move. “If you’re not feeling like bread I can stay up and make you soup.”
His hand flew to her wrist. She jumped, nearly knocking over a bottle with green shiny liquid. She turned her head slightly, sighing deeply. “It hurts,” Geralt mumbled.
His wound was red, inflamed, and looked worse in the light. And if Geralt says it hurts then it was worse than she had imagined. “Take your tunic off while I prepare.” Although it was her giving the instruction, she couldn’t help the heat on her cheeks arise. Especially when he did what he was told. She had only seen his bare chest a handful of times, but each time made her stomach knot up.
He took a heavy breath as he settled back into the chair, wincing when she placed a hot cloth on his open wound. His nails dug into the chair. His teeth clenched as he threw his head back. She couldn’t help but giggle. In return, he snapped his head to look at her, visibly annoyed. “What?”
She swatted him for the rash reaction. “No need to be hot headed, Geralt. I was only laughing because I’ve never seen you act so dramatic.”
“I’m not being dramatic,” he argued. He winced again when the cloth touched his skin once more. He rolled his eyes when he noticed the smirk she tried to hide from him, her hair covered her face. Not thinking, he took his finger and pushed it out of the way so he could see her more clearly.
She tried to ignore the knot in her stomach or how her chest was breathing differently. She even tried to look away subtly but the only thing she could look at without being suspicious was his bare chest. “How’s Yennefer?”
The change of subject was almost as if she had poured salt into his fresh wounds. He yanked his hand away and turned his head to face the fire, jaw ticked. She should’ve felt guilty for bringing up his on and off lover. Instead, she felt relieved his attention was no longer on her and probably wouldn’t be the rest of the night.
That’s how it always went. He would get too close and right before she fell under his spell she would mention the other woman. She had only met the sorceress once. They neither liked or disliked one another. Yet, she could tell there would not be any attempts to go frollicking in a field like they were the best of friends.
In some ways, she had been jealous of Yennefer– she was interesting and traveled the Continent and had fought in many wars. She was beautiful and cunning. Of course Geralt would pick her as a lover.
“Ow.” Geralt grimaced, shifting in the chair. Her fingers were touching the wounds, and spreading them apart. “Are you about done? I’m tired.”
She continued to inspect his wounds closely, having to push between his legs to get a closer look. “I have to ensure there are no severe damages so I know what to make.” His huff made her roll her eyes. She wanted to swat him for still acting like a child. “Whatever got you, got you good, eh?”
He looked away then back at her, swallowing. “Yes, I suppose.”
There was a beat of silence. Only the fire was popping.
“I thought I was goin’ to die.” He said out loud in a low whisper. Almost like he didn’t want her to hear him.
She stopped briefly to look up at him. He was serious. “Well, fortunately whatever it was missed your heart by a hair.” She pointed to where his heart was and traced a line to the start of one of the scratches only millimeters away. She got up, leaving him with a witty smile as she started to pour the many different potions into a different bowl.
“Me and Yennefer haven’t spoken in months,” he admitted.
It was hard not to react, but she had never seen him willingly talk about the woman before. “Oh.”
“We wanted different things I suppose,” he continued. “If it weren’t for Ciri’s letters, then I wouldn’t even know if she was still alive.”
“You miss her?” It was meant to sound like a question, but it came across as a statement.
He looked down at his hands, ashamed. “I’m not sure if I’m allowed to miss someone.”
“Are you not allowed or are you unsure you know what it’s supposed to feel like?”
He didn’t answer.
She walked back and found her place again between his legs. “Missing someone feels like always looking at the door when there’s a knock, and your heart skips a beat, hoping it’s them.” She dipped her finger in the cream she had made and started to apply it to the open wound.
“I don’t live in a cottage with a door.” His hands creeped to his thighs so they brushed her as she moved.
She finished with the first cut and moved onto the second, which was much deeper and longer. “Well, missing someone can also feel like wanting to cry even when you’re happy.”
“You do know I have emotions?” He quizzed her.
She smirked. “Of course I do. I was only trying to help you figure out if you miss Yennefer.”
He hummed, running a finger over the first wound she had treated which was starting to already heal. His skin attaching itself together again. “I miss her, but not in the way you think I do.”
“Then in what way?” She raised her brow, clearly confused as to what he meant.
He didn’t answer her right away. “Not in the way I miss you.”
The bowl in her hand nearly clattered to the floor. She froze, replaying the words over and over as if she hadn’t heard him. Did Geralt really admit to missing her? No, he doesn’t actually mean it. He was messing with her. “That’s not funny.” Her breath was shaky. In fact, her hands were shaky too as she tried to continue healing him.
“Did I make a joke?” His tone was unwavering. He placed his hand on her warm cheek, brushing his thumb over her soft flesh. He had never touched her so intimately like he was now.
She shook her head, using her free hand to brush him away, focusing on the rest of his injuries. “You’ve lost a lot of blood. You’re delusional.”
“I thought your potions helped with that?”
Her eyes flickered up to meet his, briefly, before averting them back to the bowl. She swooped the last of the cream on her finger and spread it slowly over the last scratch. The others had closed up but one could make out the red scar. “Those will go away in due time,” she mumbled.
As she tried to get up he caught her arm, standing up with her, and in doing so their chests were against one another. He could feel her heavy breathing. And she could feel the warmth from his body electrifying hers.
“I should go make your bed. You need to rest.” She tried to walk away but his grip never left her arm. “Geralt.”
He took the bowl from her hands and placed it back on the table. “How much longer will you deny it?”
She swallowed the gasp that had almost escaped her, shaking her head. “What do you mean?” Finally, she had pulled away but made no efforts to leave the room, only stepping back to make space between them. And of course he could probably read her like an open book while she only had his stoic expressions to decipher. He opened his mouth, but closed it, sighing loudly. “Thank you, Y/n.”
Her face softened.
“I don’t… I don’t know what I would’ve done if it weren’t for you. In fact, I don’t know what I would do without you.” His jaw slacked, watching her intensely.
She could feel the pull, like a magnet, all too familiar when it came to Geralt. Normally, she had to ignore it. But at that moment, it felt like a boiling pot of water, steaming and bubbling, unable to contain itself. And as she looked into his piercing eyes, the knot in her stomach told her it was time to say something. “Geralt.” Her voice was above a whisper. “I have something to tell you.”
“Yes?” His expression never faltered.
She shifted her feet, uncomfortable. “I… I um… I’m making oat porridge in the morning.” She had decided it was best to hold back what she really wanted to say. “I’ll go prepare your room.”
His yellow eyes narrowed, searching for hers. She knew he was watching the emotions swirl through her mind. She knew that he knew that wasn’t what she really wanted to say to him. “No.” He was assertive and the growled vibrations dragged along her back like a dagger, giving her chills.
Ignoring the goosebumps along her arms, she ran her hand over her face. “What do you want me to say?” She felt like a twig that had snapped. “Why are you being mean? You stand there forcing a confession out of me. A confession you will never get because there’s nothing to say.” Her tears burned in the corner of her eyes. She hated how foolish she looked in front of him. Crying and blubbering because he decided to dig deeper.
They had a routine. He would knock on the door and she would heal his wounds. Their deep conversations were rare, and sometimes he wouldn’t speak at all. Sometimes he would leave in the morning without a word. So why must this time be any different than the others?
“You’re angry.”
She scoffed. “Yes, I’m angry.” Unable to face him, she turned to look at the fireplace, shaking her head. “That’s the most frustrating part of all of this. I’m angry that you’re here. I’m angry that I don’t see you for months with no word if you’re even alive. I’m angry that you show up when I’m missing you the most.” Her eyes caught his, her nostrils flared. She had had enough of it, storming up to him and putting a finger against his bare chest. “I’m angry that you sit there and touch me and talk to me like we’re lovers. I’m angry that you won’t go to someone else for help. Because I can’t do it anymore, Geralt. I can’t do it.”
And there it was. Years worth of bubbling water, spilling over the pot and all over the floor. She had made a mess that she wasn’t sure if she would be able to clean up.
Geralt’s jaw ticked, his eyes scanning her face. “You wish to not see me anymore? Would that be easier?”
Her finger fell slowly from his chest. Her voice trembled. “It’s easier than caring about you.”
Geralt brought his hand up slowly to her cheek, brushing his knuckle against a tear. “I am angry at you too,” he whispered. Her brows furrowed, unsure what he meant. “I told you I have feelings too. Yet, you assume I don’t. You assume I don’t care about you either.”
She swallowed the lump in her throat. “Do you?”
“Why do you think I keep coming back?” His jaw slacked.
The tension between them was thick and palpable. She wasn’t sure what else there was to say. Her heart was torn. Even with the confession, there was no guarantee. He was a Witcher with responsibilities that were not suitable for the life she wanted. She pushed it away, cracking a smile. “Are you saying that you got injured on purpose? So you could see me?”
“Perhaps.” The corner of his mouth flickered, leaning his head down towards her.
“You could’ve died.” She stepped closer to him, tracing her finger of his scars, looking at his lips.
“But I didn’t.” He said against her mouth, finally closing the gap between them.
He wrapped his arms around her, strong and sure, deepening the kiss. It was gentle but fierce, full of longing and tension that had been built up along the years. It tasted like all the warm tea she had made for him over time.
When she moaned, Geralt took the opportunity to slip his tongue in her mouth, gliding it tenderly and carefully against hers, groaning in satisfaction. He somehow managed to pull her closer as if their bodies weren’t already meshed together.
It was her who broke away first, both of them gasping for air, chests heaving from the heavy kiss. Geralt’s eyes had turned black, his senses heightened, craving more.
Without a word, she unbuttoned her blouse, freeing her chest as she dropped it to the floor. She kissed Geralt again on the mouth, his neck, and then his chest. She whispered in his ear, “I think I should go prepare your room now.”
He nodded, allowing her to take his hand to lead him to her room, rather than the room up in the attic that her guests normally stayed in. It was full of knick knacks and books scattered. Her bed was unmade, but neither one of them cared.
She pushed him on the bed, straddling his lap, peppering kisses all over his chest. If she was smart, she would savor all of it– every kiss and touch. But fuck all of it. She had waited too long to savor it. She grinded herself against his hardness, smiling against his ear when she felt him jump through his trousers. Something had told her it was too long for him too.
The rest of their clothes had found a new place on the floor of her bedroom. She was now laying down, Geralt hovered over her, his chain dangled over her face, and his hands roamed over her bare body as she whimpered under his touch. His lips attacked her neck, trailing down her body, relishing every inch.
“Geralt,” she mewled.
She felt the vibrations of his chuckle, revitalizing her, the warmth between her legs now ached. “Yes?” He came back towards her mouth, placing a life-wrecking kiss on it.
She nibbled his bottom lip. “You know.”
“Mm, I don’t think I do,” he teased. His hand was between her legs, fingers gliding, taunting her.
She thrusted her hips upwards, forcing friction against her swollen clit, gasping when he slid a finger in her. “I need you.”
The pitiful look in her eyes convinced him enough to give her what she wanted. And because any longer, he felt like he would combust. Geralt pushed her legs apart and then guided his girthy length to her entrance, sliding it in slowly.
She gasped as he sunk deeper inside her, finally able to marvel all of her. It was sweet like the honey she snuck in his tea. Rich like the pastries she packed in his knapsack whenever he left in the mornings, without saying goodbye because he was afraid he would never leave if he saw her golden smile in the mornings. Yet, he wasn’t strong enough to never come back.
At first, his thrusts were slow and tender, slipping so deep that his tip reached as far as it could. She gripped his shoulders, nails forming crescents, back arching as he picked up the pace. She wanted to hug him with her thighs, but his hands were sure to keep them open and spread for him.
The sounds of their sticky skin crashing together blended with their moans and grunts, forming a delectable melody. She pulled him into an open-mouth sloppy kiss, humming. The bed rattled beneath them, his pace was dangerously close to cracking the frame.
In a swift move, he pulled her up, so that she was straddling him. Their bare chests flushed together, her face in the crook of his neck, whimpering as she bounced on his cock. “I’m… fuck,” she breathed, unable to make the words as it hit her sweet spot.
“Me too.” He slightly pushed her shoulders back, wanting to see her. His palm cradled her face, swallowing the thickness stuck in his throat. He knew he looked destroyed. He didn’t show how he felt often, but the pent up tension over the year had finally arisen.
“G…Geralt!” She shouted as her walls closed around him, releasing her orgasm around him, resting her forehead on his chest as he continued to move her up and down. She clutched onto him as if she was about to float away.
He threw his head back as his cock twitched, finishing, He thrusted through his climax, panting as he slowed to a halt. His senses were still high and could hear the fire still crackling in the den. He could feel her breathing still rugged and hot, sticking to his chest.
She couldn’t see it but Geralt let a small smile briefly appear as he stroked her bare back. He placed a kiss on the top of her head. She looked up at him, running her fingers through his snow-white hair. “Will you stay one more night?”
He tilted his head, brows knitted together. “Are you still angry with me?”
A mischievous glimmer crossed her eyes. “If I am, does that mean you’ll stay?”
He snickered, placing a peck on her lips, lingering, scared if he were to break away she’d disappear.
Angry or not, he was going to stay one more night.
#geralt x reader#geralt of rivia x reader#geralt x y/n#geralt x you#geralt smut#geralt x reader smut#the witcher fanfiction#the witcher smut#the witcher x reader#the witcher x you#the witcher x y/n#the witcher fic#blaize writes#geralt of rivia imagine#the witcher imagine
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Dark Paradise
summary: geralt was all-consuming, invading every one of your senses; somehow, he'd snaked his way beneath your skin and between your ribs before burrowing into your heart. he lived there now, and you couldn't breathe without him.
warnings: 18+ only. breeding kink. overstimulation. mentions of multiple orgasm. name calling; slut. dom!geralt.
words: 1k.
notes: no one will ever convince me that geralt is a soft man. he is all strength, and arrogance, and hard muscles. and he will dominate his woman. admittedly this is shorter then i wanted it to be, and maybe not my best work, but i do hope you enjoy.
If ever there was something to be grateful for, it was this: being able to fuck his woman raw without the fear of an unwanted pregnancy. Having you naked beneath him was everything Geralt wanted—to watch your velvet walls stretch around his cock's girth, to feel your body tremble as he rocked his hips against your ass, to watch your cum mixed with his be forced from your tight hole with each brutal thrust.
You knew, completely and irrevocably, that there was no chance of falling pregnant with Geralt of Rivia. The trials had made him sterile, though you boiled fennel and drank it regularly to be certain. Your mother taught you from the eve of your first bleed to protect yourself against others, to trust no one but yourself, and that having a child with the wrong man could lead your life to ruin.
But tonight he had come to your cottage on the outskirts of the village in a foul and angry mood, with snarling tongue and gnashing fangs. He refused to tell you what had happened as he forced you down to your knees. All he'd wanted was your naked body beneath him.
"Geralt." Your voice quivered and rose to a crescendo when he speared through the satin clutch of your cunt and hit the sweet spot that sent your eyes spinning. Geralt of Rivia was not a small man—not in any sense of the word. He was tall and impossibly strong. His eyes were intense, and his hair was the colour of starlight. With broad shoulders and a myriad of scars along his body, he was every woman's fantasy.
And he refused to treat you with fragility. To him, you were not a damsel in distress. So he fucked like he fought, with teeth and tongue, and in every position. "I-I can't. S'too much."
Your thighs trembled under the lingering force of the three orgasms Geralt had pulled from the depths of your soul—on his fingers, tongue, and cock. Another one would surely kill you; you would float away from your body and away from him, never to return. But the idea of him filling you again was heavenly and impossible to deny—not when he dominated you so beautifully.
"You can," he grunted, his voice a rough growl. Geralt followed a bead of sweat that dripped down your spine with the tip of his tongue, leaving your sweat-slick skin goosepimpled. His hand followed the same path until he gripped the nape of your neck and pressed you into the mattress, keeping you cemented in place as he filled into you again. “You can, because I’m not stopping.”
Geralt knew that you wouldn't reply—at least not verbally. The impact of his hips against your ass was brutal, forcing the air from your mouth in pretty moans. The clutch of your cunt was more than enough of an answer. He smeared his lips along your shoulder as he shadowed over you like a terrible, haunting visage. The angle made it seem as though he was in your guts, rearranging your organs.
"That's a good girl," he cooed against your skin, his tone positively mocking. "Now, you stay right there while I fuck a baby into you. That's what my slut wants, isn't it? To be swollen with my child?"
He turned feral and ferocious in a flash, ruthlessly rutting into you. He drove you to the brink of yet another orgasm as you clawed at the sheets. Between whoreish moans, your walls tightened around him, leaving you gasping for air. A familiar warmth moved through your aching limbs and raced through your blood while a thunderstorm roared behind your ears.
"Geralt. Geralt, please, I can't. I can't—oh, fuck. There, r-right there." You babbled mindlessly. You felt lost in the sensation of his hands grabbing here, there, and everywhere. You felt lost in the sting of his teeth and tongue and how he tasted your skin. You felt lost in the pressure of his fingers and how he left bruise-shaped prints everywhere he touched.
"Right here?" He demanded. His fingers dug into the curve of your hips as he pulled you back to meet his pelvis, the sound of wet skin connecting echoing loudly in the small cottage. You squirmed and keened when he hit that sweet spot. "Is this what my slut needed—to feel me this deep?"
You didn’t hear him over the thunderstorm, which had grown into a deafening roar that blocked out the world. And as your vision went white, the pressure snapped, and a bolt of lightning sparked a wildfire in your blood. You felt like you were burning alive; the air in your lungs was superheated, and nothing could cool it. You came hard, screaming his name as he held you in place.
Geralt held you tightly, fingerprint bruises decorating your skin while galaxies burst to life inside your veins. The warmth of your cunt was divine, a heavenly caress as he rutted into you, chasing his own release as he threw his head back. "There you go," he grunted. He slapped your ass just hard enough to get your attention. "You're such a good slut. Does it feel good cumming for me while I breed you?"
You still couldn't answer him; each thrust knocked the air from your lungs, leaving your mouth open as you gasped, squealed, and wriggled in his grasp. Geralt didn't seem to mind. With a final thrust, he buried himself. His hand in your hair held you in place and tinged your scalp with a pleasurable sort of pain as the last of your orgasm ebbed away, leaving your clit throbbing in time with your heartbeats.
It was a welcomed feeling when his release painted your walls—a feeling that made your brain foggy. And despite the haze clouding your thoughts, you knew in that moment you would give yourself to this man. Not only your heart, but your body as well. You knew that if there was a way, you would give him what he wanted, and you would let him breed you.
#geralt of rivia#geralt of rivia smut#geralt of rivia fanfiction#geralt of rivia imagine#geralt of rivia x reader#geralt of rivia x you#geralt x you#the witcher#geralt x reader#geralt#geralt fanfiction#geralt smut
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Spellbound Part 3- Geralt of Rivia
Authors Note: Y'ALL I AM SO SORRY! I thought I scheduled it and I do monthly breaks from all social media! Omg I really screwed y'all over! I AM SO SO SO SO SO SORRY. How can I make it up birdies?
Word Count: 3093
Description: Part One and Part Two
Warnings: Heavy smuttt y'all
Enjoy!
Before Geralt had lost his entire life he was told as a child that there was always a beginning, middle and end. And though most people always thought that this merely pertained to stories his parents always told him that they belonged to humans too.
Every human had a beginning, middle and end.
Every monster had a beginning.
Every Saint had a beginning.
But none of them mattered right now, because all Geralt could think of right now was you. Your beginning, middle and end. He wanted to know more of your story more than he ever had before.
You had both settled down at a rundown inn, him covering his hair and you covering the bruises someone had left on your neck. The innkeeper, a straggly old lady that could barely turn to grab the key to the rooms, barely cast either of you a glance.
You kept close to him as you both made your way up the stairs, and Geralt was embarrassed to admit that a surge of pride crossed through him at this. You seek his warmth and protection, and he would give it. He would give you anything you wanted.
Yennifer had left as soon as she could, saying that she would be going to find Jaskier and letting him know they found you.
Geralt would keep you with him in the inn, per Jaskiers request. The bard pretends to worry about you with all the traveling, claiming that it would be best if he came to the two of you. Geralt saw the lie, he just could not give a shit.
Instead he started a fire, setting you in front of it and mumbling that he would be right back. You snatch to grab his upper arm when he moves to leave, but he merely nods, letting you know it is okay to let go. So you do, swiping your fingers under your eyes quickly, but it was too late and he had already seen the tears.
He makes the trip quick, buying you warmer clothes and heading back and ordering some hot stew from the innkeeper, heading back to the room when she tells him she will bring it.
You are right where he left you when he comes back in, this time a little closer to the fire and curled up a little tighter. Geralt, who had always struggled to sneak around, tried to lighten his footsteps as he neared you.
“I brought some fresh clothes. How about a bath and a change?” He asks, his voice scratchy from lack of use, but he does his best to keep it gentle.
You shake your head, the slightest of movement that somehow managed to clench his heart in his chest. “I’m too tired.”
“Allow me.” He whispers, holding out his hand for you.
“Allow you?”
“To bathe you.”
“You would do that?” You smile, the beginning of a laugh climbing up your throat at the thought.
“It would be my honor.” His tone makes it sound like he is teasing, but there is nothing but seriousness behind that comment.
“You won’t jest?”
“Never.”
And at the simple touch of your fingers reaching up to his own has his skin on fire, shaking slightly as he helps your stand, shuffling to the bathroom and leading you to the center of the room and turning to heat the bottom of the tub with fire as he waits for you to get undressed
But when he turns back to you he finds you waiting patiently, still in the gaudy thin dress, watching slowly.
You seem fazed out now, eyes shuttering as you reach to him and begin untying his own shirt. A moment of startlement crosses him before he reaches a hand up and stops you by grasping your own in his larger palms. He rubs softly as he tries to relax you, shaking his head.
“Not me. You.”
“You, with me.”
“I do not want to-”
“I don’t wanna be exposed alone.” It’s then that Geralt knows what you mean. You don’t want to be the only one naked and vulnerable. So he would join you. Anything for you.
He turns to undress as you undress yourself, and once he hears you get into the tub he turns himself, his heart stopping in his chest at the sight of you.
Your breasts are just barely covered by the water, and within that moment you managed to tie your hair up with a leather scrap, exposing the bruised neck and collarbone . In this moment you looked broken, and still astonishingly beautiful. It wasn’t fair.
He takes a moment to climb in, and suddenly he feels the stress from the last few months beginning to fade from his body as he nears you, sitting across from you knee to knee.
Silence fills the room, and Geralt stresses to find something to say as you lean forward to rest your forehead on his knee.
“Turn around so I can wash your hair.” He whispers, allowing you room to do so and beginning to work on your hair with the soap. “My parents used to tell me stories.”
“About kings and dragonslayers?”
“No, about monsters.”
“How so?”
“They used to tell me that the saints and the monsters of the world all had stories of their own, that everyone you come across has a beginning, middle and end.”
You turn slightly to watch him, and he does his best to seem relaxed.
“I spent most of my time stressed in impressing and protecting you.” He whispers. “I was gruff, which I do with most people. Keeping you and everyone else at arm's length.”
“I’m trying to see how this relates, witcher.”
“I want to know your story, I want to know your beginning and middle and I am desperate to be with you until the end.”
“Why would you want to know all of that?”
“I have found that, even with you mad at me, that I am nothing in this world without you.”
“I will tell you everything if you tell me everything.”
—------------
You fall asleep listening to him whisper the same stories his parents once told you, rubbing your hair softly as you keep your nose shoved into his chest.
You awake around midnight screaming, it takes Gerat a couple minutes to calm you down before he moves to start another fire, bringing you closer to it for warmth and letting you lay in front of it.
The days follow as this, staying by the fire in the cold winter air, whispering back and forth. Eating the stew and roasts the innkeeper made.
You tell him about your life, and he tells you about yours.
Finally you ask.
“Shouldn’t you be out there? Working for the people?” Your head is laid out on his thigh as he watches the snow fall from the window. “I have never known you to sit still, Geralt.”
His heart lurches at the sound of his name falling from your lips. “I have spent the past few weeks working…..for you.”
“What do you mean?” You ask quickly, lifting your head from his thigh, eyes traveling his scarred abdomen before landing to his eyes.
“I was trying to buy out the contract. For you?”
“Why would you do that? How much money did that end up being?”
“Not enough. It seems that the monster of a brothel keeper and I can agree on one thing, you are priceless.”
“Then how-”
“Yennifer smuggled you out-”
“Then what of the coin?”
“It’s yours. It’s all yours if you want it. Enough to buy a cottage in the hillside for years and-”
“And what if I wanted to stay with you? And Jaskier? Or do you not want me?”
“There is nothing more that I want than you. But I treated you horribly-”
You snap to stand then, hair flipping as you stomp across the room to fling a pillow at him. “How so?”
“That night, you were under a spell and I was so close to absolutely defiling you-”
“I wanted it! If you weren’t so pigheaded you would know that those charms only work if the one wearing it is-”
“Stop.” There was a heavy force in the room, pressing through his chest to his lungs as he tried to catch his breath.
“Stop what?”
“This will ruin everything-”
“How. So.”
“BECAUSE I CAN’T LOSE YOU!” He yells, rubbing at his forehead. “I would rather not have you than lose you. Do you understand?”
“Do you love me?”
“Y-”
“Do you love me as I love you?”
“Yes.” And just like that the tight feeling in his gut that formed the moment he had laid eyes on you. His body was lighter and his heart felt like it was righted once more. “I love you.”
“Then what does it matter?”
“You’ve….. You have had a long couple m-”
“I want you.” You whisper, slowly tiptoeing around the room. “I trust no one but you. No one has given me the truth more, and protected me more.”
“I was cruel and-”
“I understand now.” You smile, tears filling your eyes. “I’ve seen terrible terrible men-”
His fists clench at his sides, the urge to find every man that harmed you and smash their heads with a hammer, as he watches you move closer until your own hands find purchase on his chest.
The warmth fills him the second you touch him.
“But you, in all your gruff warnings and rude awakenings, have never been a bad man.”
“You deserve better.”
“I am a brothel worker. I deserve nothing. But this is not what I deserve, this is what I want. Desperately so.”
“You want me?”
“I need you, Geralt.”
His hands unclench, moving up until they rest at your cheeks as he gazes down at you. “I need you too.”
“Then show me.” It’s a simple whisper, but one he hears through his being all the same, moving you backwards slowly until the back of your knees are pressed to the bed. He waits for you to show him a sign of fear or that you changed your mind. But you merely smile up at him, fingers moving to slide over the scars on his abdomen.
“I trust you.” You whisper, the tips of your fingers sliding against his skin until they get to the breaches he wears and begin untying them.
“After what you have been through…”
“I want you to remind me of what it could be.” And he can’t help himself after that, moving to grab the bottoms of the night dress, keeping eye contact with you as his fingers graze your thighs while he lifts it up slowly, his heart hammering in his chest as you smile softly, allowing him to stand once more and remove the dress from you.
You allow him to watch you, the wild look in his eyes as he traces your skin slowly.
“You’ll tell me the second you change your mind?”
“The very instant.” It was like a cord snapping, a leash let go and suddenly Geralt could not help himself. In one quick swoop he reaches to toss you onto the bed, watching you with dark eyes while you scooch backwards to get comfortable.
He prowls above you, enjoying the excited gleam in your eye as he crawls between your legs to kiss at your lips softly, then the softness turns to hunger as his hand grabs your jaw and he devours you. Kissing you like a man completely starved of it.
A soft moan falls from your lips and he is nearly a goner, his breath lost as he pulls back to admire his work, a string of saliva keeping you both connected as you take a moment to open your eyes, lips swollen and red. He holds out his hand, waiting patiently for you to catch your breath before he orders you to “Spit.”
You comply easily, and he stops himself from growling in pleasure before he takes his hand and slaps your cunt harshly, a smile tearing across his face when you moan out before he is crawling back down the bed to shove his face between your legs roughly and lick a stripe between your folds.
The moment your thighs tighten around his head he vows that he will spend the rest of his life doing this, no matter where and no matter when. He would suffocate in this spot if you would let him. A low growl releases from his chest as you moan, fingers lacing themselves in his hair tightly and tugging as he laps at your clit.
Over and over, feeling you spasm with pleasure twice before you use your hands and tug him up by his hair, whining.
He drags his eyes up to you then, seeing the tears from pleasure streaming down your cheeks as he kneels in front of you on the bed.
“Are you hurt?” Even if he had the carnal urge to take you right here and now your safety and well being came first and foremost. You seem to realize this as you move up and reach to wrap your arms around his neck, his hands flying to your sides to help stabilize you. Rubbing softly as he peers down at you, him being twice your size.
Just the thought of it makes his stomach clench in anticipation as you lean up to kiss him, allowing him to lean you both back down onto the bed and lay over you, picking up the kiss just as hungrily.
He only pulls away from your kiss to kiss along your neck and collarbone as you reach down to line him up. He has to close his eyes and take in a shuddering breath the second you touch him and it takes everything not to finish there.
But it is all worth it as he pushes in, a growl once again ripping out of his chest as you moan out, foreheads pressed together as he pushes until he is bottomed out.
“So….. fuck.”
“Neverstop.” You whine, pressing your chest up into his with your eyes still closed. But that just wouldn’t do. How could he admire your fucked out look if he didn’t have your undivided attention. So he pulls your hair and orders you to open your eyes.
You don’t listen, instead moving your hips to gain some friction so he shoves his own hips down to keep you pinned into place as he orders one more. “Let. Me. See. Your. Fucking. Eyes.”
When you finally open them he begins moving, a slow pace at first, allowing you to gain pleasure slowly but the second he feels the tightness loosen up and you get wetter he is unleashed, pounding into you at a heavy pace.
The headboard hits the wall with each hit, and your face is thrown into one of pure pleasure as he keeps going. And Geralt cannot think of anything he has ever done to deserve this.
He would never actually deserve this, but he was so grateful that you had given him a chance, because this is what pure heaven was.
“You’re mine.” He grunts out, one fist tightening in your hair as he kisses down your throat, thrusting into you at a rapid pace as your hands fly to scratch down his back in a way that has him holding his breath to stop from finishing.
“I’m yours.” You moan out, tears streaming down your cheeks.
“I’m never letting y- FUCK- you leave again.”
“I’ll never leave again.”
“I’ll kill any man that touches you.”
“No one else.” You cry out, and he feels you tighten around him once more and knows you’re close so he reaches a hand and pinches at your nipple harshly. “Only you Geralt. My Geralt!”
You come undone around him, eyes rolling back as he keeps you pressed to his chest and finishes inside you, keeping you as close as he can while letting you both ride out your highs.
By the time you both finish he lays you both down, his head laying on your chest with him laying between your legs as you play with your hair.
“I love you…..” You whisper, twirling some of his hair softly.
“I love you.” He replies, moving until his chin is laying on your stomach and he can look up at you. “And I will never let you forget that.”
—-------------
You are awakened by a boot pressing into your cheek as you grumble out and move to push it away.
“Geralt I swear-” But when you open your eyes you see none other than Jaskier with a cheeky little grin over his face as he stares down at you, a mug of what smells like cider in his hand.
“Not your lover, but your closest friend.”
“Roach wears boots now?” You laugh, moving to stretch as he rolls his eyes. It had been months since you escaped the brothel, and since everything has changed. Jaskier seems more clingy than ever which was something you only pretended to hate, and Geralt has gone from the stoic asshole to the stoic love of your life…… well in public.
Behind closed doors he spent most of his time worshiping you.
“Where is he?” You ask after surveying to find him.
“He took little one to get some water.”
Another thing that had changed, the young girl that you had smuggled out of a brothel months ago, who has slowly become like a daughter to you, well youngest daughter since you considered Ciri your daughter as well.
“We’re here!” Y/d calls, her pudgy hand held in Geralts as he leads the girls back, Ciri with a small smile on her face while Y/d rushes to you. “We got water!”
“And Geralt says we have to be off.” Ciri sighs, leaning forward to accept your loving touch as you fuss over her hair.
“Let’s get on the horses.” Your lover grunts, lifting y/d from under her shoulders and setting her on roach, moving to help Ciri before getting to you. A hand finds purchase on your thigh as you lift yourself onto your horse, smiling down at him.
“Don’t get any ideas.”
“While you look like that? How will I ever break the love spell?”
“Guess your spellbound then.”
“Always have been.” He kisses your thigh while Jaskier is turned before turning to his own horse and jumping on, making sure y/d is comfortable before moving on.
(I AM SO SORRY, I REALLY THOUGHT I SCHEDULED IT BABES. How can I make it up? I'll do anything.....)
@sagelovesreading
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#geralt smut#geralt x reader#geralt of rivia smut#witcher geralt#geralt of rivia#geralt angst#geralt fluff#geralt imagine#geralt fanfic#the witcher smut#the witcher imagine#the witcher angst#the witcher#witcher 3#witcher fanfiction#geralt of rivia fluff#geralt of rivia imagine#geralt of rivia x reader#geralt of rivia smut that makes you think that maybe the writer needs jesus#smut#angst#fluff#geralt
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Title: Tonality [4]
Pairing: Prince!Geralt x Princess!Reader
previous chapter
Summary: “The white wolf wants you. He’ll have no other.” As you grieve the loss of your father, your mother marries the king. Whilst you struggle to acclimate to your new life, you begin to suspect the interest your new brother has in you is less than familial.
Warnings: 18+ Only, Dark Fantasy, Darkfic, Step-cest, Medieval/GoT inspired AU, (Future)Smut, Dubcon/Noncon, Manipulation, Gaslighting, Obsessive Behavior, Possessive Behavior, MINORS DNI!!
A/N: a little more story, a little more tension, a little mor everything! what do you guys always, please mind the warnings, and enjoy!😊🥰 divider by @firefly-graphics
The Nilfgaardian banner snaps in the sharp, salt-laden breeze, the dark fabric bearing the crest of its namesake. The bright yellow sun mirrors the one in the cloudless sky above the keep. From your room, you can see their approach long before they reach the gates, a thin vein of black weaving through the countryside like a snake. The garrison pauses only briefly in the city, winding through the crowded streets in their pitch colored armor like a long satin ribbon. You grimace at the sight of them, swallowing against the sourness you feel growing at the back of your throat.
You do not know why the sight of them fills you with a dark foreboding, a shadow that looms in the space behind your thoughts. Perhaps it is the knowledge that you are expected to greet the Nilfgaardian envoy alongside your mother, the king, and the prince that makes your stomach curdle.
“My Lady, should we not join their Majesties?” Kassandra’s voice draws you from your churning thoughts. “Her Highness would not be pleased if we were late.” You swallow the dry retort that your mother would not be pleased no matter what you did, and automatically feel guilt over the bitter thought. You grimace before nodding at Kassandra over your shoulder.
Nothing good will come of this. The feeling—no, the knowledge—is as familiar to you as your own name, appearing among your thoughts as if it had always been there. Only sorrow will come of this day.
“Are you alright, Your Grace?”
Your throat tight, you smile. “Y-yes.” I am grim without cause. You shake yourself, smoothing your hands down the stiff, unfamiliar dress. It’s new, gifted to you only this morning as your mother had informed you of her expectations.
“You’ll look lovely in this,” she had bade the servants to lay out the massive thing, a veritable ocean of fabric, with so many skirts and stays you find yourself amazed you can even move at all. You detest the restriction and corsetry of it all, fidgeting with a frustrated grimace as Kassandra opens the door. Your thoughts must be plain on your face, for she is quick to reassure you as you pass.
“You are a vision, Your Grace,” she says, hurrying to your side as she closes the heavy door behind you. Despite your displeasure, her words do comfort you, and you offer Kassandra a watery smile in thanks. “I daresay you shall be the envy of every Lady in attendance.”
You laugh dryly. “Even you?” Kassandra’s response is unexpected—she shakes her head, pressing her lips together into a thin, apologetic smile.
“No, my Lady.” She says softly. There is true pity in her eyes, which stings all the more. “Though there are many in His Majesty’s keep who would treat with the Gods themselves to take your place—and, exalted though it may be, I am not among them.” The words pass unspoken between you, true honesty masked only slightly by propriety. “I would not wish that for all the world.”
The throne room is as packed with bodies as it was at your mother’s coronation only a few scant weeks prior, servants weaving deftly in and out of the crowd. It parts easily for you, people scrambling out of your path as you make your way toward the throne. Geralt stands to the king’s left, and you feel the weight of his gaze upon you so heavily it is as though he has touched you with his hand.
“My King. I trust you are well this morning?” He heaves a heavy sigh at your question, massaging the graying hair at his temple.
“As well as can be expected, given the circumstances.” King Vesemir graces you with a tired smile. “But I am glad these worries are mine. Would that they fall on mine own shoulders and save yours.” Of these troubles, you know only what little you have managed to glean from casual conversation and your own observations—the Lord of Nilfgaard has sent his envoy, along with a garrison of troops, to treat with the king.
Your mother scoffs. “You are a King, my love,” she says, tilting her regal head at him. “You can do nothing without rousing at least a little of the rabble.”
You take your place next to her, skirting around the prince with a wide berth. Your mother reaches for your hand, patting it as she nods approvingly at you.
“You look as lovely as I thought you would.” Somehow, her complement makes you like your clothing even less. The dress is heavy and cumbersome, the corset laced so tight a deep breath makes the seams groan.
“It is the color.” Geralt’s interjection makes your mother’s smile thin and tighten, until the edges seem brittle like paper. “It suits you, sister.” Is there no line he will not cross? From behind his wide shield of plausible deniability he mocks you, his mouth quirking innocently as if he is unaware of the boundary he dances upon. Gracious acceptance is the only play you have, and he knows it as well.
“You are too kind, my Prince.” You clasp your hands together and face forward. It is surreal, almost, to see the calm with which he regards you now, when only a week ago he had raged at your door like a madman. Had you not seen it yourself, you would not think it possible. Though you would blame him for it, the nervous twisting of your stomach is not Geralt’s fault alone. The ill feeling that had taken root in your belly at the sight of the Nilfgaardian envoy still left you with a sour taste on your tongue, one that did not seem to wash away.
And the dreams…
You shudder to think of them, the dark, creeping things that keep you awake long after the halls of the king’s keep have fallen silent. You have not wandered from your rooms again to your knowledge, but you’ve slept so little in the past week that you suspect it is less a matter of your self control and more the lack of opportunity. The nails on your fingers, hidden by the cumbersomely long sleeves of your dress, are bitten down to the quick. It is a new habit you’ve developed sitting in the crushing dark as you wait for the dreams to come.
Your father’s rotting face swims before you again.
Sugar sweet—
You twist the heavy fabric of your sleeves in your nervous hands as you stare hard at the stone floor between your feet.
“What troubles you, Little Doe?” Geralt’s voice is as much of a surprise as his proximity, his side lightly pressing against your own as he leans down. You drop your hands to your sides like deadweight, suddenly aware of his eye.
“And why would you think me troubled?” You ask curtly. The prince’s wolfish grin sends a strange, hot pulse straight to your core, one you vehemently try to ignore. You are under no pretense, you know what the prince is, who he is. He has gone out of his way to show you, and yet—
“I am apt to know trouble when I see it.”
The throne room doors slam open, leaving you no time to respond as every eye is drawn to the entrance. The instant hush that falls over the room is so deep that the herald’s voice is like a crack of thunder. At the same time, your stomach tightens. The dark warning in your heart rings again like a bell, clear and true. Though you still do not quite grasp its meaning, the message is clear—whatever you’d been meant to avoid had now come to pass, leaving no room for escape or denial.
“Presenting His Lordship, Duke Emhyr of Nilfgaard!” The duke sweeps into the throne room, his ink-black cloak billowing behind him. There are two of his own guards flanking him in their telltale black armor, like pools of animated shadow. Their faces are hidden by their helms, the sides carved like griffin wings.
The duke stops before the throne, dropping down to one knee.
“My King.” His accented common turns the words up at the edges, almost like a question. “Hail.” His face is handsome but severe, high cheekbones, fierce, beady eyes, and a thin mouth that curls up at the corners, just like his words. There is a scar on his face, long and thin and jagged, stretching from his left temple to the right side of his chin. His already wan smile thins further as he turns to your mother.
“My Queen.”
“Lord Emhyr.” The duke’s smile is wan as he dips his head again. “I bid thee welcome. I trust you found the journey pleasant enough.” The words are empty pleasantries, merely frivolous formalities exchanged before the truth is allowed to be addressed.
“Aye, Majesty, as enjoyable as one can find a carriage journey.” He straightens back up. “I would extend my many congratulations on your union. The Gods themselves could not have delivered a more beautiful Queen.”
To your surprise, it is Geralt who speaks next.
“We did miss you at the celebration, my Lord.” The remark is meant to sound like a casual observation—you know it is not. “Quite a pity.”
Emhyr’s jaw tics. “Indeed.” He looks over his left shoulder, and motions the guards forward. “My deepest regrets. As I previously expressed to His Majesty, my presence was required elsewhere. As I am sure you recall, we do share a border with the Elves.” He spits the word like a curse. “Occasionally those savages do need a good reminding of where their lands end, and ours begin, Your Grace.”
You shudder. There are few elves left south of the heavily policed Nilfgaardian border, but you have met some. Savages. The word makes your lip curl. They are rather fond of that word, aren’t they?
“I did bring a—belated—wedding present.” Between the two of them, the guards haul forward a small black chest, the polished wood glinting in the light. He pulls back the lid, and a murmur travels through the gathered courtiers at the sight of the jewels. A small fortune in dark blue sapphires sits within. King Vesemir stands, bidding two of the ivory cloaked kings-guard forward to take the chest.
“A most precious gift.”
“The mines remain prosperous. Perhaps Her Highness might have them made into something befitting her loveliness.” A smile creases your mother’s ruby lips, but it is sharp enough to cut. Neither does it reach her narrowed eyes.
“We cannot thank you enough for your gracious gift, my Lord.” Her voice is delicate, like breaking glass. “But I do not believe you rode for six days to bear witness to my beauty.” You are left to wonder in the brief moments before Duke Emhyr answers. If he will allow the truth to be broached, or if he will flee from it like a rat from a burning ship.
“Indeed my Queen, I have not.” He casts a look around, as if the words he is about to speak are for everyone there, not just the king. “Your Grace, I come before you today with only the deepest respect for your will, authority, and wisdom.” Duke Emhyr chooses his words carefully. He chooses them as carefully as a mason did his stones, stacking each one meticulously on top of the other. “But I do admit my heart longs for clarity on this matter.
Not a season past, when His Majesty announced an end to his long mourning period, and indeed his intent to marry once more, I did put forth my own daughter as prospect.” His accusation takes shape, and you watch your mother’s face tighten, her fingers curling around the polished bone arm of her throne. “And before this very court, His Majesty agreed. I had imagined a shared future of prosperity and happiness between both our great houses. I mean no offense, and so I beg pardon—”
“And yet you have given it.” Your mother’s expression remains placid—her voice less so. You can almost hear the icy words forming on her tongue as her lips part to speak again, but the king silences her, holding up one steady hand.
“I appreciate your candor, my Lord,” he leans forward. “But it is Vesemir who rules here, not Emhyr.” All chatter ceases, and the chamber is as quiet as the crypt beneath it. “The decision as to who it is I marry is mine—and mine alone.” King Vesemir stands, descending the short set of steps until he is level with the duke. “It is I who bears the burden of ensuring the prosperity and stability of this realm. And while I am ever thankful for the service you have provided it… you would do well to remember that fact, my Lord.”
“Of course, my King. I—I mean only for the betterment of the empire.” It is then that his eye falls to you. “I see no reason a match might not still be made—”
“Then we shall speak no more about it.” You watch the duke’s jaw tighten, his lips thinning as he fights not to show his displeasure.
“As you will, Your Grace.” You have not heard the last of this matter, of that you are certain. A sinking feeling rises in your stomach, like you’ve tumbled freely over the edge of a cliff. There is no going back, the feeling seems to whisper, goosebumps erupting across your flesh. A path has been chosen now and you will walk it—
“I thank you again for your generous gift, Lord Emhyr,” the dismissal is obvious in the king’s tone.
“The pleasure is mine, my liege.” The words sound broken in his mouth, like he’s chewed them up. A cold finger traces down your spine as his eyes meet yours again. “I thank you for your counsel.”
—
The sky is dark, angry black clouds roiling above the keep. You’ve not seen much rainfall in Rivia since your arrival, but today the clouds above you seem full to bursting, the smell of the imminent downpour filling your nostrils. Still, you take your time as you stroll through the gardens, stopping every so often to enjoy the sight of flowers in bloom.
“You are enjoying the gardens today, my Lady,” Kassandra’s observance is gently made, though she looks worriedly up at the sky.
“I feel I must,” you reply, leaning down to inspect a half-closed bud. “Summer here is drawing to a close, and I must admit I fear the cold.” You offer her a small smile over your shoulder.
“Have you no winter in Redania?” She asks, wonder coloring her words. “The land of eternal summer indeed.”
“No snow,” you agree, shaking your head. “Tis more like… autumn.” There is a wistfulness to your words you cannot suppress, a longing that brings moisture to your eyes. In truth, you doubt it will matter how many years you spend here at court—Rivia will never feel like home. Kassandra smiles thoughtfully.
“I should like to see it, my Lady,” she says. “Twould not be a chore to accompany you—if you wished it so. The winter here is harsh, even within the city walls.”
“Aye, winter on the continent is no easy task to weather.” The two of you turn at the sound of a new voice to face the speaker. Duke Emhyr bows respectfully, removing his cap as he does so. “I did not mean to intrude—I find the gardens less familiar than I imagined,” he adds, a small smile turning up the corners of his mouth. “Might I trouble you for an escort?”
You had not seen the duke since his spectacle at court the day prior, the matter of which had the courtiers aflutter with gossip. You suppose you, like Duke Emhyr, had been equally blindsided in the matter of your mother’s courtship and her subsequent marriage. Nervously, you wonder if his feelings of dissatisfaction—and possible animosity—extend to you by proxy. Kassandra curtsies, and you nod, forcing a small, charitable smile onto your lips.
“O-of course, my Lord.” You reply. “I myself find the task of navigating the keep daunting, despite calling this place home.” Kassandra falls into step just behind you, and you must physically stop yourself from commanding her to walk beside you. Though you’ve little personal regard for the importance of blood and titles, you know here in Rivia those things matter above all else. The duke is more than happy to ignore her, his hawkish eyes weighing heavily on you.
“How long has it been since your arrival at the White Keep, if you will indulge my curiosity?”
“Nearly three months.” Though you have kept count of every passing day since your arrival, to say it aloud makes homesickness rear up in your chest. The duke clucks his tongue pityingly.
“Tis a shame. Redania is quite beautiful this time of year. I have had the pleasure of many a visit.” He clasps his hands behind his back and casts a look at the dreary sky. “Nilfgaard is my home, but I would be a liar if I said I did not envy the beauty of the southern jewel.” The wistfulness in his voice inspires thoughts of warm autumn nights scented with pine and faded sunlight. But a warning echoes in your heart at the false note in it, the one that reminds you of the coy, prying questions of your mother’s ladies in waiting, only cloaked in a cleverer disguise.
“Indeed.” You round the corner of a hedge. “I have never seen snow, now that I think of it. I should much like to, now that I am older.”
“Never seen snow?” The duke echoes your words, replacing your simple desire with shock. “Though I would not speak ill of your late father—Redania has never seen a finer Regent—I do believe he kept you far too sheltered.” It takes effort to keep your smile from going thin at the mention of your father. As if in response, a dull ache throbs in your chest.
“How lucky for us, then, that his death should bring me here.” You flick the words from your tongue like the lashing of a whip. There is a brief moment of dark satisfaction as the duke’s eyes widen, and his confident words falter.
“My sincerest apologies, Princess, I did not mean—”
“No, of course not.” You reply, swallowing against the sudden lump in your throat. “Forgive me, Duke Emhyr. My father I are—were, quite close.” You offer him an apologetic smile. “Might we speak of something else?”
“Of course, of course. My deepest sympathies.” He casts a furtive glance in your direction. “I hope you have been enjoying your time here, despite the… unfortunate circumstances.” You nod primly—for what words do you have to describe the aching emptiness that fills you at the thought that home is a distant thing now, the memory of a place you no longer belong.
“I have found ways to occupy myself.” You feel as thin as your smile. “The White Keep is large, there are many ways to spend ones time.”
“And Her Majesty has certainly taken to her role,” he continues. “She has taken to court as though she were born here.” There is a note of bitterness in his voice. “Has she spent much time in Rivia? Surely during His Majesty’s rather short courtship—”
“I know little of my mother’s courtship,” you say flatly, your eyes narrowed. “If you wish to know about it, perhaps you should ask her.” This time, it is difficult to leash your ire. You grow tired of the duke’s probing, his thinly veiled attempts to pick information from conversation behind the shield of feigned ignorance.
“Highness—”
“I trust you will can your way from here.” There is an unfamiliar coldness that underscores your words, one that uncomfortably reminds you of your mother. It is like hearing her own voice from your mouth, leaving a sour taste on your tongue. “Lady Kassandra, l believe we should take our leave.”
“At once, My Lady.”
You leave him at the entrance to the gardens in the courtyard, sweeping past as his eyes bore into your back.
—
“How does it end?” You are sat before the fire, a book held tenuously in your hands. Your loose, traditional dress is folded beneath you primly as the flames dance in the hearth. “How does it end?” Your father repeats warmly, chuckling as he leans forward to rest a hand on your shoulder. “You stopped reading.”
You can’t quite recall where you were now, the words seeming to shift on the page as you squint at them.
“I… I don’t remember now,” you say, glancing over your shoulder at your father. Though the flames are bright, his face is shadowed, but you get the feeling that he is smiling.
“The princess has just met the wolf,” he replies. “She doesn’t know it yet, but he plans to devour her whole—body, and spirit.” You look down at the page. “She is careful, the princess, and clever, but the wolf is sly, and he is not the only thing she has to fear.” You do not know why, but his words fill you with an incomparable sorrow.
“What else does she have to fear? Is the wolf not enemy enough?” You are crying. You don’t know why, but you are, tears pouring down your face and dripping messily off of your chin to stain the pages with salt.
“Weep not, daughter. She may yet avoid his jaws—and if not that, then perhaps she might at least turn him to her will. But the peacock—she is her true enemy.”
“A bird?”
“Yes, dear girl,” your father’s voice goes strangely quiet as the fire burns low in the hearth, and the sitting room is shrouded in gloom. “For while her pretty feathers distract you, her beak plucks out your eyes.”
You wake blearily, blinking in the darkness as you struggle back to wakefulness. Instead of your bed, you are knelt on the cold, stone floor in front of the half-dead hearth. The embers that still smolder within are not enough to give off true heat, and pins shoot through your legs when you struggle to your feet. It is frigid in here, and you shiver, clutching your thin nightgown tightly around yourself.
You’ve no memory of leaving your bed, nor of kneeling in front of the hearth, and you sniffle as you make your way back beneath the canopy above your bed. There is a familiar ache in your tight throat that feels like you’ve been crying, and when you lift a shaking hand to your cheek.
Your face is wet with tears.
—
Your mother strokes your head as you sob, your tears soaking into her gown.
“I—I fear sleep, I fear waking,” you rasp, wiping at your sore eyes with the back of one trembling hand. “T-there is no respite from them. I close my eyes in one place and open them in another—” A hiccoughing sob cuts the words in half. “Mother I fear I… I fear I shall go mad if I see father again. His face—!” You bury your head in her lap as another round of shuddering sobs wracks your limp body.
It has been years since you have sought your mother’s comfort like this, and in truth you cannot remember the last time it was even offered. She had been surprised to see you at her chamber door at this hour, disheveled and still clad in your nightgown, but she had let you in after you’d tearfully recounted the contents of your dreams.
She strokes your head. “Nightmares, my love. Nothing but terrors spun up by your mind—brought on from stress, no doubt.” Her hand is cool and comforting against your forehead. “I shall have the healer assemble something for you.”
“T-thank you, mother.” You offer her a watery smile.
“Anything for you, my love.” She strokes your cheek affectionately, the bandage wrapped around her index finger rough against your skin. “I do so hate to hear of your suffering, I will do what I can to appease it.” You smile wider, even as you swallow back the inappropriately bitter feeling that says you have been suffering all this time regardless. This was the response you had desired from her all those weeks ago when you’d begged her to send you home—and now, for some reason, it feels… hollow.
“What happened to your finger?” You ask, and she sighs, waving her hand dismissively.
“A hairpin, nothing to worry yourself over.” You dry your eyes, dabbing at them with a handkerchief. Your mother barely acknowledges the timid knock at the door before the chambermaid pokes her head inside.
“Highness? H-His Majesty is here.”
Your mother does not look surprised to hear this. If anything, the corners of her mouth curl up into a sly smile for half an instant before she nods.
“I see. I shall see to him in a moment—” The maid squeals as the King himself pushes past her, his eyes wild.
“Thayet!” He calls your mother’s name with a hoarse, desperate voice. “I have waited over an hour for you—oh.” He seems to note your presence with all of the recognition one would give a fly. His bright, golden eyes are cloudy with confusion—as though he hasn’t the faintest idea who you are, or why you are there. Recognition finally lights in his eyes, and he nods at you.
“Princess. It is… quite late,” he says slowly, as if he is only now realizing that fact himself. “Should you not be abed?” Your face heats with embarrassment.
“Ah, y-yes, my King. I was… troubled.” Your eyes dart between him and your mother. “But mother has allayed my fears.” You gather your shawl about your shoulders, bowing your head respectfully. Of course he would visit her as a husband—that is a fact you suppose you have known since you came to this place, but to catch the King in your mother’s bedchamber was another thing entirely.
The eagerness in his eyes as he looks at her, the way he licks his lips—it reminds you uncomfortably of Geralt, and of the need you see mirrored in his amber eyes. You retreat from the sitting room, though the sound of your mother’s voice makes you glance over your shoulder one last time as the door begins to close.
“I shall send Callista with a sleeping draught,” your mother calls at your retreating back. “For the dreams.”
Your stomach turns uncomfortably as you watch the king latches onto your mother, pulling her close as he trails desperate kisses down her arm. You are too far away to hear the words he growls through his gritted teeth before ripping at the bandage on her thumb and sucking the injured digit into his mouth.
The door closes with a loud bang, leaving you alone in the dark, empty hall.
The peacock, your father whispers in your memory as you shuffle back toward your room in the early hours.
She’ll pluck out your eyes.
to be continued…
Thank you for reading! Please check out my masterlist for other, similar works, and follow my library blog, @box-of-bones-library for updates. ❤️
#henry cavill#henry cavill fandom#henry cavill fic#henry cavill x reader#geralt of rivia#geralt of rivia x reader#geralt x reader#geralt of rivia x you#geralt x you#geralt of rivia smut#geralt smut#geralt of rivia imagine#geralt of rivia fanfiction#geralt x y/n#dark fantasy#dark!fic#darkfic#boxofbonesfic#tonality fic
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destiny ~ geralt of rivia;the witcher
word count: 1749
request?: no
description: after a long, rough journey, the princess feels safe enough to sleep, so her mage talks with the witcher
pairing: geralt of rivia x female!reader
warnings: swearing, use of y/n
masterlist (one, two, three)
It was a long, tiring journey to bring Princess Ciri to find her destiny; the Witcher. The poor girl, only a child, had seen far more than anyone her age should ever see. Her grandmother had been smart enough to send a Mage with her at least, but there was only so much one Mage could do against the threats they had faced. When they had finally found him, stood alone after his own battle, and Ciri ran to embrace him, (Y/N) sighed in relief and finally allowed her body to relax.
They set up camp for the night. Geralt promised them he would find them somewhere with an actual bed for the next night, but Ciri could care less about where she was sleeping. (Y/N) knew she felt relieved, too. And finally the young princess could sleep knowing that she was safe.
Ciri was sound asleep next to a fire (Y/N) had built to keep her warm. The Mage was sat against a tree nearby, just watching. Knowing that Ciri was safe, that she felt safe enough to finally let her guard down, gave (Y/N) such a sense of relief that she felt like she could finally breathe again.
“You should be sleeping as well.”
(Y/N) looked up to see Geralt stood over her. She was surprised a man of his size was able to move so silently, but then again it was probably a skill he had to pick up as a Witcher.
“I would imagine you are just as exhausted as she,” he said.
“I am,” (YN) confirmed. “But not so exhausted that my body wishes to rest just yet. I guess it hasn’t realized yet that there is no threat anymore.”
“There are still plenty of threats.”
She shook her head. “Not tonight. Tonight, she rests soundly, and she is safe.”
Geralt looked over at the sleeping girl. For years he had been trying to deny Ciri. He didn’t believe in destiny, and he was the last person who should be looking after a child. But now that she was here, unharmed and at peace, he couldn’t deny that he felt relief as well. There were still plenty of threats out there, that much was still true, but he decided to agree with (Y/N) just this once. Tonight, they were all safe.
Geralt sat across from her. “You did well in protecting her. She likely wouldn’t have made it this far on her own.”
“That’s what I was afraid of,” (Y/N) admitted. “I promised her grandmother that nothing would happen to her, and I am not one to break a promise.”
“I was unaware that Queen Calanthe had a Mage in her kingdom.”
“I’m not a royal Mage. Just an old friend that she asked a favor of.”
“A very good friend to risk your life.”
(Y/N) smiled and shrugged. “I have known Ciri since birth, and her mother before her. I would do anything to keep that girl safe.”
She was gazing at Ciri again. Geralt noticed the look on her face. “Do you have children of your own?”
“Oh, Gods no. Those are very uncommon in my line of work.”
“No lover either, then?”
She chuckled. “Also very uncommon. It’s hard to let yourself fall in love when you are immortal.”
Geralt wasn’t sure why he even asked. It felt like the logical next question after asking if she had children, but Geralt cared very little if she had said yes to having a lover. Or, so he thought anyways.
(Y/N) looked back to him, a sly grin on her face. “Queen Calnthe told me about your ties to Ciri.”
Geralt grunted. “I’m sure she did.”
“She could hardly tell the story without a string of profanities.” (Y/N) giggled. “No one has ever made the queen more angry than Geralt of Rivia.”
Geralt found himself smiling as well.
“Well,” (Y/N) said, tilting her head a little. “Would you look at that.”
“What?” he asked.
“The Witcher smiles. And he looks quiet handsome doing so.”
(Y/N) was nothing if not forward. One does not live for many decades and not become bold and forward. She felt a little delight when she saw a brief look of shock on Geralt’s face. She certainly wasn’t lying, though. Anyone with eyes could see that Geralt was good looking. She was sure he was able to use that to his advantage as well.
Silence fell over them. The only sounds were the wildlife around them and the crackling fire. Both of them turned to check on Ciri at the same time, as if some sort of instinct kicked in for them both. (Y/N) took Geralt’s distraction as an opportunity to really study him. She had seen a look in his eyes when Ciri had run to him earlier, but it was so brief that she couldn’t place it at the time. He had been wearing his tough guy mask since, except for this moment. As he gazed at Ciri, (Y/N) could see two emotions on his face: relief and worry.
“The queen also told me,” (Y/N) said, drawing Geralt’s attention back to her, “that you weren’t going to claim Cirilla at first. She said you called Law of Surprise without truly believing in it.”
Geralt grunted. “All that bullshit about destiny. I didn’t believe any of it. I called Law of Surprise because they insisted on something for me saving Urcheon’s life. I didn’t actually believe I would get anything.”
“And yet...” (Y/N) glanced towards the sleeping princess.
He nodded. “I didn’t want a child by any means. This is not a life for a child. If destiny is real, it has played a cruel trick on her.”
“Or it has given her a father that she so dearly needed after her own passed.”
“And a mother?”
(Y/N) smiled. She couldn’t help it. She hadn’t thought about the next step after Ciri was united with Geralt. Truthfully, she didn’t want to think about it. The thought of being separated from Ciri hurt too much, but she didn’t expect Geralt to want her to travel with them. He had been travelling alone for so many years that she was sure it would take time for him to get used to Ciri being with him, let alone if (Y/N) joined as well. She felt full of joy hearing Geralt insinuate that he wanted her to continue travelling with them as well. She wasn’t ready to say goodbye to Ciri just yet, or to Geralt for that matter.
“What a family we’d be,” she laughed. “A Witcher, a Mage, and a princess. Sounds like the beginning of a terrible joke.”
Geralt chuckled as well. (Y/N)’s smile broke as she let out a yawn.
“You should get some sleep,” Geralt told her.
“As should you.”
“I will.”
(Y/N) nodded. She wasn’t in any position to argue with him over whether or not he was actually going to sleep. She could feel herself finally being bogged down by her fatigue and knew it wouldn’t be long until she gave in completely.
Geralt’s eyes followed her as she moved to her knees. Instead of rising, she leaned towards him to close the gap between them. She lightly pressed her lips to his cheek, leaving a gentle kiss there before pulling away. He tried to keep his face unchanged as she sat back to look at him.
“Goodnight, Geralt.”
“Goodnight, (Y/N).”
~~~~~~
The sun was high in the sky when (Y/N) woke the next day. The fire had gone out and the heat was instead replaced by the scorching sun. (Y/N) blinked a few times, trying to get her eyes used to the brightness of day. When she finally managed to clear her vision, she noticed she was alone at the camp.
She quickly sat up and looked around. There was barely any signs that anyone else had ever been here. Just the kindle left over from the fire she had lit for Ciri. She felt herself beginning to panic. Had they left her? Had someone taken Ciri and Geralt went after them? Had Geralt changed his mind about having her join them?
She was getting to her feet when she heard the sound of horse hooves against the ground. A horse broke through the clearing in a fast trot before coming to a stop. (Y/N) breathed a sigh of relief when Ciri jumped down from the back of the horse.
“Good morning,” the young princess said, walking up to wrap her arms around (Y/N). The Mage was taken back by the gesture at first, but then happily hugged Ciri back.
“More like good afternoon,” Geralt commented, jumping down from his horse as well. “You’ve been asleep for hours. We went on to find food without you.”
“Forgive me for being tired,” (Y/N) said, playfully glaring at Geralt. To Ciri, she asked, “Did you sleep well, princess?”
“The best I’ve slept since we left Cintra,” Ciri admitted.
(Y/N) smiled and cupped her face. “You are safe now, princess. The Witcher and I will look after you and make sure no one will cause you any harm.”
Ciri looked between (Y/N) and Geralt, a smile pulling at the corners of her lips. “You’ll be staying with us?”
“Of course. I’ve come too far in this journey to let you go on without me. Although, I will need something to eat in order to continue on.”
She eyed Geralt. He chuckled and said, “Alright then, let’s find you something to eat as well.”
They went on foot with Geralt leading his horse behind him. Ciri was between the two of them, protected by her Mage and her Witcher.
“I was thinking,” Geralt said after some time of walking, “about our discussion last night. About destiny.”
(Y/N) looked over at him. “Yes?”
“Maybe there is such thing as destiny, and maybe it isn’t as bad as I once thought.”
“And what brought you to that conclusion?”
“Ciri was meant to be my destiny, but she wasn’t the only good thing that destiny brought to me.”
He looked directly at her when he spoke. She felt her heart flutter in her chest. She had no good response, so she just kept walking, a smile on her face.
She would have to thank destiny for bringing her to Geralt as well.
#geralt of rivia#geralt x reader#geralt of rivia imagine#henry cavill#henry cavill imagine#henry cavill x reader#the witcher#the witcher imagine#imagine#one shot#fanfiction#fanfic#fandom
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Imagine Geralt being with a woman who is very soft and feminine.
“This is not what I’d expect from you.”
“What do you mean, Bard?”
“You’re sitting on a pink sofa, with a fluffy dog wearing a pink bow in your lap while you eat a cookie shaped like a flower.”
*looks at you lovingly while you busy yourself in the kitchen*
“I didn’t expect this either, Jaskier but… she makes me feel safe and loved. With her I don’t have to be The Witcher or The Butcher, I can just be Geralt. Also her baking is amazing and I love this fluffy baby in my lap more than I’ll admit.”
#the Witcher#the Witcher imagine#Geralt#Geralt x reader#Geralt of rivia#Geralt imagine#Geralt of rivia imagine#Geralt of rivia x reader
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Cozy day with Geralt of Rivia
More Mood Boards
#henry cavill#the witcher x reader#geralt of rivia#geralt of rivia imagine#geralt of rivia x reader#henry cavill x reader#henry cavill x you#moodboard#domestic life with geralt of rivia
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A Quiet Moment
Summary: based on some prompt that asked you to write a scene between two characters just being around each other with no dialogue. Immediately thought of Geralt.
Notes: saw a prompt on tiktok first thing I woke up and wrote this in a manic state. Enjoy :)
Taglist: @majesticwren @obsessiveformiyatwins @lucyinthelibrary @sunndust
Masterlist | requests are OPEN!
Neither of you are talkers. That’s Jaskier’s job, who chatters away about songs, affairs and other dramatic states of the world while you’re on the path. And despite your quietness, there always seems to be some kind of noise around you. Singing, fighting, talking, murmurs – whatever it is, it’s never really quiet.
Always except for these quiet moments, when the people in the tavern below you have gone home and Jaskier is in a room of his own.
It’s been a long day of killing for Geralt and a long day of waiting for him in a town full of talking, prodding people for you. So when you hear him sit down on the bed, you let out a sigh of relief. The day is over, and there are a few precious moments the two of you have to yourself now.
Geralt doesn’t ask you what’s wrong, and you don’t need him to. Instead, you go through your supplies, and grab bandages and ointments. Then, you get a bucket of water and a rag and sit down in front of Geralt.
He stops your wrist gently as you begin to loosen a buckle of his armor, but there’s a pleading look in his amber eyes. Geralt isn’t used to help, but he desperately wants to be taken care of.
Moments later, he lets you go, and you take off his stiff leather armor. The dirty undershirt follows quickly, and you see the bruises and cuts you expected.
You begin with his face, as you always do, wiping away dirt, sweat and grime, as well as some monsters’ blood. Gently, you take out the leather band holding his hair out of his face, before you move onto his chest.
Geralt doesn’t wince when you clean the cuts that run over his body, unlike Jaskier, who talks to compensate for pain. He’s so used to the discomfort that it makes your heart wrench. Carefully, you apply the ointments Geralt would tell you not to waste on him if he had the energy. But he doesn’t, so you give him this ‘luxury’.
Taking his breeches off should be sexual, but Geralt simply closes his eyes as you treat the massive cut that made blood drip onto the floor. If you knew how, you would probably stitch it, but you don’t and Geralt’s not human, so you have to leave it for now.
When you’re done with all the cuts and injuries, you grab him some clean clothes and take his dirty ones to be washed. The washerwomen know you and Geralt from earlier contracts, and they know you don’t speak much.
They don’t mind. You’re kinder than most and you pay. You hand over his sullied clothes and make your way to the innkeep next, preparing yourself to speak. It isn’t easy for you, especially after such a long day, but apparently, Jaskier is your saving grace today.
The innkeep hands you a tray with two meals on it, and only holds out a hand demanding payment. You provide it, taking the tray with stew and ale on it and make your way back upstairs to the rooms.
Geralt opens the door for you before you can knock. Either he heard your heartbeat or your footsteps – or both.
He takes the tray out of your hands and puts it down on the bed. You raise an eyebrow at that, since Geralt is normally unwilling to eat in the place he sleeps. It smells too strongly, he told you once.
You follow him, and he pulls you into his side, handing you a bowl. It’s cold, but you don’t mind. Geralt eats his as if he’s starved for weeks, and you can’t blame him. It does mean that you’ve barely taken three bites before he’s done.
His head is on your shoulder while you finish your dinner, washing down with a few gulps of the ale that has been stretched with water. You scrunch your face at the taste and a smile tugs at Geralt’s lips.
Before he can try to get out of bed, you collect the dishes and put them in a corner of the room where the rats won’t bother you.
On your way back, you can feel a sharp tug in your neck, and before you can stop yourself, you grimace. You hope he hasn’t noticed, but Geralt’s eyes flit up to the afflicted area immediately.
He doesn’t let you protest in any way – the moment you sit on your side of the bed, his hands are on your neck, working out the soreness in a way that would seem too gentle for a Witcher. When he’s done, you give him a smile, and he grunts in return.
The gestures turn into words in your head as you pull the blanket over your shoulders. Geralt blows out the candle on his side of the bed, before he wraps an arm around you.
He won’t sleep for quite a bit, so you stay still in the dark, feeling his hand stroke over your back and head absentmindedly. He does it with Roach too, to calm her down. You know he does it to calm himself aswell, and it feels nice, so you let him.
When his movement stills, you turn around to him, gently cupping his face, and giving him a kiss. It’s your ‘I love you’ before you go to sleep, and he returns it with his forehead against yours.
You can feel the tiredness creep in now, where all sounds but your breathing have stopped. It feels like the world has come to a stop, in the best way possible, and you cherish it. Feeling the warmth of his body against yours, your thoughts come to a stop and the only thing around is silence.
It’s a holy and rare commodity to you – one of the only things that doesn’t grate on your senses.
And as you fall asleep, you feel the Quiet in your bones. Tomorrow, early in the morning, it’ll be gone, but for now, the two of you are at peace.
#geralt#geralt x reader#geralt of rivia#geralt x you#geralt imagine#geralt fanfiction#geralt of rivia x you#geralt of rivia imagine#geralt of rivia fanfiction#geralt of rivia x reader
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Geralt loves laying his head on your stomach to rest. But not in any position, in such a way that he feels the weight of your legs on his back, your soft thighs on his shoulders, your skin prickling as he decides to kiss the inside of your thighs.
#geralt x reader#geralt x you#geralt imagine#geralt headcanon#geralt fluff#the witcher x reader#the witcher imagine#the witcher headcanon#the witcher fluff#geralt of rivia x reader#geralt of rivia x you#the witcher x you#geralt of rivia imagine#geralt of rivia headcanon#geralt of rivia fluff#x reader
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The Chase || Geralt of Rivia x Reader
Requested by anon: "reader constantly calling geralt the white wolf or just wolf during sexy time and him breeding his pups in her bcs of it???"
Summary: Geralt always tried to keep the wolf inside him caged in order to control his animalistic impulses, but with you that didn't seem to be required at all.
Warnings: SMUT MINORS DNI! Porn without plot, public sex (technically since they’re in the woods), rough sex, penetrative sex, fear play? (not really, but Geralt does chase the reader through the woods so maybe? adding it just in case!), scent play, size kink, breeding kink, dirty talk, biting (like there’s so much it’s a warning in this fic), fingering, possessiveness, a little fluff at the end, fem!reader
English is not my first language
Word count: 3300
Notes: This is definitely NOT inspired on THAT scene from beauty and the beast that has been going around twitter all week, nope, not at all
Geralt was used to being called 'wolf' or 'white wolf'. It was a nickname he'd had for most of his life and was constantly used by Vesemir and the other witchers. He never thought much about it, just like his own name, he had it so internalized that he automatically responded when someone called him by those nicknames.
That changed, however, when you came into his life. There was something in the way you pronounced those words that awakened a primal feeling in him. It was in the way you looked at him, eyes defiant and playful, waiting to spark a reaction from him. It was in the way your lips moved, always ending in a mischievous smile, and in the sound of your voice, sweet and seductive, inducing him to madness, pushing him to his limit.
Everything about you awakened in him an urge to possess you, to mark you as his so that everyone who saw you would know you belonged to him. He had to make an effort to stop his needy hands to caress your skin, and contain the desperation of his lips to kiss your neck and mark it with his teeth. He didn't care if there were people around him, they all ceased to exist when you called him wolf.
It didn't help his situation that you always played dumb, pretending not to understand the power you had over him. But Geralt knew it was all an act. He knew that you were well aware of the effect that the utterance of that nickname had on him. And you used it as a weapon, a way to get a response from him when you wanted to play. And today you were in a very playful mood.
"What is it? Is the wolf scared of losing?" you teased him, trying to persuade him to take the bet. It was a simple race through the woods, just get from point A to point B as fast as possible to win. Only you had no intention of winning. All you were looking for was the thrill of the chase.
Geralt gave you an unamused look, taking a deep breath to calm the revolt that your use of that nickname had awakened in him. But then, he sensed your perfume in the air, mixed with the intoxicating scent of your arousal. His look completely transformed, frown relaxing into a firm, intimidating expression. The game was on.
"Oh you don't want to play that game, bunny." He warned you, giving you one last chance to change your mind. Once the race started, he wasn't sure he would be able to stop. He could already feel his insides vibrating with anticipation, the chained wolf fighting to break free. He had been locked up for too long, his needs ignored and repressed, so when he let go there would be no turning back. He was hungry and you were offering yourself to him without hesitation. How could he refuse?
You approached him, taking the sword he was sharpening out of his hand and bending down so you could look him in the eye. Your movements were slow, sensual, captivating your lover's gaze. Geralt's eyes got lost in your cleavage for a moment, admiring the exposed skin of your neck and the valley of your breasts as he suddenly began to salivate with need. His pupils widened, staring at you with yellow eyes turned almost completely black with desire. He could barely contain himself and that only increased your arousal.
"I'm not afraid of you." you said, and Geralt held back the urge to tell you that you should be. "Are you, wolf?"
He stood up and suddenly his imposing figure towered over yours, forcing you to tilt your head up so you could look at him. He was so much bigger than you, so much more agile, that it was ridiculous to even imagine you could beat him in a race. But, again, that's not what the game was about.
Geralt leaned in towards you, his lips brushing your ear, his warm breath tickling your skin. "When you lose and you're on the ground begging for mercy, I just want you to remember that you asked for this." he whispered, defiantly, sending a shiver down your spine.
He looked at you and you knew it was time to run. He gave you a head start, knowing he could catch you without even trying —not only because he was faster than you, but also because you had no real intention of winning that bet. He watched you run through the trees, admiring the way your hair moved in the wind. Only when you disappeared over the horizon did he start to move. He walked at a slow pace at first, sharpening his hearing to follow the sound of your footsteps. But when he caught the scent of your arousal, he couldn't help but pick up his pace. It was like a drug to him, an intoxicating scent that messed with the hormones of the big, bad wolf he had set free.
Geralt let the scent of your floral perfume mixed with the sweet nectar hidden between your legs guide him towards you, an invisible force drawing him closer and closer to his prey. When he reached you, he found you hiding behind a tree, taking advantage of the moment to catch your breath. He heard you gasp as soon as you sensed his presence, holding your breath to avoid making your position known. Geralt smiled to himself, finding your small efforts to remain hidden adorable.
"You can't hide from me, bunny." He spoke, approaching you slowly. "I can hear the sound of your quickened breathing from miles away... smell the scent of your arousal... you want this, so why don't you come out and get this over with."
Geralt was offering you a truce, a chance for things not to escalate any further than they already had. Any sane person in your place would have taken it, it was the reasonable thing to do after taunting the wolf like that. But you were not just anyone. You wanted to face the consequences of your actions. You wanted to face the white wolf that Geralt tried so hard to keep in line. You wanted him to do whatever he wanted with you, that was the point of the game in the first place.
You came out of hiding with your hands up in a feigned sign of surrender. Geralt walked a few steps towards you, eyeing you with suspicion. You held his gaze, trying to hide your true intentions. But in the end the smile on your lips betrayed you, letting him know that you didn't plan to give up easily before you had a chance to run.
You barely made it a couple of steps before you felt the warmth of his body against yours, his arms wrapped tightly around you to keep you from escaping. You squirmed in his grip, trying to free your arms from his strong hold, but it was pointless. Geralt was much bigger and stronger than you, so you weren't going anywhere if he didn't want you to. He pressed you against him, pinning your back to his chest as his hands intertwined over your stomach, effectively imprisoning you against his body. You felt his nose against your neck, sniffing your scent with animalistic desperation. It made you tremble, eyes rolling to the back of your head as your heart pounded with anticipation. You pressed the curve of your ass against the bulge growing in his pants in response and you felt Geralt’s chest vibrate with a repressed moan.
"I got you." he growled against your skin before sinking his teeth into the sensitive area of your neck. "You're mine, bunny. Mine."
"I'm yours," you moaned, relaxing into his arms, tilting your head more so he could have better access to your neck. You wanted him to mark you. You wanted him to claim you as his own. "Please, take me." you begged. It was an airy whisper, but Geralt heard it with perfect clarity. And your consent was all he needed.
In a matter of seconds, your back was pressed against the grass as Geralt hovered over you. His hands were all over your body, lifting your skirt and unbuttoning the ties of your top to expose your breasts. His lips kissed every inch of exposed skin, but there was nothing romantic or sensual about it. It was rough, desperate, Geralt sucked your skin with the intention of leaving marks, sinking his teeth into your flesh as he growled that you belonged to him. It was too much and yet not enough. The pleasure coursing through your body was almost unbearable, but you needed more, you needed to feel all of him.
"You knew exactly what you were doing... calling me that name, making me chase you around." Geralt inserted a finger inside you without warning, earning a moan from you. You were so aroused, so desperate for his touch, that he had no trouble at all pushing deep into your core, moving his digit with ease and reaching up to brush against that sensitive part inside you that turned you into a moaning mess. "This is what you wanted, didn't you bunny? You wanted your big, bad wolf to chase you around and pin you down right in the middle of the woods, huh?"
"Y-yes, f-fuck." you managed to blurt out between moans and quickened breaths. Geralt inserted a second finger inside you and the air got stuck in your throat as the pleasure overwhelmed you. He increased the pace of his movements, showing you no mercy as his fingers moved in and out of you in desperate, almost aggressive movements. You could feel the knot in your stomach tightening, ready to snap at any moment.
"You awakened the wolf on purpose. This is exactly what you wanted, didn't you?" he growled in your ear, playfully biting your ear lobe. You could only reply with an incoherent moan, closing your eyes to focus on the pleasure coursing through your body. But that wasn't enough for him, Geralt wanted to hear you say it. "Answer me!" he demanded and you were forced to open your eyes just by the authority in his voice.
"Yes! I-I wanted this, I-I wanted the wolf to fuck me. Please..." Geralt smiled showing his teeth and you couldn't help but think how much he resembled a real wolf when he looked at you like that. His lips were slightly swollen and covered with saliva after working on marking your skin, his pupils blown wide with arousal. He was looking at you like a wolf looked at its prey, desperate to jump at you and devour his meal.
"Beg for it." He said through gritted teeth. He removed his fingers from inside you, leaving you empty and unsatisfied. It took your pleasure-clouded mind a few seconds to process his words, too focused on the high you'd lost to let out anything more than whimpers of frustration. But that was exactly what Geralt wanted. He wanted to see you completely desperate, surrendered under his body, begging for his touch.
"Please, wolf, I need you... I need to feel you inside me, please." You begged him, looking up at him through your eyelashes. He took his fingers covered with your sweet nectar into his mouth, sucking them clean as he moaned around them. It was the hottest image you had ever seen. He was so focused on the taste of your arousal touching his tongue that for a moment you feared he might not be able to hear your pleas for attention.
“I’m yours to take… please, wolf. I need you.”
The pathetic desperation in your voice was enough for Geralt. He wasted no time, freeing his cock from its confinement and thrusting it into you in one swift movement that left you breathless. He was big and even though your arousal was seeping down your thighs, it always took you a moment to get used to the way he stretched you. He showed you some mercy, giving you a few seconds to adjust while he enjoyed the way your walls closed around his cock. Nothing compared to the warm feeling of your walls wrapped around his cock, pulling him inside you, inviting him to stay. It was the closest he had ever been to heaven, if there was such a thing.
Geralt let out a grunt as you began to move your hips against him, urging him to move. He placed his hands on either side of your head, effectively imprisoning you under his large, imposing figure. Then he gave you a sloppy, wet kiss, biting your lower lip before moving closer to your ear. "Just remember you asked for this." He whispered, sealing your fate.
The rhythm he set was fast and rough, his hips moving against yours desperately. The sheer force of his thrusts was such that you had to cling to his body to keep from sliding upward each time he entered you. It hurt a little, but in the most delicious way. He hit that special place inside you with every thrust of his hips, turning you into an incoherent moaning mess that could do nothing but dig your nails into his back in a desperate attempt to keep you grounded. Pure pleasure coursed through your veins as you felt Geralt pressing deep inside you, filling you and claiming you as his. Your sweat covered skin was on fire, only finding relief when the witcher's cold medallion that dangled over your face made contact with your body.
"Scream! I want to hear you, bunny. I want to know how good I'm making you feel." Geralt demanded and your body instantly obeyed, as if he was the true owner of your mind. "That's it, don't hold back. No one is going to find us here, you can scream all you want. It's just me and you."
The forest filled with your moans and Geralt's animalistic grunts. He couldn't contain himself, seeing you underneath him with your tangled hair full of dry leaves and your watery eyes full of pleasure was too much for him. He couldn't stop the fast rhythm of his hips even if he wanted to. The wolf inside him wanted to ruin you completely, to mark you as his and make sure you were never satisfied with any other man but him. You belonged to him, now and forever.
"You wanted this, you craved it... my little bunny, desperate to get fucked like a bitch in heat." He growled against the skin of your neck, sinking his teeth into the sensitive area below your ear.
"Yes! F-fuck, please... I'm so close." You begged him, feeling the familiar tingle spreading in your stomach as your toes curled. His fingers traveled to the little bundle of nerves pulsing between your legs, stroking it with rapid circular motions that increased your level of desperation. You were so close to your relief it was almost painful, but you wanted to wait, to hold back your pleasure so you could explode alongside Geralt.
"You want me to fill you up, mark you as mine, huh? Breed you with my pups so everyone knows you're mine?" It was an empty promise and you both knew it. Geralt was sterile and no matter how much he wanted to, he could not father a child. But that didn't make his words any less arousing. The idea of being his and having his child growing in your belly to prove it was so enticing that you couldn't help but entwine your legs around his waist as a way to make sure he didn't slip out from inside you.
"Yes, please! I'm yours, I always will be and I want everyone to know!"
"That's right, you are. And I'm yours." Geralt grunted, leaning his forehead against yours to look you in the eye as he quickened his movements, his thrusts becoming more erratic as he chased the sweet relief. "Can you feel how deep inside you I am?" He took your hand and pressed it against your lower belly, where you could feel the bulge of his cock moving inside you. "I'm going to shoot my seed so deep into you, you'll carry it inside you until your belly starts to swell up with my pups inside it. Is that what you want?"
"Yes! Please, give it to me, wolf! I need to feel you, please." You begged with your last breath, almost bursting into tears from the intensity of the pleasure you felt.
Two more thrusts were all it took for Geralt to push you over the edge. You came with a cry of his name, nails digging into the sweaty skin of his back as your warm walls tightened around his cock, forcing him to stay inside you. That was enough to trigger his own relief, his cock twitching inside you as he shot his load deep inside your cunt, painting your walls with pearly white ropes of cum. And yet, he continued to thrust inside you, making your body shake from the overstimulation. He wanted to make sure his seed stayed inside you. He wanted to be able to smell the mix of his relief and yours on you for the rest of the day.
When he finally pulled away you groaned, feeling empty. Geralt let out an airy chuckle as he dropped down next to you, struggling to catch his breath. He pulled you close to him, wrapping his arms around you and resting your head on his chest. Even after all that, he still needed to hold you close, to feel the warmth of your body against his.
You stayed like that until your breathing returned to normal, reveling in each other's closeness. You were so relaxed in his arms that you might well have fallen asleep if not for Geralt breaking the peaceful silence by clearing his throat.
"We should head back." he murmured, his fingers tracing imaginary lines on the exposed skin of your arm.
"I would if I could move." You joked as you began to feel the pain in your tired muscles. You didn't regret anything, though.
"I'm sorry."
You lifted your head from his chest to look at him, giving him a smile to ease the guilt he might be feeling for hurting you. "Don't be, you did exactly what I wanted you to do." You reached up to kiss him and he gladly reciprocated, cupping your cheek with his free hand so he could deepen the kiss.
However, he pulled away faster than you expected. You whined again, but he ignored you, getting up from the floor and shaking the dirt off his clothes. "It's getting late, we need to go." He said and you huffed. You weren't ready to move yet.
"Geraaalt" you complained, pouting. He looked down at you, ready to scold you, but was distracted by the sight of his artwork in all its glory. Your sweat-covered skin glowed under the afternoon light, highlighting your beauty. Your body was covered in his teeth marks and a trail of reddened hickeys trailed from your neck to your breasts and disappeared under the fabric of your dress. You carried his scent on your body, his seed inside you and his teeth marks on your skin. That alone was enough to awaken the wolf inside him once again, though he held back.
"You look beautiful." He said, kneeling beside you to help you knot the ties in the front of your dress, hiding your breasts and the marks he had made behind the fabric.
The softness in Geralt's eyes was such that you felt the need to hide your face, feeling embarrassed and somehow more exposed than when you were having sex. However, he didn't give you time to react as he quickly pulled you into his arms and made his way back to the hut. You relaxed in his arms, wrapping your hands around the back of his neck and snuggling against his shoulder.
"I love you." you said in an almost inaudible whisper. It was as if you were speaking more to yourself than for Geralt to hear you. As if the words had escaped your lips as you were lost in thought.
But Geralt's hearing was exceptionally good. And he couldn't help but smile to himself as he heard those words.
#geralt of rivia x reader#geralt of rivia x fem reader#geralt of rivia smut#geralt x reader#the witcher x reader#the witcher smut#geralt of rivia x reader smut#geralt of rivia imagine#henry cavill#the witcher fanfiction#the witcher#the witcher netflix
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destiny / geralt of rivia
𝓈𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎: Staying at Kaer Morhen was an unexpected event in your life. After getting a room assigned you realize the room actually belongs to someone whom you'd often see by chance... or because of destiny?
𝓌𝑜𝓇𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉: 4.5k
𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈: 18+ ONLY! dirty talk, kissing, pussy eating, handjob, riding him, him fucking you... basically smut
a/n: hello everyone! I have been writing this for a while now but I have finally finished it! This story has a lot more dialogue and I hope you don't mind that. Also for anyone that is still waiting for my next chapter of lust series, it's coming! I am still in the process of writing it. Anyways hope you like reading this one!
Vesemir had called up on you to come stay at the Kaer Morhen for a while. Since it was winter time most of the witchers returned to this place to refuel and relax, your job was to keep the order and help with making elixirs. It was a sudden decision from Vesemir, an emergency to be precise. With many more blood hungry monsters, he wanted to make sure that all the right elixirs would be ready by the time winter is over, so naturally you were the best mage that knew how to make them without needing any recipes.
He showed you to your room where you would be staying for the next upcoming weeks. All the rooms at this place seemed the same but for some reason this one was way bigger than the rest. It had a lovely window that overlooked the training station outside, a large bed that looked comfortable, a fireplace to keep you warm and a small wardrobe. It almost felt like this room did not belong to Kaer Morhen but rather an inn.
‘’Get some rest, tomorrow I’ll tell you what you’ll need to do.’’ Vesemir said his goodbyes to you as he closed the door behind him
You had a long journey ahead of you today as you also made some stops in between, hence why your muscles were aching. You were desperate for a bath but weren’t so sure where you could find one. Also since it was winter outside, the weather completely changed. Snow took over the entire property, the leaves fell off the trees and the once green grass was covered in its entirety.
Stepping out of the room you walked along the many hallways that lead to different rooms while others lead to other rooms that had equipment. With each door you opened you kept getting more and more upset - there was nothing. All there was, was just a bunch of random stuff that didn’t really have a place or a pile of junk.
Feeling even more devastated than before you decided to return back to your room. The night by now has fallen, as the lamps lit up the place, making it feel more cozy. The chatter coming from downstairs was still up and about. After all it was the first day, when most witchers returned to their home, so it was only fitting for them to catch up with one another.
As you open the door to your room you suddenly scream out loud, while covering your eyes.
‘’What are you doing in my room?!’’ you exclaim at the figure that was standing by the bed, with their shirt off
‘’Your room? This is my-...’’ and in that moment you recognize his voice as he does yours
‘’Geralt?’’ you put your hands down but still keep your eyes closed shut
‘’What on earth are you doing here?’’ Geralt asks as you hear him make a step
When it comes to Geralt, you very well knew who he was. The greatest witcher of all times. The best hunter for monsters. Most of the time alone or accompanied by his friend Roach. He always did what he had to do and he did it perfectly.
But when it comes to you two, often your destinies would collide with one another and whenever you’d see each other, there would be tension between you too. You've always thought you did something to him since he gave you the strangest look when you first met. As a result, you automatically did the same to him.
‘’Just put on a shirt first!’’ you extend your arms out, as a way to prevent him for coming further even though he only made a step to turn to you
‘’Why would I? You are in my room, you barged in here.’’ he argues back and you hear the shirt shuffling in his hands
‘’Excuse me?,’’ you let your hands down ‘’Vesemir had told me this was my room while I’m staying here.’’ you point to the ground as you hear Geralt snicker
‘’Staying? Are you staying here?’’
‘’Yes? Did you not see my stuff I put in the wardrobe?’’ your eyes were still closed shut as you hear the door of the closet creak open
‘’Why are you here?’’ he asks, closing the wardrobe ‘’And also you can open your eyes, it’s not like I had my-...’’
‘’Okay!’’ you squeal quickly, opening your eyes to see Geralt wearing a black linen shirt that was tucked in his pants
‘’Do you mind leaving now?’’ you gesture to the door
‘’No? It’s my room.’’
You really did not have the time to argue with him but you did not wish to give up the room under any circumstances. If this was someone else asking for their room you’d give in already but since it was Geralt that was off limits.
‘’Geralt, I do not care if this was your room it’s mine now.’’ you point to yourself
Geralt huffs in annoyance, throwing his head back as his hands were on his hips. You now understood why this bedroom was his. He was the best witcher out there so I guess it was only fair to give him best of the best, as he caught many monsters and dealt with different quests. But you knew how other rooms there were. Most had a small bed with no fireplace and there were even rats around as nobody really took care of that.
‘’Then we share it.’’ he suggests and your eyes open wide
‘’Share it?’’ you were in disbelief that he even said that
‘’I’m afraid all the other rooms are occupied.’’ as he says that you peek your head out to the hallway and notice that sure indeed all the rooms were full as light came from each of them under the door
When the winter comes around all the witchers return back to this place to have some rest as there aren’t many monsters at this time. And when they do return this place is full of chatter, laughter and them sharing stories among one another. But you did not understand why Vesemir gave you this room if he knew it was Geralts.
‘’Can’t you sleep somewhere else? You could share a room with another witcher?’’ you look back at him as he gestures ‘no’ with his head and that’s when you thought that maybe it was unfair of you to just kick him out of his room that he earned fighting along many different creatures. However you were still going to stay in this room no matter what.
‘’Fine but what about the bed?’’
‘’I’ll take the floor.’’ he answers as he rushes past you out of the room
You watch him leave unsure as to where he was headed but in the meantime you decide to get ready for the bed. You took the duvet off and quickly jumped in, tucking yourself in afraid he was going to change his mind.
Soon Geralt was back in the room with a pillow, a duvet and a fluffy carpet. He closes the door before throwing everything he held on the ground. The carpet he placed on the floor which you realized it was for him to lay down but given the fact he was tall and bulky, the carpet practically disappeared underneath him. You watch him fiddle with the pillow and the duvet, tossing it one way and another, he was getting frustrated.
‘’Geralt.’’ you call to him and at first he doesn’t acknowledge your voice
‘’Geralt.’’ this time you said it louder and finally grab his attention
He whips his head and pierces his eyes into yours. You knew this wasn’t a way for him to sleep, especially because you did not know how long you were going to stay here. It was weird as you had some pity for him but then despised him, still you knew how hard they work and how desperately they need their sleep to recharge for the next season.
‘’We can share the bed.’’ you offer as you scoot over to one side and he just looks at you confused
‘’Just a few minutes ago you didn’t wish to share a room with me and now you want to share the bed?’’
‘’I do not have time to bicker, take this side of the bed or have fun sleeping on the creaky wooden floor.’’ you turn your back to him, taking half of the duvet covering your body in it
For a second there it was quiet, there wasn’t a single sound to be heard until the floor slowly creaked from behind you. A ‘Hmm’ left Geralt’s mouth before you felt the bed dip, the weight of the bed shifts as the other part of the duvet is being thrown to you.
‘’I got mine.’’ he shortly says as you hear his covers shuffling before he settles in the comfort of the bed
The setting was strange, sharing a bad with someone you did not like. Every little move he would make with his body the bed would creak but that didn’t bother you as the weight of your eyes took over you and you fell asleep.
Somewhere in the middle of the night you began tossing and turning as you were starting to get cold. The fire in the fireplace burnt out and the room suddenly changed temperatures. The duvet wasn’t doing you any justice as well at that point. Your body was freezing underneath it and because of that you were unable to sleep even though you were exhausted. But you weren’t the only one that couldn’t shut their eyes.
‘’When do you think you’ll stop?’’ you hear Geralt’s raspy voice
‘’When I get warm.��’ you didn’t even turn around to him, instead just mumble that under your breath. You wanted to start the fire in the fireplace but you didn’t have the will to get up and get even colder so instead you decided to shut your eyes and tried not to think about the coldness and eventually the sleep took over you.
Some point a little later in the night you had to switch sides and you had completely forgotten that you were sharing a bed with Geralt. It wasn’t until you opened your eyes slowly to find his yellow golden gaze staring at you. He didn’t say anything once the two of you met each other's gazes and suddenly the only thing you could hear in the room was you two breathing.
‘’Why are you looking at me?’’ you whisper, as your eyes were half open now, holding onto the duvet in your hands
‘’You are the total opposite when you sleep.’’ he remarks in his low voice
‘’What do you mean?’’
‘’You don’t say much. You’re quiet.’’ Geralt said while you narrow your eyebrows at him
‘’Fuck you.’’ you lift your head off the pillow as you say that, Geralt just snickers back at you
‘’Such pretty lips saying all that filth.’’ he all of the sudden says and you widen your eyes at him. His were fully focused on you now, wavering around your eyes to your lips. You could feel your heart beating faster and faster and you weren’t sure why you were having these thoughts.
‘’Huh?’’
Geralt quickly closes the distance and places his lips on yours. It was such a gentle kiss, without any strong pressure. He let his lips remain on top of yours for a few seconds whilst you closed your eyes, unsure how to respond.
His lips leave yours before he returns, significantly stronger this time as he removes his hand from beneath the covers and softly places his thumb beneath your chin. You now respond by spreading your lips as he leans in and you kiss him back.
He moves himself closer to you as his hand begins traveling down from your face to the back of your head before pausing at your lower back. You too took your hands from beneath the covers and delicately touched his face with your fingertips. You could feel his rough skin along with his stubble he had not shaved. His hair tickled at your skin once he deepened the kiss by slipping his tongue in your mouth evoking a moan out of you. His tongue danced with yours, every now and then he’d pull away just to kiss you again before going back in to bite on your bottom lip, everything was becoming more heated.
‘’Geralt…’’
‘’Yes?’’
‘’What are we doing?’’ you confusingly ask once you two stopped kissing
‘’Kissing each other.’’ he replies, as his thumb traced your lips
‘’But I hate you.’’
‘’Oh you do? Show me how much you hate me then.’’ he says quietly, his eyes were yearning for more you and the desire inside of you, it was like a spark that was waiting for a while before it ignited, that’s when you swiftly remove the duvet and straddle him
Your legs were on the side of him and he immediately put his hands on your hips. But first he assists you in removing your dress as you help him get rid of his linen shirt. Your breathing hitched once you felt something hard underneath you, poking at you but it felt good. You lower yourself to him, just inches away from his lips hovering over.
‘’Kiss me.’’ he orders before you close the gap and kiss him hard. Geralt’s hands came back at your hips, aiding you to move and you felt your pussy getting increasingly wetter and wetter each time you’d feel his cock twitch underneath you
"For someone that was visibly annoyed by me, your hard cock is saying otherwise." you add in between kisses.
That’s when he backs up and within seconds he moves you away from himself. He gets out of bed but turns around to face you, his knees slamming into the bed frame. His massive cock jumps out as he quickly takes his pants down. As you were on your knees, staring up at him, he drew you closer and grips your neck.
‘’Open your mouth.’’ he urges and you don’t even think twice because you wanted him, you needed to taste him in your mouth and you didn’t care about anything else
You do as he says and he shoves his cock in your mouth, while keeping his hand on your neck.
‘’That’s more like it you fucking cunt. Got you all quiet now huh?’’ his dirty talk had your pussy throbbing and you wanted so badly to touch yourself but Geralt had a different idea
‘’Put your hands behind your back.’’ he instructs, eyes watching you as you keep taking him in your mouth
Geralt began moving his hips back and forth, as you bobbed your head to the pace he was instructing. Your eyes were looking directly at him as he threw his head back once he placed his hand to the top of your head.
‘’You take this cock so fucking good,’’ he growls as he takes his dick out of your mouth ‘’stick your tounge out.’’ you obey him as he slaps his dick on your tongue, repeatedly before putting it back in your mouth
He was fucking your mouth, his head went back once he pushed it all the way and that caught you off guard. Your entire body was in a state of euphoria, that feeling of him completely within your mouth was driving you mad. You loved his taste.
‘’Fuck, that feels so good.’’ he purrs as he takes his cock out and a trail of saliva comes out of your mouth. Your lips were red, swollen from how much he pounded his dick in your mouth.
His face lowers to you and he crushes his lips on yours while making sounds. He tugs and licks at your lips, his hand resting on your face and you couldn’t keep your hands away from him. You had to touch him. So you tug at his hair as your other hand pulls him closer, causing him to collapse on top of you. He didn’t seem to mind that as he began slowly grinding on your pussy.
‘’Look how fucking wet you are cunt.’’ he says mid between kissing you as you feel his hard cock, grazing over your wet pussy. Both of your hands were now in his hair, his were at the either side of your body, holding himself up as his cock was drenching in your juices.
‘’Geralt…’’ you mutter his name
‘’Mmm, yes princess?’’ you feel his finger on your pussy and you jolt in your place
‘’What did you want hm?’’ he asks, his voice so sinful, wishing you to have more of him but you couldn’t make up any words. It was difficult to talk while he was playing with you, a cocky expression on his face knowing he had every inch of you he desired.
‘’You need to tell me princess, so I know what I need to do to make you feel good.’’ he leaves a trail of wet kisses along your jawline as your eyes roll back from the feeling
‘’I…I want your…’’ you gulp and lick your lips as Geralt watches you with hungry eyes ‘’I want your mouth on my pussy.’’ you finally croak out and he kisses your lips before going down to your legs.
‘’You want me to lick your pussy?’’ he opens your legs further apart, getting access to your exposed dripping cunt. His arms wrap around your legs holding you in place before dipping his head and licking a strip up your pussy.
‘’Like this?’’
You nod as he snickers and goes back in, flicking his tongue repeatedly, up and down in any direction he could think off. His tongue was velvety making you fill up with pleasure. He looked so handsome this way, the window from the roof was shining just enough on him, outlining his back and arm muscles. His hair was falling at his face and his eyes would occasionally peek up at you.
As you glance further down his body you could see his hard cock, jerking every time you’d moan or call his name. Just thinking about him being inside you made your body melt, you felt tingles from your spine traveling throughout your body.
Geralt seemed to take notice of your eyes as he smiled in your pussy ‘’Do you want something else, I can give it to you.’’ he removes his tongue off of your cunt and retrieves his body back to yours, as he licks his fingers before locking his lips back to yours.
‘’Yes.’’ you whisper, unable to control yourself
‘’Do you want my cock?’’ he says as he glances down and reaches for his cock, taunting you with his tip at your pussy
‘’Yes.’’ you were pleading by this point now
‘’Do you want me to fuck you?’’
You bit at your lower lip, he was driving you insane. His tip alone was enough to make your brain dizzy, let alone his deep voice, which sent shivers down your body every time he talked to you dirty.
Finally you nod and he pulls you closer to him as he enters you, slowly at first, filling your insides. He was big, you could feel every bit of him, stretching out your walls. You gasp out loud, your back arching, clutching at the sheets as Geralt muffles your sounds by kissing you.
‘’Shit. Such a tight little pussy huh?’’ he asks, as he moves in and out of you. You were clenching around him, he knew where to find the right spot, your moans were the response to his movements.
The room was filled with sweat, moans and Geralt’s grunts as he began moving faster. He leaves your lips and grabs at your legs, placing them around himself as he was on his knees. As he’s holding at your legs, he keeps going faster and faster. His body was glistening with his sweat, his perfect v-line flowing down to his cock, while he pummeled into you, flinging his head back.
You were still grasping at the sheets, closing your eyes in between, nobody has ever made you feel this good. You could feel your pussy pulsing from his cock around your walls, his cock fit perfectly in you.
‘’Come here.’’ he suddenly says as he pulls you to himself and smother’s your face with his lips. He was kissing you all over your face, his tongue was licking at your cheeks, it’s like he wanted to devour you from head to toe - you tasted sweet to him.
Geralt then lays down on the bed and has your back facing him. He helps you as he eases you onto cock,holding you and fucking you again. Your hands were trying to support you but because of him you didn’t need to do so. You didn’t mind this position, the only issue is that you couldn’t see him and the sight of him in this state made you wet all over again.
He leans you back into him, your back now colliding with his chest as his head pops across your left side, where he turns your head and kisses your lips. His lips were hot, as he sucked and pulled at them. His hand slithers down your body to your pussy. You had no idea it would make you feel even better, but it did. He began circling around it, driving you insane.
‘’Geralt…fuck.’’ you moan unable to control yourself
‘’Only I can fuck this pussy, you understand?’’
‘’Mhm…’’
‘’Say it.’’ he demands as he kisses you again
‘’Only you can fuck this pussy Geralt.’’ you repeat and he smiles into the kiss
‘’Make me cum with this pussy.’’ he says as you squeeze your pussy, knowing it would drive him over the edge and you were right
‘’Cum with me.’’ he lastly says before you feel his heart beating faster
Geralt’s hand is continuing playing with your pussy as you feel him twitch inside of you. His cock was pulsating as you felt yourself getting filled with his warm cum. His lips were pressed to yours, he was groaning in your mouth, you moaning back into his. Both of your bodies went to a new state. Your vision went black once you reached your high and the sensation overtook your entire body.
‘’Fuck.’’ you cry out, biting your lip while arching your back
His heavy breathing slowly came at ease but your body was still buzzing from the orgasm he just gave you.
‘’You’re shaking.’’ Geralt says as he takes his cock out and quickly places you at his side, wrapping your body with the duvet. He pulls you close to himself, wrapping his arms around your frame to keep you secure and in place.
‘’Geralt, did we really just fuck?’’ you mumble and feel his hands caress your back
‘’We did,’’ he takes a moment to look at you ‘’do you regret it?’’ he asks, his eyes speaking to you
‘’No, I don’t. Do you?’’
‘’No. I always wanted to be inside you.’’
You playfully bump your head onto his chest and giggle as you see a smile on his face as well. He removes a strand of your hair away from your face and places a soft kiss on your lips.
‘’So all you needed was to fuck me and suddenly you don’t hate me anymore?’’ you say, as you trace the features on his nose
‘’The only thing I hated was that this pussy wasn’t mine. Until today.’’ his hand moves to your ass where he slaps it and right after squeezes it
‘’When did I say it was yours?’’ you joke but he slaps your ass again making you jump in your place
‘’This pussy is mine. Only mine.’’ he kisses your nose before nuzzling you back into him rocking you with his body
It felt so good laying with him like this, the warmth wrapping around you and hearing his breathing was the perfect combination to make you fall asleep but not before he said ‘’Our destinies always seem to be colliding Y/n.’’ that made you think of all the other times you had seen him. Sometimes you’d see him in random places, unturned areas yet and he’d be there. Each time you’d see one another, each time your eyes would be different. But it never came to your head that this all was in fact destiny. It never came to you that the feeling you had was true - you wanted him to be yours.
‘’You are right. Maybe we belong to one another after all.’’ you reply and his hands came to your face, lifting it up
‘’Not maybe, rather yes, we do belong to one another.’’ the sides of his mouth lift upwards and he leans in kissing you but with the biggest passion yet
“I never hated you.” he suddenly says as he keeps his hands around you and takes his eyes up the window on the roof “I wanted you, each time I’d see you I felt something in me, it was pulling me in to you.” he licks his lips before continuing ''But I always thought to myself 'Why would someone like her wish to be with someone like me'.” he looks back at you, his eyes were heavy and sleepy
''Someone like you?'' you scoff and sit up ''Do you know how strong and amazing you are Geralt? You are the most powerful witcher out there,'' you point to the window ''there is no one that could beat you.''
Geralt takes your hands in his lap and sits up with you ''That's all I am Y/n. I kill monsters and get their blood all over me. I reek of their smell.''
''You are protecting us. Protecting the people. Without you, this world would have eaten us by now.'' you boop his nose with your finger and he grabs your hand, placing it himself on the side of his face and the weight of his head falls into your hands
''You are such an extrodinary woman Y/n. I'm sorry if I was...''
''Grumpy? Annoying?'' you cut him off and snicker
''Yes. I was trying to push you away for my own being which was a very dumb decision...'' he wavers off, he was troubled by this
''I mean I did the same to you, only you did it first to me and then I did it and then I thought 'what did I do wrong' because you were always so mad when you'd see me and I-...'' Geralt stops you from talking as he smashes his lips onto yours, breathing in your scent
''You're mine Y/n. That's all that matters to me now. I have you.''
#geralt x reader#geralt x you#the witcher imagine#the witcher fanfic#geralt smut#geralt imagine#geralt rivia x reader#geralt x rivia smut#the witcher smut#the witcher x you#henry cavill imagine#henry cavill smut#geralt of rivia x you#geralt of rivia imagine#geralt rivia imagine#geralt of rivia x reader#geralt of rivia x y/n#the witcher x reader
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Imagine Geralt realising how pissed you are after running into you again…
It was another busy day where knights, men and women of all corners came in to rest their battle-weary feet and drink mead. There would be the occasional brawl but they were nothing when you compared it to battling a cursed wyvern with a blindfold.
You exited the back room having just refilled the pitcher of cool mead when a familiar grunt caught your attention. Just behind a rowdy table of farmers, in the corner, sat the Witcher - Geralt of Rivia - and a bard who was far too chipper while sober.
Inching a little closer, you busied yourself with empty flagons while remaining within earshot of the pair.
“Come on - it’s not a bad lyric. Ah, what do you know? You can wield a sword but not understand the complex meaning behind a beautiful string of words.” The bard said.
Geralt scoffed. “It wasn’t complex.”
An old man slid a few coins across the table for the service which you pocketed and then moved on to the next.
“We can’t stay long.” Geralt told his companion. You glanced back briefly and saw the brightly dressed man staring into his coin satchel, concerned.
“I could swear there was more silver in here. Geralt, I think I’ve been indecently swindled.”
You wanted to confirm that the man could easily have fallen prey to the notorious pick-pockets that haunt the tavern but you stayed silent, now distracted by a customer who ordered some pies.
“Don’t forget the carrots this time.” He reminded.
You wanted to tell him where to shove his carrots but heard your name being shouted from across the floor.
“Y/n, I need a word!” It was the tavern owner who enjoyed paying you less than what you were owed. With a sigh, you trudged over to him away from most prying ears. “You’ve been waiting on those tables long enough. Deliver those pies and refill goblets on the double or I’ll show you out the door.”
You had half a mind to bite back but chose to hold the words at bay. In ten minutes, the pie was ready to be collected from the kitchens. As you walked it to the table, you made the decision to confront Geralt but upon approaching his table, found that the Witcher and his bard had vanished, leaving behind some coins for the hospitality.
Geralt would have heard your name being bellowed. He would have seen you answer the call. And yet, he still left?
Typical!
The farmer who had ordered the food found his plate empty as you swerved around his chair and rushed out the wooden door. Turning left, you followed the small path down to where riders often tied their horses, your own being one of them - spotting the familiar silver hair and lute of the bard.
Words appeared to have failed and rational thoughts had abandoned your mind the second you fled.
Your hand flipped the pie out of its casing and with one, well-aimed throw, found its mark. The bard screamed and the Witcher stopped in his tracks instantly stilling for a few seconds.
Then he turned, his jaw clenched. “Did you throw a meat pie at my head?”
You tossed the empty pan over your shoulder. “You bet I did and I’ll do it again.”
The bard at Geralt’s side grabbed his guitar and hid behind the broad-shouldered man fearing that he would be next. “Oh, they’re pissed. What did you do?”
Geralt exhaled as he pulled stray bits of pastry out of his locks. “I’m not sure…”
“Not sure? You fucking ignored me in the tavern! Friends for years and it doesn’t warrant a simple ‘hello’?” You yelled.
Jaskier peered out from behind, “Oh, he’s always like that. We’ve been friends for several weeks and he pretends to hardly know me - such a jest.” He chuckled to himself quite fondly.
Ignoring the brightly coloured song man, Geralt addressed you, now free from the discarded food. He had indeed acknowledged the your presence the minute he set foot in the tavern but found himself reliving old memories instead - some good, others painful.
“I didn’t think you’d want to see me after that business with the striga.”
“The striga?” You repeated, remembering the event he was referring to where he had taken claim over the beasts defeat instead of giving you proper recognition. “That was over a year ago, I was bitter for perhaps a few weeks but no more. But you wouldn’t know that because you ran off with Roach.”
“I didn’t run off - I just - you were injured and I had no reason to hang around while you healed.” The Witcher explained. “In hindsight, I probably should have checked in.”
You nodded vehemently. “And since you didn’t, you’re very deserving of that meat pie.”
“The pie was mean.” Geralt frowned.
“Oh a tale of a strained but beautiful friendship filled with battles and miscommunication - you must regale me with the details.” Jaskier grinned.
You would gladly do so if your old friend would have your company once more. Raising a brow at Geralt, you posed the silent question.
“Don’t you have a job?” Geralt asked.
You squinted in return. “I abandoned my post and stole a pie. I’m surely fired.”
“Fine - but only until the next village.” The Witcher negotiated, knowing full well that his friend would likely be staying for a longer time. He grabbed the reins and pulled himself up on his horse with a small grunt.
You shared a similar grin to the bard and sent a high whistle into the air to call forth your own steed for the journey ahead.
When the horse approached, you took hold of the reins and walked alongside Jaskier.
“While we’re on the topic, I’ll tell you about the time when Geralt fought an ifrit almost fully naked.” You winked and caught the eye roll on your friends face.
Jaskier pulled his guitar to the front and strummed a few strings to start a catchy tune. “Oh, I’m ready for this.”
~ More imagines here ~
#theladyofmanyfandoms#theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction#gif is not mine#witcher x reader#witcher imagine#geralt imagine#geralt x reader#jaskier imagine#jason x reader#jaskier x reader#geralt of river x reader#geralt of rivia imagine#the witcher x reader#the witcher imagine
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Howl
summary: it was not love that kept him coming back, but a need for company, for an evening of peace where the world outside the shaking walls of your cottage ceased to exist.
warnings: rough sex. choking. slight praise kink. all-around smutty goodness. geralt is a dominant and dirty sob.
word count: 3.2k
notes: honestly i’m not sure exactly where this idea came from but i can say it is partly inspired by the song howl by florence and the machine.
"_____"
You’d not been expecting to see him again so soon. Geralt had visited only a few days ago to satisfy the desire that beat at him incessantly and without remorse. Some of the villagers said you should never have allowed the White Wolf sanctuary within your home—that fateful event had begun your tumultuous relationship—but reclusiveness often came with loneliness, and that was something the two of you shared.
It was not love that kept him coming back, but a need for company, for an evening of peace where the world outside the shaking walls of your cottage ceased to exist. In those few hours before the sun rose, what you’d always hoped for would come true: loneliness would forget your address.
So when you hear his voice, it’s a surprise, but not an unwelcome one.
You can’t prevent the smile that finds your lips as you place the bowl on the counter. Your hands ache as you wipe them on the front of your skirts, leaving them damp and dirty. You’d been kneading dough to make bread in the morning, and now your fingers were stiff and clumps of dough were stuck beneath your nails.
But none of that was why you froze after turning to face him.
He was standing in the doorway, filling the frame with his bulk. There was blood splattered on his face, dripping from his plump lips; it was fresh and likely still warm. It was also still wet; you could see it glistening on his dark leather armour beneath the moonlight peeking in through the doorway, but this was not what made your heart skip a beat.
His eyes were as black as the night and narrowed with dangerous focus. There were tendrils snaking along his skin, stretching like a Kraken’s tentacles reaching out through the deep ocean in search of prey. His aura was strong, filling the room despite the distance between you. It was powerful and condemning, making you shiver.
"Geralt." You were careful to keep your voice low and calm, knowing that he was unpredictable in this state. You’d heard rumours about what he was like and what moods would take him when he took his witcher potions. Every one of his senses would be heightened more than they already were: sight, smell, and taste, but those were the obvious ones.
His body was likely on fire with urgent need. His mind would be in a haze. His thoughts would be overwhelmed with sensation and the desire to feel the satin clutch of your cunt wrapped around his aching cock. Your eyes drift down to find the bulge at the front of his pants, confirming your suspicions.
He steps into the cottage, which seems much smaller with him inside. He moves slowly, but you have no retreat; the small of your back is pressed tightly against the counter you had been working at only moments ago. His boots thudded on the woodwork, tracking mud, dirt, and god knows what else across the floor. He hasn’t even closed the door.
His blackened eyes feast on the sight of you—the way your skin prickles with goosebumps beneath the cold air sweeping through the door, how your nipples harden into peaks beneath the assault of his stare and your own thoughts.
You like the Witcher well enough but know enough about him to maintain a healthy balance of respect and apprehension. "Are you hurt?" You ask in a quiet voice, fighting to keep the tremor from your words but failing. "I have bandages."
His low growl was enough to silence you.
"Take off your clothes."
His command was absolute, leaving no room for argument. It was like a slap to the face, leaving you startled and staring at him with wide eyes. But the rumble of his voice was deep and memorising, making your pussy weep as moisture pooled at the apex of your thighs. You press yourself tighter against the counter until the small of your back aches beneath the pressure.
"Geralt, I-"
He crossed the distance remaining between the two of you with unnatural speed, his hand coming up to clutch you roughly by the throat, silencing you as his fingers pressed into the sides of your neck. The warmth of his body is intoxicating, or maybe it was his grip on your neck that made you feel lightheaded as he forced you backwards, bending you back until your elbows pressed painfully into the counter and your skirts pressed firmly against the front of his trousers.
"Do not speak," he instructs. "Not unless it is to tell me you’re cumming."
His fingers clutch tighter at your throat, the pads of them pressing so roughly into the arteries either side of your neck that your vision blurs, and you wheeze in protest. You grabbed at his wrist when your lungs began to burn, your dirty nails clawing at his skin.
Geralt was not a gentleman; you knew this. He had never been a gentleman, nor would he be. When you found him half dead at the edge of the stream, manticore venom oozing from the puncture wound in his shoulder, you knew he was a force of nature, too stubborn to die. And you knew from the rumours that he took what he pleased and ignored the repercussions of his actions. You knew all of this, and you still brought him home.
He'd taken you the first night he’d awoken, delirious and in pain, and you’d let him. His hands held your hips so tightly that they’d bruised, his cock stretching your tight pussy in delicious and delirious ways as he took you from behind, the tip of him pressed against your cervix, your face smushed into the mattress. He’d stayed for four days and taken you repeatedly, until your legs couldn’t support your own weight and your body ached.
So when his fingers bite tighter into your neck, making darkness encroach on the edge of your vision, and tears dance on your lashline, you’re not all that surprised. Geralt fucked like he fought: teeth, tongue, and aggression.
Geralt towered over you, making you feel so small. He has you bent backwards so that your tits are thrust out. Your lips part in a mewl that goes unheard. Geralt kisses you hard, his tongue pushing past your lips and into your mouth, swallowing the little gasp you make when his fingers tear open the front of your dress, exposing your goose-prickled skin to the night air.
His lips taste like blood and something else—perhaps the ingredients of his potions. One moment they’re sweet like berries, and the next repugnant, leaving your desires whiplashed.
At long last, he lets go of your throat and grabs roughly at your skirts, bunching them up at your waist. You suck in a much-needed breath, coughing and spluttering; your lungs burning violently, and your body threatening to collapse to the ground. Geralt palms your tits roughly, his nails scraping at your skin on the wrong side of pleasure. He pinches your nipple hard, pulling on it cruelly to lure you up from the counter.
You whine in protest, but he keeps you silent with another kiss, his teeth dragging over your lower lip, tongue in the wet cavern of your mouth, twisting with your tongue. Geralt is like fire, and you are a moth to his flame.
Your hands move on their own accord, pressing firmly into his chest as though to push him away. Your fingers come away coated in blood, sticky as you fist them in his white hair, bloodying his already dirty locks. Geralt is rough, sitting you on the edge of the counter and shoving your thighs apart, making space for his hand to be shoved to the apex of your thighs, his fingers finding the thatch of damp curls.
His name is a whine that dies on your tongue before it can be said when his instructions repeat in your mind like a warning. You have half a mind to push him away. His lips are too rough as they suck dark marks along the side of your neck and shoulder, and his teeth leave red crescent moons as he tastes your skin.
His hand at your hip is holding too tightly, his fingertips bruising your skin despite the layers of skirts that hinder him. You want to speak, want to tell him to let you go, want to tell him to be gentle, but your throat aches more with each whimper and moan he forces from you, reminding you about the power of his hands.
He could break you very easily.
The tips of his fingers nudge your clit, making your breath catch in your throat in a needy whine. His mouth is still on your neck, having never left, leaving a map of darkening bruises along your collarbones and the hollow of your throat until you pull desperately on his hair to drag his mouth back to yours.
He pushes two fingers into your weeping hole, hitting deep without giving you time to adjust. His hands are large, his fingers thick, stretching your snug walls. You cling to him as pleasure sweeps through you, a bloodied hand still tangled in his starlight locks, your lips parting against his in a breathless plea as his fingers crash into you, forcing your legs to fall further apart.
"Look at you," he whispers against your trembling lips. "Such a good girl."
His teeth trap your lower lip in a voracious bite, one that was hard enough to have your inside walls clenching tightly around his probing fingers, leaving tears brimming at the edges of your eyes. He sucks your lip into his mouth, laving his tongue over the reddening bite, before letting it go with a lewd pop. You whine, your nails scratching beautifully at his scalp when his heel of his palm hits your clit.
"Geralt!" You keen loudly when he finds your sweet spot, a leg kicking out in reaction. He grabs your thigh in a cruel grip and spreads you open again, shushing you with a harsh growl. He works faster now that he’s found it, his palm slapping against your buzzing clit with every thrust of his arm, making your body twitch.
He runs his tongue across your heated skin, leaving a wet stripe from one of your nipples, over the bruises on your shoulder, up your neck, and to your mouth. You feel his smug smirk as he presses a kiss against your cupid's bow and again when he drags his lips across your cheek, tasting the tears that have fallen.
"You can take another one."
He isn’t asking.
You burrow your fingers into his hair in an attempt to anchor yourself when the familiar white-hot heat of orgasm starts seizing your organs. You shake your head from side to side, your hair tumbling wildly around your face, straining to close your legs when the pressure builds.
Geralt pinches the fat of your thigh, then your nipple, and then grabs your face roughly. His fingers dig into your mandible, forcing your lips open. You stare up at him with lust-blown eyes. You think he might hit you; you hope that he doesn’t; you hope that he does; you don’t even know what you want anymore.
The next time he thrusts into your fucked-open hole, it is with three fingers, and something inside you just snaps. He hits deep, finds that spot again with the tips of all three fingers, and you break with full-body twitches that make your entire body tremble beneath him as you come completely undone. "I’m - I’m gonna - cum!"
He doesn’t stop. He keeps going until your juice is escaping around his fingers, coating your thighs and dripping from the thatch of curls that crown your pretty cunt. He doesn't stop when you pant at him, when you moan for mercy, or when you wriggle your hips and try to push him away. Instead, he buries his fingers in your cunt, scissors them in your gummy walls, and kisses you hard: teeth, tongue, and hard male aggression.
You're still coming down from the clouds when he manhandles you into position, the aftershocks of your orgasm still pulsing through your core, beating in time with your wild heart. He puts you on your knees. Your arms are weak and unable to support your weight, so you press your cheek against the ground. Your skirts are bunched around your waist, your glistening cunt exposed to his hungry gaze.
You hear his swords clattering to the ground, followed seconds later by his belt, and then he spreads your lips open with his thumbs, making your inner muscles clench desperately. Geralt licks from your swollen clit to your pretty hole, using his tongue to push the slick back into you. He hums with pleasure when your body jerks at the sensation.
"You taste like heaven." He says it with a hum, his breath hot against your cunt, making your core drip with wanton desire. He eats you like a man possessed, as though he were on the brink of death and your pussy alone could save him. Ever so slowly, one hand started sliding up while the other slid down, moving in a circular motion at your hips.
You whimper at the gentleness, the sound going straight to his cock, which twitches against his stomach in response. His palms the soft globes of your ass and spreads your cheeks, his tongue prodding through your folds once again. He runs the flat of his tongue from your clit, to your pretty hole, then to your nether hole. He has you teetering on the edge of oblivion when he stops, and before you can whine for more, you feel the head of his cock splitting you open.
You scratch at the dirty ground, desperate for something to hold onto, when he buries himself completely in your cunt with a single thrust, tearing a howling moan from your throat as you come undone again, inner walls spasming around him. Nothing about Geralt of Rivia is small, certainly not his cock. He’s pressed against your cervix, and it feels like he's in the back of your throat, like he’s going to break you as your pussy strains to accommodate his girth.
It never mattered how many times he made you cum; accommodating his cock was always a harsh demand.
Geralt does not stay still for long, giving you no time to adjust to his girth; his hips pull back only to snap forwards again. The force of his thrust pushes you forwards, your tits and cheek catching on the muddy floor, and your nipples pebble even more beneath the rough stimulation. His pace is frenzied and without mercy.
In this state, he is unconcerned with your pleasure and instead focuses on his own. He loves the velvet heat of your inner walls and how they wrap so tightly around him. He loves when your cunt swallows every inch he has to give. He loves when your arousal slicks down your thighs, drips from your mound, and puddles on the floor beneath you. He loves the way your thighs tremble when he finds the right angle for his hips, and he always finds it.
He loves when you're gagging on him, on your knees, and looking up at him as though he hung the stars in the sky. He loves seeing your skin marked with bruises, how you flush with embarrassment, and how you try to hide them from the other villages. He loves that you are addicted to him. He does not love you, though, and you're smart enough to know this.
Geralt fucks harder when he feels your gummy walls clamping on his cock in a vice-like grip. Pleasure starts to sear in your veins. His fingers are like coils of iron around your hips, holding so tight that you're sure your bones are bending.
And just when you think it can't feel better and that he can't do anything else to make you lose your mind, he shadows over you, his chest pressing against your back.
You feel the hard buckles of his armour pressing into your back through the tattered remains of your dress; you can feel the fabric dampening with blood, but it’s the furthest thought from your mind. Geralt forces your legs further apart and continues his assault on your core. The pleasurable feeling builds, and you bite your bottom lip hard, almost cutting through your own skin, to keep from screaming. The door was still open; anyone could see; everyone could hear.
But when the mushroom head of his cock crashes into that spot hard enough to make your entire body shudder, you’re lost.
Your muffled moans became screams of pleasure that seem to shake the walls of your cottage. Geralt continued to drill into you with bruising force, his hips hitting your ass with a constant slap, slap, slap. You feel your orgasm start and then instantly crash over you. Geralt buries himself to the hilt with a gutteral groan, his cock pulsing as he exploded, filling you with ribbons of cum.
He held himself perfectly still while your sweet cunt rippled around him, your thighs violently shaking, threatening to go out from under you. It was only his arm wrapped around your waist that kept you up. And when your trembling slowed and you'd barely caught your breath, your inner walls still fluttering around his cock, he fucked into you again and again, dragging his seed out and then pushing it back in, working it like lubricant.
You whine in protest.
"Geralt, I don’t think I-"
He fists a hand in your hair, crushing the sweaty strands in his fingers as he hauls you to your knees, your words morphing into a screech mid-sentence. Fresh tears spring to your eyes and run down your cheeks like rivers. You're crying because it feels so fucking good, because the pleasure is quickly becoming too much, because he is rough and passionate, and you can't get enough of it. You open and close your mouth, your voice refusing to make a sound other than little grunts and groans as he bucks up into you.
If he were to die right now, he would never come to regret this.
If you died, neither would you.
His hands move, are everywhere and nowhere all at once, and then one of them is at your throat, his fingertips finding their earlier position upon the sides of your neck and digging in, making you lightheaded once again. The other one is on your tits, pinching cruelly at a nipple to start and then palming at them roughly.
He was an animal, a beast, and you didn't want him any other way.
"Cum!" You manage to choke out, your vision blurring with tears while you stare at the stars through the opened door. "Gonna cum!"
You cry out in rapture as he groans against your shoulder. Geralt clenches his jaw, his hands gripping brutally at your body, pinning you to him as your cunt chokes the life out of him. If someone were to ask him, he would swear that he'd died when you twitched and trembled against him, your arousal dripping from the both of you, mixing with his as he filled you again.
Geralt lets you fall limp to the ground, your body still trembling, his seed leaking from your fucked-open hole. He falls beside you and rolls onto his back, chest heaving and eyes amber once again.
If someone were to ask him, he'd swear he'd died, and he'd swear he'd found solace buried in your cunt.
#geralt of rivia#geralt of rivia smut#geralt of rivia fanfiction#geralt of rivia imagine#geralt of rivia x reader#geralt of rivia x y/n
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Spellbound Part 2 - Geralt of Rivia
Authors Note: Sorry it took so long, I just really had no clue how to do the first part justice
Word Count: 3,876
Warnings: reader is a brothel worker
Description:Part two to the first. FIRST PART HERE
Enjoy!
There were many times in Geralt's life where he felt an undeniable rage, and there were many times that he let that rage affect him until he was forced to suffer the consequences of all his actions. He had learned over the years that there were ways of handling his rage, there were ways of dealing with sadness and pain.
He had been through so much, and yet he stood, and he always told himself that it would be worth it. Soon enough he would find something that would make it all worth it, and he had found that in you.
Your soul matched his in a way he never thought possible, and though you didn’t have the same physical scars you had both been through more than you can imagine. And he always found himself gravitating to you, the one person in the world that he felt never judged or expected anything from him.
Sure, he obviously did not know how to deal with this. He never knew how to talk to you, what to say and when to say it, and he really did not know how to seem casual just as Jaskier always could. Not to mention he was constantly worried about losing you. He felt like a flame, loving something so much and trying to engulf it into warmth only for it to burn and vanish.
You had been through so much, he never wanted you to burn and he couldn’t imagine a life without you.
So, even if he couldn’t show emotion or manage to properly show his love, he allowed Jaskier to grow close to you. Geralt made sure that you were physically safe, warm and fed. It was the least he could do.
He never wanted to leave you wanting for anything, and he desperately tried to find ways to show you yet nothing ever worked.
But then you were his, for one small moment he had you and he felt as though everything was worth it again. He would burn the world down for you, slay any monster and batter any mortal. It was all yours for the taking…
Until you burned.
How ironic, how hard he fought to keep you at arms length only to lose the battle in a split moment, and be proven right just like that.
Now you were gone.
He knew exactly where you were, had already tried to get you, only to be stopped at the door each time. Each time he was stopped he wanted to crush their skulls, storm up to wherever they were keeping you and try to explain.
He would drag you out the door himself just to make sure you never had to do this again. But there were laws, as well as contracts. He would never be allowed to see you unless he could pay the fee, and you would never be allowed to leave unless you could buy out your contract.
If he managed to get to you and help you escape there would still be the hassle of everyone hunting you down, and word spreads from town to town quickly when it comes to Witchers.
“How much?” He growls, keeping his eyes narrowed in on the older woman before him, watching her lean back on her chair and fix her dress. She was unlike any other brothel owner he had come across, the others always had a protective notion for the girls. This one seemed vindictive in every word she spoke.
“Witcher, I have told ye the last 4 times ye have been here that she is not for sale.” She laughs, reaching a foot out to kick the pouch of gold he had laid on the table in front of her. Her dress rides up exposing a very scarred leg, and his stomach tightens at the atrocities you must be going through with this hag and any man she rented you out to. “Y/n is the emerald of all brothels, before she came upon mine she was already widely known for her beauty, not to mention her time with the Witcher? Men are practically killing themselves to have a moment with her. I stand to make more keeping her than I ever would selling her back to you.”
“Her contract-”
“Has another 4 years under my roof. By the end of that I could be far far away from this continent. Don’t you understand?” She leans forward, knocking the satchels down and watching all the gold pieces fall on the ground.
That had been 4 months work, 4 months of Geralt working himself to the bone and saving up in a chance to save you. He hadn’t eaten properly or slept more than 2 hours a night in that span of time.
Images flash through his mind, him ringing this wenches neck in or slamming her head into the fire. Maybe he could slice her head off in one clean motion.
But he doesn’t, because he understands the consequences. So he bites his tongue and stands straighter. “I just want to see her-”
“Then you pay, just as everyone else.” The Madame sneers, leaning across the table. “I don’t give a fuck if you love her witcher, though I don’t believe you are even capable of that, my rules stay the same. You want to see her then you pay for her time.”
He leans forward, smirking a bit when her attitude drops in fear for a moment, before tilting his head. “Then how fucking much?”
-
“I really do not believe you were worth 230 gold pieces-” Lord Servail huffs, struggling to shove himself back into his trousers. You struggled not to roll your eyes as you sat up, pulling the sheet to cover yourself and looking at the floorboards of the raggedy room.
You had learned that the men of this village did not like to be watched, most of them married and most of them carrying guilt. You had merely assumed Lord Servail to be the same.
“Have you nothing to say, whore?” He bellows, walking across the room to grab at your chin. A moment of panic sinks in, one hand holding the sheet tight while the other grabs at his wrist in an attempt to free yourself.
“I do not understand what you mean, sir-”
“You are boring! You just laid there like a fucking corpse-”
“That didn’t seem to stop you from finishing within a minute-” The slap sounds out and for a second you wonder what he hit, then you open your eyes and feel the stinging on your cheek to realize it had been you.
A bitter laugh slips past your lips as you taste the iron.
Blood trails down past your lips as tears spring up in your eyes, the sheets under you stained and ripped from the past month. You think of Geralt in this moment, wishing that you were near him even if he ignored you.
There had always been a calming factor to the witcher that you never understood, maybe it was a feeling of safety or maybe you just liked that he never showed much anger. He took anything that affected him and made a rational judgment.
He was a man of trust, and he had never let anything harm you. Sure he yelled at you when he thought you stupid, and made condescending remarks, but you never felt as though he would lay a hand on you.
“Is that all?” You sniffle, reaching a hand up to stop the blood as he steps back. The man stares at you before yelling out and storming out of the room, shirt untied as well as the trousers. You hear him yelling at your Madame before he leaves and you move over to the basin in the corner to clean yourself off.
You clean your nose before moving to clean your legs, letting the tears fall freely as you hear her heels come down the hall.
“You’ve just cost yerself yer pay, I’ll tell you that much.” Madame snaps, the door swinging hard enough to make the wall shake as she marches in. “I told ye that Lord Servail was a valued client and you-”
“Smiled pretty and let him cum. He really didn’t complain much until it came time to pay.” You snark, watching her face pull up. “Have I any news? Anyone come to see me?”
It had been a month, and you had kept hoping that maybe Geralt or Jaskier would come to see you. At least try to get you back, but nothing. No letters, no visits, nothing.
“Yer Witcher isn’t comin for ya’. So I suggest you fix yerself up and get back to work.” The Madame snarls, tossing the silk robe at you before storming back out.
That lonely feeling that clung to you the day you left never seemed to fade, it folds in around you now as you pull into yourself. Knees hugged to your chest as you hide your face and cry.
Truly what did you expect? That he would come pounding on the door? Try to save you? The salty taste of the tears mixes in with the iron as you sob. You had been foolish, so very foolish.
Geralt must be at least 6 towns away by now, barely even thinking of you.
-
“I am terribly sorry to inform ye, Witcher, that my emerald is stacked up for the next week and a half.”
“Bullshit.”
She snarls at him, standing quickly and snatching a heavy book from the desk behind her before slamming it on the table. “Take a fucking look then.”
He doesn’t waste a moment, snapping through the pages one by one until he reaches your ledgers. Your handwriting is at the top, neat and clean from the ink, dated that day you dashed from the tavern.
The very same day he had raced over here to see you.
The day after he had you in his arms.
The memory of it flashes through him, the way he snatched you like a caveman. He tries to reason with himself that he believed it to be consensual, that he hadn’t realized you were under a spell. But it didn’t matter.
He treated you in a way he swore to himself he never would, and he made you so uncomfortable that you ran.
Bile rises in his throat as embarrassment and guilt claw through him, he snaps through your pages to see dozens of signatures on each page. “You have her seeing twelve clients each day?”
“This is a busin-”
“Is she eating enough? Sleeping enough? Are you giving her proper time to rest?”
“I’m not a fucking babysitter-”
“If you are abusing your contract then she has a right to leave!”
She stares at him, watching for a moment with wide eyes as her cheeks go red. Then she fixes herself, clearing her throat before shouting out loud. “BOYS!”
He doesn’t fight it as they grab both of his arms, instead he lets them carry him to the door and throw him to the mud below.
“Guessing she didn’t take it?” Jaskier asks, watching Geralt pick himself up, checking to make sure he still had the satchel of gold. “Surprise surprise.”
All Geralt could do at this point was grunt, moving towards Roach as the barb fixes his coat.
“I have another job, heard whispers of a screaming creature in the woods not far off from here. Figured you’d want to go out and make more gold so we can do this all again over and over and over.”
“She’s overworking her, I just know it. Not enough time to eat or sleep-”
“Geralt, as much as I love Y/n, I think we need to….evaluate our current situation.”
“I NEED TO -”
“Get to her. I know. I’m not saying anything otherwise. I just want you to think about whether you want her to see you like this.”
“I want to see her safe.”
“And Y/n would want the same of you. Besides, we obviously have no power against the brothel system.”
“I have fought countless beasts-”
“And I am still your only friend. It’s time you admit it Witcher, humans aren’t your best expertise.”
If this was any other moment Geralt would ignore him, hop onto Roach and pretend the worm didn’t exist. But he was tired, so tired he truly didn’t think he could even climb onto the horse.
“Then what do you suggest?”
“First? Sleep. Then? We find an outside source.”
-
Two months in and winter had finally come.
You found yourself huddling together with Snae, a brothel worker that had been here a little longer than you, but hadn’t been that much older. This had been the first night you both had off this entire time, and it hadn’t been a purposeful thing.
There had been a ball in the village, apparently a beast had been slaughtered and most of the nobles and rich men left in their carriages far away. Which meant you were free to huddle close to your friend for warmth as you tried to fight off the winter air.
“I imagined this brothel warmer.” She sniffles, pressing her forehead to your arm as you shiver. “I was told this was one of the best-”
“It is….. To their guests.” You laugh, tired and aching. Honestly you could barely move, and you hadn’t managed to make it at dinner hour since you had been with a client. But Snae was nice enough to sneak you in a roll of bread.
“I want to get out of here.” She admits in a quick breath, and you can’t help but smile at the admission.
You had often imagined ways you would escape, but the truth was you had nowhere to go and no one to leave for. What would you have if you left here? Nothing.
So instead you close your eyes, and lean into her as you whisper. “Where would you go?”
“Home. To find my sister.”
“You have a family?”
“A little sister, it’s why I am here. I wanted to make sure she had something to pay for food.” Something tears at your chest, and within a moment you think of a plan.
“Then let’s get you out of here.”
It takes a mere 30 minutes to pack her a travel pack using a sheet from the bed, rushing to your room to pick up the floorboard where you keep the little pay you make, 10 silver coins. Tossing them in her satchel before tiptoeing to the attic where the largest window was.
“Shhh.” You whisper when she slips, the wood beneath her scraping under her shoe. Helping her stand before moving to the window. Unlatching it was easy, the winter air covering both of you in a moment. “You swill slide from this section to the next. Until you make it to that tree.”
“You go first.”
“I am not coming.” You laugh, clearing some of the snow from the sill.
“You must.”
“No, I have nothing. Besides, one of us needs to stay and give you time.”
“Y/n-”
“If she begins hunting you then go and find the witcher. Do you hear me?”
“He wouldn’t help someone like me.” She laughs, and you merely stare at her.
“I think you would be surprised of just how good of a person the Witcher is, though he likes to pretend he is not.”
“What should I say to him if I must find him?”
“That the Geralt I know would keep you safe. Now go.”
You help her climb up the sill and onto the roof, watching her slide down in the flimsy robe Madame forces you to wear and make sure she makes it to the tree safely before closing the window.
You allow yourself one moment to press your forehead against the cold glass of it, your breath hitting the glass to form a smudge. You imagine escaping yourself, maybe going out to find Jaskier.
But that was unrealistic.
And you were obviously unwanted.
-
“Please, it’s very important-” A strong female voice fills the air as Geralt breathes in the scent of roast and ale. There was also smoke from the fires but he was far too hungry to admire that scent on it’s own. “They said that he was here and-”
“First round of ale on me.” Jaskier sings out, moving to the counter as Geralt rolls his eyes. Jaskier was carrying his gold sack so truly the first round was on him.
He was six villages away from you right now, landing at a cheap tavern for the night before they set up camp. They were here to listen for jobs.
The plan, as terrible as it was, had been to travel to find Yennefer and along the way they would earn some extra gold. That way when they go they can send the witch in to make the deal, or at least pretend to make the deal as she can try to sneak you out.
It was a terrible plan……. Because it was Jaskiers plan.
“Please, I need to find the witcher.” That draws Geralt's attention away from the hearth he had been glaring into, head whipping to spot the young woman clutching the shoulders of a little girl as she begs the man once more. “If you could just tell me where he would be staying-”
“Witchers aren’t allowed in the fucking taverns here, so shut yer trap before I put it to work-.” Before Geralt could stop himself his hand is shooting out, catching the man by the back of the neck. At his movement the hood he had been wearing falls and the people around him all quiet down.
The womens eyes fall to him, widening. “You are just as Y/n described.”
Something tightens in his chest at the mention of your name, and he finds himself nodding to Jaskier to lead the girl outside. The air hits him, the warmth gone but there was nothing that would hinder him from the conversation.
“You know Y/n?” His voice is rough, the heat traveling his skin hiding him from the cold. The woman's eyes are filled with tears and the young girl is shoving her face in the smallest scrap of dress he had seen, so in one quick moment he rips his hood off to hand to them. “Is that what you wear in this cold?”
“Please, I… I’m from the same brothel as Y/n and she helped me escape. All my money has gone to keeping my sister warm….. Y/n said that you would help. She said the Geralt she knew would help.”
“Where is she?” His heart is thundering through his ribcage at this point, and he can see Jaskier emerging from the tavern. “Did she make it-”
“She didn’t come.”
“Why?”
“Probably scared she wouldn’t make it out. Or might believe she is all alone and has nothing to escape for.” The feminine voice makes Geralt jump through his skin. Suddenly she is there, smelling of smoke and lavender.
“Yennefer.” Jaskier gasps, but Geralt hadn’t needed him to let him know.
“Tell me, Geralt of Rivia, about the woman who broke the witcher.”
You were no longer tired at this point, truly you were nothing.
You didn’t speak, missed more meal times than not from being stuck with clients and at this point you didn’t seem to care. You were just breathing, and that was as much energy as you can muster.
Three months into this place had truly broken you.
Yennefer thought this place smelled of urine and death, and though she respected the females brave enough to work here she had absolutely no fucking clue why any man would risk stepping in here.
One look at the young girl passing her with a bruise on her cheek told her all she needed to know. The men that came here didn’t care about anything but getting themselves wet and letting off some steam.
“I have a room upstairs, I charge 50 a month in rent, half your earnings are to the house and the rest belong to you.” A voice sounds out, drawing Yennerfers attention away from the young girl with the bruise, back to the raggedy woman sitting at the counter.
“Excuse me?”
“I have a room for ye-”
“I’m not here for a room. I’m here for a girl.”
“Really?”
Yennefer slaps 2 gold coins onto the counter, a smirk crossing her face as the woman's eyes widen in greed. “I was told you had an emerald here.”
“You’re here for Y/n….only problem there is it’s double for her time.” Yennefer sighs, taking out one more coin and slapping it down. “I said double.”
“And I am willing to go and tell the town that your girls are sick.”
“What do you want with Y/n?”
“I figured you wouldn’t need me to explain how your business works but if you need a lesson in fucking then you would have to pay ME double.”
“She is in the top room. Don’t bother knocking.” And just like that Yennefer is moving, picking up her skirts to walk up the steps, trying not to breathe in the smells as she reaches your room.
Just as the brothel worker said she doesn’t bother knocking, and it was clear why when she walked in.
The beauty Geralt had described last night was still there, just one look and even Yennefer was nearly at a loss for words. But the spark, the light of you was gone. You stared at the wall before you, empty and gone.
“Y/n?” She calls, closing the door behind her. “Y/n…”
“I can’t….she said I’d have a day.” You sob, pulling into yourself.
“You’ll have more than a day, I can promise that.” Yennefer smiles, moving closer slowly. “Your witcher has sent me.”
“My witcher?” There it was, some of that spark. “He’s gonna be mad at me.”
“Now that I can swear on. Come.”
-
Geralt stood pacing back and forth on the pathway as he waited for Yennefers portal to open, his heart in his throat and his eyes glued to the space before him.
Jaskier waited at the inn they had found with the girl you had saved, Snae. But for now it would just be him waiting for Yennefer, far enough from the town that they would have a head start if anyone went looking for you whilst the rest would cause a stir and send them on a chase.
They had learned from Snae that Madame had sent a bounty out on her, so Geralt could only imagine what she would do to you. ‘Her emerald’.
Then it was there, forming like a cloud at first until it got bigger and bigger until it began showing like a mirror.
Then Yennefers hand came through and Geralt found himself launching forward as she stepped through, both arms wrapped around…..you.
He was there, his hands on you as soon as he could, keeping you upright as Yennefer lets go. “Y/n.”
“Please don’t be mad.” You whisper.
“What has she done to you…..”
Part 3 on October 30th
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