#soft!geralt x reader

[kiritella]

Birds and Stones Excerpt: Her breaths were slow when her hand gripped onto the jagged rocks along the shoreline, vision spotting as she dragged her body out of the frozen water. Her lungs coughed up the remnants of the river behind her, limbs collapsing as they began to lose their feeling. Pins and needles sparked along her body from her fingers and up her arms, down her chest into her feet as her body shivered uncontrollably. It was a good sign, at least, the shivering, but she wasn’t sure how long it would last as a gust of deep winter air cut around her skin. Gravel dug into the palms of her hands as she crawled further out of the water, her feet at last out of the river as the weight of her limbs grew. She fought back the cry breaking against her teeth as pain erupted up her leg, collapsing to her elbows once again as her vision grew darker.

The full story now out on my Masterlist! Follow for more!

[viking-raider]

Soothing A Wolf

Summary: Geralt recalls the memories of a troubled time in his life, while visiting a place that always brought him peace.

Pairing: Geralt of Rivia/Reader

Word Count: 3.2k

Warning: PG - Fluff, Language, Loss, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Memories, Soft!Geralt, Character Death, Projecting, Farm Life, Light Domestic Bliss, Anxiety

Inspiration: This scene from Season Three of the Witcher! 😭

Author’s Note: I know I've already written this subject, with A Witcher's Soul, but I've become unhappy with it and decided to give it another try. I'm by far happier with this one. Hope you enjoy!

Line divider by @FIREFLY-GRAPHICS!

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I do remember bits of my life with her.

You had curled up for a late morning nap, after completing all of your morning chores. The sun filtering through the large window above your headboard. It was warm and pleasant, as you drew to the surface of the waking world. You tried fighting it, wishing for a few more moments of rest, before you had to rise and begin the task of the afternoon chores around your quiet, little farm. However, you were drawn out of your slumber, at the sound of someone's approach into your dooryard.

Sighing, you sat up, taking a moment to fix your hair and smooth your skirts, before standing and going out to find who had decided to visit you. You froze on the porch, watching a huge, black Friesian horse come charging up the well-worn path to your cottage. A muscular, broad shouldered man clad in all black clothing in its saddle, his silvery-white hair tied back in a Rivian style flowing in the breeze created by his haste.

“Geralt!” You called out, as the Witcher dismounted from the horse, Roach. “What are you doing here?” You asked, as he stamped through the drying mud towards you, his pale face pinched and set in an expression more agitated than usual, with a tint of something more you couldn't quite put your finger on yet.

The two of you had met nearly fifteen years prior, when you had heard of the White Wolf being in the area and enlisted his help to rid your property of a Graveir that had been threatening it. Not wishing for the alternative, which was moving off the property. You had little to pay him with, offering him the small amount of gold you had. Instead, Geralt had simply asked for a hot meal and permission to camp on your land for the night and use the water from your well, to bathe with after the bloody business of killing the monster.

Naturally, you agreed.

However, after he had killed the creature and washed up to join you for supper, a tension grew between you that popped before the meal ended. Leading to the pair of you being intimate. Ever since, when Geralt was in the area or was taking time off the Trail, he would come to spend time with you. But, you were surprised to see him now, knowing that he should be with Ciri, keeping her safe from Nilfgaard and the Wild Hunt that dogged their heels at every turn.

Instead, he mounted the porch steps towards you, catching you up into his arms.

She smelled like embers.

Geralt buried his face into your neck, taking a deep breath of your skin as he did, drawing in your scent. Your skin had a natural earthiness to it, accompanied by the fresh and calming, citrus-y snap of lemon balm and sweetness of licorice root. He wished many times on many occasions that he could bottle it and take it with him. Always finding comfort, calm and desire in your scent.

Like he had in almost no one else.

“What are you doing here, Geralt? I thought you were with Ciri.” You asked, breaking the silence as you embraced him, pressing yourself against his solid body, feeling the dampness of his clothing, from the sparse rains that had been occurring off and on all week.

“She's safe enough for now.” He mumbled into your neck, his strong arms wrapped tightly around you. “But, I needed to see you.” He said, pulling away from you, his hands grasping your shoulders.

“Well, here I am, my wolf.” You cooed at him, resting your hands on his sides and staring up into his face. “I didn't know seeing me was such an urgent thing.” You teased, pushing up on your toes to kiss him, knowing there was something deeper bothering him, but knew better than to press the Witcher for information.

Especially in the matter of his thoughts and emotions. He would tell you in his own time.

“Are you staying or are you riding back off again?” You inquired, looking towards Roach, who was grazing in the damp grass of your dooryard.

“I want to stay the night.” He told you, squeezing your shoulders. “If that's all right with you?” He added, softly.

“Nonsense!” You chuckled, slapping him on the chest. “You know you don't have to ask, Geralt.” You assured him, clicking your tongue. “Are you hungry? I was just about to make lunch for myself. I can add a plate for you.” You said, moving away from him, to go back inside.

She used her magic to create elaborate meals that we couldn't afford.

“I could eat.” Geralt replied, following you inside the cozy home, that always brought him peace. “Especially if it comes with a slice of one of your home-made sweets.” He added, a smirk playing on his lips as he watched you move towards the kitchen.

You looked at him over your shoulder, an impish sparkle in your eye. “I don't have any made.” You told him, coyly. “But, if you behave yourself, perhaps there'll be something after dinner.” You teased with a wink, before rounding the corner into the kitchen.

Going into the pantry, you grabbed a large, earthenware jug, carrying it out and set it on your counter, removing the cork. Taking a whiff of the contents that were inside, your nose was greeted by the sweet aroma of honey and blood-orange mead. You had brewed it yourself. You took down a cup and filled it, taking a wee nip for yourself, before taking it out to Geralt, who had made himself at home. He'd taken his shoes off, but stood before the fire, tossing a log into it.

“You don't need to do that, Geralt.” You frowned, holding the cup out to him. “I could have done it.”

“I know.” He answered, watching the strong flames catch the edges of the wood, before he took the cup from you, taking a deep gulp. “You really should sell your own spirits.” He commented, licking his lips and looking into golden liquid.

“Ha.” You chuckled, shaking your head at him. “I have enough to do around the farm, Witcher.” You quipped, going back into the kitchen.

Geralt chuckled at you, taking a seat before the fire, flexing his sore toes in the glowing warmth with a soft and tired sigh, while sipping his mead. He listened to you bump about in the kitchen. The opening and closing of the pantry, the thud of cabinet doors shutting, after you searched through their contents. He finished off his mead and set it on the table beside him, before standing and going to the threshold of the kitchen, knowing better than to go into your kitchen, while you were active in it.

You'd chased the Witcher out more than once, with either the rolling pin or a dish towel.

I would have done anything to make her smile.

“Is there anything I can do for you?” He asked, cocking his head around the corner to look at you, seeing you wielding a large knife to cut into a small wheel of cheese. “Do you need anything?”

“I need you to sit your butt down.” You answered, turning to look back at him. “You rode, god knows how far, to here. So, you need to relax.” You told him, adamantly.

And yet, the day she left me, she was sick. She needed water, so I went to get her some.

“But, I want to help.” Geralt insisted, crossing his arms over his chest.

You sighed softly, giving him a gentle smile. “All right, Geralt.” You conceded, nodding. “My other big brute needs to be fed. So, why don't you go out and do that for me, while I finish getting our lunch done.”

“I can do that.” He nodded, daring to step into the kitchen to kiss you on the cheek, chuckling as you popped him on the bum on his way out.

“That, man.” You giggled, smiling to yourself as you turned back to your task.

Geralt tugged his boots back on and went out, heading towards the small fenced off area to the right of your property, where the few farm animals you had lived. He found the bucket beside one of the fence posts and snagged it up by the rope handle, heading towards the grain storage that was around the other side, filling the bucket.

“Hey, Martigan.” He called out to the brown and white dairy cow, standing in the center of the pen, nibbling on a bale of hay with an expression of no care on his face, but twitched his ears to the sound of Geralt's voice. “And you.” Geralt huffed at the animal you had dubbed your other brute, a solid white goat with horns that nearly curved in on themselves, they were so long. “I see you, Goat-Bert.”

The Witcher called to the Goat, who stood clear on the other side of the pen, as he opened the latch to the gate. But that meant nothing, and Geralt knew it. He had dealt with this Goat-Devil before on your behalf. He had even considered taking one of his potions to increase his odds in dodging that swift, easy to anger, creature. Not even Little Bleater was a match for this fiend. So, keeping one golden eye on the Goat, Geralt moved towards the feeding trough and dumped the bucket of grain into it. It wasn't a split second later that Martigan let out a loud, agitated moo and Goat-Bert bleated with his evil intent, setting his head downward as he charged across the muddy pen towards Geralt's shins.

“Fuck!” Geralt barked under his breath, tossing the bucket over the fence and himself with it. “You damned Goat!” He cursed at him, fuming at Goat-Bert rammed his head into the trough, at full steam. But it was your howls of laughter from the porch that drew Geralt out of his choice words for the farm animal. “You find that funny?” He asked, picking up the bucket and moving towards you, as you grinned and giggled.

“I find it hilarious!” You wheezed, wiping tears from your face. “Watching a Witcher jump a fence to get away from a little goat!”

“Now, you know damn well, what mischief that demon can cause.” Geralt told you, but smirked at your amusement. “I don't need Lambert or Eskel busting my ribs, because I got a broken leg because of a wee goat.”

“Well, no harm done.” You said, catching your breath. “And lunch is ready and waiting for us on the table.” You told him, turning to go back inside.

Following you, Geralt was greeted by a laid out table, containing a round and fluffy loaf of bread with a blossom score on the top of its beautiful, caramel-brown crust. Beside the loaf, was a glass decanter of the mead you'd served him earlier, half a roasted and glazed ham hock, that glistened in the light of the fireplace, and a plate of the cheese slices you'd cut. There were other tidbits, to make lunch more pleasant and filling, as well.

“It looks delicious.” He commented, pulling a chair out and sat down.

You looked at him with soft surprise, cocking a brow as you sat beside him. “Ciri and Jaskier must really be leaning hard on your lessons.” You chuckled, picking up a knife and cut a slice out of the bread, laying it on Geralt's plate, before cutting another and putting it on your own. “Would you like a second piece?” You asked him, knife hovering above the loaf.

“Yes.” Geralt nodded, popping a cherry tomato into his mouth, before reaching for the decanter, pouring you both a tankard. “I appreciate this.” He said, watching you cut thick slices of juicy ham from the hock and set them on the edge of his plate, allowing him to build his own sandwich.

“Of course.” You answered, brow creasing as you placed the ham and cheese on your bread, closing it with the second piece, using your knife to cut it in half. “I can't let you starve, now can I? Silly Witcher.” You chuckled, taking a bite.

Geralt hummed, putting together his own meal and allowing the table to fall into a comfortable silence as the two of you ate. Nothing, but the pop and crackle of the fire with the occasional moo or baa of the farm animals outside filled the space. Neither of you moved, once you had your fill, but you watched Geralt, smirking as you saw his lids struggle to stay open and his chin from falling against his chest. You stood, causing Geralt to start and look up at you with wide molten-gold orbs, but you just offered him a sweet smile, as you started to clear away the table, putting things in the pantry, sink or scrap barrel.

Once you were finished, you moved to your bedroom, fluffing your pillows, fixing and folding back the blankets, then pulled shut the curtains, plunging the room into darkness. Satisfied, you returned to Geralt, smirking as you found he had lost the battle with his sleepiness. His breathing was slow, coming out in gentle huffs, arms crossed and chin resting on his chest. He looked so peaceful and relaxed, the muscles under the loose black material of his tunic were slack, making the various scars pull taut. Biting your lip, you moved around him and knelt, taking one of his booted feet in your hands, eyes still trained on his face. In case you startled him, knowing it could cause him to burst into defending himself, when startled awake.

But Geralt didn't stir, as you carefully pulled his muddy boots off, setting them in front of the fireplace. You stood, moving around him to open the knot of the string that held his silvery-white hair tied back out of his face.

“Geralt.” You whispered into his ear, resting your hands lightly on his shoulders. “Geralt.” You said, a little bit louder.

“Hm?” He hummed back, taking a deep breath and shaking his head, causing his loose hair to fall forward.

“Why don't you come lay down?” You suggested, patting his shoulders and kissing the back of his head. “You'll be so much more comfortable in bed.” You persuaded him, gently.

Geralt sighed, licking his lips and stretching his legs for a moment, before standing up and allowing you to guide him to your bed. He pulled his shirt over his head, tossing it into a chair in the corner and dropped into the bed, looking up at you, as you stood before him.

“Lay with me.” He cooed, resting his hands on your hips.

“I have chores to do, Wolf.” You smirked at him, cupping his neck and caressing his stubbly jawline with your thumbs.

“They can wait until tomorrow.” Geralt said, pulling you between his legs. “I'll do them for you.” He smiled, making you sit in his lap as he wrapped his arms around your waist. “Before, I go.” He promised, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss.

“Very well.” You conceded, breaking the kiss and rubbing noses with him.

“Good.” He rasped, laying down and pulling you against his chest.

And when I came back... she was gone.

Geralt woke up sometime later, feeling refreshed. He hadn't slept well or very long in the weeks since he and Ciri left Kaer Morhen, with the Wild Hunt and Nilfgaard after them, worried that every moment his eyes were shut, was a moment they'd come and take Cirilla from him. He reached out for you, wanting to feel you against him, but you weren't in bed any longer.

I called for her.

He got out of bed, calling your name, as he searched the house for you. The fireplace was still roaring, telling him you hadn't been gone long. But where could you be, that you wouldn't hear him calling. He yanked the front door open and stormed into the yard, uncaring that he had no boots on, yelling your name even louder, as he turned in circles. His only answer was the breeze through the trees, Goat-Bert, Martigan and Roach.

Not a peep or appearance from you.

But she was gone.

Geralt felt his chest grow tight and his slow heart skip a beat, then another. The dooryard started to spin and blur, a rock-like lump formed in his throat. He flexed his hands and shook his head, trying to get a handle on himself. He wasn't supposed to act like this. He wasn't supposed to show his emotions, let alone allow them to take control over him.

“Geralt!” You frowned, coming out of the treeline, a basket resting on your hip as you found him standing barefoot in the muddy dooryard. “What's going on?” You asked, setting the basket down and hurrying over to him, as you watched tears drip from his sharp jaw. “What's happened? Are you hurt?” You asked, looking him over, searching for a wound you felt you had failed to notice before.

“Where is it? Show me!”

“I'm not--” He rasped, swallowing at the lump and shaking his head. “You were gone.” He said, pressing his lips together and pushing his jaw forward, trying to bring up his walls against the raw feelings he was being crushed under. “I woke up and you were gone. I called for you.” He said, failing miserably. “But you didn't answer. I thought--” He choked, looking away from you.

You blinked up at him, confused and afraid, never seeing this side of Geralt before. “You thought what?”

He chewed on his lip, his face hardening as he slowly started to gain control of himself again. “I thought you left me.” He admitted, deciding not to shut you out.

“Left you?” You echoed softly, blinking up at him with surprise. “No, Geralt. I'd never leave you. I didn't leave you.” You told him, taking his hand in both of yours. “I just woke up from our nap before you did, and you seemed so tired that I didn't have the heart to wake you. So, I went out to pick some blueberries.” You explained to him, half turning back to where you'd set your basket, full of plump, indigo orbs. “I plan on using them to bake you a pie.” You said quietly, looking back up at him.

Neither of you said anything for a long while, before Geralt looked down at you, a sad look in his eyes.

“I'm sorry.” He whispered, bending his head to rest his forehead against yours.

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” You assured him, rubbing your thumb over his knuckles.

Nodding, Geralt pressed his lips to your forehead and sighed, looking down at his muddy feet. “I'll rinse my feet off.” He said, moving away from you and towards the well.

Watching him go and drop the bucket into the well, you knew the Witcher didn't have the easiest of lives, that he had a lot of trauma in it. But, he would tell you what was bothering him, when he was ready. It seemed too raw, at the moment. So, you went back for your blueberries and carried them inside to the sink, so you could rinse them off, prepping them for the pie.

Deciding to be there for Geralt, when he was ready.

[mandos-things]

Cold - Geralt of Rivia

Relationship: Geralt x gn!reader

Warnings: mild swearing, nothing but fluff

Gif by @kh-ael

~~~~~

"You're chattering."

"Am not."

Jaskiers snores ripped through the silence of the forest.

You, Geralt and Jaskier made camp not far from the main road. The night air was light, relentless. Despite the crackling of the fire, the air tore right through your covers and into your very bones.

"Mm. Suppose its a squirrel then. Must be dearly regretting not buying the extra skins their wise friend had suggested they buy only two towns over."

"F-fuck off," you shivered. You would've laughed at his Geralt-like attempt at a joke if you weren't so fucking freezing...

"Come here," the gruffness of his voice slices through your regret-riddled thoughts.

"Wh-what?"

He deeply sighs, and moves to hold open his thick fur coat. An invitation. One that any other day you would've had the sense to question.

But you would sacrifice your dignity for warmth tonight.

So you shuffled, albeit clumsily to where he sat, just next to a fallen log. You pretend you don't see the little smirk he makes as you trip and shake your way over to him.

"A-Asshat," you huff as you move to lay down, his arm moving to rest over your waist once you've settled.

You breathe a relieved sigh at the heat. His warmth hugged you tightly, shivers dying down with every stroke of his hand along your spine.

"Mmmthankyou," you sleepily murmur. He kisses the top of your head in response.

"We'll stock up again tomorrow."

His other hand rests lovingly along the side of your face.

"Rest now, little one. I've got you."

~~~~~

[buckyandgeraltsupremacy]

masterlist

Bucky Barnes 

Reading (fluff) (female reader) Reader finds Bucky reading one her favorite books, fluff ensues.

Geralt 

Injured (fluff) (female reader)The reader gets injured and Geralt isn’t too happy and proceeds to take care of her.

Dance With Me (fluff) (female reader) Geralt gets a little tiny bit jealous when you dance with someone else after he turns you down.

Remus Lupin

remus x shy!reader / part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 5 (fluff) (female hufflepuff!reader) (shy! reader) How your friendship started with the marauders and your growing love for remus

George Weasley

The Set Up / Part 2 (fluff) (female hufflepuff!reader) George has a crush on the reader, but little does he know Fred has a little bit of a hand in the say

Fred Weasley 

Reunited (fluff) (female hufflepuff!reader) Blurb about Fred being reunited with reader after he leaves Hogwarts and she graduates :)

Anthony Bridgerton

The Plot / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 (fluff) (female reader) His entire family plots and schemes to get you two together by the end of the season (part 1 is out)

Azriel

When He Knew / Part 2 (fluff) (female reader) The moment that Azriel knew he was falling in love with you and he was your mate.

Reach Out a Hand / Part 2 (angst to fluff) (comfort) (female reader) How Azriel reaches you in your insecurity.

Joel Miller

Not Alone / Part 2 / Part 3 (fluff) (female reader) When you find yourself completely alone, you might just have to look up to realize you aren't.

[seidenbros]

Hi there! Hope you’re having a great day. I had an idea in mind for a Geralt x reader Angst/Fluff/Smut, where reader was a Witch but she/they passed away. Geralt then dreams of her/them, really sweet and passionate smut where he thinks she’s back and shows her how much he’s missed her/them and then he wakes up and is devastated :,)

Okay.... OKAY. Let me tell you that I nearly cried when I read this request, because DAMN it's such a sad consept. Neverthelesse, I still wrote it. Do I like to make myself suffer? Sure seems like it, but it's just such a great request. I really hope, you enjoy the angst and pain I'll inflict upon you (lovingly). And I went with a 3rd person y/n for the first time, 'cause it seemed more fitting. Let me know what you think

The Witcher Masterlist on A03

Pairing: Geralt x fem!reader Warnings/Tags: fluff, angst and smut, soft Geralt, declarations of love, p in v sex, sad ending (if you couldn't tell from the request), loss of a loved one Word Count: 2513

Love Me Once More

It wasn't the same anymore, not since she was gone. After spending years together, their hearts practically melted into one, losing y/n had been the hardest Geralt ever had to endure. Seeing her die right in front of his eyes, not able to do anything to help her anymore, had torn him apart. Something inside him had snapped that moment, and he'd killed anything, anyone around him. Only when there was nobody breathing around him, had he been able to come back to his senses. Her dead body in the middle of this field, blood everywhere, covering his face, her lifeless eyes staring back up at him...

Even the memory made him clench his fists, curse himself for not getting to her faster so that he could have gotten a chance to save her. Everyone had told him that he hadn't had chance, that he couldn't have done anything different to save her. He didn't blame them, his family, because the others had only gotten there half an hour after everything had been over, because they'd fought in a different place. They'd found him there amidst the corpses all alone, crying his heart out for the love of his life.

When Jaskier had touched his shoulder, Geralt had tensed up, had even growled at him, until he'd realised who it was. Everything afterwards was still a blur, but they'd somehow managed to get him away from there, take care of his injury, while they'd also take y/n's dead body along to give her a proper burial.

Her grave was only a few minutes from where he was sitting now, by the coast, covered in lilacs that would bloom in the spring again. She'd been one of the best sorceresses he'd known, but even that hadn't saved her. He'd gone through it over and over again, but in the end, it wouldn't change anything. What's done is done.

His brothers had helped him with the funeral, they'd even brought him here to this cottage, where he had some peace and quiet, some time to himself, because he needed that. Geralt wasn't good with company at the moment. The only person to visit him every now and then, was Jaskier, who checked up on him, brought him some supplies and made sure that he did indeed eat and didn't only tell him that in order to get rid of him. He had Roach for company, and if he needed someone, he'd know where to find them. Until then, his brothers and Vesemir would leave him alone. There was nothing they could do to heal a broken and battered heart, they could only give him the time he needed and be there for him.

Geralt appreciated that they stayed away from him most of the time. He was grieving, he knew it, and it hurt like hell, but he didn't know how long that pain would remain, but right now, it wasn't going anywhere. They'd always talked about living at the coast at one point. Build a little cottage, maybe get a couple sheep or goats – Eskel could certainly get them set up – and just live a peaceful live.

Looking out over the ocean, Geralt took a deep breath, the salty air filling his nose, his lungs. If he closed his eyes hard enough, maybe he could ream himself way from this place, from this life, to a place where she was still there.

“Geralt?” he heard the soft voice before he felt the delicate fingers on his shoulder. For a second, he tensed up, because this couldn't be real. The light touch sent electric waves through his body, made him acutely aware of her presence, but it couldn't be.

“Y/N?” His voice was barely above a whisper as he stood and turned around, only to see her right in front of him. That warm smile on her lips that he'd always loved, her eyes fixed on him, like there was nobody else in this world she'd rather look at then him. “How... what...” he stuttered, raking his eyes over her body, looking for any injuries, but there none. Little cars here and there, just like he had as well, but she wasn't hurt.

“I'm here,” she said, reaching out her hand for him. Geralt hesitated for a moment, but then he touched his fingertips to here, ran them along the back of her hand, felt her warm skin beneath them. It was her. It was y/n – his y/n. He took one big step towards her and wrapped her in his arms, held her close to his chest, afraid that if he'd let her go, she'd vanish into thin air.

“I thought I'd lost you. I... I held your dead body,” he whispered into her neck, breathing in her familiar scent, while his hands ran over her whole body, making sure that she was really here, not some figment of his imagination, that she was breathing.

“I'm here, Geralt,” she repeated her words, her own fingers tangling in his hair, feeling the soft texture against her skin. She'd missed this, missed him, and so she made him look at her before her lips came down on his. It was a messy, a greedy kiss, but they both needed that, needed to feel that the other was really there, that it was not just a hallucination.

Geralt wasted no time in picking her up and carrying her inside. Nobody would find them out here, but he wanted that privacy, wanted to cherish her the way she needed to be cherished, and his bed would be better than the sand beneath them. A bed, he'd slept in alone for what felt like an eternity.

“I missed you so much, you have no idea.” Geralt's lips moved down the side of her neck as soon as he'd laid her down on his bed, his body covering hers, but he didn't put his whole weight on her. Y/N's fingers raked through his hair, down his back and pulled at the tunic he was wearing.

“I missed you, too... but I'm here now. We are here.”

Geralt sat up to rid himself of the tunic, threw it aside, because the only thing that mattered right now was the woman in front of him. He leaned back down, started peppering her skin with kisses. Down her neck, her collarbone, the slope of her breast.

“This has to come off. I need to feel you, need to make sure this is real!” He sounded desperate, but he didn't care. She could know how much he'd missed, how much he loved her.

Y/N pushed him off her own body so that she could get up from the bed again. Her eyes were fixed on him as she undressed, feeling his hot gaze all over her. Without looking, he pulled down his own trousers, freeing his cock from its confinements.

“Come here.” Geralt sat back against the headboard of his bed, reached out his hand for her. When she took it, he pulled her into his lap. After letting go of her hand again, he rubbed his palms along her thighs, took his time as if he was exploring her body all over again. Y/N cupped his face and kissed him again. A slow, passionate kiss that made him feel so alive that he wouldn't even be able to put it into words again.

When his hands reached her hips, he pulled her even closer, his throbbing cock pressing against her heat. Y/N gasped into the kiss, before she ripped her lips free from his.

“I love you so much,” she whispered before she reached between their bodies and wrapped her fingers around his dick. Geralt swore under his breath. It had been so long since she'd touched him that he felt like a teenager again who would come undone just from this touch.

Geralt's grip on her hips tightened for a moment, before he returned to stroking his fingertips along her thigh, but this time, he inched further up until he reached her folds, finding her already wet and willing for him.

Now, it was y/n's name to gasp at the touch, but she immediately pressed against his fingers, asking for more. And so he complied, pressed his thumb against the sensitive bud there. Hearing her moan his name spurred him on, and he started rubbing slow circles around it. Meanwhile, two of his fingers rand through her folds, already coated in her slick, so he had no problem sliding them inside her. She stilled for a moment, before a long, drawn-out moan left his lips. Her grip on his cock tightened, making Geralt moan in return.

“I need to feel you as well, Geralt.. now!” she panted and rocked her hips against his fingers, but then she lifted herself up. Geralt kept his gaze on her, as he positioned herself, guided his cock towards her entrance and slowly sank down on his length.

Geralt's head fell against her shoulder, his arms wrapped around her body to hold her close for a moment, to feel her body pressed to his and feel her heart beating in her chest. She was here, she was with him.

For a moment, they simply stayed like this, joined together after such a long time without each other, but they needed their high, needed to feel alive together, so y/n rocked her hips against him against. She placed her hands on his shoulders for leverage, before she started moving up and down. Geralt's hands found their place on her hips, guiding her, supporting her a little bit.

He trailed kisses along her shoulder, down to her collarbone, where he nipped at the skin for a moment, before he continued his path. Without a warning, he pulled her left nipple between his teeth and sucked on it.

“Fuck... Geralt,” she moaned, fingernails digging into his shoulder. Her movement were becoming faster now, drawing a mix between a moan and a growl from his lips.

Geralt wrapped one arm around her middle, held her close when he turned them in one swift motion, so that y/n was now lying beneath him. He looked down at her for a moment, studied her face, after he hadn't seen it for so long. Her fingers combed through his hair again before she cupped his cheek and pulled him back down for another kiss. She only broke that kiss, because his fingers were between their bodies again, gently rubbing over her clit, while he started thrusting into her again, slowly at first, but he quickly picked up his pace.

“Fuck, y/n, I missed you, I missed this... can't let you go again,” he babbled against her neck, grazed his teeth against the soft skin, but soothed it with his tongue right afterwards.

“I'm so close... Fuck Geralt.” A breathless whisper from her lips as she felt her climax approach, felt that knot tighten, that was close to exploding. Her fingernails scratched over his back, as his movements got faster, a little harder, driving her absolutely insane, but when his fingers got faster as well, he pushed her over the edge. Her back arched off the bed, her chest pressed flush against his, as she came, moaning his name once again.

Geralt fucked her through her high until his own movements became more erratic, his hips stuttered, because feeling her walls constrict around his cock, trying to pull him even deeper. He spilled inside her, a string of cursewords flowing from his lips mixed with an I love you, y/n.

For a moment, his whole weight was on her, because he needed to catch his breath, but then he pushed himself up on one arm. Ever so gently, he brushed his knuckles over her cheek. YN/'s eyes fluttered open, a content smile on her lips.

“Tell me, you're not going anywhere,” Geralt said quietly, the desperation with which he said this nearly making his voice break.

“I'm not. I'm right here.” Her hand framed his face, before she kissed him again. A long, lingering kiss that he felt to the tips of his toes.

Geralt opened his eyes with a start as a bright flash filled the room and he heard thunder very close by. He needed a moment to adjust to his surroundings to realise, where he was. Blinking a couple of times, he looked around for y/n, but she was nowhere to be found. Sitting up, he rubbed both hands across his face. It was raining outside, lightning cracking though the air and lightening up the surrounding.

Geralt got up and got dressed, before he went looking for her. He'd always loved the rain, had always sat near a window if she wasn't able to go outside.

“Y/N?” he called out in the hopes of a response, but he had a gut feeling that she was nowhere to be found. There was a used cup in the kitchen and the front door was ajar. Maybe, she'd gone outside to enjoy the rain. It wouldn't be the first time.

Geralt didn't waste any time and walked outside looking for her, but she was nowhere around the cottage, so he started walking. His feet seemed to move on their own accord, showing where he needed to go. His eyes always scanned his surroundings in hopes of finding her somewhere, though deep down he knew that he wouldn't be lucky.

He eventually stopped at a spot where he could overlook the ocean again. The rain had died down by now, hut he was completely drenched – not that he even cared about that. His eyes dropped down to what was in front of his feet. They weren't in bloom, but he knew that they were lilacs. Her lilacs. On her grave. Her name, the date of her death carved into a stone that set on top of the grave they'd made for her.

All of it had only been a dream, even though it had felt so real. If he closed his eyes, he could still smell her, feels the touch of her fingertips on his skin. Maybe, it was a memory his body, his mind had conjured up, but she was nowhere to be found anymore. He'd buried her himself, had lost her for good. But at least he'd seen her one last time, even if it was only in his dreams, to tell her that he loved her. Words he hadn't said often enough while she'd still been with him.

Geralt kneeled down before her grave and touched his fingertips to the earth there. He knew, he would never see her again, not in person, but at least, he had his memories. Lots of them, but still not enough. Grief gripped his heart and crumpled it up like a piece of paper as he let his tears run freely. It was just him here. Him and his memories of a time where he'd been happy.

[askaalaska-vdeppressed]

Kids and Coffee Dates Ch:6

Masterlist

Group Chat Name: Nosy Little Brothers (And Spouses)

Y: He’s leaving now and he looks…. Decent

S: What does ‘decent’ mean?

Y: Like he’s not in stained jeans and an old college tee-shirt. He’s… presentable

Yennifer and Geralt were sat in Vesemir’s car, parked behind a few bushes. They used Vesemir’s car as it was the most common among the groups. The pair both donned sunglasses and casual graphic tees. Hoping that straying from the typical black attire would help them blend in more. Geralt’s hair was in a beanie for the same reason. The duo watched as at 4:45 Eskel’s bike rolled out of his driveway.

G: In pursuit

L: Aren’t you driving?

S: We’re stalking a man. This is no time for morals.

L: Did you seriously respond to me via the groupchat? Your in the kitchen???

Y: It’s you’re and stop it you two.

L: she started it.

Wee Lamby has been removed from the chat

Wee Lamby has been added to the chat

L: Not cool >:(

As Yen looked up from her phone they pulled into the parking lot of Ciri’s elementary school. The gates being open and the yard now filled with booths and trucks.

“I lost Eskel in the parking lot. Do you know what’s going on here?” Geralt pulled the car off to the side as he spoke.

“Yeah it’s a craft fair for some of the local artisans. We approved it at the last school board meeting before summer break. Do you know why Eskel would want to come?”

“The food?” Geralt shrugged his shoulders before thinking a moment. “That or he wants to get something for the crocheting he does in secret that he doesn’t want us to know about.”

“Eskel crochets?” Yennifer looked quizzically up at Geralt. A small staring contest ensued before Geralt broke the gaze and commented

“You didn’t hear that from me”.

“Well that would explain why he got all clammy about what was going on at the table.”

Geralt abruptly put the car into gear.

“Good mystery solved, now we can go home”

“Wait, wait aren’t we going to go find and him and see what he’s getting?” Yennifer turned in her seat to Geralt, arms crossed over her front. Geralt pulled into a spot on the far side of the lot before sagging his shoulders and letting out a sigh.

“Yen I don’t like this. This whole following Eskel business. If he wanted us to know he would tell us. “

“Says the man who knows about his secret hobbies.”

“I found out about that on accident and I just” Geralt took another deep breath before letting a hand fall down on the steering wheel. “I just feel like this is betraying his trust.”

“Well fine you don’t have to come in with me. But as far as I see it he kept the truth from us and I want to see what was so important that he felt the need to do that.” Without giving Geralt room to reply Yennifer exited the car and took a brisk pace toward the entrance.

After about 30 seconds of grumbling, and a loud—or at least loud for Geralt- “Goddamn it” aimed at no one in particular, Geralt clamored out of the car after Yennifer.

Y: Eskel’s at a craft fair at the elementary school.

L: Kingston or Willow’s Peak?

Y: Kingston.

G: We lost him in the crowd, we’ll let you know when we have eyes on him again.

S: Keep look out for anything that might be cute décor wise. The dining rooms a bit bare.

Yen and Geralt walked into the fair, trying there best to stay in the crowds. Occasionally stopping to look at, and maybe even purchase, a few items. After about half and hour they found Eskel again. Sat on a bench by himself.

G: We found him.

L: what’s he doing?

G: he just kinda sitting there.

S: What do you mean?

G: I mean he’s just sitting on a bench by himself sitting there, he’s not even look at this phone.

L: what is he looking at then?

Y: Wistfully staring off into the distance is what he’s doing.

The pair found a bench across the way, behind a vendor to sit on and watch. Having a decent view of Eskel while being mostly hidden behind people and the vendor’s set-up. Geralt was about to speak up when a nudge to his arm put his focus back on Eskel. A woman was now sat next to him. Some sort of fair food on her lap. They both picked at the paper basket as they talked. Eskel seemed very engrossed in the conversation. It wasn’t long before the food was gone and the two got up to leave. Eskel and woman taking each other’s hand before walking the opposite direction of Geralt and Yennifer. As they made off a smile was retained on Eskel’s face the entire time.

Yennifer whipped her head to look at Geralt. He responded with confused sputtering before she yanked her phone out of her pocket.

Y: Eskel is on a date. I repeat, Eskel is on a date. This is not a drill people

L: A date? Like what kind of date?

Y: Like November 2nd.  Duh dumbass like the romantic kind of date.

S: How could you tell?

G: When he was sitting there a woman sat next to him. They shared some food then got up and skipped off into the sunset holding hands.

L: Are you sure is it was like that Ger? G: You should’ve seen the look on Eskel’s face. It was DEF like that.

Geralt put his phone down and saw Yennifer gathering her things to get up.

“Where are you going” Geralt looked puzzeled.

“To go follow them.”

“Oh no we’re not. We’re going home” Geralt stood up and grabbed the bags from Yennifer’s hands.

“What are you doing? I thought we went over this.”  Geralt didn’t turn back as he walked the path toward the parking lot.

“Geralt!” Yennifer was right behind him and placed a hand on his shoulder. Geralt let out a sigh before setting the bags down and turning toward Yennifer,  bending slightly and placing his hands on her shoulders.

“Honey listen to me, you know as well as I do that Eskel hasn’t been the same since the accident. He doesn’t go out, he doesn’t talk to anyone outside the family, hell… trying to get him to go out for his own birthday is like pulling teeth.” Geralt sighed and looked down a moment for starting up again.

“Tonight on that bench has been the most alive and happy I think I’ve seen him in, well I don’t remember when. Eskel clearly doesn’t feel confident with this relationship yet or he would have told us. If us being here ruined this for him and pushed this woman away. If we ended up shaming him back into isolation. I..” Geralt let his hands fall and stood to his full height, eyes downcast.

“I could never forgive myself.”

Yennifer huffed a moment and bit her lip before sighing.

“Alright fine, but after we pick up Ciri you’re buying us ice cream.”

A small smile cracked on Geralt’s face, and he let out a small laugh.

“Deal”

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

.⋆｡Steamy｡⋆.

Steve Rogers x plus size reader

Stolen shampoo, hot shower and a perky little ass

Warnings: fluff, nudity but no smut, domestic fluff, some crack humour, implied smut WC: 564

Minors DNI

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

5k Follower Celebration

You were absolutely covered in sweat and grime, a result of letting Sam pick your hiking trail for the day and of course he picked one that would give you a ‘challenge’. 10 miles of mostly uphill terrain later, you were so ready for a hot shower and a nap with your boyfriend. 

Your clothes came off piece by piece as you stumbled through your apartment until you reached the bathroom, where the shower was already running. You smirked as you tugged off your panties and slowly opened the door, revealing the site of a lifetime. 

The steam made his pale skin glow under the bathroom light. Water rolled down the defined muscles of Steve’s back, droplets getting caught in the divots and valleys of his shoulder blades and the small dimples at the base of his spine, leading right to the perky ass of your dreams. 

You bit your lip, it was far too tempting.

Your hand whistled as it flew through the air and collided with his perfect cheek with a satisfying smack. Steve immediately froze up, his hands still buried in his hair where he had been massaging in shampoo. Your smirk widened as he slowly turned to face you, his pretty blue eyes wide.

“Did you just… slap my ass?” 

“And what are you gonna do about it doll?” You retorted with Steve’s usual line when he was the one to smack your ass. He glared at you so hard he didn’t even notice that you were completely naked. You let your own gaze drift downwards, following a particularly fat drop of water as it rolled down his torso. It raced between his toned abs before getting lost in the thick patch of hair right at the base of his pelvis.

Your eyes wandered lower but before you could go down any further, Steve’s hands flew to cover himself. “You’re objectifying me.” He whined yet his bright red cheeks gave away just how much he enjoyed your attention.

“You like it.” You stepped into the shower, letting out a happy groan as the hot water washed over your sore muscles. Your boyfriend wrapped a muscular arm around your thick waist and tugged you into his chest.

“How was the hike?” He asked as he pressed a kiss to your hair. 

“It was fine but you need to tell Sam-“ You paused and sniffed at Steve. He raised an eyebrow at you but you ignored it and instead wound your fingers into his hair to pull him to your level. You buried your nose against his scalp and inhaled deeply. “Did you use my shampoo?”

“You weren’t supposed to be home yet?”

“How. Dare. You. Do you know how much that stuff costs! I only use it for special occasions!” You slapped a hand against his chest, purposefully ignoring the way he was flexing his pecs. Steve caught your wrists in one big hand. You thrashed playfully in his hold.

“Hey, it makes my hair look good.” He defended.

“Oh like you need to look any better than you normally do.” You sassed.

It was Steve’s turn to smirk as he pushed his hips forward and pressed his hardening cock into your soft stomach. “I just need to do my best to keep up with you.”

“Fuck you.” 

“I’m trying.” He grinned and you rolled your eyes and leaned into him.

Request: Steve Rogers: 13,12 and28 @as-white-as-snow-love

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[ultralightpoe]

Spellbound - Geralt

Spellbound - Geralt

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

Warnings: semi smut 

Word Count: 4012

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

brothel worker! reader x geralt 

Enjoy!

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

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

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

The witcher had always been against you joining the group. 

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

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

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

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

Wrong. 

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

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

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

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

Well……anyone but you. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Answer me.”

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

“Humming is not an answer.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I do not-”

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

“Fuck off.” 

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

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

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

“I do not.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It has been forever since we slept indoors.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Where did he disappear to?”

“You mean after you snatched her?”

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

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

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

“About?”

“About work.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So you would go back to whoring?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can I get you another drink?” 

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

“Another ale?”

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

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

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

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

“You’ve had too much to drink.” 

“And you care why?”

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

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

“Don’t do that.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But just for a moment. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He was a fucking fool. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He left around sunrise in a pissy mood.”

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

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

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

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

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

- - - - -

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

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

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

“Then where is she?”

“Gone.”

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

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

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

“Don’t blame me! This is your doing!”

“How. So.”

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

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

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

“Where is the brothel?”

“It’s no use.”

“Where. Is. The. Brot-”

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

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

He had to get you. 

Part Two

[joelslegalwhre]

Thank you sm! And thanks for the request love, i hope you like it <3

Destiny

pairing⁀➷ geralt of rivia x fem!reader

word count⁀➷ 1.5k

summary⁀➷ Geralt finds you injured in the woods (more in the ask)

warnings⁀➷ soft!geralt, fluff, mention of blood and injuries, swearing (only once tho), use of y/n once

a/n⁀➷ As always, tell me if I missed a warning please!

🥤my kofi if you’d like to leave a tip🩷

You had expected this day to be different. You were supposed to help your uncle and learn more about herbology so that one day, you would know as much as he does about taking care of the people in the village.

Not lying here, on the slightly damp forest ground.

It would be a long walk back to the village, and your wounds and aches would not make it any easier. Your limbs felt heavy. Your body ached. And before you could fight back, you were defeated by tiredness.

Your eyes opened abruptly as you became aware of sounds coming closer and closer to you. A horse was coming towards you, on it an incredibly muscular man who looked familiar to you.

You had never met him before, but when he came closer and you saw his bright amber eyes, you knew who he was, what he was.

When he saw you, lying there on one of the big roots, he quickly got off his horse.

"Wait here, Roach." he told the horse.

Fear washed over you as he slowly approached you.

"Please, don't hurt me." Your voice was soft, almost a whisper. But witchers could hear better than ordinary people, he had heard it clearly enough.

The witcher stopped for a second and seemed… offended? He shook his head slightly and looked you in the eyes.

"I won't hurt you." His voice was low. Incredibly deep.

There was sincere in his voice, it almost gave you goosebumps.

He was terribly attractive, and his eyes both frightened and fascinated you. He came closer and closer to you and you could only follow him with your eyes. Your fear had eased a little, but it wasn't completely gone.

"It's not that bad," you said quietly as his eyes examined your wound. "I just need to rest a bit before I-" you made a hissing sound as he lifted the fabric covering the wound. "You are not fine." he grumbled.

He knew you wouldn't be able to walk one step on your own without collapsing. As the witcher walked to his horse and took an elixir-like phial from one of the pockets, he asked,

"What happened to you, who did this?" his voice almost sounded angry. But not because of you.

"I was gathering herbs. My uncle needs them to medicate the people in the village. And-" you had to swallow at the thought of the attack.

"There were three-three men. They were looking for someone." The witcher grimaced in anger, as if he already knew what they wanted.

"They wanted to know where the Butcher of Blaviken was."

He said nothing but an annoyed "hmm," his hand still holding the fabric so as not to cover the wound on your hip.

The witcher looked you in the eye, and up close, his own ones were even more special.

"Don't move." he demanded and you nodded. Then he dripped some of the elixir into the wound. It burned like fire.

"Ahh fuck!" you had to bite your lip to stop swearing. "It'll be over in a moment." He took your hand and nodded at you encouragingly. You squeezed his hand so hard that your fingers almost started to hurt.

"Breathe, can you do that for me?" He spoke so calmly and collectedly. You looked at him again, his gaze never leaving your face the whole time. Then you took a deep breath, as deep as you could under the pain. And as quickly as the pain had come, it was gone again.

You were breathing heavily and it felt like you had been running for hours. The witcher bandaged your wound and looked you in the eyes again. The fear you normally had of his kind, fear that was taught as a child, was now completely gone. If he hadn't come to find you, you would still be lying here now and would probably faint in no time.

He had saved you.

"What's your name?" you asked the witcher quietly as he lowered the bloody piece of cloth onto the tended and protected wound. He inhaled sharply. "It's okay if you don't-" you started but he spike over you. "Geralt of Rivia." He replied.

Your lips parted a little. You blinked in surprise as you looked at him. Geralt had gotten up and walked to his horse to put the vial back. Quietly you whispered, "The Butcher of Blaviken."

He turned to face you, "I'm sorry they attacked you."

You were astonished, because you didn't expect an apology. Actually, he had nothing to apologise about either. After all, the men were not acting on his orders.

You smiled at him weakly. Suddenly everything felt so exhausting, breathing, being able to see, everything.

"It's the potion," Geralt answered your unasked question. "It makes you tired, to heal your wounds in your sleep."

"Oh." you said softly, before you felt two strong arms lift you up. Then you fell asleep.

Geralt entered the small village on Roach, and you laying safely in his arms.

All conversation died down when they noticed the witcher.

However, when they saw you in his arms, some began to whisper.

„He's a witcher!" "What does he want with her?" "Did he kill her?" "Where did he come from?"

Geralt knew exactly where to take you. A healer was usually quick to find, but especially in such a small village. "Stop Roach."

He got down, careful not to hurt you.

Your uncle opened the door before Geralt could knock, but when he saw you, his face paled. "Y/N-" His gaze went to the blood on your coat then darted to the witcher.

"She needs to lie down." Geralt commanded. He looked at your uncle with a penetrating gaze.

"What have you done to her, Witcher?" There was hatred and disgust in his voice.

"I healed her." Geralt replied dryly.

He pushed past your uncle and quickly found what he was looking for.

He carefully laid you down on the small bed.

Your uncle hurried after the witcher, but when he saw you, he realised that what Geralt had said was true.

Your coat was bloody but the wound looked well taken care of. "I put a potion in her wound, it should work. She'll have to sleep for a while for that to happen though." Geralt sat down on the floor beside your bed and leaned his back against it.

Your uncle looked overwhelmed, but he knew well enough that there was nothing he could do now.

"Thank you, Witcher.".

"Hmm." Geralt simply replied.

While your uncle went to his herbs to make you some tea, Geralt closed his eyes and took a deep breath in and out.

With a loud gasp, you woke up. You looked around in confusion, as you saw familiar walls and herbs, the ground was softer than before in the forest. As you slowly sat up, leaning on one elbow, you knew you were home.

Something moved beside your bed. No, not something, someone. Geralt stood up and looked at you with a soft gaze. "How are you?" he asked in his deep voice.

Your eyes went to your wound, or to the place where it had been. Your skin was completely healed, no cuts, no blood. You brushed your finger lightly over it, but it didn't even hurt anymore.

"Thank you." you whispered gratefully without really answering his question. "Thank you Geralt."

You stood up and in a matter of seconds you wrapped your arms around his strong torso. "Thank you." you mumbled into his chest once more.

Geralt was surprised, and at first he just stared down at you. You still had your arms wrapped around him when he carefully put one arm around your waist, then the other. He smelled terrible but that didn't matter right now.

He had saved you. You looked up at him, still in the embrace. Something in his eyes had changed, his look had changed. You didn't know what it was.

Geralt, however, knew, and he could not suppress it.

The way you looked at him without any fear, how you had thanked him so many times. Nothing even suggested that you thought he was the monster so many people saw him as.

Slowly his arms moved down your back. Your faces were so close that you could see the finest, smallest scars on his face. Geralt could hear your heart beating, not evenly but fast and irregularly. You looked into his amber eyes the ones that had even followed you into your sleep.

His hands pulled you closer and the moment, when his lips met yours, fast yet slow, hungry yet gentle, felt like time had stopped. As if there was only this moment, only the two of you. Your fingers played with Geralt's hair, feeling his strong neck and pulling him down even further towards you.

When you had to gasp for air and your lips parted, he still held you close to him. You bit your lip as you looked at him. Geralt exhaled heavily. "I don't believe in destiny," you whispered. "But you might've changed that."

༄ Don't copy, translate or republish any of my works on any app or other platform please. I only post my work on Tumblr and Wattpad.

Reposts are always appreciated, they really make my day🧡

[kiritella]

Anyone interested in a Geralt x Reader fic?

[thewitcheress2389]

Hello! If you feel like it, could you write something for Geralt x reader? Reader is touch starved and doesn't want to initiate affection, but Geralt catches on bc she relaxes when their shoulders brush or when he pats her shoulder. One day he's had enough of her being so uptight, so he holds her and she just goes boneless with relief.

I relate to this so much Anon, putting my own feelings in this one❤️😂 Hope you enjoy! Sorry if it's jumbled, I was in a state when I wrote this XD

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A Witcher's Senses

You forget that a witcher has enhanced senses. Funny enough, Geralt doesn't really need them to figure out your problem.

Most men don't understand, but witchers are even more ignorant. They don't have the need to be held, the need to be touched. Not like a woman like you needs. And you don't just mean "touched" because not all touch is good. Some touch is selfish, uncomfortable, and lacking all mannerisms of a proper gentleman.

No. You want touch to be gentle, full of love.

Geralt was the only man that you could share this with-without his knowledge. Witchers weren't exactly ones for holding hands or exchanging hugs. The only affection they ever receive is from a one night stand that they paid for with their gold from a gruesome hunt. The closest you've ever been to Geralt with his knowledge is when you had to clean his wounds after a dicey encounter with a leshen or a werewolf.

But you needed more. You craved more from him.

"Y/N, can you tie up Roach." It was a command from Geralt, who wasn't looking at you as he handed you the leather reins. You eyed his hand, the way his fingers gently caressed the leather.

"Yeah." You said softly, reaching out to grab hold of the horse. And then, your fingers touched.

You lingered, lingered longer than expected. His skin was rough, but also very warm. You loved it, you loved the feeling that you haven't had in years. You didn't care that he was a witcher. He was still a man that had warm skin and a gentle aura about him. His touch made you relax. Softly, you began to smile to yourself.

"Y/N, Roach is getting anxious." Geralt's voice snapped you out of your thoughts, and you realized that he had let go of the reins long ago, his touch gone. You blushed in embarrassment when he finally heard Roach pawing the ground.

Mumbling an apology, you led the mare to a nearby tree, Geralt's gaze following you the whole way.

He wasn't stupid.

Jaskier might call him uncaring, ignorant, and hardy but the witcher was actually quite the opposite. He had better sight, better hearing, and a better sense of smell than most men. But even with all that, he struggles to read people sometimes. You were shy, didn't say much to him, but your eyes held so much emotion. But you, you were more obvious than you probably wanted.

When you pretend to trip and bump into him, your heartrate softens.

When he pats your shoulder after a fearful encounter, your muscles relax.

When you grab something from him and your fingers touch, your eyes glow and you smile to yourself.

You longed for touch. You needed it, but you didn't want anyone to know that. You were scared to initiate contact, which Geralt sensed when you were just around him. Your quick breathing, nervousness, and raised heartrate. You were uneasy because you lacked the touch you craved, that only he seemed to be able to give you.

Now with the knowledge he had, Geralt was confused. Why did you seek him out?

He was a witcher, covered in scars and years of abuse. He didn't know what a soft touch felt like unless he paid for it. Geralt didn't know how to give you what you wanted, however, you seemed to know. You were pretty, so it shouldn't be hard for him. Despite all the negative things that Jaskier has said about him, he always has mentioned that Geralt has more of a heart than most witchers.

Perhaps Geralt just needs to find that heart and give it to you.

So, one night, he did.

You guys were sitting by the fire, Roach was grazing nearby, and Geralt just got done putting things away. He then moved to sit next to you. Close to you. Immediately, his senses picked up your beating heart and nervous sweat. You weren't the only one nervous. Geralt was too. However, he cared about you, he knew what you needed and how he could give it.

The witcher scooted closer and placed an arm around you, pulling you into his chest.

"Geralt?" Your voice was small, face extremely red. The witcher, however, was calm as he rubbed his calloused hand over your shoulder to soothe you.

"Shh...just relax." Geralt said and you did. It was like you melted at his warm touch. Every organ in your body immediately calmed down; your heartrate slowed, breathing slowed, and everything else just relaxed. You sighed pleasantly, finding yourself moving closer to him out of impulse.

"Why are you doing this?" You couldn't stop yourself from asking him, the warmth from both him and the fire easing you. The fire light flickered in his cat-like eyes as he swallowed nervously.

"Because I needed it. I needed your touch." He told you, smiling a bit. Relief seemed to fill in your eyes as you took in his words. Every time that you were afraid to initiate any form of contact was just your nerves getting the best of you. Geralt said he needed you, just like you needed him. You nuzzled your head into his shoulder.

However, Geralt said that to ease you, or that's what he thought.

But he found himself relaxing at your touch as well.

[angelltheninth]

Size kink + smut prompt 13. “Think you can handle that much?” with Geralt? i think it would hurt but I wanna try and take him.

No reason why you can't try but you're not gonna be able to walk after.

Pairing: Geralt x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, established relationship, size difference, size kink, teasing, dirty talk, encouragement, pet names (honey, darling)

A/N: I need more Geralt in my life, don't you?

13. “Think you can handle that much?”

"You've been staring at me for a while darling. See something you want?" Geralt knelt above you with his cocky smile, his shadow looming over you, falling around his shoulders while he looked down at your naked form. "I certainly do. Been wanting you for a long while now."

The evidence of that was right between his legs, and yours. His cock, even bigger then you imagined, wet with his pre as he ran his hand up and down. His other hand pushed your folds apart, his thick thumb finding and teasing your hole, testing the waters.

"Think you can handle that much? If not there are other options we could try." He seemed genuinely concerned about you, and with your difference in size it was no wonder.

"Geralt." You cupped his face, gently at first and then grabbed fistfuls of his white hair and pulled him down, your lips inches from his, "I've been wanting you inside me for months now. Please, I can take you, I swear I can." You opened your legs further, as much as you possibly could, "Please, I really need it."

"My cock? Hm. Needy aren't you honey? Who knew you weren't as pure as you seemed." His hands wrapped around your wrists and pulled you towards him. His cock slid over your pussy and clit, hot to the touch, your clit twitching at the stimulation. "Ever had one as big as mine?"

"No." Some work was gonna be needed to get him inside of you and you weren't sure if you could take all of him. No matter how hard you tried your body had it's limits, "Give me as much as you can, I'll take as much as I can handle."

"That's my girl." He kissed your forehead, drawing a little giggle from you, and then a chuckle from him. "Relax as much as you can, I'm gonna have to open you up a bit, so it might hurt at first." It was seriously touching how soft he was being. It almost seemed like the man who fingerfucked you so many times was just a dream.

You groaned and whimpered, fists clenching while his broad head pushed past your entrance, your walls clamping down on him, resisting the intrusion. "Sorry. You're... its big so..."

"I know." He kissed you again, his hands rubbing over your knuckles, "Take your time, I'll wait."

Breath after breath it became easier to take him in, your pussy opening up for him, letting him slide in a little more. "Geralt- so b- mmn!" His hips jolted forward a little, his cock rubbing along your walls. Tears welled up in the corners of your eyes from the sting of the stretch as he finally bottomed out, "Fuck! Fuck, give me a moment. God." You ran your hands through his hair, his warm, solid body a comfort, his kisses relaxing and riling you up at the same time.

"You're wonderful darling. You're doing so well. Your cunt is doing so well, feels nice around my cock, feels right." He felt right. Him. You let out a long breath after a while, not even knowing you were holding it in. At that very moment he moved forward, barely even shifting his hips, "We just need a little practice. Pretty soon you'll be taking me like it's nothing."

Practice. Well... your pussy was a muscle. Makes sense it would get better with training. "Looking forward to you teaching me." Geralt chuckled at your words and enthusiasm, as well as the excited flutter of your pussy around his cock.

Practice makes perfect, and he was all to happy to be your training partner.

[the-desilittle-bird]

Hii, I would like to request something for Daemon.

At Rhaenyra wedding he sees reader(targaryen or valeryion), who was away for some time, and he falls in love with her again seeing as in the past they had a fling. He chooses her over Rhaenyra and they get married days later with Viserys approval. They reunite with the family on Driftmark for Leana's funeral, there Rhaenyra gets jealous when she sees Daemon being soft with his childrens and reader. Later she tries to sway Daemon and make him leave his family with the excuses of the Greens being against her but he gets mad and threatens her or something like that.

Thankss

Author's Note- Thanks for the request. It was very interesting writing this one. I made a few changes in the scenes to fit in. Do not fret requesting for more. Requests are always opened and we'll appreciated.

Thank you and Enjoy your reading!

Dancing with Dragons

Daemon Targaryen x Targaryen!Reader

Summary- Things and situations are bound to change as well as hearts...

Tag List- @minaxcarter, @eliseline, @blackhoodlea, @little-moonbeam-666, @neenieweenie, @omgsuperstarg, @avalyaaa, @shopping, @bbgmonsay, @michelle-26, @krokietinio, @hc-geralt-23, @chevelledahuman, @thekayarlene, @narcy, @helloitsshitzulover, @muushwrites, @daringboba, @bi2simps, @issybee0611, @yariany02, @agathe, @5moremin, @candypurplebutterfly, @saraelizabeth26, @moon-light1415, @targaryenmoony, @stargaryenx, @instabul, @shine101

Warnings- Threats, Suggestive Content? Westrosi Things

GIF Credits to @userparamore

Daemon looked around the feast in boredom, trying to find something to keep himself intrigued throughout the night. He could feel two pair of eyes on his figure. One belonging to his beloved niece while the other belonged to Laena Velaryon.

He wished to see a certain familiar face walking through those huge doors. It had been quite too long since he had seen his cousin sister, much to his dismay.

Even though it had been more than a few summers, Daemon still remembered the secret nights spent in each other's embrace. Moans and gasps mixing into groans of pleasure. Her smooth skin layered by beads of sweat. Eyes closed in euphoria, hair messed from tugging

Daemon smirked to himself as he took a sip of the Dornish wine served in the feast. His eyes traveled to the dusky skinned lady sitting on the opposite side of the table.

He stood up, stepping down the stairs and joining the dance. He could feel the movement of the Velaryon girl, turning to find her behind himself.

A conversation ignited and Daemon could feel a few sparks; though he knew it was not of love, but of simple lust towards a woman with a pretty face and pure innocence.

"Lady (Y/N) of Houses Targaryen and Arryn"

The room stilled as the dancing pairs moved out of the way of the late Queen Consort's younger sister strided in gracefully with an authoritative aura following her like the sunflower following the sun.

Her blue gown of expensive silks wrapped around her beautiful body smoothly, accentuating her features and pushing her breasts together to create ample cleavage. The silver thread forming falcons on the skirt of her gown.

Daemon let his eyes follow their way down her attractive figure. His legs moving on their accords as they lead him to her. Their eyes met, bodies only a few inches apart.

"Glad to see you here, Lady (Y/N)," Daemon bend down to place a gentlemanly kiss on the back of her palm. "The pleasure is all mine, Prince Daemon," her voice was music to his ears, making him hum in pleasure.

"Lady (Y/N), it is our pleasure to have you with us here," Viserys stood up with a smile. It was no surprise to anyone that the king was fond of his former good sister. Right from her birth, the Arryn Lady had been close to the king and his rebellious brother.

"It is much too my delight to join you in celebrating the Realm's Delight's marriage, Your Grace," (Y/N) said softly, her eyes kind yet a thin mask of caution remained. It had been quite some times since (Y/N) visited the place.

"Hope you enjoy the feast," the king said kindly, sitting down once again. The dancing resumed but this time, it wasn't Laena dancing in Daemon's arms but his old love. Sly smirks and non-verbal conversations exchanged amid the buzzing laughter of all the noble people.

"It's been long, sister," Daemon whispered in her ear, his hand discreetly grazing the curve of her back. "Indeed, brother," she whispered against the smooth skin of his neck.

A low groan bubbled in Daemon's throat. His hands grabbed her neck, bringing her closer to him as everyone danced around them. He could see the hunger in her eyes, the parting of her lips as a small whine of his name escaped; disappearing into the loud atmosphere as a small breeze on a winter day.

"Say it," he hissed, his eyes resembling a predator's, ready to pounce. "Mazverdagon nyke aōhon," (Make me yours) (Y/N) whispered, making Daemon smirk. One of his hands moved down to tangle around her waist, bringing her closer to him.

"Skorkydoso?" (How?) Daemon asked teasingly, his tongue darted out of his mouth, wetting his lips. "Mazverdagon nyke aōha ābrazȳrys. Tepagon nyke aōha riña, Daemon," (Make me your wife. Give me your child, Daemon) she replied back, her lips way too close to his to deem appropriate.

Daemon smirked, his hands grabbed hers, making his way to his chambers. His eyes darkening with passion. His mind clouded with all the pleasures to come.

The winds were a bit too wild in Driftmark but it was no issue to the huge dragons of the Targaryens of Dragonstone. The red and bronze dragons descended down the skies followed by two more dark dragons. While one was a full grown, coal black, the other was yet not a fully-grown one.

Vermithor growled loudly, making the guards straighten up as the Targaryens of the Red Keep stayed firmly on the ground, watching as the dragon-riders stepped down from their mounts.

Daemon was the first one to step down, walking to Vermithor to help his sister-wife down. A crimson red blanket wrapped around their youngest, a daughter. (Y/N) smiled as Daemon carefully took Daenys from her, cooing at her softly.

Daemon looked up to find his eldest daughter and son walking towards them, head held high as they both smiled at their parents. Visenys looked like her father, carrying his character traits as well while Aelar had took after her mother, while adopting a few things of his father.

"Brother, sister," came the fragile and weak voice of the king. Daemon and his wife turned, a smile on their faces as they moved to greet the rest of the family, their children on their toes. "Your Grace," Daemon and his son bowed while the ladies dipped into a curtsey.

"Look at you both," Viserys chuckled, the side of his eyes crinkling. Daemon moved closer to his brother, letting him look at the little Targaryen, who was no more than three summers old. "She is beautiful," Viserys said with a smile, placing a caressing hand on the baby's head whose was sleeping peacefully in her father's arms.

"Aemma," (Y/N) said, offering her good brother a smile. Viserys felt his eyes fill with tears at the name, as he smiled at the baby. "Alicent," (Y/N) greeted the Queen, who was until now, standing quietly with her kids. The Hightower Queen smiled, "Lady (Y/N)."

The Targaryen Lady found her eyes drifting away to the heir of the throne, Princess Rhaenyra, who stood by Laenor and her kids. While (Y/N) had heard the whispered rumors about the offspring of the princess, she didn't expected it to be true; but to find them gazing at her in reality, (Y/N) now made sense of the rumors.

"Princess Rhaenyra," she said with a smile. "Lady (Y/N)," the Princess replied with gritted teeth, her eyes burning holes at her as she looked at how she had turned Daemon into a soft and dotting father; a stark opposite of the man she knew him to be.

Rhaenyra could feel herself becoming jealous of her aunt. A nagging in the back of her mind as she watched Daemon place a loving kiss on (Y/N)'s forehead as she laughed at something her father had said. Their son and daughter standing beside them with a smile.

A plan formulated in Rhaenyra's mind as she silently watched the small family interacting with the king and her half-siblings. A sly smirk finding its place on her lips as she thought of what she needed to do.

Daemon stood against a dusted table, trying to find something interesting, while Rhaenyra spoke about something he didn't care about. He discreetly looked at her and thought of possible reasons as to why he was attracted to her at the first place.

Perhaps it was his want for the throne which made him crave her, or perhaps it was his somewhat rebellious nature which matched Daemon's. Or just frustration towards his brother.

"Are you listening to what I speak of, uncle?" Rhaenyra asked, sighing as she watched Daemon look up with raised eyebrows and bored look. "The Greens are against me and my children. Alicent and Otto will do anything under the sun to harm us. We need you. I need you."

Daemon scowled, glaring at his niece as she moved to caress Daemon's cheek with her hand. "Please, Daemon. I want you," Rhaenyra whispered, her lips near his neck. "Step aside," Daemon pushed Rhaenyra back softly. "I must warn you beforehand, Rhaenyra, if you dare come near me again, or attempt to get closer to me; I will have Caraxes eat you right in front of that lover of yours."

Letting the threat hang in the air, Daemon turned and went straight towards his wife who stood conversing with Rhaenys. "My love," he kissed her cheek from behind, letting his hand wrap around her waist. "Daemon," (Y/N) smiled, leaning into him.

"I will leave you two alone," Rhaenys said, excusing herself from the couple who gazed lovingly at their kids. "Visenys looks happy here," Daemon commented. Visenys was busy doing something in sand with Aemond, giggling like a child she is.

"They look happy," (Y/N) commented, looking at Daemon who frowned at her words. "He can have her after... 60 summers? Yes," Daemon grumbled, making (Y/N).

(Y/N) leaned into Daemon's chest, smiling dreamily as she looked at her happy family.

[renren-006]

Sleepovers | Geralt x Fem Reader

plot: geralt finaly came home to you again

tags: fluff, soft, love

word count: 513

a/n: hey guys, just a short little story for you guys!!

Sleeping next to Geralt was not only a luxury but also something that calmed you. He took up most of the bed but you were more than happy to snuggle into bed with him, be allowed as little space next to him if it meant being with him. He would come home to you when he could, meaning every few weeks his bed would thumbs down on the stoop and he would open the door to find you already rushing down the stairs to him, a grin plastered on your face. He loved seeing your smile when that door opened, and he loved when you would leap over the threshold of the door into his arms, not caring how smelly or how covered in dirt he was. 

Those nights and days of him being home you always savored, but you more so welcomed the crumbed bed with him. You welcomed the heat besides you, the unknowing need he had for you, and you welcomed the sleepless nights next to him. 

“Darling, are you going to stare at me all night?” he asked you, causing your hands to falter from tracing his face in his sleep, although turns out he wasn't asleep. He peeked one eye open at you causing you to smile. “How often do you watch me sleep”

“Every night your back home with me” you told him, laying down eye to eye with the man you loved

“Every night” he smiled. 

“Every night, till the sun peeks through the curtains' ' you told him, glancing over him towards the window. It showed the landscape outside, the winding hills and the towns lights dancing between them. You lived just on the outskirts, just far enough away that you two had your own space. You wanted to live here, in this place with vast plains and hills and no demons or other creatures for Geralt to worry about when he left. This was the one place in the world that had proven to be safe for thousands of years. It was rumored that tree sports or feries blessed the lands and made them safe for special humans to live here, and that has been true. Everyone that found and created a home here had some form of gift, Geralt and his abilities and you…and your way with animals. Roach made it very well known how much he preferred you over his companion. Geralt refused to listen whenever you would cast the bond to him so he could hear the horse talk. Roach, now in the little barn next to your house, was sound asleep after the long journey back. 

“Tell me where you have traveled to this time?” you asked him, wanting to fall asleep to his stories. 

“Bedtime story my darling?” he asked you, knowing for the years the two of you had been married that you enjoyed every story he told you, and every sleepover you two had since you were teenagers. 

“Always” you said sleepily, snuggling into him so he could talk in your ear about the world beyond the valley. 

[boxofbonesfic]

Title: Tonality [3]

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: more creepy dream fuel, Geralt being slimy and having ulterior motives, and a little more tension with reader and her mother. all in all, i think you guys will enjoy this latest addition. as always, please mind the warnings, and enjoy!😊🥰 divider by @firefly-graphics​

The doe’s coat is as yellow as spun gold, and she blinks at you nervously as you approach. You cannot hide your childish squeal of delight, though it vexes her further. She nickers, shifting from hoof to hoof as she blinks at you with wide eyes. 

 “Papa, is she really mine?” You ask, your quiet voice heavy with awe. “She’s beautiful.” You hold out a hand, and her nostrils flare at your scent. Her long ears flick back, laying flat against her head behind her horns. They’re small—she’s young, barely a year old, perhaps less—and still covered with soft, velvety baby fur that you know will shed as she ages. 

 “Careful,” your father’s voice is ripe with caution. “She is new. Young, still, and a bit unwieldy.” You cluck your tongue at her, producing the sugar cubes you’d stolen from your mother’s tea tray from the sleeves of your dress. “I said careful—!” The doe leans forward, pressing her muzzle into your outstretched hand. You raise an eyebrow at your father, who shakes his head, a disbelieving laugh puffing out from between his lips. You stroke her head, running your fingers gently between her antlers and softly flicking ears. 

 “She about took Gaspard’s hand off this morning, she was so wild,” he says, shaking his head. “And yet she eats from your own as if you had weaned her yourself.” 

 “Did Gaspard try sugar?” You ask, giggling as her lips tickle your palm. “Perhaps she mightn’t have tried to amputate his fingers had he kept some of his salt to himself.” The wind shifts, and beneath the doe’s thick animal scent, there is something else.

 Something like sulphur and rotting meat.

 Your hand passes down the doe’s head, and her skin sloughs off beneath your fingers, leaving shiny, white bone behind. You gag, clapping a bloody hand over your mouth as fat flies buzz lazily out of her empty eye sockets. Wrong. This is wrong, it doesn’t happen like this—

 How does it go, again?

 Your father gifts you the doe, the golden doe, you are eighteen, you are a woman now, you will ride with him on the hunt, you will—

 “Su—gar swe—et,” Your father’s voice is the buzzing of a thousand glistening black flies, his tongue is made from them, wriggling in his wide open mouth. His eyes are children’s scribbles, black and writhing, and tears like ink drip from their corners. “It tasted like sugar—”

 It is then that you remember your father is dead.

 He is dead. He is dead here, because he is dead everywhere, dead and rotting and gone but not gone and you mustn’t listen, you mustn’t—

 You wake with a sharp gasp. 

 “—Princess?” The words dissolve into a static, meaningless drone as you are thrust suddenly back into consciousness. For a moment, the dream is still overlaid over the waking world like runny watercolor as you blink groggily in the dark. Beneath your trembling fingers, you can still feel the doe’s soft, golden coat—and the sharp, polished bone of her skull. With a sweaty palm against the wall, you retch, doubling over as you heave. 

 Nothing comes up. 

 The air around you is stale, stagnant, and the taste of dust and decay blankets your tongue as you swallow down lungful after panicked lungful. One thing is abysmally clear to you as you dizzily rest a hand on the cold stone to keep yourself upright—

 You are not in your rooms. 

 Where am I?

 “Princess.” The voice sounds again, and your head snaps about wildly, your eyes wide as you stare into the dark. The dream is still there, sticking the fringes of your waking thoughts like tar, and for a moment there are two voices, one made of dark black honey, sickly sweet, and the other the insectile buzz of a thousand glassy wings all beating in unison—

 “Wh-who goes there?” You ask, dragging the back of your hand across your quivering mouth. There is a sound like the sharp rushing of air, and all at once the room is lit with warm yellow light. You suppress a scream as your father’s withered, sunken face appears before you, his eyes like children’s scribble—you shut your eyes, closing them tightly as you whimper. 

 “A dream, this is a dream, a dream—” A cool, bare hand wraps about your wrist and you scream, pulling and fighting as fiercely as you can manage. “No! No! You’re dead—!” You cry, hysterical tears creeping out of the corners of your closed eyes. 

 “I regret to inform you, little sister, that I am very much alive.” It is not your father’s voice—not the dead—but your step-brother’s. “Despite your best attempts to dispatch me.” Slowly, you open your eyes, sniffling as you meet his gaze. He nods up at your balled fists, still trembling in his grip. You can feel the heat of him through his own loose night-shirt and your thin cotton shift, and your skin prickles as he licks his lips. 

 “Release me.” You say it with more confidence than you feel. For a moment, you feel your step-brother drag his thumb across your pulse point and cock his head, as though he is considering it. 

 “Will you strike me again, little princess?” He asks, a mocking smile curling at the corners of his mouth. You scowl. “I did not plan for a midnight brawl.” You shake your head, your cheeks flaming. Geralt stares at you for a moment, like his golden eyes see something yours do not. As you prepare to make the demand again, he frees your wrists. You clutch your hands to your chest, eyeing him warily. The torch he has lit casts the long room in dim orange light, the flames dancing in his irises, turning them molten. It is the firelight, you think, that makes him look so menacing, so…

 Hungry. 

 You shiver, turning your gaze instead to your surroundings, squinting at the long stone hall in the flickering light. The cool, stagnant air is disturbed only by the sound of your quiet breath, which catches in your throat as your eyes widen.

 “Where…are we?” You ask, though you fear you know the answer already. 

 The walls are lines with alcoves bearing countless candles, stuck into the melted pools of wax left by their predecessors rather than into proper candelabras. And in neat rows in front of them… 

 Graves. Made of the same gray stone as the castle. Highly polished and clean, they are each adorned with ornate carvings of their occupants. You stare grimly at the rows and rows of polished stone, and wonder at how you might have possibly found your way here through the dark labyrinth of the castle. You think again of the dream, and gooseflesh rises again on your skin. 

 ”Did you bring me here?” You round on the prince, your brow furrowed. He chuckles in response, and the sound of it grates against you. 

 “Me? I merely followed you. In truth I had wondered why you would visit the catacombs at this hour. I thought perhaps,” his eyes narrow as a crude grin plays at the corners of his mouth. “A secret paramour, or—”

 “Do not confuse me with yourself!” You snap, wrapping your arms around your body as you shiver. The prince clucks his tongue at your ire.

 “Come now, don’t be cross, little sister,” Geralt purrs. “It wouldn’t have been proper to leave you wandering the hallways in your state of undress, muttering to yourself like a madwoman.” Your cheeks warm at his crude words, and you feel angry, embarrassed tears flush hotly into the space behind your eyes. You blink them back. 

 “I… have not walked in my sleep since I was a child,” you admit, looking down at the space between your bare feet. Geralt hums in response. Old Madge, in her half-blind wisdom had always muttered fearfully to your father about your nightly escapades. 

 A soul shouldn’t walk about at night, she would say, her thin, knobby fingers twisting strands of honeysuckle and dried lavender together into a long chain, one she would wind around your bed’s posts every night for a year until finally you stayed in it. A soul shouldn’t walk about at night. What’s it lookin’ for?

 “I fear I…” You shake your head, swallowing your concerns—they are not for him to hear.  “No matter.” For an instant, a look of disappointment crosses his face before it is gone again, leaving you to wonder if you had even seen it at all. “Thank you.” Your reluctance is palpable. “For waking me.” 

 “You’ve no need to thank me. Not yet.” His eyes glitter darkly. You swallow thickly, and they follow the movement, sweeping almost lazily down the line of your throat. “Let us go.” They flick back up to yours. “Unless you wish to spend the night here?” He gestures behind you, and you shiver again, shaking your head quickly. 

 “Please.” 

 You are grateful to leave the eerie silence of the royal catacombs behind you, following as closely as you dare behind the prince. His torch throws up strange shapes on the walls of the narrow, spiraling stairwell. You can feel the dream sitting at the edges of your thoughts, waiting eagerly to settle back over you like fog. You were not predisposed to bad dreams, and yet they seemed to be the only ones you have had since you arrived. You have been beset with dark thoughts, nipping at your heels like hungry dogs, no—

 Wolves. 

 The two of you emerge from the narrow stairwell into the empty chapel, and the vast hall echoes with your entry. The sconces are dark, and the robed, painted priests nowhere to be seen. The chapel is far less intimidating at night, the sharp features of the northern gods softened by shadow. Cold moonlight filters down softly through the domed ceiling, the colors pale and muted. For a moment, the perfectly round moon is framed perfectly by the pane of red glass containing Father Wolf, shining bright crimson above his head as you pass beneath it. 

 The choking scent of the incense is gone now, and only a trace of it remains in the still air. It is overpowered by a thick, musky animal scent that reminds you of wet fur. As the two of you cross the center of the room, Geralt hooks left, towards the wide, dark archway on the other side of the room. It gapes open like a toothless mouth, the stone floor sloping downward steeply into the dark. 

 You stop at the top of it, the warm air stirring the loose hair about your shoulders. Geralt turns to look back at you, raising a brow and cocking his head p as he lifts  the torch higher. There is a question in the tilt of his head, unspoken on the curve of his lips.

 Are you afraid?

 You are. The dank, pungent animal scent washes over you again, and you shudder. It reminds you of your father’s hunting dogs.

 “Come, little Doe.” His voice feels like cold fingers drawn across the back of your neck. “You need not fear the kennels this night.” 

 “I am not afraid.” You jut your chin out stubbornly, even as gooseflesh erupts along your arms. 

 “Good,” he purrs, licking his lips. “They can smell it.” Geralt descends down into the dark maw, and you reluctantly follow. Like most, you are no stranger to the rumors that leak steadily from King Vesemir’s halls; fantastical tales of furred beasts whose jaws were wide enough to swallow a horse whole. You clutch yourself, inching closer to the prince as the sloped path straightens out, opening into a massive cavern. 

 Geralt’s torch is little more than a pinprick of light in in the vast, unyielding dark. The warm glow only manages to dimly outline the shapes of natural stone pillars, throwing up misshapen shadows. There are still more passageways, little more than tunnels, littering the walls like pockmarks. For a moment, the light of Geralt’s torch throws a long arm across the chamber. 

 Reflected in it’s light are two, glowing orbs. Eyes, the size of dinner plates, their color impossible to describe. It was as if the eyes themselves were ablaze, glowing brightly, breaking the darkness. Over the rush of your own labored breath, you can make out the quiet scratch of claws on stone. It’s coming closer. The thought tightens your throat.

 You are powerless, paralyzed before it like prey. Are you prey? You suppress a whimper. There is warmth at your back, and you realize belatedly that it is  Geralt, so close his breath brushes the back of your neck. 

 “No fear, little princess. No fear.” 

 In less than an instant, the creature stands just beyond the ring of light cast by the prince’s torch. Faintly, you can make out the hulking shape of it; larger by far than any horse. Shaggy white fur, stained a rusty red around its muzzle, it’s ears pricked up and forward as it listens to the sound of your breath.

 “Hold out your hand.” You do, lifting a trembling palm in front of you as if to stop the wolf from coming any closer. The wolf’s lip curls, exposing the wickedly sharp tip of a fang. It sniffs at your hand, and for a moment, you fear you will draw back nothing but a bloody stump. Your shock is palpable when it presses the tip of its snout against your hand, whiskers tickling your palm. 

 “Incredible.” The word escapes with the release of your held breath. You stroke the warm, bristly hair on its muzzle slowly, your eyes still wide with disbelief. The dire-wolf snorts, claws tapping against the stone as it turns from you. As quickly as the wolf appeared, it is gone again, disappearing back into the dark. You remain as you were for a moment more, your arm still outstretched as you watch its retreating back with terrified wonder. 

 “Yrsil.” Geralt’s voice drags you back to the present, and suddenly you are aware of how close he is to you, the way his warm breath ghosts against the shell of your ear.  “The she-wolf. Her name is Yrsil.” You jump away from him, smoothing your hands down your shift as you eye him warily. 

 “Why did you bring me here?” The accusatory note in your voice appears to amuse him, further stoking your ire. “To frighten me?” 

 “If I wanted you fearful, I would not have needed the kennels to do it.” You clench your fists, glaring hatefully at him as he resumes his casual pace across the cavern floor. “Come, now. This is the quickest way back to the eastern wing of the castle. I would not lie to you.” You glare at him, your eyes narrowed.

 “Would you not?” You reply dryly. 

 “I am many things, Princess.” Geralt’s voice drips into your ears like snake oil. “But liar is not one I am eager to add to the list.” 

 True to his word, the two of you emerge from the kennel entrance in the throne room, the hot musk of below sticking uncomfortably to your skin and hair. You half expect the prince to take his leave, now that you are back in familiar territory, but he doesn’t. He keeps pace with you all the way back to your chambers. The heavy door is still slightly ajar, no doubt from your midnight venture. The prince places the lit torch in one of the empty wall sconces before leaning expectantly against the wall, his body partially blocking the doorway. 

 “Excuse me.” 

 He slowly tilts his head, fixing you with a questioning look. “I do believe there is something you are forgetting, my Lady.” He parrots Kassandra’s tone with irritating accuracy. “I know Redania keeps to the old customs as well as they can, however here in Rivia we do require a certain level of decorum.”

 You clench your fists in your nightgown. “What do you want, Geralt?” You ask, exasperated.

 “A kiss should suffice, little Doe.” He purrs. His golden eyes burn the same way they did in the gardens the night of your mother’s coronation. You shake your head in disbelief as you stare at him, your lips parted. 

 “Y-you cannot ask this of me!” Your repudiation is a shrill squeak. “T-tis  indecent, w-we cannot—!” You shake your head again. “The king will not allow—”

 “I think you will find, little sister,” he reaches forward to trace the pad of his forefinger along your jaw-line, “that it matters not what the king will allow if he is not present. Do you see him?”He pushes your head to the side, forcing you to look down the hallway. “I don’t.” This is the closest Geralt has ever been to you, practically pressing you against the wall, caging you in with his massive arms. You understand now, the message relayed beneath his words—you are in no position to negotiate. 

 “You are my brother!” You plead, but he is unmoved. 

 “In name only.” He leans down, twining a lock of hair between his fingers, tugging it gently. “My father’s sham of a marriage has remarkably little to do with me.” You press yourself against the stone as he leans closer. “Come now, little Doe. Let us speak truth.” He tugs gently at the satin ribbon at the neck of your shift and it falls open. 

 “What you saw in the gardens intrigued you,” Geralt traces a path from your chin to your collarbone, his fingers feather-light, “did it not?”

 “No!” His open amusement at your conviction is like cold water down your back. 

 “I saw, Sweetling,” he says lowly. “The look on your face—”

 “Fine!” You shrill, tearing yourself away from him. It is not true, it cannot be—and yet, your blood rushes through your veins, a thin tendril of that same shameful longing uncurling in your belly. The dark curiosity that had driven you to peer around the hedge all those nights ago surges with sinful familiarity, even as you try to stamp it out.

 You lean forward with a grimace, rolling onto the tips of your toes. The prince cups your chin, smoothing a finger along your lower lip. He is unprepared for you to turn your head sharply, your lips brushing against his stubbled cheek. It is only the quickness of your movement and Prince Geralt’s own surprise that allows your malicious compliance, and you dart away, ducking under his arm and through the slim gap in the door. 

 He snarls, reaching for you, but you slam the it shut, sliding the bolt into place with speed that surprises you. Your heart hammers against your chest as for a brief moment, there is silence on the other side of the door. 

 “Aren’t you clever,” he sneers, his voice muffled through the wood.  He tries the handle before letting out a muted curse. “Open the door.” Your silence earns you a dark growl. “Open it!”

  You jump back from the door, muffling the sound of your scream with the palms of your hands as Geralt throws himself against it. It shudders in its frame, and for a terrifying moment you fear it will burst open, revealing the enraged prince on the other side—but it does not.

 “Open it!” You shrink against the wall as he seethes, his threats echoing in your ears. The sturdy wood holds against his assault, and when he finally stops, you can hear the sound of his labored breathing on the other side. That too, gradually fades into silence, and cautiously, you approach the door. Somehow, though you cannot see him, you know he remains there, waiting. 

 “You will regret this night.” There is grim promise in his words. “Little sister.” The sound of Geralt’s retreating footsteps makes your shoulders sag with relief, and you collapse against the wall, your breath labored. Though you doubt he is still there, waiting to ambush you in the hall, you do not dare open the door again until morning—

 Just in case. 

 —

 “It is a beautiful day, is it not?” Your mother flutters her fan daintily as she basks in the warm end-of-summer sun. To her right, Lady Amelia, red-faced and sweating beneath her pale face paint, forces a smile through her obvious discomfort.

 “Oh yes, Highness.” She blinks as a cloudy bead of sweat slides down into her eye. “Lovely.”

 You know the noblewomen fawning over your mother would much rather be inside, sheltered from the hot sun by the cold stone of the castle. It was where you would have been, if not for the summons from your mother. You had spent the majority of the past week or so in your chambers, reluctantly leaving them only when strictly necessary in your attempts to avoid the prince.

 The Prince.

 At the thought of him, you cast a wary glance at your surroundings, looking for the telltale gleam of his golden eyes, or the shock of his snow white hair. Thankfully, you find neither. Crossing the patch of soft, green grass toward your mother, you perch impatiently on the end of the carved stone bench as you wait for her to notice you. You make idle conversation with her ladies as you wait, twisting your fingers nervously in the fabric of your skirts while you try to parse out your request.

 I want to go home. 

 “Ah, daughter,” she greets you, and you drop your head respectfully as she addresses you. “Come to enjoy the weather?” She gestures around her at the blooming garden. “I daresay we shall miss it soon enough.”  She stretches, the jewels adorning her fingers and throat shining brilliantly in the sun.

 “It is lovely,” you say, nodding agreeably. “It does remind me of home.” You curse yourself as the word slips from your lips. Instantly, your eyes fly to your mother’s face, watching for the displeasure you know you will see written in the stiffness of her smile or the narrowed slant of her eyes. 

 “Of Redania, you mean.” The soft curve of her lips belie the dagger sharp edges of her words. The smile you force in return is weak, trembling at the edges of your mouth. 

 “Y-yes. That is… what I meant to say.” You do not miss the way her ladies lean in amongst themselves, whispering. “D-did you wish to speak with me?” Though the day is unseasonably warm, and you yourself are surrounded by people, you feel small and cold and alone. Adrift. 

 “Must a mother need a reason to see her child?” She asks, rising gracefully from her seat. One of the servants rushes over with a parasol, but she waves him away, shaking her head. “If a reason must be given, I suppose mine might be that I have missed you.”  She loops her arm through one of yours securely, steering you off the patch of cool grass and back onto the garden path proper.  The whispers of her ladies follow behind you, biting at your heels they fade. 

 “I am your mother, and yet I cannot recall when last we broke bread together.” 

 “I have found myself quite exhausted, of late,” You mumble the half truth. “I fear the journey weighs heavily upon me still.” You suppress a shudder as you remember the dream, your father’s rotting face bloated with fat maggots—“I have not slept well.” 

 “Late night escapades do tend to be quite exhausting.” Her lips curve into a cold, knowing smile, and your belly fills with hot lead. Shame turns the blood in your veins to ice as your mother inspects her sleeve. A terrible fury rages beneath the placid surface of her pleasantries, and you cower in the face of it. 

 “M-mother, I—” The words will not come, leaving you floundering as your mouth opens and closes in silence. “H-he—”

 “Did you think I would not see it?” She spits. Disgust drips from the words.    “Would not notice his...” She pauses, her eyes narrowing as her mouth twists with displeasure. “Interest.” You swallow against the lump in your throat, knowing it matters not but still wondering who might have seen, who might have witnessed Prince Geralt raging at your door. 

 “Mother, I-I swear to you, I have done nothing—! H-he, I—I walked in my sleep, a-and he found me, I—nothing happened!” You hate the look on her face, like your pleas of innocence have only confirmed your guilt. “Nothing—”

 “Nothing?” Her lip curls. “You must know these games you play, all they have done is pique his interest.” She speaks as though somehow, you should have known better. “Men are stupid, willful creatures, desirous of what they cannot have.” She clucks her tongue at you. “Your father coddled you far too long—you are a woman grown! It is long past time you act like it!” 

 “Father would believe me!” You sob. Hot, angry tears spill down your cheeks.   “I am innocent!” Your mother stares at you coldly, before reaching forward to cup your chin. 

 “It is not your innocence I question.” Your mother’s voice is deceptively soft.   “It is your sense.” You blink at her through your tears, trembling. “My sweet, naive girl.” She wipes roughly at your tears with the pad of her thumb. The cold distance in her eyes splits you cleanly down the middle like a sharp blade. There is part of you that wants to fawn, to deliver honeyed words on a platter until her love shines down on you again like the sun—

 And part that wants nothing more than to flee. You want to ask—no, beg—for her to send you home, to return you to the walls you knew better than the lines on your own palms. Your mother embraces you, her lips brushing your cheek even as your own work silently. The words won’t come, like they are stuck in your throat. 

 “There should be only honesty between us.” Your mother says. “Understand?”

 I want to go home.

 Send me home.

 Please.

 “Yes.” You hang your head in defeat, the words retreating from your tongue.  

 “Good.” She chirps as she leans away. She is herself again, smiling affectionately as she brushes imaginary dirt from your dress, tucking loose strands of hair back into your fraying braid. “And you’ll tidy up for supper, won’t you? We have missed you at the table these past nights.” You clasp your hands together so tightly that your palms sting as you force a smile.

 “Of course.” 

 For a moment, just a moment, the warm breeze carries with it the smell of rot and earth, and you remember the doe, your father’s gift dead and bloated in the patch of hexweed in the woods. 

 It smells like sugarcane, but it isn’t, your father had taught you young. It smells sweet, but it’s not, understand? 

 Perhaps, you think, as you reluctantly follow your mother’s retreating back, people can be hexweed too.

to be continued…

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[hannibals-favourite-meal]

.⋆｡What He Deserves｡⋆.

Alpha!Bucky Barnes x omega!plus size reader

The morning after Bucky claims you, he realises how much he truly loves you

Warnings: implied smut, nudity, mention of claiming, fluff, brief talks about Bucky’s past

WC: 478

Minors DNI

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

4k Celebration

Dawn crept over the horizon slowly, the weak winter sun just barely breaking through the curtains on the far side of the bedroom, creating small beams of light that fell over the bed. There were pillows and sheets strewn everywhere, leaving the bed bare save for a singular blanket that covered the occupants.

Bucky had been awake for hours, in fact he hadn’t even fallen asleep. Too overwhelmed with new emotions to even think about shutting his eyes, he had just watched you. You were sprawled on top of him, your naked body fitting perfectly on his own, chest to chest, your legs intertwined with your nose firmly pressed against his collarbone.

The wound on your shoulder was already healing, it would leave a scar but that was the whole point wasn’t it. A perfect circle of small cuts that, if Bucky leaned down and put his mouth to it, would match the pattern of his teeth. Unable to stop himself, he rubbed his thumb against the broken skin and fresh wave of your scent washed over him.

Bucky groaned as he inhaled, the smell of you so raw and untainted it made his skin prickle with goosebumps.

“Alpha?” Your voice came out as more of a rasp, still thick with sleep.

He winced. “Sorry mega, didn’t mean to wake you.” You hummed and nuzzled further into his warm chest, your hand coming up to rest just over his heart. Bucky smiled and kissed the top of your head.

“’S okay.” You sighed, a happy calmness spreading through the fresh bond. It immediately settles in his stomach, a feeling of peace and home. His grip gets just a little tighter but you don’t fight it, instead your soft body goes completely limp in his arms as you let out a contented mewl.

Snores began to escape your lips once more and Bucky just watched you. This was all he had ever wanted but never thought he could have, or deserved. You were his everything and by the grace of whatever god was out there, you let him worship you and love you with his whole being.

And now you were mated, joined together for eternity.

You chased away his nightmares with a smile, banishing them to a place where they could never hurt him again. You guided him into the light with your laughter, you showed him that touch doesn’t always bring pain. You proved to him that he was more than his past, more than a puppet for someone else’s bidding. 

“I love you more than I ever thought possible.” He spoke quietly into the early morning light so as to not wake you once more. He let his eyes finally slip shut, content with you in his arms, your scent keeping him grounded.

He couldn’t wait to wake up and start the rest of your lives.

Request: Do you think I could get a a/b/o with either “I burn for you,” or “I love you more than I ever thought possible” with either Kylo Ren or Bucky Barnes?

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