I Have A Request For Geraltreader. Imagine Being Pregnant From Geralt But You Know That's Actually Impossible.

I have a request for Geralt×reader. Imagine being pregnant from Geralt but you know that's actually impossible. So you go to Vesemir first and ask him if its even possible. Than you go and tell Geralt the good news and He is very shocked at first but than happy about it 😀

bella swan vibes i love it. first geralt fic I literally just started season 2 so pls excuse the inaccuracies 

part one / two / three 

You hadn’t bled in three months; and if you weren’t too busy travelling the Continent defeating monsters with Geralt, maybe you would have realized sooner. But it was a known fact that Witchers were sterile, so when the town fortune teller told you that you would be expecting a child in six months, one with golden eyes and mutated genes, you just about laughed in her face.

But a month later, there was definitely a bump that was evident under your leather corset, and you couldn’t stop the sickness every morning. Geralt was getting concerned.

“When we get to Kaer Morhen, you’re resting,” he said, tracing shapes on the warm skin of your hip. His chest was pressed against your back, legs tangled with yours. Luckily, he had a penchant for taking you from behind, and there was no reason for him to suspect anything more than you were being well fed while you rested in this village.

You were looking forward to the visit to where Geralt was trained; there would be men there would could perhaps better understand what was happening to your body, or if it was even possible.

You hummed, shifting in his arms and reaching up to move a sweaty tendril of ashen hair from his face. “You should, as well. You’ve been so worried about Ciri lately.”

He just grunted, a hand tracing down your neck and to your collarbone, before trailing down to grab a handful of your breast. Those were getting bigger, too, although that he may have noticed.

“I’ll rest when I know you both are safe.”

When you arrived at Kaer Morhen, you immediately searched out Vesemir. Geralt had told you about him-- he would know whether this was real or not. 

It wasn’t until Geralt and Ciri were both occupied with training that you cornered the man, getting straight to the point.

“Listen, has there ever been a baby borne between a Witcher and a human?” you asked, nervously fidgeting with your hands.

Vesemir looked unsurprised, glancing over at you. “No, never. Not under any normal circumstances. Witchers are unable to father children.”

You nodded, a hand subconsciously drifting down to your stomach. So, maybe this was all in your head...

“However,” he continued, his hands clasping behind his back as he stared out the window into the mountains, “You haven’t been in normal circumstances lately, have you, my dear?”

You looked up, furrowing your brows. “What do you mean?”

Vesemir chuckled, meeting your eyes. “I mean perhaps you are not entirely human. Or perhaps in your travels, you have been exposed to something that has made the impossible possible. Wouldn’t be the first time, now, would it?”

It was then that you felt a shift, a kick-- against the hand you had rested on your abdomen. It was moving. 

You looked up in shock, only to be met with a look of glee from Vesemir. 

“I heard the heartbeat when we first met, my dear. Geralt must know, he just doesn’t want to accept it.”

A few hours later, you finally had some alone time with Geralt. You were watching him carefully as he bathed, looking for any indication that he was aware of your pregnancy. Maybe he thought it wasn’t his. No, you'd hardly had time for one another, let alone for another man the past year. And he was your everything; he knew that. He had to know. 

“Geralt,” you started, undressing slowly before sinking into the warm water with him. He gave you a slight smile, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you into his lap.

“How are you, my love?”

“I’m pregnant.” You blurted out, bracing yourself for his response. 

You were expecting denials, confusion, perhaps anger-- not Geralt pressing a kiss to your lips and grumbling, “Fuck,” into your mouth, followed by a soft chuckle.

You pulled away with a frown, eyes wide. “Did you know?”

“I suspected,” he explained, tilting his head as he observed you. “The sickness, the weight gain, your insatiable appetite for cheese... and I heard the heartbeat a week ago. Not much slips past my senses, unfortunately.”

“But why didn’t you tell me?” you asked, thinking back to that fortune teller. Did he know before you did? Geralt shook his head, glancing away. “I didn’t believe it, at first. There was no way. I’m sterile, I know for certain. I just kept telling myself I was going crazy. But if Vesemir says it is true...”

You leaned back slightly, hands clinging to his shoulders. “How is this possible--”

“The mage we helped back in Temeria. I had mentioned how good of a mother you were to Ciri, but that you would never be able to have your own if you were with me. I think she may have slipped a potion in our ale that night.”

Your cheeks heated up when you recalled how that night ended; yes, a pregnancy would not have been a surprise if magic had been involved after the hours Geralt spend worshipping your body. 

“Oh,” you breathed out, looking up to meet his eyes. “Are you... are you okay with this? I mean, I know there is a reason Witchers are sterile--”

“This life is not conductive to raising a child, having a family,” he finished, rippling the water with his hand and letting a rivet of warm water run down your arm. “I always thought I’d be a terrible father, anyway. But I look at Ciri, and I know I can protect her. I can protect you, and this baby, too. Maybe it is not impossible, after all.”

You felt tears come to your eyes, and blamed it on the hormones. But yesterday you were prepared for Vesemir to tell you it was it was some mind game and all in your head, that having Geralt’s child would never be possible, and today you were having his baby. A baby with those yellow eyes and maybe his nose, his abilities-- but whatever it was, you already loved it. 

“Geralt,” you choked out, pulling him in for a deep and ravishing kiss. He let out a groan, allowing you to lick into his mouth as he hands gripped onto your ass, pulling you further into his lap. This beautiful woman was going to be the mother to his children, Ciri and the unborn half-Witcher, and he suddenly had everything he never knew he wanted.

Sleeping geraskefer fanart

!!! TW: Self Harm Scars !!!

Been thinking about the audio world of the witcher 3. At first I was annoyed with how loud everything was. The wind, leaves moving, wild life or monsters making noises in the woods. Everything felt so overloading. Also the way shadows work, constantly moving and distorting my field of vision. The thing is, the way everything sounds in the game feels exactly like how I experience voice during a sensory overload. The distorter chatter, wind howling, something moving in the bushes, voices filling my ears until i feel myself get lost in the voice.

I eventually got used to it, as I every day have to in the real world. Something about Geralt experiencing the world with his heightened senses like that makes me however, feel a lot. Such a cool detail

Healing Hands. || Geralt of Rivia x F!Reader. [ONESHOT.]

There are not many beings that Geralt trusts to tend to his wounds. Amongst the limited few is a novice woodland witch - one that he’s long felt affection for.

Explicit Sexual Content. Witch!Reader. Hurt/Comfort Elements.

WARNINGS: 18+ ONLY. Wounds and Injuries. Explicit Sex (F!Receiving Oral & Vaginal). Reader Has Long Hair - But No Other Physical Descriptions Used. Not Beta Read. Minorly Edited.

MASTERLIST || TAGLIST

Likes, comments, and reblogs are much appreciated!

“Why do you always have to end up like this?”

The words are spoken more to yourself than him. Muttered. Annoyed. Yet, simultaneously gentle and concerned. Just like the brush of your fingers are you pack herbs around his wound - holding them in place as you wind the bandage tighter around his muscled side.

Geralt only hums. The heat of your cottage and the warmth of your touch is nice. Comforting. He knows that he can relax here. That he’s safe with you.

Yet, your displeasure at his state remains obvious.

His hands raise. They settle on your hips. Insistent, yet gentle - broad and strong as he slowly tries to reel you in. Wanting to bring you closer to where he sits upon your bed. Ignoring the fact that even now as you stand above - straddling his legs while tending to his wounds - you’re not far from him at all.

Still, he needs more.

Keep reading

Trapped | alt version

geralt x fem!reader

redo of this. basically it went from friends to lovers to enemies to lovers

warnings | smutty smut 18+

wc | 1.2k

a/n | oh yea, and Geralt is a bottom. also i didn't proofread, sorry

****

You always hated missions like this. You were perfectly capable on your own. But Geralt, who you only associated with due to mutual friends, was forced to come with you. Yennefer had insisted it was a two-person job, for two very skilled individuals.

A box. A fucking jewelry box. A tiny one, at that. What could possibly be so important that she sends you both down here in these horrid ruins? To be honest, you tried not to care. In and out. That was your job. And the witcher was just an accessory.

Geralt had walked ahead of you, doing whatever it was that he did while searching. While your approach was far more organized, going over section by section, investigating anything that stood out.

You thought you had it when you saw a gleam from between a pillar and the wall by the door. It seemed too easy, but you hadn’t thought of that when you reached for it.

Almost as soon as you grasped it, a stone wall slammed down over the entrance, trapping the two of you inside.

"What the hell?" Geralt spun around at the noise, locking deadly eyes with yours. But you couldn't speak, not well enough to respond.

He decided not to engage, it wouldn't help the situation and he knew it. There was also the little fact that he really didn't want to fight with you, if not just for now. So, he began looking for a way out, along with the box.

"Do you always have to be so careless?"

"Hey, it's not like I wanted to be down here in the first place. You think I wanted to get stuck in some disgusting cave thing. Much less with you?"

"If you paid attention this wouldn't have happened, y/n."

"God's, alright, I get it. And would you stop looking at me like that?"

He continued to glare, though there was a strange twinkle in his eye.

"Trust me, I'd rather not look at you at all. But someone got us stuck in these damn ruins, and there is literally nothing else to look at."

“Well, why are you looking at me like that?”

Geralt was unaware of the way he was gazing at you. A whirlpool of emotion stirring behind yellow irises. There was the usual contempt, aided by the quirk of his upper lip, but there was more than that. An intrigue, maybe. Surely something you had never received from the witcher before now.

“If I didn’t know any better I’d say you’re looking quite lusty, witcher. Would make a bit of sense, really. What’s one more insanely unstable relationship to add to the list?”

"What are you talking about?" There was something not unlike desperation in his eyes. His shoulders hunched over, bringing his front as close to you as they were able while still maintaining his usual distance.

"Yennefer?"

"That's over. I guess it never was anything anyway.”

"Figures."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means you're a whore, Geralt."

"What about Dandelion, hmm? Still think you’re so perfect?" A gut punch, but you could fight back.

"Triss?"

For a moment, your eyes locked. The only sounds were that of your breathing, soft and faltering. Geralt’s eyebrow quirked up when you narrowed your gaze.

“We might die in here.”

“From dehydration, yes. If we don’t kill each other first.” His brow stayed raised, trying to gauge your actions.

“We don’t have to fight.”

It was you who made the first move. Every so gracefully, you slammed your lips upon his. Though, you gasped after pulling away seconds later. You were about to walk away, it felt wrong not to ask, but there was no way those words were coming out of your mouth. Geralt, I still hate you, but would you please just fuck me senseless? Abso-fucking-lutely not.

It seemed that Geralt understood what was going on, and before you could walk away, he pulled you onto his lap. With just about as much grace as you had, he cupped the back of your head, bringing you back to his lips.

You could feel him growing beneath you as you pressed every inch of yourself against him. He groaned into your mouth before his nimble fingers worked the laces of your armor. Thankfully, his much more complicated set had been abandoned while searching, leaving him in a simple shirt, which you deftly slid off of him.

Once his chest was bared, you struggled to not comment. There were so many things you could say to bring him down, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to say any of them. Instead, you would show him who was in charge, hoping that would rile him up a bit.

“What do you want from me, Geralt?”

“Y/n.” You could tell he was trying to intimidate, but it wasn’t working. You could see the arousal in his face and hear it in his voice. There was nothing this man wouldn’t do in this very moment.

“I asked you a question.”

“I want to- ugh- I want to fuck you.”

“Uh uh,” you tutted, “turn that around, witcher.”

“Fuck you,” you pressed yourself further against his restrained cock, earning another grunt before he hurriedly continued, “Fuck me, y/n.”

“Good boy.” You pulled off the final layer that was separating you and slowly, painfully so, worked him until you lined him up at your entrance. He looked like he was restraining himself from completely taking over, but you knew he wouldn’t do that, so you took your time.

You let him enter, only slightly, before lifting yourself up off of him again. You would repeat this until you sank down on him completely.

Geralt was still sitting on the desk, you on his lap, when you began to set a fast pace. Your hand reached around the back of his head and grabbed a fistful of his silvery hair. You swallowed his moan as he began grabbing at your ass.

Gods he was loud. You didn’t know if it made you want to slap him or kiss him even harder. Maybe both? Taking in the already rough way you were fucking him, you decided to take it a step further.

Roughly, you grabbed his jaw and made him look at you. When you were sure he was ok, you planted your lips firmly on his.

As you felt him near his climax, you reached down between your legs, but not before Geralt could swat them away and do the work for you. He steadily rubbed circles around your clit, working you up to your high.

You pulled back from his mouth and your eyes locked. No words were spoken, but a conversation was being had through your eyes. Your soft moans evolved into something louder and Geralt's grunts grew even more frantic.

His head fell into the crook of your neck, a softer sound escaped him as he finally came. Shortly after, you had as well. In the heat of the moment, your teeth found their way to his shoulder.

Before you could catch your breath, Geralt was kissing down your chest and his hand grabbed a handful of your breast. You wanted to ask what he was doing, but for the moment, you couldn't care less.

"What makes me so different from everyone else?"

"Honestly?"

"Mhm."

"This."

You didn't have time to respond. With a whooshing sound and a clap a portal appeared. A familiar raven-haired mage stepped out, Yennefer.

"Well, I can honestly say I was not expecting that."

Geralt: I feel like I can be myself around you.

Yennefer: You're weird and quiet around me.

Geralt: Yes.