#kiyan

[milkii-lol]

OC REDESIGNS : bria (ft. kiyan)

bria was an old gc oc i made in 2023 nd never showed the world cs i quit gacha during that time period

BUUUT shes very lovely . a bit boy-crazy nd quite the adventurer

kiyan is CHOPPED . so chopped that i cannot show u his old design under cut ........

okay fine she looked better here

[groovyleviathan]

rip Kiyan

[doubleclutch]

Year 2 Kiyan loading. He’s starting to look more like Carmelo or is it just me?

[zkretchy]

@shadowy-dumbo-octopus hi :D i thought i'd worsen your troubles regarding the Frankensteination of ... i guess just Levi & Kiyan in general - so I gingerfied the man / my design of him and put him on a mountain (look how nice I was-I even gave him a coat!)

anyhow same but regular dark hair down below

and because the mountain meant light x100 here are the flats i chose (bc i did not give this man BRIGHT orange hair just to be sure here-but that's why i tend to go darker overall anyways)

[miyamiwu]

now that I’m talking about OC’s, I might as well ask Tumblr for help with this guy’s wardrobe coz I’ve been stuck on this for weeks

Ignore the type of outfit in the images. Just focus on their color

Based on vibes alone, which color suits him?

Black

White

Neither (specify other color in tags)

Voting ended onOct 26, 2025

[anddoodle]

Happy Birthday to one of my best friends @kiyan200

[unbury-the-gays]

Chapters: 2/? Fandom: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Prince Adrien/Kiyan (The Witcher), Kiyan & Joël (The Witcher), Kiyan & OC (The Witcher) Characters: Prince Adrien (The Witcher), Kiyan (The Witcher), Joël (The Witcher), Original Male Character(s) of Color, Original Borsodi Brothers Additional Tags: Found Family, Legends, Mermaids, Post-Quest: Cat School Gear Scavenger Hunt (The Witcher 3: Wild Hunt), Birthday, Swordfighting, Swords, Character(s) of Color, Gods, Canon-Typical Violence, Sparring, Fairy Tale Curses, Pagan Gods, Adventure Series: Part 9 of Unbury The Gays

Summary:

In the midst of a charged sparring match, Adrien surprises Kiyan with an unexpected request. Shemihaza, a saber of deep personal significance, is more than just a weapon—it's a piece of Adrien’s past, imbued with meaning and memories. Kiyan’s task will be to pass it on, returning it to its rightful owner. A witcher knows better than anyone how difficult it is to part with a beloved blade.

Kiyan has spent years saving for a new sword of his own, enduring hardships and sacrifices along the way. Yet, when Adrien’s prized saber is given away, Kiyan chooses to forgo his long-awaited weapon and instead forge something truly unique for the prince—a blade that could rival even the legendary Shemihaza. To do so, he must seek out a master blacksmith capable of crafting such a weapon, but his journey will take him far beyond Novigrad. Along the way, he will uncover forgotten legends, discover secrets of ancient gods, and follow a mysterious trail that leads him to the mythical island of Jurata, the Queen of the Seas.

______________________________________

Today, Kiyan was testing one of the many steel swords from Adrien’s extensive collection—his temporary arsenal ever since he’d lost his own during Ireneus’s ambush. The witcher adjusted his grip on the ornate longsword, gauging its balance as Adrien lunged at him, his Ofieri saber cutting through the air with a graceful, deadly arc. Their duel was both a rigorous exercise and a game of subtle seduction, a physical dance that kept them sharp during the long, gray winter days. The prince was relentless, his movements precise, his footwork light despite the fatigue that weighed on his limbs. But Kiyan had seen the signs—the subtle hitch in Adrien’s breath, the slight delay in his parries, the sheen of sweat darkening his collar and shirt clinging to his toned frame. The duel had gone on long enough for the human body to falter.

Adrien, of course, refused to yield.

“You’re slowing down,” Kiyan noted, his voice even, his stance loose yet coiled with potential energy. He circled Adrien, amber eyes tracking every shift in weight, every fleeting indication of his next move.

Adrien, panting but grinning, pushed a damp lock of hair from his forehead. “And yet,” he countered, feinting left before pivoting into a low slash, “I’m still standing.”

Kiyan deflected the strike effortlessly, angling his blade to guide Adrien’s momentum off balance. The prince barely managed to recover, boots skidding slightly against the polished wooden floor. For all his skill, he couldn’t match the raw speed and endurance of a witcher. And yet, he fought as if he could. As if sheer willpower alone could bridge the gap between them.

It was infuriating. It was intoxicating.

Their swords met again, sparks flying as Kiyan pressed forward, driving Adrien back step by step until his back nearly crashed into the spine of an ancient tome resting on a nearby shelf. The scent of worn leather and ink filled Kiyan’s lungs, mingling with the salt of sweat and the faintest hint of expensive perfume oils Adrien had smuggled into his morning routine.

Then, in one fluid motion, Kiyan locked their blades, twisted, and forced Adrien against the wooden frame. The prince gasped, his back hitting the shelf with a dull thud, and Kiyan took the opening—steel kissing the column of Adrien’s throat, the pulse beneath it fluttering like a caged bird.

A victorious smirk threatened to curl Kiyan’s lips, but he held it back. “Yield,” he commanded instead, his voice quiet but firm. The heat of exertion burned in his muscles, but it was nothing compared to the fire in Adrien’s dark eyes.

Silence stretched between them, thick with the tension of combat—of something more. Then, Adrien’s mouth curled into that signature, insufferably self-assured smile. For a heartbeat, time seemed to pause as Kiyan’s eyes burned into Adrien’s, watching him swallow hard. A challenge mingled with mischief.

In a husky whisper, Adrien murmured, “You have the most beautiful amber eyes, Kitty.”

Kiyan inhaled sharply through his nose, his grip tightening on the sword hilt. His heart pounded in his chest, and though Adrien’s words sent a familiar surge of desire through him, he forced himself to remain composed. He knew this was a diversion—a calculated attempt to distract him, to tempt him into submission. He had no intention of indulging in Adrien’s little tricks.

“This won’t work,” Kiyan said, his voice steady despite the warmth curling low in his stomach. He knew this game too well. Adrien loved to push, to provoke, to see how far he could bend before breaking. “But you can compliment me after you concede.”

Adrien, unrepentant, shifted just enough to press his thigh between Kiyan’s legs. “Oh, I don’t know,” he mused, feigning innocence as he rolled his hips with slow, deliberate precision. The friction was exquisite. Undeniable.

Kiyan’s body reacted before his mind could catch up, heat pooling low, blood rushing hot beneath his skin. Adrien’s smirk deepened, dark eyes gleaming with satisfaction. He no doubt felt Kiyan hardening in response to the teasing.

“I think it’s working rather well,” he murmured.

Kiyan growled low in frustration. That bastard.

His blade was still at Adrien’s throat. If this were a real fight, it would be over. The kill would be his. But there was something far more satisfying waiting to be won. The witcher had entirely different plans for the prince’s throat—and for claiming his victory.

More on AO3

[keirametzbrassknuckles]

Kiyan as a slav-squatting, Adidas tracksuit wearing, hardbass-listening, chainsmoking eastern european stereotype. You see the vision