Rated: 18+, porn with minor plot, first time sex, pussy eating, whimpering needy Shachi, smut smut smut ♡
A birthday fic for my bestie Venus [@buggyandthebartoclub ]!! She asked for something Shachi and I was more than happy to deliver 🤭🤭🤭💖💖💖 I am so blessed and overjoyed to have one of the world's most amazing people as a bestie, I am so happy you exist my lovely Venus. Thank you for coming into my life and fueling my selfship craziness and for supporting my life's journey. You are such a wonderful person and I'm so happy I get to be a part of your life.
I hope you enjoy this little treat, my love!!
You'd been living on the Polar Tang for nearly a year when your birthday came round, almost missing it if it weren't for Ikkaku saying something as you two were getting dressed for a boiler room shift.
“Is it February already?” You murmured absent-mindedly, zipping up your suit and turning to face her. Your best friend shook her head with a laugh of disbelief, nearly shocked that you'd forget what day it was.
“Your birthday is literally tomorrow, dude.”
You frowned slightly, giving a soft hum before slipping into your boots, tying them tight. While you knew Christmas had already passed, it did not feel like it was already February.
“Time passes so weird on the sub,” you commented as you both left your shared room, closing the door behind you.
“You get used to it,” She replied, tugging you down the hallways towards the kitchen area. You both waved and said your good mornings to Uni and Penguin, who sat at the bartop eating breakfast.
“There's coffee brewed if you want it,” Penguin commented to you, nodding his head at you in a form of acknowledgment. You grinned in response and poured yourself a cup, giving a soft, delighted hum as you took a long sip.
“Well, if it isn't the most gorgeous thing to ever grace this little ship!”
You raised an eyebrow in jest at Shachi who rounded the corner, a grin of his own already cracking his face as he closed in towards you. He leaned down slightly to smack a loud kiss to your cheek, ignoring your grunt of protest before gently snatching your coffee from your hands.
You gawked at him as he chugged it back, giving a loud, content sigh as he placed the mug down. There was a moment of bewildered silence before all four of you jumped him, shouting swears and beating the redhead into a lump in the corner.
Cradling a new cup of joe in your hands, you followed Ikkaku down to the boiler room, giving a cranky groan as you sat at the table containing the ship's blueprints. Ikkaku sat across from you, picking up one of the sheets from the table and giving a groan of her own as she did her morning checklist.
“You wanna check gauges for me when you're ready?”
You gave a tired grunt in response, taking another few sips before making your way to the first boiler tank. Picking up the clipboard hanging on the side, you checked the gauges and wrote down the numbers, just like you'd done hundreds of times. After documenting them all and signing off with your initials, you moved onto the second and did the exact same, humming along to the snail-radio that sat off to the side of the room.
“Hey Vee, so uh,”
You glanced over your shoulder at Ikkaku, a questioning look on your face as you waited for her to continue. She opened her mouth and you both jumped as the boilers turned on with loud groans and clanks, the heat coming off them immediately causing you both to begin sweating.
You both groaned at the same time, knowing they only did that when it got too cold outside the sub, which could freeze the mechanics inside the ship if the temperature dropped too low.
“We must be getting close to a winter island,” You commented as you unzipped the top half of your suit, tying it around your waist comfortably, glad you had put on a proper tank top underneath. Ikkaku followed suit, giving a slight cough as she finally continued,
“So… you uh, you and Shachi, huh?”
Your face burst into bright reds at her question, your answer catching in your throat as you sign off on the second boiler.
“You got me fucked up, what are you going on about?”
Your bestie gave a loud laugh in reply, reaching closer and whacking your shoulder with a friendly punch.
“You can't hide shit from me, you dumb bitch. Try again.”
An anxious groan escaped you as you moved onto the third boiler, picking up the clipboard before giving your best friend a long sigh. You stared at the ceiling for a second before finally admitting,
“Yeah, okay, me and Shachi are um, interested in each other?”
Ikkaku gave a cackle of triumph, clinging to you and shaking you by your shoulders.
“Oh, I fuckin’ knew it! The way you didn't immediately punch him when he smooched your cheek and stole your coffee earlier-”
You quickly shushed her, looking around nervously before looking back to her with an anxious reply of,
“We just don't want to get in trouble. We don't even know if we're allowed to date, so we're just… trying to keep it on the down low, you know?”
Ikkaku gave you a pointed stare, crossing her arms over her chest as she questioned,
“You guys really think the Captain wouldn't let you guys be happy together? I don't think he'd be like that, especially with it being your birthday tomorrow.”
You sighed heavily and tapped the clipboard against your forehead a few times before explaining,
“It's not that, it's just, you know, a professionalism thing. We live together, we work together, it's a bit of a dangerous thing, honestly.” you chewed your bottom lip for a moment before continuing softly, “At least, to me it feels like that.”
Ikkaku thought over your words for a second before giving you a solid nod, her expression understanding as she patted your shoulder.
“Alright … I get it. I won't say anything.”
Feeling like a weight was lifted from you, you gave her a nod of your own, a small smile on your face as you thanked her. As she walked away to do her own work, you finished up your readings and initialed off, going back to the table and finishing off your now lukewarm coffee.
“Venus-ya.”
You turned and gave Law a wave, to which he returned with a nod of his hatted head.
“Are you done here?”
You looked to Ikkaku who gave a nod, sipping her own coffee as she waved you both off.
“I can handle it from here, thanks for your help!”
Your Captain looked down to you and quietly asked,
“A moment of your time?”
Anxious gnawing ate away at your stomach at his words, giving him a wide eyed look before nodding slowly. You asked in the same tone,
“... am I in trouble?”
Your Captain gave you a cheeky, raised eyebrow in return, not verbally replying as he turned and began walking out of the boiler room. You and Ikkaku shared a look before you took off after him.
You caught up quickly, grateful that he slowed slightly as you walked side by side. Worry washed over your skin at the silence, wanting to ask him literally anything to rid the buzz that rang in your ears, but nothing came out.
You followed behind as he led you into his office, though you froze at the doorway as you take in Shachi sitting in one of the chairs in front of Law's desk. Both your faces turned white as you made eye contact, slowly finding your way to your chair and sitting down.
There was a heavy silence in the office as Law sat down, rubbing at his face for a few moments before giving a sigh, leaning back in his chair as he stared at the two of you.
“So.”
You clasped your hands together tightly in your lap, your nails digging into the backs of your hands as you waited for him to continue, unable to look over and see if Shachi was just as nervous.
“Is there something you two want to tell me?”
There was another heavy silence that weighed over the three of you until Shachi finally spoke up, his voice quiet but honest.
“... I'm in love with her.”
You whipped your head to the side, staring at him with wide, teary eyes as your heart leapt into your throat. He only stared at Law, his gaze dark and serious behind his shades which his Captain could almost physically feel.
“And you?”
You turned back to Law as a few tears slipped down your cheeks, causing your Captain to stiffen at seeing them. He went to say something when you cut him off, your voice shaky as you replied,
“I love him.”
Shachi reached over and gripped your clasped hands in one of his, his touch warm and grounding though his palm was slightly sweaty. You flashed him a quick, watery grin before you both looked back to Law.
The Heart Pirate Captain was silent, watching you both with a hawk eyed expression, mulling over his words as he crossed his arms over his chest.
“... I'm happy for you two.”
Excitement washed over the both of you as you visibly relaxed, your hands peeling apart to cling to Shachi's. Law watched you two for a moment more before continuing,
“While I can accept this, I expect you both to be respectful of those around you and also of each other. I don't want my ship falling apart due to you having a fight or anything. I expect work to be completed as usual, I expect nothing but the best from both of you, am I understood?”
You and Shachi nodded eagerly at his words, grins washing over both your faces as Law continued,
“You have my blessing. All I ask is that you be safe with this decision,” he made a point to look at you, causing your face to burn red. “I know you're on birth control but things can happen. I expect you both to be incredibly careful about this.”
You sniffled softly and wiped at your face with one hand, the other still clinging to Shachi's as you murmured out gratefully,
“Thank you, Captain.”
Law simply nods in response before going back to his books on his desk.
“You're dismissed. Back to work, both of you.”
You and Shachi rise from your chairs and make quick work of leaving his office, only getting a few steps away from his door before Shachi scoops you up into his arms, pressing hot kisses to your face as he holds you close. You cling to him in response, catching his lips against yours a few times as a delighted laugh leaves you.
“I'm so in love with you, Venus,” he barely gets out, his fingers digging into the suit wrapped around your waist. “You have seriously made me the happiest guy on the Grand Line.”
You can't help but grin up at him, an ecstatic and loving look spread across your face as you replied,
“I feel the same, Shachi. I love you so much.”
You both spend a few more moments holding each other, not wanting to separate just yet and a desperate thought comes to Shachi as he asks in a soft purr,
“Can I have you before we go back? I can't wait, I need you-”
You cut him off with a heavy kiss, one hand clinging to the back of his head, fingers tangled into his fiery locks. He accepts that as your answer and picks you up, his strong hands under your ass as your legs wrap around his waist.
“Our room is closer, go there,” you whisper breathlessly, holding tight to him as he walks around the corner and opens the door to you and Ikkaku's room. He locks the door behind him and lays you on the bed, your legs untangling from him.
There's nothing but the sounds of you both breathing, your gazes locked as Shachi slowly rips his suit from his body, his black tank top clinging to his skin. You watch with loving eyes as he rips his shades and hat from his head, setting them on your dresser before removing the rest of his clothes.
You begin removing the rest of your suit and in a flash, you're both naked, his body covering yours as your tongues fight for dominance. Your hands scratched over his back, angry red lines covering his gorgeous skin as his sharp teeth grazed over your throat, desperate to sink into your skin.
“Please let me eat that pussy, babe, I need to taste you so bad.”
You clenched around nothing, already soaked and wanting as he whines and pants in your ear. You give a shaky nod, unable to reply in anything other than gasps and soft moans as he slowly makes his way down. He gives a needy groan at the sight of your cunt, already glistening and ready for him as he descends down.
Your eyes fall shut as his mouth meets your clit, immediately sucking on the small bud for a bit before his long tongue swipes over and into your entrance, licking up all your slick with a delighted moan. You cover your face with a heavy hand, huffing and whimpering as he devours you inside and out. His tongue dances over your clit again, moving up and down as he slides two of his fingers into you.
You can't bite back the groan that leaves you, the pads of his fingers pressing up and into the soft spot that makes you see stars. He's muttering every once in a while, his hips grinding the tip of his strained cock against the bed as he fucks his fingers into you, his tongue licking and pressing roughly against your tender and swollen bud.
You feel it rush through you, creeping up like a tingling flame over your skin as you moan out,
“Shachi, o-oh Shachi please, I'm so close, I'm so close,” and that's when you finally hear it, what he's been begging the whole time.
“Cum on my face, please cum on my face, I need to taste you, I need you to cum all over me, God, please Venus, please cum on my face-”
His words send you over the edge, a gasping moan catching in your throat as you go blind for a second, your body shaking and twitching as he continues to finger fuck you. He gives a delighted gasp and whine as you squirt a bit, coating his hand, forearm, and face with your essence.
When he finally relents, you catch your breath and let your hand fall away from your face, your eyes catching his as he sucks every drop of you from his hand, making sure to keep your gaze as he does it.
“I'm glad I thought of this,” he quips, his tone cheery as he moves to cover your body with his once more. You tiredly pull him to you and he's quick to lift your already aching legs to your chest, the tip of his fat cock pressing against your still throbbing entrance. He gives you a pointed look, which you wave off with a lightheaded grin, running a lazy hand through his hair.
“I love you, Shachi,” you moan out breathlessly, causing the redhead to stutter slightly before he begins to press into you, pulling a ragged gasp from your already sore throat.
“I love you,” he returns, his own voice catching in his chest as he thrusts gently once, twice and finally fills you with a third, a whining gasp leaving him as he barely gets out,
“You feel like heaven, your pussy is paradise, I love you, I love you-”
You whimper as he finally begins moving, your cunt pulsing around his cock as his tip presses against the tip of your cervix, the pain washing away as pleasure quickly overtakes your senses. His hands on your hips are tight, bruising as he leans down to clamp his teeth around the space between your neck and shoulder, a low groan rumbling in his chest at the way you clench around his cock.
“You feel so good, you're so good, oh fuck, fuck, fuck,”
His hips are relentless, pounding his cock into you over and over, not stopping even as your second orgasm slams into you from nowhere, your cunt fluttering and milking him for everything he has. His eyes roll back as he loses his pace for a moment, the feeling of being inside you making him lose all sense of logic.
“Please let me cum inside you, I need to fill you, I want to fill you so badly, I want everyone to know you're mine, please let me cum inside you, please babe please,” Shachi begs, his voice climbing higher and higher as he nears his end. You simply nod, moving your legs to wrap around his waist and keeping him to you as you barely get out,
“Please fill me, Shachi,”
At those words, Shachi loses it, a guttural moan leaving him as he presses into you a few more times, thrusting one last time and filling you with his hot seed. You whimper at the feeling, the heat and slick slipping out of your cunt and staining your bedsheets.
You cling to each other, both of your highs seeming to never end as you take in each other. It feels like forever when he finally pulls away, picking his weight off you and staring down at you with a soft and devoted expression on his beautiful face.
“... I love you,” he whispers. Your heart overflows with love for him, your hands moving to cup his cheeks as you reply, “I love you so much.”
He grins weakly down at you before catching your lips with his, his love for you pouring into this one kiss. After a few more moments, he finally moves away from you and gathers his clothes, quickly getting dressed and helping you into your own. You wince as your shoulder aches, his bite mark throbbing though you touch it with prideful fingertips, your cheeks burning as just thinking about it.
“Now everyone will know you're my hot, sexy girlfriend,” he teases, pinching your buttcheek and laughing when you whack the back of your hand against his chest.
Gathering a change of underwear, a different tank top, sports bra and your bath towel, you sigh and groan out,
“Well, I'm going to shower before I head to the kitchen. Lunch prep, yay,” you waved a hand in pretend excitement, your dull tone causing Shachi to burst into laughter.
“I think you need to simmer down there babe, you are way too excited for this,” he jokes, following you out of the room while sliding his hat back on.
“Sorry, let me just,” you give him a deadpan expression and in the most boring tone you could pull, you bit out,
“Yippee.”
Peels of laughter left your boyfriend, his arms slinging around your shoulder as he led you down to the showers.
“I love you,” he murmurs again, pressing a quick kiss to your temple as Penguin and Bepo come around the corner.
“There you are! Dude, you've been missing for almost two hours!”
Shachi gives a shrug at Penguins complaining, lowering his shades just enough to throw you a wink before he walks on with his fellow men.
“Ah, sorry guys, I just had to help Venus with something, that's all.”
You shake your head, face burning bright as you walk into the showers, ready to let the hot water wash away the remnants of your moment with your lover.
As the water scalds your skin, you let your head fall back and rest against the cool wall of the shower, a wide grin in your face as the spray washed over your body.
You felt like you were on cloud nine. Truly, there was nothing better than getting a boyfriend for your birthday.
Summary: It’s always been the Seamtress and her cat. That is until Geralt, and his faithful mare Roach, walk through the village one Summer’s day on the edge of Autumn. Which is mightier, the Needle or the Sword?
Pairing: Geralt x OFC Márta (@wolvesandhoundshowltogether ) (2nd Person POV descriptions are, I hope, left vague enough that it could be read as reader despite the name use)
Words: ~7K
Warnings: Mild pining, oral sex (male and female receiving), penetrative sex, passing references and descriptions of wounds and battles, a dick scar (yup!), references to prey/predator vibes, Geralt being a little bit of switch maybe? And copious amounts of eye contact. Also a cat being a cat.
A/N: It’s been a while since I posted anything I know! I kind of lost my motivation to write for a while with work stress and life stress. On top of that, this was just not flowing right for ages and then when I did get inspo, I was too tired from moving house! This was originally a birthday present for the lovely Márta, (so it’s uh been over a year since I had this idea 😬) So fingers crossed it’s actually good because I cannot stare at it any longer… Enjoy!
All pictures taken from either googling or from the Canva database where the header image was made by me!
Masterlist
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The dawning sun shone weakly through the soft clouds, the warmth just noticeable on your skin. Birds sung in the distant treetops and a cockerel crowed gently as you approached the village. The smell of autumn was faint in the air, the edge of a crisp, slightly cooler breeze fluttering around your ankles. You walked down the gentle slope through the centre, narrowly avoiding a deep divot in the soft mud path that directed your journey. You knew there would be a couple more weeks before the weather turned so didn’t hurry to the marketplace just yet. Instead, you beckoned to the white and ginger feline walking alongside you. Shuffling your basket firmly into the crook of your arm, you tapped your shoulder and up Füge went, settling around your neck to stare at passers by, few though they were at this hour.
A few moments later, you finally stepped into the nearby inn, pushing the loud rickety door open with a grimace. You greeted the innkeeper with a smile and a wave as she spoke to a weary traveller. Not wanting to disturb, you settled near the low fire quietly, rubbing your arms to ward off the slight chill. Füge jumped off your shoulder into your lap to be closer to the fire, curling up into a shape reminiscent of a pastry you were hoping to buy later.
For a moment you stared into the crackling flames, lost in thoughts of your preparations for autumn. You’d just started to think about the darning waiting for you at home when you were interrupted from your thoughts by a deep voice that rumbled through your chest like distant thunder.
“Is this seat taken?”
You look up to see a broad man with snow-white hair, like he’d just stepped out of the depths of a winter storm. His eyes on the other hand were a honey tone that spoke of those hours of summer evenings spent in the wheat fields beyond the village. His clothing was a deep midnight black and a little torn in places but neat darns threaded through the clearly well-looked after outfit. His shirt pulled tight around his biceps as his hand clasped the back of the chair and if you thought too hard about the leather trousers hiding in the shadow behind the seat you might just throw yourself into the fire. You cleared your throat, gesturing him into the seat.
”Help yourself. I’m-” You held one hand out to the stranger while the other pet Füge as she purred.
“Oh I know who you are, Seamstress.” He replied easily, “Your cat is hard to miss.”
“She’s a personality that’s for sure!” You chuckled, scratching under the kitty’s chin.
“Geralt of Rivia.” He continued, extending his hand to meet yours. His hand was warm, his grip firm as he regarded you with interest. You swallowed.
“Pleasure to meet the famous White Wolf in person.” You added and smiled after a moment, letting go and turning to the basket by your feet. You pulled out your latest piece of work, quietly threading a crimson thread through a cornflower blue doublet, hoping to distract yourself from your new fireside companion.
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You’d sat in friendly silence for an hour or so while you worked in the empty inn. Geralt had even taken out one of his swords to polish it and it had taken an inhuman amount of focus to ignore the vision of the silver sword balanced across his thighs for as long as you had. But then one fateful moment he leant forward and the fire highlighted the raft of dark chest hair that disappeared past those tiny buttons and…
“Sweet Melitele!” You broke the silence with a quiet curse, sucking your finger to ease the pricking wound and the embarrassment you felt.
Geralt looked up from his task and grunted his condolences for the pain, before returning to his sword. You internally chided yourself for making such a simple mistake. But resolutely focused back on your work, you barely noticed Geralt leave until he returned a short while later, bringing the smell of baked goods with him. You looked up to find him holding out a crescent-shaped pastry. Your stomach flipped a little at the sight, just out of hunger, nothing else of course.
“Mm?” You couldn’t trust yourself to form words just yet.
“Ida told me it was your birthday.” He replied with a non-commital grunt.
Your head snapped to the side to look over at Ida who was nonchalantly wiping down the counter, trying not to catch your eye, a knowing smile hovering at her mouth. You turned back to Geralt, a similar grunt echoing his.
Meanwhile Geralt returned to his place by the fire, gently lifting off Füge who had stolen his seat in the intervening time. Your heart definitely did not skip a beat at his gentle grip on the mischievous feline.
“Well you didn’t have to.” You groused, clearing your throat, but took the package carefully from his hand. “At least share this with me. No arguments. It’s my birthday after all.” You smirked, pulling the pastry in half and offering the other half to him. Silence fell again as you both ate the treat, savouring the taste of the buttery pastry on your tongue. You glanced over at the mysterious witcher to find Geralt wrapping a new leather band around the hilt of his sword, concentration etched into his features as the muscles twitched in his bare forearms. When did he roll up his sleeves!?
He started to untuck his shirt, showing a tantalising glimpse of muscles and some gnarled scars across his abdomen, when he paused. He let his shirt go and turned to rummage in the saddle bags by his feet, tipping out shirts and wrapped bundles in the process. You stared for a moment too long, the image of muscles rippling against the taut black material seared into your mind; a question bubbling from your lips before you could stop it.
“Did you dye all your shirts Geralt? I’ve never seen material so black!”
“No.” Geralt busied himself with his dagger this time, wiping crusty black gunk off the blade with the hem of his now untucked shirt. “Monster Blood.”
“Oh? What monster?” You asked, a little distracted by the continued appearance of skin.
“Many.” His tone was suddenly cold and gruff. “Do not think that I’ll kill them for you to make you some dye Seamstress.”
“No, no. I’d never ask you for such a thing sir.” You hurried to reassure him, a cold chill descending between you, despite the fire.
He simply grunted, continuing to clean his knife. On an impulse, you leant across to capture his hand in yours and still his blade.
“I’ve heard the tales, I know you only kill when necessary.” You squeezed his hand. “Trust that I will not add to that burden.”
He looked up at your touch and any other thoughts you might have had, fell away like autumn leaves. The burnt amber of his eyes bored into yours for a moment longer and you moved closer, catching the scent of cloves and hay before the door to the inn burst open.
You both leapt back in haste. Geralt’s stern features were already focused on the door, automatically flipping the dagger in his hand, ready for anything. You meanwhile, had dropped your sewing onto the floor in surprise and now stood hurriedly, stuffing things in your basket. The raucous noise of people coming into the inn alerting you to the time that had passed in his company.
“Come find me later.” You blurted out, finally gathering up your basket, before clicking your tongue for Füge to follow you. Geralt watched you and the orange bottlebrush tail leave and turned back to the fire with a sigh, picking up his sword to resume cleaning it.
On the other side of the door, out of sight of the morning crowd, you leant against a nearby wall. A shaky breath wheezed from your lungs and your skin tingled where his hands had touched yours. You startled when Füge jumped up, her soft cheek rubbing against yours as she curled around your shoulders with a quiet chirp. You reached up to absentmindedly scratch at her ear.
“Well I’m awake now, that’s for sure. Let’s get to the market.”
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You stood, hands on your hips as you surveyed the small set up in the grass at your feet on the bustling village green. It would do for now but you really could do with a little table. Füge sat in the basket at your side, leisurely licking her paw as she regarded the passers by with the kind of superiority only a cat could possess.
Examples of little swatches of repairs and darns were spread across the russet coloured cloth from the moth eaten, to snags and rips, there was little you couldn’t repair or embellish. You’d even managed to lovingly restore a deep blue horse saddle blanket that had been discarded from a Temerian patrol near your small cottage. You smiled at the tiny dandelions you’d painstakingly sewn around the edge to cover the temerian symbols, it was one of your favourite projects, a forgotten flower for a forgotten garment. You sat down in the grass, the sun lightly warming your skin and set about unpicking the neck of the doublet, repairing the terrible job you’d done this morning in his company.
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After finishing his sword repairs, Geralt had journeyed out to the stables to check on Roach, spending an hour or two washing and brushing the faithful mare until she was almost dozing off in his arms. He laid the clean but almost threadbare horse blanket over the door of the stall as he left, hoping it would be dry enough by the end of the day to saddle Roach back up again.
The sun barely at its peak, Geralt found himself at a loss. He’d not had so much free time in a village for a while. No-one here seemed to mind his presence and simply carried on as if he was any other traveller passing through.
He passed by the bakery on his left, nodding lightly, awkwardly, as the baker waved at the witcher. He’d only meant to stop to gather some basic bread to restore his pack, but they’d been so kind, pressing a few other treats into his hands at the ungodly hour he’d arrived in the village. He was only saved further awkward refusals by spotting the inn owner unlocking the front door and ducked out of the quaint building and hurried across the path to greet her and buy board. A few hours rest was all he had needed and he'd just come back down to inquire with Ida about Witcher contracts when you’d arrived.
You hadn’t seemed like a distant traveller but it was clear you didn’t stay near the village from the large basket on your arm and the well-worn boots on your feet. When Ida had caught Geralt staring, she’d cleared her throat and he turned back a little embarrassed. Ida had chuckled then and explained that you and her were friends and that you repaired the bedding for the inn on a regular basis. It was your birthday today he had learned and when you’d not recoiled in horror but instead smiled at him, he’d been seized with the urge to bring you a gift. Jaskier had always told him that a gift was rarely unwelcome and a perfect way to ingratiate yourself. He had of course heard the grumbling of your stomach and the bakery was only too kind as to oblige with your favourite pastry.
Geralt shook his head to clear his mind of this morning, hearing the noise of market stalls now in full swing before the village green came into view around the corner. He saw you almost instantly. The way your deep red skirt lay out around you in the grass and the easy way you conversed with others at nearby stalls made something in his chest expand a little. Geralt turned away and looked towards the sun for a moment until the feeling passed.
But no matter the reluctance, his feet seemed to follow a path directly to you within moments. He almost made to turn away but you caught sight of his swords in the sunshine out of the corner of your eye and called to him.
“Hello Wolf. Taking in the sights?” You smiled, hand shading your eyes as you looked up at him.
“Something like that.” He murmured, before clearing his throat. “Any notices posted in the village?”
“Maybe. I’ve not checked myself today but they’re usually outside the alderman’s house.”
“Thanks.” Geralt replied, a little absentmindedly as your refurbished blanket caught his eye.
“You like it?” You held it up for a closer look and he nodded, the ghost of a smile appearing on his face.
“I have a friend who’d find it amusing to find this particular flower on my horse.”
Your heart skipped a very cliche beat as his amused countenance met yours.
“Well then you must take it. It would not be kind to prevent such a wonderful smile from lighting up your friend’s face too.” You felt your cheeks heat as the compliment left your mouth.
“I’m afraid it is too fine of a garment for Witcher’s work. Beautiful though it is.” He bowed his head a little, though his eyes remained on yours for a moment. “Maybe another time.”
Before you could gather up the words to protest, he was gone into the crowds, his sword glinting briefly in the heavy sun. You sighed, flopping back onto the grass. Today was going to be a long day if the disappointment curdling in your stomach was anything to go by.
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Geralt moved away at pace, finger and thumb rubbing nervously together as he focused on the feel of his sword calluses smoothing over one another. He would be gone soon and he could put even more distance between himself and you, the woman that made his chest feel tight and heart thud like it did before he took one of the many potions in the holster strapped to his thigh.
He paused as the winding path gave way to a few more houses, one of which had boards nailed to the fence as a rudimentary notice board. There were a few dull beige scraps of paper fixed to the board, curling and faded. Geralt adjusted his swords and stepped aside the soft mud of drying cart tracks to the other side of the path and approached the house.
On closer inspection the notes were mostly minor grievances and lost items, the ink running down the pages or turned dull grey from exposure to the sun. Geralt almost turned away before spotting a neatly scrawled but muddy note in spiky black ink jammed in between the boards. Geralt pulled the dirty piece of parchment from the town board and skimmed the contents. A drowner. Simple enough. He stepped past the board and up the short path to the house beyond. Geralt knocked firmly on the alderman’s door and stepped aside as the wooden door creaked open moments later.
A grizzled old man in a neat and well cared for tunic peeked out into the midday sun with a wrinkly hand shading his eyes. His eyes travelled up the broad frame of the witcher, a curt nod of acknowledgement as the man’s eyes alighted upon the dull grey of the witcher medallion around Geralt’s neck.
“Ah yes, Ida told me a Witcher was in town. Come, let's discuss the terms.”
Geralt ducked under the doorframe and followed the man into the house.
🗡⚔️🗡⚔️
The sun was setting when you finally arrived home, the golden early evening sun searing into your eyes as you gazed across the distant paddocks for a moment. Füge was happily snoozing among your purchases in the basket at your hip but perked up at the sound of the latch. She didn’t move when you put the basket down inside, only peeped at you from over the edge of the wicker, eyes getting a little wider in the fading light.
You leant down to light the fire, stretching as the warmth filled the room. Moving towards the larder, you pulled out some dried fish for the cat and mashed it into a paste with some melted fat from last night's meal. Füge hopped out the basket with a soft meow and circled around your legs as you finished up your task. You chuckled as she tried to get to her dinner with some enthusiasm only to bump into your boot as she stepped directly in your path.
“So much mischief in a little package!” You exclaimed sweetly, as you placed her food down, much to the cat’s excitement.
"If only it was this easy to tell what he wanted." You sighed, thinking of the white haired Witcher and hoping that today's contract was an easy one for the wolf.
You were just tidying away the remains when you heard a soft knock. Your heart leapt into your chest as you stepped towards the door, just knowing in your gut that it was him on the other side of the door and that he'd definitely just heard you speaking to your cat. Stopping briefly, you took a deep breath, adjusted your dress and opened the door.
“Good evening Seamstress.”
Geralt filled the doorframe, the setting sun casting a deep shadow over his face but not enough that you missed the slight smile around the edges of his mouth. You almost forgot to be embarrassed and simply stared a moment at the man. The white was almost gone from his hair at this hour, the sun's rays settling between hair strands to set his whole head on fire with bold strokes of ochre and umber. It took a moment for you to gather your thoughts into an actual sentence.
“Uh hello. Please… call me Márta. Come in dear Witcher.”
Geralt stepped into your home, ducking a little under the frame.
“If I am to call you Márta, then you must call me Geralt. I insist.”
“Can I offer you a seat by my fire then… Geralt?” You asked with a cheeky smile, warming to the man’s presence again quickly.
He nodded and shrugged the swords off his back, placing them carefully by the door and rummaging in his pack. He clearly found what he was looking for as he straightened up and turned back towards you, a leather pouch clenched in his fist.
The silence was palpable, standing a few steps away from each other it seemed as if the world had stopped for a brief moment. And then sped up all at once.
“I-“
“Thank-“
You both began to speak at the same time. Geralt sighed and you smiled, gesturing for him to go ahead.
“Thank you. Roach looks beautiful.”
“She’s a sweet girl and deserves nice things.”
“Yes, but you didn’t have to.”
“But I did Geralt. You needed one and I had one. I saw the state of the last saddle blanket.” You raised your eyebrow, eyeing the leather pouch. “I won’t accept coins for it either.”
“What will you accept as payment then Seamstress?” Geralt asked softly, tucking away the coin purse. Your mind definitely went to unsavoury thoughts about the gentle beast standing in your home. Coughing lightly, you were about to quip about how seeing the pair of them happy was enough, when you saw the darns in Geralt's shirt once more.
“Let me work on your shirt.” You blurted out, your cheeks heating rapidly at your boldness.
Now it was Geralt’s turn to raise an eyebrow.
“I- The colour fascinates me and I want to know what it’s like to craft with.” You explained in a rush, to fill the silence. His silence was telling and you looked away, saddened that you'd managed to upset the man once more.
You saw his sturdy looking black leather boots step into your peripheral vision, rough fingers suddenly gripping your chin, forcing you to look at him. You could scarcely breathe as the scent of cloves and hay washed over you once more. His eyes searched yours intently and you were sure he could hear your heart beating harshly against your ribcage.
“Very well” Geralt murmured after a moment, seemingly finding nothing amiss, leaving the ghost of his touch against your cheek and some less than innocent feelings in his wake.
Geralt turned to his pack and dug out another couple of dark shirts, both worse for wear than the one currently stretched tight across his torso.
You took the shirts from him and gasped at the unusual softness, completely different to the texture you had expected from a man who lives from inn to inn - if he’s lucky. Gesturing for Geralt to sit beside you, you took a seat closer to the firelight to see more clearly, the low sun having cast large shadows across your home. Both shirts were full of neat darns and rips, grey and deepest black shades splattered across it. One was fit for nothing better than rags or bandages, Geralt nodded at your running commentary. But the second was reparable… just. Even despite the charred rip across one shoulder.
“Uh..” You hesitated a little, “For damage this severe, you’d uhh… Need to wear it. Makes it easier to make adjustments.”
Your cheeks felt hot again and you looked down at your lap where Füge had arrived and was kneading away at your skirts. If Geralt found the request odd, he didn’t make any suggestions otherwise and you felt his weight rise from the furs beside you. Eyes elsewhere, you missed the slight smirk that appeared on his lips for a fleeting moment. When his voice filled the warm silence a moment later, you could have sworn it was deeper and richer than before.
“Of course.”
It absolutely did not make you clench your thighs together to relieve the building tension. Not at all.
You heard rustling and resolutely looked at your fingers threading through Füge’s fur, not looking at the bare expanse of skin in the corner of your eye. A moment later he was covered once more; well, as covered as someone wearing a ripped shirt could be. You placed Füge on the floor gently and stood, brushing the fur off of your lap. Stepping closer to Geralt, you cleared your throat hesitantly and reached out with slightly shaking hands.
You held the shirt hem gently in one hand, concentrating on the feel of the fabric on your skin and not on the heat radiating from the man wearing it. You felt the texture of every single thread, the slip of the monster blood and slime between the fibres and the permanence of the stains. You felt every true strike of the sword and every missed swing as you held the fabric tighter.
Your other fingers traced the charred fabric along the thick muscles of the Witcher’s shoulder and such was your focus you missed the vibration of his medallion and the sharp inhale as your skin touched his again. Geralt remained still, only the twitch of his finger against his thigh showed that you had any further effect on him.
Under your touch, the fabric began to knit itself together, the char of the burnt fibres falling away like ash to the floor between the pair of you. Buttons pulled back into the fabric, dents in the metal fastenings popped back into place with a faint ping. The fabric began to pale a little and you wobbled, a little unsteady on your feet. This was a very different sensation to the fabric dyes that felt like meadows, mud and animals that you normally encountered. Here it was dark and intense, almost living, creeping into your mind and-
Geralt’s hands grabbed your hip as you swayed, holding you upright with gentle force. His bronze tinted eyes were the last thing you saw before your own slid shut to focus on the task. The tingling started at your fingertips, working its way up your forearms and through your limbs until your whole body sang with the vibrations.
A deep exhale and you pushed with your mind, the colour spreading back out from your fingers like ink across a ledger, writing of his adventures in every splotch of colour.
Geralt had never encountered magic like this. Every hair on his body stood to attention, the magic thrumming along his skin as if he’d dipped into the coolness of a shallow pond on a summer’s day. His focus narrowed down to the vibrations of the wolf medallion nestled against his chest and tension of you clutching his shirt. Your knuckle brushed the edges of gnarled abdomen scar unbeknownst to you and Geralt almost leapt out of your grip, the electric sensation almost overwhelming. He straightened his back quickly, gritted his teeth and resolved not to move much, lest he become unsteady on his feet too.
Devoid of vision, you felt the heat of his skin through the fabric, running only slightly warmer than your average human but magic crackled underneath his skin like a second heat that felt like it could scorch your fingertips. The fire at your back felt intense, droplets of sweat rolling down between your breasts as you held on for just a moment longer. You felt the last stitches fall into place as a wave of dizziness overwhelmed you and you lost your grip on him.
Barely coherent for a moment, Geralt caught you before you hit the floor. You opened your eyes to find Geralt leaning over you, his eyes as orange as the flames dancing in your periphery. The dizziness faded quickly, but the crackling, fizzing undercurrent of magic was still singing in your veins. But you’d never been tempted to act upon this residue of magic, not until this unusual man had come into your life.
You reached out to feel the dark grey stubble, rough against your fingertips. The grounding sensation brought you back to your senses a little more even as his hand wrapped around yours, thumb rubbing across your palm as he gently pushed your hand away.
He looked hauntingly beautiful like this, strands of light hair casting shadows across his chiselled face. His pupils were widened with curiosity and something else that you couldn’t quite place until you shifted your leg, a secret smile gracing your lips for a moment.
“If you are not so interested dear Witcher, then by all means leave with my well wishes.” You paused for a moment, looking down between the pair of you. “But something pressed against my thigh would suggest otherwise.”
Geralt growled at the jest, teeth flashing in the cosy darkness of your home. It should have at least made you second guess yourself but the frisson of magic still strong within you had other thoughts. Instead you grinned, grabbing the wolf medallion dangling over you to tug the man down for a kiss.
Geralt’s lips were remarkably soft for the weather his body had to endure and his touch so gentle despite the hardness of his life that you’d felt deep in the fibres of his shirt. Your head spun with the languid kisses he served as his hard body pressed you into the stone floor, all pretence forgotten. Moments passed and you broke for breath, tilting your head back, lungs heaving. The beast of a man took this as an invitation of submission, of need, and grazed his teeth along the slender planes of your throat before biting down at the juncture between your neck and shoulder. You gasped, the bright sensation of pain battling for dominance with the lust and magic coursing through you.
His strength was plain in the way he easily rolled you above him moments later, hands moving to your hips to hold you against him tightly. He rocked his pelvis upwards, making you feel every inch of his interest. It must have shown on your face as a raised eyebrow and a gentle sneer quickly followed, exposing the points of his teeth again in a way that ripped the last vestige of patience from your grasp.
You scrabbled at his shirt, pushing it away from his skin and replacing it with your hands for a moment. Your fingertips caressed the scars and gouges, feeling the stitches and repairs of the surface of his skin, knowing that each one must have caused him pain and cost him more with every potion he consumed. The taut muscles layered underneath seemed strong but exposed as they vibrated underneath your touch. Seized by the need to feel him further, you bent your head to place your lips along a pink scar with translucent grey flecks that arrowed downwards, disappearing below the buttons of those leather trousers.
As your kisses reached the waistline where the scar was removed from your sight, his hand seized the nape of your neck, pulling you up into a sudden, almost violent kiss. Your lips clashed with his teeth in a meeting of passion as he sat up, lips still glued to yours as you remained in his lap, legs wrapping around his back.
You tugged at the hem of his shirt again, it getting stuck between the pair of you to some quiet chuckles against your lips. Your heart melted then, to hear joy out of this worn down man’s throat and you struggled harder but with laughter, trying your best to divest him of his clothes, to make him feel that joy again and again.
Eventually you succeeded, the newly mended material seeming to crackle a little as you eased it over his head. Geralt returned the favour quickly, his large hands making short work of your dress, the fabric falling away from your shoulders with only a whisper and only a couple of ripped stitches.
Quickly, his mouth followed the path of his hands, seeking more desperate contact, before coming to rest over a nipple, breath ghosting on the peak. You heard him swear under his breath as it pebbled under his attention before all sense of words were lost and your thoughts melted into the sensation of his lips against your sensitive flesh.
Your hips moved of their own accord, seeking the delicious friction of Geralt’s hardness against the dewy wetness that had long since formed between your thighs. You were so close to succeeding too, lips moving across his bare skin, his scars and his lips in quick succession. Your hands delved between you both to undo one of the last barriers, the laces of his trousers, when Geralt changed his mind.
His hand moved to hold you tighter against him with the strength of a Witcher, leaving no room for your hips to continue their dance and trapping your hands in an illicit crush. You could only meekly wiggle your fingers against the leather. He growled deeply against your bare shoulder then and you felt like prey and predator all at once. Your heart raced like a rabbit caught in a hunt but the urge to bite and claim in return came swiftly behind it until all you could think was need need need.
Want.
But what Geralt wanted, he got. His lips resumed their painstaking pace across the bare skin of your chest, being sure to leave the telltale indents of pleasure his teeth make along the way. All you could do was take the blossoming heat as it washed over you. Only when your chest was painted in a few marks and you were nothing but a puddle of want, was he satisfied. But he merely loosened his grip to seat you on the bench you’d vacated a lifetime ago.
You felt the soft furs against your bare skin and warm hands pushing your thighs back, the fire heating your damp petals enough to make you squirm against the hold. And for a moment he held you there exposed to his gaze, to the warmth. But it was nothing compared to the feeling of his feverish tongue pressing between your folds suddenly, the stubble of his chin rubbing against sensitive flesh and tiny pinpricks of his teeth occasionally making their presence known against your tingling skin.
As with everything you’d seen from this friendly but stoic witcher so far, Geralt took on the task with clear intent and purpose. He seemed to know your every thought before it even struck you. Every stroke of his tongue was intentional, reading the pulse of your core and the scent of your arousal as the markers of your steady, inevitable path to bliss. You were no stranger to pleasure but this? This was like every moment of lustful magic you’d ever experienced, rolled into one.
You shuddered as he stopped for breath, the warm air of his laboured breath gusting over your glistening pussy. But the air that he languidly shared with your body he stole from your lungs once more as he dove back down and resumed his charge of your undoing. A hand, tanned darker by the sun and hard labour, reached up to grasp at your breast. The other stroked deftly at your entrance with the gentleness of a man that knows how to calm even the most skittish of beasts. Your back arched as his strong fingers beckoned you from within your walls.
"F- fuuuck!"
Rolling with sensation, your hands delved in among the silver threads of the Witcher’s head. This particularly strong wave of pleasure rewarded him with a sharp tug to his hair. He growled into the depths of your pussy without hesitation, his eyes flicking up to capture yours for only a moment. But that was enough for you to tumble over the edge into the abyss of pleasure, mouth agape but no words able to leave.
Geralt continued to taste your pleasure as your high abated, standing once he was satisfied and unashamedly wiping his mouth and chin on the back of his hand without breaking your gaze. You shivered a little as Geralt moved from between your thighs, cooler air moving in where the bulk of the Witcher had vacated. He stood in front of the fire once more, his silhouette proving no less tempting in profile.
You bit your lip as Geralt finally divested himself of those trousers, the ones that would surely haunt your dreams from now on. His cock sprang free, deep throbbing red with a thin white scar running from the base to about half way up. As your mouth watered at the idea of your tongue running along those mysterious ridges and wondering what exactly had been there before you to cause such a scar, his calloused thumb swept across the pink head smearing the pre-come across his skin. You could hear the audible sigh of relief from where you lay, torturously close. He turned back towards you and the look in his eyes was enough to have you panting once more. Geralt’s pupils were blown so wide, only a thin golden ring remained and his veins stood out in relief against his forearms, his hand idly stroking along his length.
You slid off the bench to kneel in front of the man, hands reaching out to touch the broad man in desperation. You felt the wiry soft hair of his thighs under your fingertips as you swept over his skin to your target. Up close he was thicker than you expected and felt like soft velvet as you wrapped your hand around his length, eagerly knocking his hand away in the process. He hissed as your tongue darted out to taste a drop of the pearly liquid that proved his interest in your form and your pleasure.
The salty taste of the Witcher’s essence on your tongue made your mouth water and you eagerly settled between his thighs to investigate further. His hands grasped for you but you plunged your mouth down his length, leaving Geralt to swear this time.
“Fuck. Márta!” He all but choked out as your tongue brushed along the underside of his length.
You opened your mouth wider, hands moving to brace yourself against his thighs, bobbing your head faster along his length. Geralt’s hand reached under your chin and lightly against your throat, forcing your eyes to meet his.
You pulled your mouth away from his length to take a breath, a cheeky grin lighting your features as Geralt’s thighs trembled under your hands. You sat back on your heels, tugging the lust-drunk witcher down to your level by your grasp on his length. He crumpled to his knees in front of you, punch drunk on lust. The Witcher was helpless but to follow your lead until he hovered over you, arm braced on the floor by your shoulder. His eyes sought yours to ask that age old unspoken question.
That unreserved yes lingered on the tip of your tongue but you merely nodded as words seemed impossible. You guided him between your thighs, squeezing his length in a moment of cheeky levity. He answered with his own light smile, before brushing your cheek with his thumb.
A moan and a few choice swears left your throat as he breached that final barrier between you. Slowly but surely, you felt the true measure of the witcher with every inch he pressed closer, deeper until you were surrounded by him. Just when you thought he had bottomed out, he shifted, changing the angle of his excruciatingly slow thrust. He pulled away equally slowly and you shivered as he left you empty for a moment that felt like an age. You opened your mouth, a frown etching into your forehead, when Geralt lent forward quickly, spearing you open once more in one deep thrust.
Air left your chest in a rush, your lungs wheezing with the effort of trying to inhale against the feeling of fullness, of him taking up all the space. The sound of skin on skin was loud against the crackling of the fire as his thighs crashed into yours again, splitting your legs impossibly wider, as if he still couldn’t get close enough to you.
His chest pressed against yours, pushing you into the floor just a little harder than before. Surrounded and all consumed by the witcher, you felt the heat build slowly, spreading like syrupy, thick lines of lust along your limbs with every stroke of his length inside you.
His mouth busy leaving marks on your neck too, the dual sensations overwhelming and he fucking knew it. He stoked the embers of your fire with precision and dedication until your entire body was burning but holding you just on the edge of pleasure. You felt every unique ridge of his cock, your core clenching each time his pelvis pressed against yours but it wasn’t enough. Your kiss bruised lips spread into a secret smile that Geralt couldn’t see as you curled your wrist around in a circle, seizing an opportunity to flip the pair of you until you were on top, spread across his thighs and impaled deeply by the witcher. Magic crackled in the small space between you, Geralt's expression hardening a little, until you rocked your hips just so and it faded into an all encompassing lust. Your nails dug into the fur on his chest as you rose and rapidly sunk back down onto his punishing girth, chasing the long held back high. Geralt met you thrust for thrust, his hands gripping your hips in a way you were positive would leave muscle aches for days.
You leant forward, and mirroring Geralt’s actions from earlier; sought out the sensitive skin of the white wolf’s neck with your teeth. The growl that rolled from his chest at the sensation was almost enough to make you come for the second time that night. But not yet, you needed to see the stoic come unravelled like the poor stitching he had inspired this morning.
Geralt’s thrusts became more uncoordinated and sloppy until he ceded control to you entirely. His hands became soft and supportive then, encouraging you to take what you needed from him as you rolled your hips over and over again. You sat up to better hit that spot and locked eyes with Geralt once more. Something about the way he stared into your eyes was always going to be your undoing as, once again, you fell over the edge into pleasure, calling his name. Geralt followed shortly after, his arms pulling you close enough to kiss you earnestly and deeply as he emptied himself into your warmth.
⚔️🗡⚔️🗡
The moon was bright tonight, the light casting a surreal glow over the open fields nearby. The soft whickering to your right appeared to agree with you. You held an apple out to the horse waiting patiently in the small pasture outside your cottage.
"Here you go Roach. Sweet apples for a sweet horse."
You felt Roach’s soft lips brush against your palm as she took the fruit. Only the kindest of men would have such a gentle horse.
You wrapped the blanket around your bare shoulders a little tighter as you stroked Roach’s neck. A few moments passed, nothing but the quiet crunching of Roach to disturb the peaceful night.
“She likes you.” Geralt’s deep voice wafted out from the doorway a little while later. “But I think she’s been spoiled enough today. Come back inside.”
You laughed and turned back towards the bare chested man waiting for you. He leant just inside the door, the moonlight rippling across the planes of his muscled torso, dipping into scars you kissed only hours ago. You clenched at the mere thought.
“And I suppose you think that’s going to convince me?” You retorted, stepping towards Geralt.
“Mmm. Maybe not.” He took a step forward too, meeting you on the doorstep of the cottage. “But this might…”
No further warning was spared as he lifted you into his arms, your hands clutching at the shifting blanket. He strode back into the cottage, kicking the door shut behind him to make sure you were thoroughly convinced. He’d go all night if he had to.
