Chapter Text
“‘M hungry,” Ciri mumbled. A pair of strong, warm arms wrapped around her swollen belly and she leaned back against Geralt’s chest with a sigh. Yen snorted in annoyance, holding up a stack of dirty dishes she was collecting from the kitchen table.
“Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon!” Yennefer snapped at her. “We just finished eating breakfast. Moments ago. You’re still hungry?”
“Someone else is hungry!” Ciri whined, rubbing a hand over her belly. “I’m tired, my feet and back hurt, I have to relieve myself all the time, and all I want is more food!” There were actual tears gathering in the corners of her eyes and Yen rubbed her own eyes tiredly.
I love my daughter I love my daughter I love my daughter.
“What would you like, Ciri love? Something sweet?” Yen asked, forcing herself to be gentle despite her patience wearing thin. She conjured up a cinnamon sweet roll and offered it to her pregnant daughter, who sniffed at it first then accepted it.
“Mmm,” Ciri moaned as she chewed her first bite. “Oh my gods… fuck…”
“Haven’t heard her moan like that since she was getting pregnant,” Geralt joked. Ciri growled through a mouthful of sweet roll, unwilling (unable?) to turn around and actually slap him. “Sorry. I love you,” Geralt murmured soothingly, stroking her ash blond hair. He cradled her belly in his hands, rubbing gently when he felt movement there. He sighed and nuzzled into Ciri’s neck. “Soon, Ciri, not long now…”
“Hmm,” Ciri licked the frosting off her fingers. “Thank gods, I can’t do this much longer.”
Yen choked with laughter. “YOU can’t?! Ha! Try living with you!”
“Fuck off!” There were those goddam tears in Ciri’s eyes again. Yen conjured a fruit tart for her and Ciri accepted it begrudgingly, sniffling as she stuffed her face. Geralt growled in Yen’s direction, “Quit antagonizing her. She’s growing our baby. Have pity.”
“Yeah!” Ciri pouted. “Pity me, you bitch.” Geralt winced. Oh, this was not good.
Yen crossed the room in three wide steps and leaned over Ciri, slapping the tart out of her hand. The girl gasped in shock. Yen snarled at her. “What did you call me, you little slut?”
Ciri glared back at her, sitting upright with difficulty. Geralt pressed a hand between her shoulder blades to support her. “I called you a bitch. A common, bump envious, nasty, bitch.”
“Ohhhh, no. You little cunt. Stand up, Geralt,” Yen growled, brandishing her fists. Geralt groaned. Yen stood up tall and shook a finger at him. “You agreed to this! Or shall I put my hands right on your wife’s neck and strangle her?”
“No,” Geralt growled possessively, standing up carefully and making sure Ciri was steady sitting on her own. He walked over in front of Yen and sighed. “Fine, do it.”
Yen smirked and raised her arm, hand opened wide. She looked behind Geralt at Ciri. “This is for your dirty, ungrateful mouth.” Yen smacked Geralt across his face with all her strength. Geralt grumbled and rubbed at the red mark. Ciri crossed her arms over her chest and raised an eyebrow.
“Yeah? He can take it. What else do you want to do to me?” Ciri asked like a brat. She winced and pushed suddenly below her ribcage, where the baby was digging a heel into her muscles. Yen softened for a moment seeing her in discomfort, and then caught Ciri’s gaze as she looked up again. There was a plea in Ciri’s eyes, and Yen knew that she was being mouthy because she simply had no other outlet. Her fiery little daughter, restricted by her pregnancy.
I love my daughter I love my daughter.
“Hm, little slut. What else? Maybe I would do this - come, Geralt. Kneel. Good boy,” Yen purred as she sat on the edge of the table beside Ciri. She spread her legs and lifted her skirt, grabbing the back of Geralt’s neck and shoving his mouth against her pussy. She ground her hips against his face as she looked over to Ciri, who was watching them in delight. “I would shut you up just like this, Ciri.”
“Mm,” Ciri sighed. She reached out with limited range and stroked Geralt’s silver-white hair. The Witcher hummed against Yen’s clit, eating her out enthusiastically. After all, this was not such a punishment compared to being his wife’s stand-in punching bag. Yen moaned, sliding her fingers over Ciri’s hand and squeezing her.
“Soon, Ciri, soon,” Yen breathed. She stifled a cry as Geralt sank two fingers inside her and began rocking against her sweet spot. Ciri rose to her feet slowly, holding on to the edge of the table and Geralt’s head to support herself. She leaned in and pulled Yen forward, a silent supplication for a kiss. Yen obliged her, the kiss sweet and unhurried. The sorceress smoothed a hand over Ciri’s heavy belly, pausing when she felt the baby press back against her.
“Sorry for being a brat,” Ciri mumbled, tangling her fingers in Yen’s black curls. Yen inhaled sharply, squeezing her thighs against Geralt’s head and whimpering as his big hands grabbed her knees and forced her open. He sucked on her clit vigorously, unrelenting, until she shook against him and started to come. Ciri pressed kisses against Yen’s lips and chin, grinning as she watched the sorceress lose control.
“Mmm… little slut… you’ll make it up to me, I know you will,” Yen gasped. Ciri giggled and snuggled against her as she went limp, breathing deeply through the aftershocks of her orgasm. Geralt wiped his mouth on his sleeve and stood up, placing his arms supportively around Ciri’s shoulders and waist. He pressed a kiss to Ciri’s forehead and then to Yen’s. The red sting of the slap had already faded away to nothingness, like they all knew it would. It was a tiny, truly insignificant price he paid for keeping the peace between his pregnant wife and his girlfriend.
“Soon,” Ciri sighed. She leaned back into Geralt’s embrace and studied Yen’s face, looking at her apologetically and then to the fruit tart splattered uneaten on the ground.
“For fuck’s sake,” Yen snapped, throwing her skirts back down and moving her fingers gracefully through the air. A fresh fruit tart appeared in her hand, but she took a bite of it before passing it over to Ciri. “Here. Eat, by the gods, eat up so I don’t have to listen to you complain.”
“Thank you,” Ciri mumbled politely as she chomped on the tart. She hummed in thought, plucking off a strawberry slice and passing it back to Geralt to eat. “Mmm… Yen? What are we having for lunch?”
“I can’t.” The sorceress was stomping out of the room, throwing up her arms in defeat. “I can’t! Geralt, you feed her.”
“.... Fuck.”