#OldandKinky abo

[oldandkinky]

What do you think of Jaskier/Borch? Because Geralt finally searching Jaskier and finding him incubating some dragons eggs. Pretty sure he wouldn't wait long to claim him after the oviposition, put a whole litter into him.

CW: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Omega Jaskier | Dandelion, Monsterfucker Jaskier | Dandelion, Large Cock, Oviposition, Egg Laying, Vaginal Sex, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Post-Episode: s01e06 Rare Species, POV Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Feelings, Jaskier | Dandelion is a Mess, Friends to Lovers, Apologies, Knotting, Weird Biology, feelings, Pining, Come Inflation, belly bulge, Threesome - M/M/M, Male omegas have vulvas

**********

When Geralt gets to the camp at the base of the mountain after the dragon hunt, Jaskier isn’t there. He expected him to be, waiting for him with a scowl, and Geralt would have apologised and they’d have continued on the way they always did after a tiff.

But Jaskier isn’t there.

Geralt sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. Gods. He deserves it, he supposes, after the things he said- well, screamed at Jaskier. He deserves to be left behind. It was inevitable, after all. He’s always been alone, and he always will be. The years Jaskier spent by his side were the anomaly, not the norm. He just let himself forget.

“Lookin’ for yer bard?” Yarpen Zigrin and his men made it down a little earlier, taking a different path, and they’re resting before, presumably, bringing proof of the dead dragon to Niedamir. Geralt stops, weary, and nods. Yarpen grins unpleasantly. “Went back up the mountain, that one. The Zerrikanians caught up with him.”

Geralt frowns. He can’t imagine what Téa and Véa would want with Jaskier. “Why?”

Yarpen shrugs. “Didn’t stop to listen. None of my business, is it?” He turns away, clearly dismissing Geralt, and he frowns. Why would Jaskier go back up the mountain? There’s nothing up there, except a dead dragon.

It’s not until he’s back with Roach, until he grabs his bags to put them on her back, and is hit by a whiff of Jaskier’s scent coming from something inside the bags that something occurs to him, and he stops dead in his tracks. There’s not just a dead dragon up there.

There’s a living dragon as well.

#oldandkinky #OldandKinky prompts #oldandkinky abo #the witcher #geraskier #OldandKinky monsterfucking #OldandKinky teratophilia

[oldandkinky]

a/b/o geraskier where they're both omegas sharing a double ended dildo during a heat

Sweet.

Contains omegas with vulvas, oral/vaginal sex, sex toys, omega/omega relationships, heat sex, implied alpha/alpha sex.

***********

This, very decidedly, was not supposed to happen.

Jaskier's heat wasn't supposed to come until the spring. Geralt wasn't supposed to have a heat at all. At least not for a couple of years, with his odd cycle. And yet, here they are in Geralt's room, frantically grinding against each other, until Geralt's mind catches up with what his body is doing.

It was Eskel who frowned at them over dinner the night before, sniffing the air delicately. Jaskier threw a roll at him and told him not to be rude, but Eskel kept doing it, and then he frowned a bit more and asked, "Are you supposed to go into heat, Jaskier?"

As established, no, he wasn't. He spluttered a bit, saying Eskel must be mistaken, until Geralt leaned in and sniffed him, too, much less subtle about it than Eskel. "He's right," Geralt said, something dark and possessive in his voice, "you smell ripe."

Normally, Jaskier would be offended to be called "ripe", but the look Geralt gave him stopped that in its tracks. The Witcher looked ready to devour him, and so Jaskier settled in for a nice heat, spent with his lover in the safety of Geralt's room,  the door barred against the other Witchers. It's not that Jaskier wouldn't - and doesn't - happily fuck the others, but a heat, especially one out of season, is a delicate thing, one he doesn't want to share with the alphas just yet.

All of that falls apart of course when Geralt starts gushing slick after a couple of hours.

"That's not supposed to happen," Geralt growls, looking down at his crotch with obvious annoyance, and Jaskier chuckles, running a hand over the curve of the Witcher's spine.

"Oh, but isn't it marvelous that it is? I can't imagine something lovelier than sharing a heat with you, dearest." He nips at Geralt's shoulder, and his lover scowls at him.

"I won't be able to take care of you," he says, anger at himself clear in his voice. "I'll be useless, Jaskier."

"Hey, don't say that." He crawls into Geralt's lap, kissing over his forehead, his cheeks, before finally finding his lips. "I love you, you hear me? You could never be useless to me, and besides, this isn't the first time I've done this." He wiggles his eyebrows. "There's tools for this kind of thing, dear Witcher, and I intend to introduce you to all of them."

Geralt still looks sceptical, but his own heat is overwhelming him quickly. "Alright," he mumbles against the cut of Jaskier's jaw, then mouths down the length of his throat.

Soon, they're rutting against each other, legs entangled as they hold onto each other, and Jaskier sighs and whimpers when Geralt cups his arse and guides him in riding his thigh. He comes like that, clit rubbing against Geralt's leg and his nose pressed to the Witcher's throat. When he has caught his breath, he slides down on the bed and pushes Geralt's thighs apart, sucking his clit into his mouth without preamble. Geralt whines, high and needy, and he falls apart when Jaskier pushes two fingers into him and hums around his clit.

It's lovely, and Jaskier realises halfway through that he's not nearly as mindless as he was during his other heats. Still horny and needy, but it's as if both of them being incapacitated, as it were, keeps the higher brain functions going.

Finally, hands and mouths aren't enough any more, and Jaskier pulls his bag out from under the bed. "Bought this in Oxenfurt," he explains as he pulls item after item out of the bag, far more than ought to fit inside. Geralt's eyebrows rise higher and higher, and Jaskier grins. "Enchanted."

Laid out on the sheets are a variety of toys, collected over his years at university, and Geralt looks dumbfounded. "I had no idea you had all of these."

Jaskier presses a kiss to the other's shoulder. "Didn't need them." He waves a hand at the spread. "Anything that tickles your fancy?"

There are dildos, knotting toys, beads, and even some enchanted ones that vibrate on command. He watches Geralt closely as he studies the spread before him, smirking when the Witcher's gaze snags on one item. He moves closer, plastering himself to Geralt's side.

"That one," he purrs, and Geralt shivers.

'That one' is a double ended dildo, made of soft rubber, with two knots in the middle. Jaskier has spent many a lovely hour with it, both with a partner and on his own, and he can already feel his heat gearing up for its next wave. Geralt all but throws him onto his back, kissing and biting his way down Jaskier's body, only pausing to suck on his nipples like his life depends on it. Combined with the fingers he pumps into Jaskier's cunt, it has the bard screaming through an orgasm that makes him cry.

They don't even need oil to ease the way when Geralt works one end of the dildo into him, and Jaskier claws at his lover's shoulders, whimpering, Geralt's name like a prayer on his lips. The Witcher fucks him with it through two orgasms before he moves to straddle one of Jaskier's legs. By this point the bard is too out of it to parse what's happening until Geralt angles the other end of the dildo just so, letting the length slide into his cunt. Jaskier moans, a low guttural sound that seems to come from the bottom of his chest, the sight too much for his addled brain.

"Geralt, please," he whimpers, and the Witcher groans, working himself down on the dildo until the knots are the only things separating them. Jaskier sobs, scrabbles at Geralt's thighs. "Please, I need- Fuck, please give me your knot," he cries, and Geralt snarls.

He grinds down against Jaskier, holds the toy securely - really, it's unfair how well the Witcher can control all his muscles -, and then he starts to properly fuck the bard with it. Jaskier is sobbing uncontrollably now, the feeling of finally, finally, getting fucked by his lover, the way his body demands - it's too much. Geralt pulls one of his thighs over his shoulder, opening Jaskier up further, and with a few more thrusts the bard's cunt gives way, the knot slipping inside. Jaskier screams, his back arching, and Geralt pants and moans as he keeps working himself on the dildo.

Jaskier is floating, cunt milking the knot as he shudders through the last waves of his orgasm. He can't help but watch Geralt, the way the Witcher is chasing his pleasure, and he reaches for every bit of him he can reach. Geralt grabs his hand and brings it to his face, kissing Jaskier's palm as he stares down at the bard, and Jaskier strokes his fingers over his lover's cheek. "Come for me, love," he slurs, "take that knot, need you to-"

Geralt shoves his hips down with a guttural groan, forces the knot into himself. Their cunts are pressed together like this, and Geralt makes use of the contact and the tiny bit of room he has, rubbing his thigh against Jaskier and vice versa. It shoves Jaskier over the edge again, clit so sensitive, and he screams again as he comes around the knot, hard and unyielding inside him. It's almost enough to hurt but he welcomes it with open arms, because it's Geralt who gives it to him.

When the lock releases, he slips out from beneath Geralt, urges him onto his back. The Witcher is trembling, sweaty and glassy-eyed, and Jaskier strokes and kisses him. "I love you so much," he whispers, over and over, until Geralt calms.

They spend three wonderful days like that, making thorough use of everything Jaskier's magical bag has to offer, in addition to fingers and hands and mouths. Jaskier isn't lying when he tells Geralt that that was one of his most pleasant heats, ever, even if Geralt rolls his eyes. "Still not like having an alpha," he grouses, and Jaskier swats the back of his neck.

"Oh, do shut up, dearest. Alphas are nice, true, but I only want one person, and that person happens to be an omega." He grins, winding his arms around the Witcher. "Don't tell me you didn't enjoy fucking me like that," he murmurs, "that you didn't like knotting my cunt like that."

Geralt shivers, and Jaskier smirks against his throat, smug.

When they finally make their way into the great hall on the evening of that third day, they find only Vesemir sitting by the hearth. "They're in the hot springs," he tells them when Jaskier asks about Eskel and Lambert. "You two flooded the whole keep with heat scent. Got to them after a while."

Jaskier's eyes widen, and Geralt snorts. "Fucking alphas," he murmurs as he tugs Jaskier towards the kitchen, and the bard gasps.

"Oh Melitele, fucking alphas. Literally!" He presses close to Geralt as they walk. "Can we go watch?"

Again, Geralt rolls his eyes. "You're insatiable, bard."

Jaskier grins. "Guilty as charged. So, can we?"

The Witcher only sighs in response, then lets himself be dragged to the hot springs.

#oldandkinky #oldandkinky abo #OldandKinky prompts #OldandKinky Jaskier/Geralt

[oldandkinky]

I love accidental knotting/struggle for control/premature ejaculation type stuff. Any interest? Like maybe Alpha geralt, who doesn't have partnered sex much outside of the other alphas at winter (few sane humans want to risk a witcher's knot) trying to be good for omega Jaskier, but he's practically on the verge of popping his knot right in his trousers, let alone somehow holding off long enough to get Inside the bard... Thoughts? ;)

Hell yes!

Slight humiliation and shame, premature ejaculation, coming untouched. As always, all omegas have vaginas regardless of primary gender.

***************

It takes Jaskier five years of travelling with Geralt to confess his secret to the alpha.

It takes Geralt approximately half a day to lose his mind over the fact that he's been travelling with an unmated omega for years and didn't notice.

It takes them both two more days to fall into bed together. There's just one tiny problem: Geralt has never slept with an omega, and the thought alone has him close enough to the edge that he finds himself reciting bestiary entries in his head, trying to delay the inevitable. Jaskier, currently straddling his hips, frowns down at him.

"Are you alright? You look even more constipated than usual." His lips tighten. "We don't have to, if you don't want to." He looks like he's about to cry at that possibility, and Geralt grabs him by the hips.

"It's not that, Jask, I just..." He closes his eyes, hoping that'll make it easier. "I've never been with an omega. Only alphas and a couple of betas."

The bard makes a surprised noise at that. "Really? Huh. I'd have thought... I mean, you're old, pardon me saying. I would have expected you to..."

Geralt grimaces. "It's my knot. It's... It scares people."

Jaskier goes very still where he's seated atop the Witcher, and Geralt cracks open an eye.

Oh no. He knows that look. That look spells trouble.

The bard sucks on his teeth for a moment, and then he slides off of Geralt's lap. "Show me." His tone brooks no argument, and Geralt has to grit his teeth as he feels his balls tighten.

"Jaskier-"

"Geralt, please."

The Witcher folds like a house of cards, and he pushes down the soft sleep trousers he'd put on earlier, careful not to touch himself more than he absolutely has to. Jaskier kneels beside him, completely silent, and when Geralt tugs open the ties on his smallclothes, the bard gasps. Geralt braces himself for the inevitable rejection.

He's been there before. Harlots that thought they'd be able to take him, just for them to take one look at him and all but toss him out the door, muttering about his freakish mutant dick. He expects more of the same from Jaskier, if maybe phrased with a bit more politeness.

What he doesn't expect is Jaskier's wide-eyed stare, or the way the omega licks his lips. Geralt whimpers, and a fat drop of precome leaks from his dick, making him shiver as it rolls down the shaft. Jaskier shuffles closer. "Fuck, it's huge, Geralt, how do you- Only alphas, you said? How could an alpha take a knot like this?"

"Lots and lots of oil," he answers weakly. His stomach is quivering, his orgasm barrelling towards him with a vengeance, and when Jaskier raises a hand, when he reaches for him with intent in his eyes, Geralt throws his arm up to cover his face and then he comes, completely untouched, his seed splattering over his stomach and chest. Jaskier gasps again and then his hand is right there, stroking him through it for a moment before he reaches down and squeezes Geralt's knot with a muttered, "Melitele's sweet perfumed thighs."

Geralt wishes ardently for the ground to open up and swallow him whole, but unfortunately it doesn't. Jaskier's hand is still on his cock, so soft and warm, and Geralt whimpers. It's too much and not nearly enough, and he just wants to give the omega what he needs, what he deserves, but he can't.

"Hey." There's a hand on his cheek, another gently pushing his arm away from his face, and he blinks up at the bard. His face is hot with shame, but Jaskier just smiles down at him. "That was incredibly hot," he says, and Geralt snorts in disbelief.

"No, it wasn't. I shot off like a boy before you could even touch me."

For some reason, Jaskier grins widely. "Exactly! Do you have any idea what kind of a rush that is?" He strokes his thumb over Geralt's bottom lip, his grin turning gentle. "The knowledge that just the prospect of my hands on you was enough to push you over? That the thought of sinking that gorgeous knot into my wet cunt drives you to this? Exhilarating!" His eyes widen as a thought occurs to him. "Oh gods, does that make you a virgin?"

Geralt glares up at him. His knot still pulses weakly, and he takes a shuddering breath. "I'm not a virgin, Jaskier."

The omega waves a dismissive hand. "Ah, semantics. In any case, I'll be your first!" He sighs dreamily, and Geralt glares a little harder. "How romantic."

Geralt considers punching him, but dismisses the idea. That would probably kill the mood.

Jaskier leans down and kisses him softly. "In any case, there is no rush, dearest. We can build up your, hm, tolerance." His hand wanders, down over Geralt's chest, over his stomach. Finally he reaches Geralt's cock, and again the alpha can only whimper when the bard's clever fingers wrap around him. "And if you never learn to control it, if you keep going off like a firecracker if I so much as look at your glorious dick, well. There are other ways for you to satisfy me, my darling wolf."

Humiliation curls dark and thick in Geralt's stomach, and he grabs Jaskier's wrist. The bard's face is all innocence as he smiles at him. Already Geralt feels a fresh wave of lust washing over him, and releases Jaskier again. "Show me."

*********

It happens another week later. Jaskier had obviously taken Geralt's weak control over his own cock as a challenge, exposing the Witcher to his nude body at all hours of the day, and slowly but surely Geralt becomes used enough to the sight that he doesn't have to avert his gaze and more to stop himself from shooting in his trousers. From there it was a small step to sleeping naked, to a lot of touching. Geralt is still proud of the first time he managed to make Jaskier come on his tongue and fingers.

Now, Jaskier is on his back in some inn bed, thighs spread  beautifully, and Geralt teases the tip against Jaskier's entrance. "Come on," Jaskier commands, "not getting any younger here."

After all the build up, Geralt expects it to be far more difficult, but as it is, Jaskie parts for him with barely any struggle, and it only takes him three shallow thrust to pop a knot. Jaskier moans and drums his heels against Geralt's arse, and the Witcher takes hold of his hips. He pulls, and shoves, and then he's inside Jaskier and the bard's cunt locks around him.

Geralt whines as he comes, as he pumps his seed into Jaskier's ripe body, and the bard gasps and coos, praising him for a job well done.

Later, he will fall asleep with the omega curled up against his side. Now, he closes his eyes as Jaskier pets him everywhere he can reach. He's where he belongs, short fuse or not.

#OldandKinky #OldandKinky prompts #OldandKinky abo #OldandKinky Jaskier/Geralt

[oldandkinky]

Contains dub-con, A/B/O, heat sex, breeding, gangbang, knotting, copious amounts of come, animalistic behaviour, male omega with a vulva, squirting. Jaskier/Witchers (yes, including Vesemir)

Jaskier knew going to Kaer Morhen was risky. He knew he'd be "trapped" there with nothing but alphas all winter, but him and Geralt were as good as bonded so it didn't really matter, did it? Surely the others would respect the white-haired Witcher's claim, even if it was unspoken.

What he didn't count on was the close proximity to so many alphas triggering an out of season heat, which, in hindsight, he really should have seen coming.

He was woken by his own moan, his cunt slick and swollen with need as he rutted against a pillow stuffed between his legs. Geralt is nowhere to be seen, and judging by the light the Witchers must be outside, training. The alpha probably thought he'd let Jaskier sleep in. The bard isn't sure whether that's good or bad.

The pillow is absolutely drenched by the time he rolls off of it. He needs more, more friction, more inside him, and he shoves his hands between his legs, fingers of one hand slipping easily into his pussy, the others stroking his clit. He comes like that, at least, but it's unfulfilling, a tease at most. Jaskier wants, nay, needs more, and he throws off the blankets and stumbles his way out of the room and downstairs.

The great hall is empty, as is the kitchen, and he whines pitifully. He's descending into heat madness rapidly, and he needs his alpha, why isn't he here? The front door swings open with a gust of icy air but he hardly feels it as he staggers outside, despite only wearing his nightshirt. The clang of swords echoes across the courtyard and he makes his way across towards where he can smell the delicious scent of alphas, can hear their grunts of exertion. Again he whimpers, and all at once the sounds of fighting cease. Instead someone curses colourfully, and next thing he knows Geralt appears around the corner, eyes dark and teeth bared. Jaskier whines and opens his arms, and then Geralt collides with him with a growl, sweeping him up as he continues on into the keep almost without stopping.

Jaskier moans and arches into the man's touch, pushes his nose under his jaw happily. Over Geralt's shoulder, he can see the others following, expressions just as feral as Geralt's, and his pussy throbs.

Geralt only makes it as far as the great hall before he drops Jaskier onto the closest flat surface, which turns out to be the big dining table. In some distant part of his brain, Jaskier thinks that Vesemir won't like that, but then he blinks and the old wolf is there amongst the others, eyes hungry and dick out.

Geralt is the first to mount him, which is only right and has Jaskier sighing happily. His Witcher whispers his name into his skin, holds him close as he fucks him with sharp deep thrusts, his knot forcing Jaskier's swollen cunt open, and the omega mewls sweetly when it pops inside. The others all crowd close, their dicks bumping against him from all sides. It would be courteous to at least touch or maybe even suck them while he's getting pounded into the table, but he's too heat drunk to do anything but lie there.

Lambert bullies Geralt aside as soon as their tie releases, and Jaskier whines when the youngest wolf fucks into him without so much as a "by-your-leave". Lambert ruts him hard and fast, alpha brain focused only on breeding the bitch, and Jaskier's nails bite into the wood of the table as he tries to hold on. He comes explosively when Lambert knots him, squirting all over the bench behind him, and there's an appreciative murmur from the Witchers.

Next is Vesemir, who holds him down with a hand on his neck, and if Jaskier had the wherewithal to look, he'd be surprised at the calm expression on the man's face. It's entirely betrayed by the desperate way he rams himself into Jaskier, deep hard thrusts that make the table shake and rattle the bard's teeth in his skull. His knot holds the longest for now, and when it goes down and Vesemir pulls out, a veritable bucketful of come pours out of Jaskier's hole. He whines, distressed at the loss, but it doesn't last long.

Coën slides into him after that, hands surprisingly gentle as he pulls him back to the edge of the table. The griffin keeps nuzzling his hair as he fucks him, a stark contrast to the sharp lovebites his wolves grace him with, and Jaskier's cock dumb brain thinks, Oh, he's grooming me, like a baby bird, and he giggles. Coën actually has enough presence of mind to reach under him and play with his clit while he fucks him, not just relying on his knot to get Jaskier off.

Eskel's cock makes his toes curl and his back arch, the thick head splitting even his well-fucked cunt open so wide it's vaguely painful. The alpha purrs and purrs to soothe Jaskier's whines of distress as he forces himself inside, and Jaskier gasps when the head of Eskel's prick kisses his womb. The Witcher fucks him slowly, working him open more and more, and by the time he knots him, Jaskier thinks he could probably take two cocks easily now.

It all blurs together after that. He knows Geralt has him again, over and over, knows he keeps begging for cock, to be knotted and filled and bred. He knows the Witchers oblige him, reduced to their most primal instincts as they are. Distantly, he thinks he should probably object to this treatment. He's a Viscount, a master of the seven liberal arts, a famous poet and bard! He shouldn't be bending over to get his pussy filled to bursting like some common slattern! And yet, here he is, happily taking knot after knot after knot, cunt overflowing as his wolves (and griffin) fuck him stupid.

Ah well, Jaskier thinks vaguely as Eskel pulls him onto his cock again. Sometimes one has to be flexible in regards to one's standards for oneself when it comes to a really good dicking.

#oldandkinky #oldandkinky abo #OldandKinky ideas #OldandKinky dub-con #OldandKinky Jaskier/Witchers

[oldandkinky]

if this interests you: a/b/o verse, noncon or dubcon, with alpha geralt bitching out an alpha jaskier? jaskier is already a failure of an alpha and geralt is doing him a favor by showing him his proper place

DD:DNE. Contains A/B/O, anal sex, knotting, mildly dubious consent to non-con, humiliation, forced bonding, forced prostitution, forced feminisation (but in the A/B/O context).

***********

Jaskier sees the Witcher across the tavern room, and he's immediately hopelessly in love. At first it's not so much with the person but the image. It's all too ridiculously perfect. Big alpha Witcher who looks like that and pretends that he can hide in a corner and not draw attention to himself? Yeah, there's a story here, and Jaskier vows to get it out of the man.

Geralt, unfortunately, doesn't seem to be interested in sharing with the class. He tells him to fuck off, then punches him, and then has the gall to save him, like Jaskier is some damsel in distress. It could just bruise an alpha's ego. It doesn't help that Geralt looks him up and down, not even trying to hide the way he breathes him in, something like amusement on his stoic face.

The problem is that Jaskier is used to this. He's not a particularly impressive alpha. He's broad in the shoulders, true, and his chest is definitely furrier than Geralt's, but that's about all the alpha characteristics he has. The rest of him is slim, with his narrow waist that has a pronounced dip ("You sure you're not an omega," is a question he has been asked more than once by prospective bed partners), and his face is just too soft, his lips too plush, his lashes too long. He's not an alpha that inspires respect, really.

He is a little surprised when, a couple of weeks into them travelling together - meaning Jaskier refusing to be gotten rid of -, Geralt gets them a room at an inn and waves away the offer of one with two beds. It's not that he's opposed to letting the man get a bit handsy, very much on the contrary. Geralt is very attractive, and Jaskier doesn't much care about the gender of his partners. He just didn't expect it. Geralt seems like such a straight-laced alpha, only seeking out beta women on the few occasions that Jaskier has had the opportunity to observe him finding someone for the night. And while Jaskier may not be a particularly impressive alpha, he still is one, and a man to boot.

Nevertheless, he follows Geralt upstairs to deposit their things and freshen up. He wants to play the common room for a bit, make some money, but Geralt seems to have other ideas. He drops his things in the corner and fixes Jaskier with a look that has heat pooling in the bard's stomach. "Did you think I couldn't smell you," the Witcher asks, and Jaskier's brows rise.

"What?"

"I've seen the way you look at me. Can smell the lust on you."

Jaskier turns crimson so fast he thinks his head is about to explode. "I don't know what you mean."

"You ever been fucked?" His head tilts to the side a fraction. "Knotted?"

"I don't see how that's any of your business." Jaskier turns away, attempting to hide his embarrassment, even though he knows it's absolutely futile. Geralt is on him in a blink, crowding him against the chest of drawers. Jaskier squeaks when the Witcher presses himself against his arse, and oh gods, that's an alpha cock if Jaskier has ever… well, not seen, but felt one.

"Answer the question, bard," Geralt says roughly, grinding against him. Jaskier whimpers.

"A couple of times. At university." His cheeks, impossibly, heat further. "People didn't believe that I was an alpha."

The Witcher reaches around and palms at his crotch, Jaskier's cock twitching at the attention. "Did you like it? Did you like being the bitch for a real alpha?" Jaskier will deny it to his dying day, but he moans at the question, moans as loudly as any cheap whore, and Geralt squeezes his cock through his breeches. "That's what I thought," he purrs, his breath hot against Jaskier's neck.

Geralt undresses him with quick efficiency, then himself, and Jaskier can't help but stare. He knew Geralt's cock was big, of course he did. He's just felt it rather intimately. But still, as he's on his back on the bed, watching Geralt approach with his hand wrapped around his dick, he feels a flutter of fear. "There's no way that can fit," he protests, and Geralt smirks, the bastard.

"Don't worry," he says as he takes Jaskier by the hips and effortlessly flips him onto his front. Again, Jaskier squeaks, then whimpers as Geralt blankets him with his body, his cock like a hot brand between the bard's cheeks. "We'll make it fit," the Witcher promises, and Jaskier hides his face in the sheets.

Geralt is kind enough to take his time. He uses so much oil Jaskier thinks he's just going to slide straight off the bed, and he works the bard open with much more patience than Jaskier thought him capable of. Finger after finger is carefully pressed into him, stretching him wide open, and by the time Geralt tucks his thumb into his palm and pushes into him to the knuckles, Jaskier is an incoherent, trembling mess.

"Gonna fuck you now, little bard," Geralt rasps as he withdraws his hand, and then Jaskier feels the blunt pressure of the alpha's cock. They both groan as Geralt pushes inside, although Jaskier's noises noticeably rise in pitch the deeper Geralt's cock reaches. It feels like it just goes on and on, so much bigger than any cock Jaskier has ever taken before, and he's panting and whining, babbling nonsense pleas. Geralt's knot is just barely filling out, slipping into him with hardly any force required, and Jaskier's breath hitches every time it pushes in and then slips out again with a squelch.

Geralt is straddling his thighs, holding himself up on his arms, and he shifts, grabs one of Jaskier's cheeks and spreads them to give himself a better view. "As pink and sweet as any cunt," he murmurs, and again Jaskier feels the hot flush of shame.

"Don't say that," he breathes, and Geralt stills for a heartbeat. Then he pulls out and pushes back into him ever so slowly, really making Jaskier feel just how big he is. His knot is just a little fuller now, and he needs more force to get it into Jaskier's arse.

"Why not," he asks as he leans over Jaskier again. He noses at Jaskier's scent gland, makes him gasp and shiver at the contact. "You take my cock like you're born for it, Jaskier. Maybe nature made a mistake, giving you that pretty little cock. Maybe she meant for you to be an omega, to spend your life hanging off knots." As if to emphasise, he starts fucking Jaskier faster, harder, the in and out of his growing knot setting Jaskier's blood to boiling.

"I'm an alpha," he gasps, "I'm not just some hole for you to use."

Geralt chuckles, shifts the angle of his thrusts. Jaskier cries out as he sees stars. "Then why did you spread your legs for me the minute I asked?" He's breathing harder now, and he leans down, winds an arm around Jaskier's chest to hold him close. "I've been remiss in my duties as an alpha, bard. I ought to have given you what you clearly need when we met."

There are tears in Jaskier's eyes, even as he can feel himself hurtling towards orgasm. "That's not true," he forces out, "I don't-"

Geralt drags his teeth over Jaskier's scent gland, sets his mouth to it and sucks, and the bard goes rigid under him. He is on fire, every one of his nerve endings lighting up with pleasure, and Geralt fucks him harder and harder. Jaskier's own cock lies ignored, squashed between his belly and the mattress. "So you want me to stop?" He punctuates the question with deep, punishing thrusts that have his knot tugging almost painfully on Jaskier's rim. Jaskier grimaces, fingers curled into the sheets.

"Don't stop," he whimpers, "I'm so close." And he is, he realises, he can feel the pleasure coiling tighter and tighter in his gut, and he thinks he just might die if Geralt stopped now.

The Witcher chuckles. "Gonna come on my cock like the good little bitch that you are?" Jaskier whines in response, and Geralt's hand slides down his chest, his fingers finding his nipple. Jaskier twitches, the sting sending a hot flush all through him. "Fuck, you get so tight, gonna feel so fucking good on my knot." He's panting against Jaskier's throat, his breath brushing over his scent gland, and Jaskier's lust-addled brain wants.

He tilts his head without thinking about it, and Geralt growls into his skin. Jaskier whines, tilts his hips. "Geralt…"

The Witcher curses, and all of a sudden his teeth are in Jaskier's neck, far enough away from his scent gland to not provoke a bond, and Jaskier sobs. Geralt's hips slam into him, harder and harder, and then his knot is just too big, tying them together. Jaskier jerks, hands scrabbling for purchase on the bed, and then Geralt's knot is battering his sweet spot unerringly. Jaskier falls apart with a scream, one that Geralt just barely stifles by slapping a hand over his mouth even as he ruts into him desperately, pumping his guts full of come, his teeth still in Jaskier's neck.

They're both panting harshly, and when Geralt lets go of his neck, Jaskier hisses. The Witcher rumbles deep in his chest, pleased. "Told you," he murmurs as he rolls them to their sides, knot deep in Jaskier's arse. "Like you were born for it."

Jaskier stares at the wall, shame creeping back into his awareness now that the rush of orgasm is fading. Geralt nuzzles the back of his neck, licking over the bite mark and purring, and Jaskier wonders just what he has gotten himself into here.

***********

What Jaskier has gotten himself into is this: Geralt takes this new dynamic much more seriously than Jaskier would ever have expected. He starts treating Jaskier more gently, and it takes the bard a while to realise that he treats him the way one would handle an omega. It makes anger curl in his gut. He may be a bit softer, a bit more… fuck it, effeminate, but he's still an alpha.

He starts refusing Geralt when the Witcher tries to initiate sex, asks for two rooms when they stay in inns. He's not going to just roll over and let the Witcher live out his sordid fantasy. All of that works for about two weeks. During that time Geralt goes from vaguely amused to confused to annoyed to angry. Jaskier doesn't realise he's settled on determined until it's too late.

Geralt has finished setting up camp while Jaskier collected kindling for their fire, and once that is burning merrily, the bard sits down and pulls out his lute. It's out of tune, just slightly but enough to annoy him, and he settles down to fix that. Geralt gives him all of three minutes.

"You've been acting oddly," he says, and Jaskier looks up from his lute strings, frowning.

"How do you mean?"

"Distant. Dismissive."

Jaskier almost chokes on his tongue, because come the fuck on. "I didn't feel like having sex with you, is that a crime?"

"You always want sex, Jaskier. It's in your nature."

Jaskier's cheeks grow hot. "What is that supposed to mean?"

Geralt is looking at him with an intensity that makes his skin crawl. "You know exactly what I mean."

"Please, humour me." Jaskier's voice drips with acid. Seriously, what does Geralt think he's doing?

Slowly, the Witcher gets to his feet, moves around the fire to where Jaskier sits. He stiffens, clutches the lute to his chest as Geralt lowers himself onto the log beside him. "It means," he says in a low voice that makes goosebumps prickle all over Jaskier's skin, "that that knot is wasted on you. That you're gagging to be put in your place." His hand is on Jaskier's knee, and the bard flinches.

"Stop it," he hisses. "Fuck, what's gotten into you? If I'd known you'd be so weird about this, I never would've said yes." He scoots away, or attempts to. Geralt's grip on his knee tightens. Jaskier glares at his hand. "Let go, Geralt."

The Witcher watches him calmly. He doesn't let go, on the contrary. He moves his hand, up the inside of Jaskier's thigh. Jaskier flinches again, and when he tries to get up, Geralt's other hand settles on the back of his neck. "You've been irritable," he says gently, thumb massaging Jaskier's scent gland. "Let me help you."

Even Jaskier with his inferior nose can smell the lust rolling off of the man, and he bares his teeth. "Geralt, I don't want-"

Geralt leans in and kisses him, ignoring the noise of protest Jaskier makes. He tugs the lute from suddenly bloodless fingers, and Jaskier finds himself manhandled onto the bedrolls, Geralt between his thighs, kissing his way down his throat. Jaskier whines when the Witcher sucks at a sensitive spot, shoves at his shoulder.

"Geralt, I mean it, get off of me." He twists, tries to get away, but Geralt doesn't budge. "Stop, I don't want this!"

The Witcher chuckles. "Then why are you hard?" He presses their hips together and Jaskier realises with start that, oh, he is. Geralt smirks as he rocks against him a couple of times. "Don't worry, I'll give you what you need, omega."

Jaskier freezes. Omega. No, no, that's- He's not- He shoves Geralt again, harder this time. "Let me go, get off, I-"

Geralt snarls at him, one hand going into his hair. Jaskier cries out, his eyes watering. The Witcher leans close, until their faces are a breath away from each other. "Do I need to tie you up? Or are you gonna be a good bitch and take what you're given?"

The bard quails, and the watering eyes turn into real tears. "Geralt, please don't, you know I'm not an omega."

"You're not an alpha with that pathetic little cock, either. Don't pretend you didn't like getting fucked, Jaskier."

"It's not little, and that doesn't mean-"

"You don't know what you need, and it's my duty as alpha to take care of you." There's a dark undercurrent in Geralt's tone, and it chills Jaskier to the core.

He keeps struggling as Geralt flips him onto his front again, as he pulls down his breeches. He doesn't stop struggling, in fact, until Geralt presses fingers slick with oil into him, whispering how well he takes them, and isn't that proof that he needs this? Two just slip right in, which isn't really a surprise given how often Geralt had fucked and knotted him before Jaskier had had enough. He tenses at the third, whimpers at the fourth, pants at the thumb. He hates it, but it does feel good, even if he wants to turn around and spit in Geralt's face. It gets worse when Geralt coos praise at him, telling him what a sweet, needy cunt he has. By the time Geralt gets his cock into him, he's a sobbing, humiliated mess, praying for this to be over.

"You're being so good for me, Jaskier, such a good little bitch." Geralt, of course, takes his time, fucking him slow and deep, and Jaskier hates every second of it. He goes rigid when Geralt noses at his scent glands, moans pitifully when he licks and sucks at them. Geralt growls softly. "Gonna make such a lovely mate," he says, and before Jaskier can parse the meaning of those words, the Witcher has sunk his teeth into his flesh.

Jaskier howls with it, the pain excruciating and made even more so when Geralt shoves his knot into him. All he can think is Nononono, that isn't supposed to happen! Alphas don't bond each other, it's not how this works! And yet, even as his body rejects the force of the mating, he can also feel the change, the softening inside him towards Geralt, and he feels sick with hatred.

The worst thing about all of this may just be that he comes, Geralt's knot pushing against his sweet spot and shoving him over the edge.

After, Geralt tugs him into his arms, licking and kissing the bite, ignoring the way Jaskier shakes with rage. He vows, then, to get as far away from Geralt, as fast as he can.

***********

Geralt doesn't let him out of his sight after this. He even brings him on hunts he never would have allowed him on before. Every time he touches him, Jaskier wants to vomit.

To his horror, his body seems to have other ideas. He doesn't notice the change himself, only becomes aware of it once Geralt points it out: he doesn't fight the Witcher any more when Geralt wants to have sex, on the contrary. He spreads his legs and moans for it, because it feels good, and his head goes fuzzy whenever Geralt starts smelling like lust. Jaskier has never been more terrified by his own body.

Things continue like this for a month. They're near Maribor when their coin runs out, and there are no contracts. Jaskier hasn't really played since Geralt bit him - he refuses to call it a bonding, that's not what this is - and he doubts he'll allow it now, but he asks anyway.

Geralt scoffs. "Don't worry your sweet head about it, I'll think of something."

They're picking up supplies with their meager coin when Jaskier becomes aware of eyes on him. There's a man, across the street and leaning against the corner of a house, and he's all but undressing Jaskier with his gaze. When Jaskier looks away, he can't ignore the way the man rubs himself through his breeches, and he steps closer to Geralt without really noticing. Geralt does notice, and he follows Jaskier's glances.

"Looks like someone wants a piece of you," he says smugly, and Jaskier bristles.

"Well, I'm not interested. If he needs it so bad, he can just go and find a brothel."

Beside him, Geralt stills, and Jaskier's heart sinks. What, what did he say? After a moment Geralt takes him by the arm and leads him across the road, to where the man is still standing. He looks apprehensive, and Jaskier pulls his arm out of Geralt's grip. The Witcher seizes the man up. "You want to fuck him," he says bluntly, and Jaskier's stomach drops. Surely Geralt wouldn't-

"Yeah, what about it?" The man stands up straighter, pushes out his chest. It's a pathetic attempt at alpha posturing.

Geralt studies him a moment, then he says, "Sixty orens."

Jaskier goes cold all over. "No," he breathes, then louder, "no, Geralt, please, not that, I can't-"

"We both know you can," Geralt says. "And don't pretend to be above this. A bard is just one step away from a whore anyway."

Jaskier's eyes burn. "Please, Geralt, don't make me do this." The Witcher doesn't even look at him as he haggles with the man, and Jaskier breaks. He grabs Geralt's sleeve, and his tears spill over. "Alpha, please!"

Geralt stills, and when he turns to look at Jaskier, his gaze seems to burn him. "See," he says softly, "I knew you'd understand some day." He reaches up and cups Jaskier's cheek, smiling. He looks proud, and something in Jaskier's chest squeezes painfully. "Don't worry, just let me handle this, omega."

The bard whines, tears spilling down his cheeks unceasingly as Geralt turns back to the man. He's frozen, even as everything in him is screaming at him to run, to get away, to put a stop to this madness.

How did it come to this? How could he have misjudged Geralt's character so severely? He stands there, shaking with a mixture of rage, fear and sadness as the Witcher let's himself be talked down to fifty five orens. Money exchanges hands, and Geralt grabs him by the elbow. Jaskier's mind is going blank. He knows there is no way he will get out of this.

Geralt is whoring him out without a second thought, and it hurts.

The man leads them to his flat, a dingy little one-room thing over a bakery. Geralt sits in a chair by the door, arms crossed over his chest. At the man's perturbed look, he cocks a brow. "Just because I let you have his hole doesn't mean I'm just gonna leave him with you." He looks at Jaskier, standing stiff as a board beside the bed. "He's my omega after all." His face softens as he says it, and Jaskier could cry all over again.

The man doesn't undress him, just pulls down his  breeches and pushes him onto hands and knees on the bed. He's clearly impatient, fingering him only perfunctorily and much faster than Geralt usually does, and he uses far too little oil until Geralt clears his throat and reminds him that there'll be a problem if he rips Jaskier.

Jaskier has started crying again, the humiliation and utter betrayal too much, and he sobs quietly when the man pushes into him. He's fast and rough, and Jaskier grits his teeth and clenches his fists around the bedsheets. The only positive is that the man isn't nearly as big as Geralt, but this also means that Jaskier gets treated to a constant barrage of comments about his sloppy, loose hole. His cheeks burn with shame, and when the man knots him, he clenches down, hard, to get this over with quicker. The man leans over him, panting harshly against the back of his neck, and Jaskier stares at the wall, silent except for his hitching breath.

After, Geralt wipes him down quickly before they leave, and he kisses his temple once they're outside the bakery. "You did so well, Jaskier. Knew we'd find some way for you to contribute."

Jaskier doesn't reply, his eyes fixed straight ahead as they walk back to the market. His fingers itch. He wants to run. He wants to smash Geralt's smug face in.

He does none of those things.

************

Geralt sells his lute. Jaskier doesn't speak for a week.

**********

It becomes common knowledge that the White Wolf - because the name had actually caught on before Geralt lost his damn mind - whores out his companion, and every town and settlement they stop in, Jaskier finds himself on his knees more often than not, servicing whomever Geralt brings him. It takes him a couple of months to realise it, but when he does it horrifies him: after, when Geralt cleans him of those other men's come, when he is proud of him and touches him sweetly, licks and kisses the accursed mating bite - in those moments, Jaskier finds his heart softening, finds himself grateful. There's a little voice inside him, one that tells him how lucky he is to have such a caring mate, someone who takes such good care of a stupid little omega like him.

Jaskier lies in bed as he realises this, Geralt's arm heavy across his waist, and he wants to scream, but when he opens his mouth, nothing comes out.

#oldandkinky #OldandKinky prompts #oldandkinky abo #OldandKinky dub-con #OldandKinky non-con #OldandKinky Jaskier/Geralt

[oldandkinky]

Have a little WIP snip, because why not.

CW non-consensual voyeurism, dragon fucking, consequently size difference & large insertion, Jaskier/Villentretenmerth

He’s so lost in staring at Jaskier’s face that he doesn’t notice when the dragon turns his gaze on him, and he jumps when he hears him say, “We have an audience, little bird.”

Jaskier doesn’t open his eyes, just smiles, fuck dumb and blissed out. “Hm, I sure hope your lovely ladies are enjoying the show.”

The dragon can’t smile, but he sounds oh so smug when he says, “It’s your Witcher.”

Jaskier’s eyes fly open, and he bangs his head against the dragon’s chest as he shoves himself up onto his hands. He looks panicked all of a sudden. “G-Geralt! What- What are you doing here?” Villentretenmerth has stilled, a rumbling purr rolling through his broad chest as he leans down and nuzzles the bard again. Jaskier bats at him weakly with one hand.

“I- Uh. Yarpen said- You went back. Up here. I thought- Hm.” How is he supposed to justify this? He might be able to explain why he came back, combined with an apology, but there’s no way to explain why he stood there, watching his friend get fucked by a dragon.

The bard grows paler and paler the longer they stare at each other, and finally he looks away. “I was just- That is to say, Téa and Véa, they-”

“I’m sure you know,” the dragon interrupts, “that my kind can both lay and fertilise eggs, yes?” Geralt does know that, and he nods wordlessly. Villentretenmerth narrows his eyes. “My time to lay arrived quite suddenly, most likely triggered by my mate’s death. I could not risk losing this egg, and your little bard is my best chance of preventing that.”

Jaskier’s head drops low between his shoulders, avoiding Geralt’s gaze, but he can’t hide the dark blush creeping down his chest. Geralt’s mouth is very dry all of a sudden. “You’ll… You’re going to-”

“Lay inside him, yes. Jaskier agreed quite enthusiastically, didn’t you, little bird?”

Jaskier nods, just once. The tips of his ears are flaming red.

#oldandkinky #OldandKinky wips #OldandKinky monsterfucking #wip excerpt #OldandKinky prompts #oldandkinky abo

[oldandkinky]

Me seeing your new wip : oh nice, what is it this time ?

Me reading the CW : oh, NICE

Me getting to the end : OMG PLEASE GIMME MORE

Can't wait to read the whole thing ! 🦔

Soon, I hope! I read a Jaskier-is-a-dragon fic the other day and remembered I had this sitting in my prompts, and I was ⭐inspired⭐

Have another tiny snip:

"You did it, Jask," he gasps, and the omega smiles drunkenly.

"Hold him still," Villentretenmerth orders after a minute, and Geralt sits up and takes hold of Jaskier's hips. The dragon snorts once more, hot air blowing across Geralt's face and Jaskier's back, and then he pulls out ever so slowly. Jaskier makes a low, punched out noise before he cries out again, and Geralt stares.

#oldandkinky #oldandkinky talks #oldandkinky abo #OldandKinky monsterfucking #OldandKinky wips #wip excerpt #OldandKinky prompts

[oldandkinky]

lately i've been thinking about forced pregnancy, so i hope this is your cup of tea (i totally get if it's not so feel free to ignore this) but like... a/b/o, alpha!valdo and omega!jaskier fucking around during their time at oxenfurt. jaskier insists that valdo never comes in him because jaskier can't get (for any reason) birth control. valdo bitches a bit, but he does always pull out so jaskier doesn't give it much thought. (1/2)

their relationship is more "rivals with benefits" than lovers - but maybe valdo wants more or he just wants to ruin jaskier's prospects, so one day he doesn't pull out and knots him, hoping to knock jaskier up. jaskier, of course, is horrified and devastated by the breach of trust (2/2)

This was way too much fun. I hate that this is so easy to write.

DD:DNE. Contains A/B/O, consensual sex to non-con, frenemies, vaginal sex, knotting, vomiting, derogatory language, degradation kink, impregnation kink, rough sex, crying, panic attacks.

**********

Valdo has always been a pain in Jaskier’s ass, from the moment the two met. Other people get love at first sight, Jaskier gets nemesis at first sight. Typical.

It had all started innocently enough. Trying to one-up each other in class, at exams, at public performances. Normal animosity between students, but the source for it all is deep-seated and not easily solved. Valdo is an alpha, through and through, entitled to the tips of his stupid little moustache, and he hates the fact that Jaskier, an omega, is succeeding in his chosen field instead of spending his time on his back for some alpha stud, the way he’s supposed to.

Jaskier, for his part, hates nothing more than bigotry, and Valdo has that in spades. He’s also just not that good a musician, something that rankles Jaskier almost as much as the blatant prejudice against omegas. Skilled enough, but unimaginative. Boring.

It’s hard to tell which of them is more surprised when they first end up sleeping together.

It happens after a contest, one that Jaskier wins easily. His lyrics may need a little work, true, but his playing is flawless as always, and Valdo is seething. Jaskier has retreated to a tavern with some friends to celebrate, and Valdo accosts him there, like the sore loser that he is. Jaskier doesn’t remember the particulars. There is a lot of yelling, of veiled and not so veiled insults, and somehow they end up in the alley behind the tavern, Valdo holding him up against the wall as he fucks Jaskier like his life depends on it.

“Don’t come in me,” Jaskier remembers to gasp out mid-fuck, “I can’t- fuck!- I can’t take preventative potions.”

Valdo sneers at him, his hips snapping against him harder. “What, don’t want to end up with a bun in the oven?”

Jaskier sneers right back. “Even if I did, you’d be the last person I’d pick to put it in me.”

After, there are marks on Jaskier’s hips and his collarbone, and Valdo’s displeasure at not getting to knot him is slightly mitigated by getting to rub his come all over Jaskier’s belly and between his thighs. Jaskier allows it with an eye roll. It’ll make going home easier at this hour - when he smells like alpha it keeps the creeps away.

It becomes a regular thing, somehow. They fuck in Jaskier’s student flat a week after that first time, with Jaskier on hands and knees - “Like a proper little bitch,” Valdo croons over Jaskier’s helpless moans -, and the week after that in a broom closet off the astrology lecture hall. Jaskier bites Valdo then, in the meat of his palm, while Valdo covers his mouth as he fucks him from behind.

It’s good. It’s so fucking good. The constant animosity makes it better than it has any right to be, and if Jaskier has to be honest - Valdo just knows how to fuck. He coaxes multiple orgasms out of him every time, ones that leave him dripping and his thighs shaking. It’s unfair, really.

The worst thing about it, the one that gets Jaskier going more than anything, is the way Valdo talks to him. It ought to have Jaskier running in the other direction. Before this, he had no idea he had a degradation kink, but apparently he does. Valdo calls him omega slut, uppity little whore, muses that surely Jaskier must have fucked his way through the professors to even be allowed to attend university. Omegas are too stupid, too weak-minded, to be true artists. All they’re good for is to look pretty - “And oh, you’re so very pretty, Jaskier, speared on my cock,” - and to be bred full of children.

The first time Valdo actually proposes the idea with any sort of seriousness, Jaskier comes so hard he sees stars, and when Valdo pulls out to come over his back, he almost regrets it in his haze of lust. It becomes part of Valdo’s dirty talk repertoire quickly. The man isn’t stupid after all, he saw the way Jaskier reacted. Whispered musings on how hot Jaskier would look, fat and heavy with his child, spiral into Valdo not so subtly begging to be allowed, to try it, his knot teasing at Jaskier’s cunt, and he’s almost tempted to give in. But only almost.

“I don’t want a child,” he states calmly, when they’re on their backs on the bed after one day. He’s looking up at the ceiling, hands folded on his belly. “Maybe later, but now… I’m where I want to be, Valdo. I’m doing the thing I’ve wanted to do ever since I first picked up a lute.” He looks over at the alpha, who is watching him with a slight frown.

“I get it,” he says at length, and it’s clear he’s entirely affecting the blasé way he adds, “I mean I don’t want to be a father. Far too much responsibility.”

Jaskier chuckles. “We’d make horrible parents.” Valdo snorts and agrees, and Jaskier considers the discussion closed.

Two weeks later, they’re in Valdo’s flat, after another hotly contested competition that Jaskier also won, and the alpha is livid. Jaskier is secretly gleeful. Getting under the man’s skin like that is almost as good as winning in itself. Valdo drags him into the small bedroom and tosses him on the bed, his jaw set.

“Strip,” he commands, and Jaskier laughs. He lays back on the sheets, writhing a little with his arms over his head, smirking at Valdo.

“Sorry, darling, I’m far too exhausted after all my hard work today.” His smile sharpens. “Guess you’ll have to put in the effort if you want me.”

Valdo snarls and all but rips his clothes off. It’s exhilarating, to be able to break down Valdo’s control, to bring the alpha to the front and have him drop the veneer of culturedness. When Valdo has him naked, he flips him onto his front and growls at him to present, and Jaskier’s breath catches in his throat. Sure, he has done that before, and Valdo has told him to get on all fours, but he has never used that particular phrase. It makes something hot curl in the pit of Jaskier’s stomach.

He’s trembling in anticipation of the no doubt brutal fuck he’s about to receive when he lifts himself onto his knees, his shoulders pressed into the mattress, and Valdo makes a low noise of appreciation. “Good bitch,” he breathes, and then mutters, “gonna show you your place.” Jaskier is confused by the phrasing for a second, but then there’s the whisper of fabric behind him and then Valdo pushes into him without preamble. It’s easy - Jaskier has been soaking wet ever since they entered the building - and Valdo sinks into him as deep as he can go with a filthy groan. “Fuck, you’re so open, Jaskier, loose like the omega slut that you are.” The alpha wastes no time. He starts fucking Jaskier hard and deep almost immediately, with little build up, and Jaskier is panting and crying out in less than two minutes.

“F-fuck, so good,” he moans, his breath hitching at each punishing thrust, and Valdo’s grip on his hips tightens. “Gonna make me come so fast,” he adds breathlessly. 

Valdo, strangely, hardly speaks, just fucks Jaskier with stone cold precision, and Jaskier falls over the edge quicker than ever before. He comes with a scream, Valdo’s thumb working his clit, and he’s sobbing into the sheets at how it’s almost, almost too much. Valdo bows over him, mouths at his shoulder with a grunt. “Good omega,” he says in a low voice that has goosebumps prickling on Jaskier’s skin, “take me so well.”

And then Valdo groans, his hips push against Jaskier harder, and Jaskier screams, now for an entirely different reason. He thrashes, keeps screaming, and Valdo grabs him by the back of the neck and holds him down. Jaskier is panting, is panicking. “No, no, stop,” he gasps, tears in his eyes all of a sudden as Valdo grunts and groans above him, hips grinding against Jaskier’s so hard Jaskier can feel him against his womb. “Valdo, no, stop, don’t-”

Valdo knotted him. All the times they fucked, no matter how brutal it was, how angry either of them were, Valdo always respected Jaskier’s one demand, and now he hasn’t. They’re stuck together, Jaskier’s cunt twitching around him as the alpha pumps him full of come, and Jaskier is breathing so fast he feels lightheaded. Valdo leans over him again, breath hot against his back, and Jaskier cries out as the change in angle tugs painfully at him. “Ssh,” Valdo croons, “easy, I’m just giving you what you need, sweetheart.”

They stay like that until the tie releases, Jaskier sobbing into the sheets and yanking at his own hair as he spirals into full blown panic, and Valdo grinding into him as deep as he can. The second the knot goes down, Jaskier shoves Valdo off of himself and scrambles off the bed and to the vanity where a pitcher of water stands next to a basin, for washing up. His stomach is roiling and he barely makes it in time before he’s retching, and then he’s emptying the meagre contents of his stomach into the basin. There’s slick and come running down his thighs, and Jaskier heaves until his stomach is truly empty, his face a mess of tears and snot and spit.

Valdo just watches him from where he’s still kneeling on the bed, his face entirely blank. Jaskier grabs whatever piece of fabric is closest - turns out it’s Valdo’s nightshirt - and scrubs first at his face, then at the mess between his legs. He bears down, forces out as much of Valdo’s come as he can, fresh tears streaming down his face. Fuck, what is he going to do?

“Do I really disgust you that much,” Valdo asks quietly, and Jaskier’s eyes snap up to his, incredulous.

“What?”

“Is the thought of carrying my child that horrifying to you?” The alpha looks… hurt, and Jaskier loses it. He picks up the water pitcher and throws it at Valdo as hard as he can, and the man barely ducks out of the way in time. The pitcher shatters noisily against the wall behind the bed, and he does end drenched, so that’s at least a little satisfying.

“Are you fucking serious right now?! You knew this was the one thing I don’t want! The one thing I asked of you, and you ignored it to, what, prove a point?” He laughs, and it’s more than just laced with hysteria. “I know we’re not friends, but do you seriously hate the fact that I’m better at all of this,” he waves his hand at the instruments in the corner, “than you so much that you want to ruin my fucking life over it?!”

Valdo doesn’t look chastened, just uncomfortable. After a pause he says, “You don’t know what it’s like. To always be second best, and to an omega. To have to explain to my father why you keep winning contests, why you get better grades.” He looks up at Jaskier then, and there is genuine hurt on his face. “He threatened to cut me off if I don’t beat you.”

Jaskier stares at him in complete disbelief. “So instead of, I don’t know, studying and getting better at the thing you profess to love, you decided to take me out of the game?! I can’t fucking believe you!”

“I had no choice, Jaskier!” He grinds his teeth for a second, then gestures at the omega. “You are better than me, and nothing I do to change that matters!”

“That’s your fucking problem, not mine!” The now soiled nightshirt is still in his hand, his fingers bloodless around it. He tosses it at Valdo, the fabric landing in a heap in his lap. “I’m reporting you to the dean,” he says as he collects his clothes, slips into them. He’s sticky and disgusting, and he wants to take a steel brush and scrape his skin raw, erase every bit of evidence that Valdo ever touched him. His stomach roils again. “And you better pray to every fucking god there is that this doesn’t take.”

When he hurries out the door, he throws one last look over his shoulder. Valdo still kneels on the bed, dripping wet and his hands clutching the nightshirt. He looks oddly small like that, Jaskier thinks. Good. The door falls closed behind him with a loud bang, and Jaskier runs.

#oldandkinky #OldandKinky prompts #oldandkinky abo #OldandKinky non-con #OldandKinky Jaskier/Valdo

[oldandkinky]

Saw this on insta and thought of you.

I have been perceived. 😂

Seriously though, I've never thought about that. Maybe I read the "right" A/B/O stories but I've never seen the price of suppressants being an issue. Getting ones that don't fuck with the hormonal balance, sure. But maybe I just didn't recognise it as an issue since I'm also in a country with universal healthcare so this issue didn't even occur to me.

#oldandkinky #oldandkinky talks #oldandkinky abo

[oldandkinky]

what are your thoughts on an omega -- either with an actual cock or a strap-on -- using their own slick to fuck their alpha partner?

Just, making out until they're dripping, and then using that to finger the alpha open, nice and slow. Stretch them just enough but get them real sloppy with the omega's slick, "Look at you, such a hungry little hole, looks just like a pussy like this."

Spread it over their cock before they push inside, or - if they're using a strap - fuck themselves on that to get it wet enough. And then during, just reaching between their legs every once in a while to smear more over the alpha's hole. Can't have it drying out and hurting them.

#oldandkinky #oldandkinky talks #oldandkinky abo

[oldandkinky]

reading thru Honey and there seems to be much talk about how tasty Jaskier's slick is. what if Geralt (and Eskel?) just eat him out for hours. (maybe passing him back and forth every time he comes?)

DD:DNE. Contains A/B/O, extremely dubious consent, gentle sex, oral sex, vaginal/anal fingering, squirting, overstimulation, unconsciousness, threesome, possessive behaviour, crying.

*********

Geralt wakes up in the watery pre-dawn grey of a dreary morning the next day, warm and comfortable. There's a heavy hand resting on his stomach, a lithe body pressed to his side, and he closes his eyes again and sighs.

His thoughts stray back to the previous night, to the way his little mate had finally, desperately screamed for him, to save him from being gangraped. Just that, his name shouted with such desperate fear and what could only be called hope, that alone had been worth having to stand there and watch those wretches touch what is his. Jaskier had been so confused, so frightened, it had made him cling to Geralt, begging to be kept safe, if not with words then with actions.

And then. Then they'd told him what a needy little slut he was, and the night ended with the boy speared on both his and Eskel's cocks, crying so prettily as they gave him all the pleasure his sweet hole desired.

Eskel's ideas always were good.

He turns his head to look down at the boy, curled into his side in his sleep. Jaskier has been doing that for a while now, pressing close to Geralt whenever he's asleep, even if he jerks away once he wakes and becomes aware of it. He's so small beside him, the perfect little omega, with his big blue eyes and that sweet pink mouth, his pretty little cunt. Geralt shivers when he remembers how almost effortlessly it had swallowed his whole hand, how explosively Jaskier had come on it. The boy truly was made to get fucked.

Behind him, Eskel sleeps deeply, his arm thrown over Jaskier's waist and his hand splayed on Geralt's stomach. Eskel is broader than him, and held between the two of them, Jaskier looks tiny and vulnerable. A fawn, caught between two wolves.

He leans over and brushes his lips over the top of Jaskier's head, breathes in the sweet scent rising from his hair. He's certain he will never tire of this, of Jaskier being so soft and relaxed. He likes the fight, yes, but he has grown oddly tired of it as of late.

Jaskier stirs slightly, presses his nose against Geralt's ribs, and the alpha hums, pleased. It takes a few moments for Jaskier to wake, and when he does, he stiffens. He does not, however, flinch away, although that may be due mostly to Eskel's bulk at his back. Geralt smiles down at him. "Morning."

The boy's eyes are guarded. He says nothing.

"How did you sleep?" Geralt rolls onto his side, facing the omega, and Jaskier draws his hands close to himself. He shrugs one shoulder, not looking away from Geralt for even a second. He seems to completely ignore Eskel at his back, attention fully focused on Geralt. He tries not to preen. "I'm glad we got to you in time," he says quietly, "who knows what they might have done to you."

Jaskier's eyes flash, and his lips part as though he's about to say something, but then he presses them tightly closed again. Geralt reaches up to brush a lock of hair away from his forehead. Jaskier's eyes track the movement.

"We can stay here a day or two," Geralt continues, luxuriating in the feeling of the boy's soft hair between his fingers. "Rest for a bit."

Behind Jaskier, Eskel rouses with a groan, and Jaskier stiffens, his hands twitching. Eskel pulls his hand back and stretches, blinking drowsily at Geralt. "Mornin'." Geralt hums, and Jaskier inches away from Eskel ever so slightly. The Witcher grins. "Have a good night, little flower?"

Again, Jaskier shrugs one shoulder and remains silent. Geralt lets his hand move from his hair down to the boy's nape. Jaskier shivers, ever so slightly. Geralt sucks in a breath, lets the boy's scent fill him. Wildflowers, and the bitter tang of apprehension and misery that always hangs around him like a shroud.

Eskel rolls out of the bed with a groan. "I'll go see if anybody is up yet. I'm starving." He pulls on a clean shirt, trousers and his boots, then rubs his hand over his face to wake himself up more. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do," he says with a grin, then slips out the door.

Geralt is still holding onto Jaskier's neck, thumb stroking back and forth absently. The boy gradually relaxes under his touch, his eyes drooping after a while, and Geralt leans down and presses a gentle kiss to his forehead. Jaskier doesn't react, half asleep again, and isn't that lovely. Geralt chooses to see it as a good sign, a sign of trust, of a kind.

He lets himself drift for a bit, nose pressed into Jaskier's curls as he holds him close, and it doesn't take long at all for his prick to show interest. Not surprising, with the boy so close and soft and unresisting. He shifts, presses his hips against Jaskier, delighted when the boy only reacts with a sharply drawn breath. He doesn't tense, he doesn't fight. Such good behaviour should be rewarded.

They're both still naked, after their play the night before, and it's easy as anything to coax Jaskier onto his back, to slide between his thighs. Geralt kisses his way down from Jaskier's knee, along the inside of his thigh and to the soft curls between his legs. Jaskier's breathing comes faster now, his fingers curled into the sheets beneath him, and Geralt presses a gentle kiss to the boy's clit that has him twitching.

He takes his time with this. Jaskier doesn't resist, just lies there, silent except for the occasional hitch of his breath, or soft little moans when Geralt starts to work him in earnest. Jaskier's folds part for him easily, swelling with blood the longer Geralt licks and sucks at him, his clit standing proud and needy. Soon the wet of the alpha's spit is joined by Jaskier's slick, sweet and decadent. Geralt groans into him and Jaskier's hips twitch, as do his hands, and Geralt pries one away from the sheets and guides it into his hair. Jaskier makes a soft noise at that, one he can't place, but his fingers curl into Geralt's hair so he doesn't try to identify the meaning of the sound.

It doesn't take him long to bring Jaskier to his peak like that, with his lips tight around the boy's clit and two fingers gently fucking him, and Jaskier's grip on his hair becomes painful when he comes, his back arching as he cries out. Geralt gentles him through it, withdrawing his fingers to instead lap up his boy's juices, cleaning him thoroughly before he returns to his clit. Jaskier hisses, his fingers twitching in Geralt's hair, but he doesn't object, and soon he's writhing under Geralt's mouth once more, no doubt sensitive.

Geralt doesn't stop. Jaskier's slick flows like a fountain, drenching his face and the sheets beneath the omega, and his cries grow increasingly frantic with every orgasm that the Witcher drags out of him. By the time he's driving him towards one for the fourth time, with two fingers pressed into him and his other hand tugging at one of the boy's nipples, Eskel returns with a tray, and Jaskier whimpers and attempts to close his legs. Geralt growls into his flesh, fucks into him faster, the tips of his fingers curling up, and Jaskier arches off the bed with a scream, squirting his release all over Geralt's face.

Eskel chuckles as he closes the door behind himself and sets the tray on the table. "Guess you were starving, too, wolf."

Jaskier is crying, breath hitching as he tries to regain his composure. He's so fucking beautiful, flushed and trembling, his cunt swollen and still clenching hungrily around his fingers. Geralt can hardly stand it. He surges up, pulling his fingers free, and captures Jaskier's mouth in a brutal kiss as he takes himself in hand. It only takes a couple of strokes, his fingers still wet with slick, and then he's coming over Jaskier's stomach with a groan that rattles his bones.

He collapses onto his side on the too narrow bed, chest heaving as his orgasm continues, and then there's Eskel's hand, tight around his knot. Geralt groans again and forces his eyes open, not surprised to find Eskel staring down at Jaskier with barely concealed hunger. He snorts, hips twitching into his brother's hand. "Go on. Know you want a taste."

Maybe Jaskier is too come drunk to react, to object, because he doesn't. He just whimpers softly when Eskel's big hands curl around his hips, cries out when the alpha's mouth descends on him. Eskel growls into his cunt, his eyes fluttering, and Jaskier writhes and moans and cries, obviously overstimulated already. Geralt rolls onto his side, burying his nose in Jaskier's hair as Eskel eats him out, enjoying the desperate pleasure rolling off of the boy.

Eskel drags three orgasms out of the omega before he adds his own come to the mess on Jaskier's stomach. By that point, Jaskier is a wreck, cheeks pink and eyes glassy, and he only bats weakly at Geralt's shoulder when he slips between the boy's thighs again.

They pass the boy back and forth like that, forcing him to his peak over and over. Geralt loses count of how often Jaskier comes on their tongues, their fingers, of how often they come rutting against his stomach or between his thighs. Eskel makes him squirt again, and Geralt slides a finger dripping in slick back, between Jaskier's cheeks, and the boy is so loose-limbed and fucked stupid that that finger just slides right in. Finally Jaskier comes for the last time, with a barely there whine, two fingers in his tight arse and two in his cunt, squeezing down on them so sweetly, and then he passes out.

Eskel sits leaning against the headboard, one hand in Jaskier's curls, the other lazily stroking himself. Geralt is pretty sure he has never seen his brother this relaxed outside of Kaer Morhen. He licks through Jaskier's folds one last time as he pulls his fingers free, then rests his head on the boy's thigh. "Still questioning my decision?"

Eskel shrugs. "He's a good fuck, I won't deny that. But is that pretty cunt worth all the fuss he puts up? What if he never settles?"

Geralt rubs his face, the soft afterglow fading quickly in the light of Eskel's pragmatism. "I'll cross that bridge when I come to it."

"Listen," Eskel murmurs, letting go of his prick to reach for him instead. "I want you to be happy, Geralt, and if your little flower makes you happy, all the better. But if he keeps fighting you…" He squeezes Geralt's shoulder, his eyes serious. "You may just have to cut your losses."

Geralt's hackles rise within seconds, and he leaps straight across the bed, snarling as he traps his brother against the headboard with his forearm across his throat. Eskel raises his hands, a sign of surrender. "What are you suggesting," he growls. It's all he can do to keep his teeth in his mouth.

Eskel just looks back at him calmly, not rising to the challenge. "You know what I'm suggesting, Geralt." He lets his head tip back against the bed, all but baring his throat. "And you know I'm right."

With another snarl, Geralt pushes himself away. His heart is hammering, thudding uncomfortably against his ribs, and he turns his back on Eskel. Instead he scoops up the still unconscious omega and pulls him into his lap, nose pressed against his throat when Jaskier's head tips to the side.

Kill Jaskier. That's what Eskel means. Kill the boy to sever the connection, to rid himself of the trouble the omega brings.

No. No. He couldn't. Not ever. Jaskier is his, now and forever.

"Don't worry," he whispers against the boy's throat, "I'll keep you safe."

There is no answer, except for Eskel's soft sigh, and the slow, even breathing of the omega passed out in his arms.

#oldandkinky #oldandkinky abo #oldandkinky honey #OldandKinky prompts #OldandKinky overstimulation #OldandKinky Jaskier/Geralt #OldandKinky Jaskier/Eskel #OldandKinky dub-con #OldandKinky non-con

[oldandkinky]

If it inspires: Geralt discovers that in their off season (him in Kaer Morhen, Jaskier not there) his omega bard Jaskier supports himself as a monsterfucking surrogate. Later- Geralt takes a contract on a creature, only to find it already dead but there's a gaggle of hungry monster offspring and their sad cries force the always empathetic Jaskier to spontaneously have his milk drop down/lactate! Maybe Jaskier needs additional stimulation/help to trigger the response? IDK, cheers to you O&K

I just can't do short answers...

Contains A/B/O, implied monsterfucking (nothing on screen), discussions of pregnancy and birth related topics, male lactation, lactation kink, kid fic, vaginal sex, knotting

***********

When Geralt makes his way to Yspaden in the spring, there's a letter waiting for him. It's from Jaskier, the faintest traces of the omega's sweet scent still sticking to the paper, and Geralt tucks it into his armour and hurries back to Roach. He doesn't know what Jaskier could be writing about and he wants privacy in case it's something bad.

As he walks, he can't stop his thoughts from spiralling. Surely this is it, the moment he has been dreading for years. Surely this letter is Jaskier telling him that he has found an alpha, at long last, someone who will give him all the nice and pretty things Jaskier could want, who can offer him comfort and a nice bed and proper food every night. 

An alpha so unlike Geralt, who more often than not barely has two orens to rub together, who sleeps under the stars and lives off stale bread and mealy apples.

A good alpha.

His heart is beating faster than usual as he slips into Roach's stall at the stable he left her at while he got supplies, and he carefully pulls the letter out from under his chest plate. Even after this short amount of time, his own scent has begun to mingle with Jaskier's, and it makes him ache, somewhere behind his breastbone.

With a deep breath, he breaks the wax seal and unfolds the letter.

There is no talk of an alpha, no gentle let down. On the contrary, Jaskier apologises profusely for not being able to make it to their regular meeting spot in time, and he asks Geralt to please come find him in Rinde at his earliest convenience.

It's a perfectly harmless letter. Jaskier is human, maybe he took ill over the winter and isn't back to full strength yet. Or he has an engagement with some noble he can't leave. It is odd that Jaskier gives no reason for his inability to meet with Geralt, but as his words sound enthusiastic enough, the Witcher decides to ignore the sliver of doubt twisting in his guts.

He brings the letter to his face, inhaling deeply, and his heart skips. Jaskier's smell is very peculiar, like honey. Wildflower honey, dandelions maybe, not as sweet as it could be. Spicy. But now there's another note to it, something soft and… Geralt frowns, pushing the paper against his nose. Is that milk? Odd, to say the least.

No matter. He will meet Jaskier in Rinde, and they will travel together, and everything will be the way it's supposed to be.

*********

He finds Jaskier in a boarding house for omegas in Rinde. He's been there for a while, the landlady tells him, which is not very professional of her. Then she tells him to wait in the sitting room.

"No alphas in the house, nothing personal."

She goes to let Jaskier know, and a few minutes later the bard walks through the door. He's smiling brightly, his scent sweet and happy, and he pretty much throws himself into Geralt's arms.

"You came! Oh, I'm so sorry for the inconvenience, something came up and I couldn't make it on time."

"It's not a problem," Geralt murmurs, doing his best not to press his nose into the crook of Jaskier's neck. "Did you have a good winter?"

Jaskier flushes, a note of embarrassment creeping into his scent. His scent, which is still strangely soft and milky. "I did, actually!" He lets go of Geralt and takes a step back, and then he winces slightly as he shifts his weight. "Although it was all perfectly boring. Nothing out of the ordinary."

Suspicion blooms in Geralt's gut, and he narrows his eyes. "What aren't you telling me, Jaskier?" It comes out harsher than he intended, and Jaskier's eyes widen a little. 

"Nothing! It is as I said, perfectly boring and ordinary." He shrugs. There's a faint flush to his cheeks, and the tips of his ears are red.

Geralt frowns.

Read the rest on AO3:

#OldandKinky #OldandKinky prompts #OldandKinky abo #OldandKinky monsterfucking

[oldandkinky]

A Gift Surpassing All Things Imagined (Chapter 9)

CW: heat sex, threesome, fivesome, vaginal/anal fingering, vaginal fisting, vaginal/oral/anal sex, double penetration, implied triple penetration, breeding kink, come inflation, mating bites, a bit of blood, feelings up to here, cuddling, dirty talk, rimming

Read it on AO3

This is just 3.8k of mindless, sticky heat sex, with some feels sprinkled in for spice. Enjoy.

**********

After the third time Eskel knots him, three hours later, Jaskier begins to suspect that his wolves have come to some sort of agreement before his heat began. The thing is, Geralt may enjoy eating him out to a… more than is to be expected degree, but Jaskier knows the alpha loves fucking and knotting him just as much. Having a heat stupid omega like this should make it nearly impossible for any alpha to hold back.

And yet Geralt hasn't fucked him even once, hasn't even offered it. He's done nothing more than fuck him on his fingers while he sucks Jaskier off - which is absolutely fantastic, he doesn't want to be misunderstood - but it's… peculiar. It's made worse by the fact that he can't articulate any of that.

Jaskier is once more spread out on Eskel's front, the alpha's arms wound around his waist as he gently and slowly fucks into him from below. Geralt is behind him, those strong hands gently massaging his arse and lower back, and Jaskier wants. He whines and writhes in Eskel's hold, and the alpha growls softly. 

"What," he rasps, nearly as incapable of speech as Jaskier is right now, and the bard whines again.

"G'rlt," is all he can say, and the pale alpha groans. His grip on Jaskier's arse tightens, and then he leans in and licks over the curve of Jaskier's arse and then over his hole, and the omega keens. Turns out Geralt is just as enthusiastic about tongue-fucking his arse as he is about feasting on his cunt. Jaskier must be the luckiest omega to ever walk the continent.

It's enough to shove him over the edge again, but it doesn't quench the fire inside of him, and he wriggles and whines and arches his back, tries to entice the alpha, and Geralt groans. "Eskel?"

Eskel, for his part, growls and tightens his grip on Jaskier, but then he grimaces and forces out a, "Give him what he wants," and Jaskier throws back his head with a cry when Geralt pushes first one, then two fingers into his arse. Usually he can take that easily, and it should be a breeze since he's in heat, but he's also already filled to near bursting with Eskel's prick, and by the time Geralt moulds himself to his back and starts to oh so gently work his cock into his arse, Jaskier is panting like an overworked racehorse.

"Can stop." Geralt isn't particularly verbose on the best of days, but now, in this room saturated with heat and rut hormones, he's gone nearly mute. If Jaskier didn't feel like he's going to fall apart at the seams, he'd be impressed that the alpha even got out those two words.

In any case, he shakes his head wildly and bows low on top of Eskel, arching his back and pretty much presenting for Geralt with another whine, and both alphas make pleased, rumbly noises. Eskel tugs him down for a kiss that has his toes curling, and Geralt pushes into him one tortuous inch at a time. Eskel groans when Jaskier grows ever tighter around him, and all Jaskier can do is hold on.

After what feels like an age, Geralt's hips are pressed to the swell of his arse, and all three of them are moaning and whining and clinging to each other. It's utterly, utterly perfect, Jaskier thinks vaguely.

Eskel growls an order for Geralt to move, and the alpha begins to slowly and carefully fuck Jaskier's arse. It's too much, almost, and he whimpers and starts crying with how good it is, and both alphas pet and kiss every part of him they can reach. He's once more impressed by how in control of themselves his alphas are, even with Eskel undeniably in rut and, if his molasses-slow brain isn't completely wrong, Geralt not far off either. He has no idea how they can be so gentle, so careful, when he himself feels so thoroughly out of control. His skin is too tight for his body, for all the things he's feeling, and his heart thrums against his ribs like a songbird against the bars of its cage. One wrong touch, he thinks, and he's going to shatter.

Geralt comes first, with a sound that could very well be from either pain or pleasure. He doesn't knot Jaskier's arse, can't, not with how snug everything is with Eskel still pumping away at his cunt, but he snarls and bites at the curve of Jaskier's shoulder as he fills his guts with come. It's the bite that sets Jaskier off again, that has him coming with a howl of helpless abandon, so close to what he's aching for.

Under him, Eskel grunts and takes hold of his hips. "Good boy," he murmurs, and Jaskier isn't sure whether he's talking to him or Geralt. It doesn't matter either way, not when Eskel holds him in place and fucks into him faster, deeper, his cockhead bumping into Jaskier's cervix over and over again and making him tremble and shake and cry. He's so full already, with three of Eskel's loads in his cunt and Geralt's in his arse, the sound of Eskel's cock moving in him filthy and obscene as he fucks through the mess, and Jaskier loves every second of it.

It's this, somehow, that helps him find his voice again, shot as it may be from all the screaming he's been doing in the last three hours, this realisation that he's absolutely stuffed with his alphas' come, that his stomach swells with it. Normally, he'd be mortified by what comes out of his mouth now, but with his soon-to-be mate fucking all sense out of his head, with Geralt panting sweetly against his throat as he plays with his oversensitive clit, he doesn't care. He can't care. The words bypass his brain entirely, it seems, for what he says is, "Gonna breed me, alpha?"

Eskel growls, a dark, true alpha growl that vibrates through Jaskier's very bones, that has him whimpering and twitching between them, eager to sink to his knees and present, the way a good bitch ought to. Geralt tightens his arms around him, a low rumble rolling through his chest, and Jaskier wonders faintly if this is where their control snaps, if they'll fight over him.

Instead, Geralt pulls out of him and tugs him off Eskel. He rolls them so Jaskier is spread out on his chest, and then he hooks his hands behind Jaskier's knees and pulls them up. Eskel growls again and moves up onto his knees, and then he just… watches for a moment. Jaskier is lucid enough to be very aware of the way his fucked open cunt and arse twitch around nothing, leaking come and slick and still begging for more. He's a feast, laid out for his alpha to sate himself on.

"You want that, omega?" Eskel rasps. His cock hangs heavy between his thighs, bowing low under its own weight. "Want me to put a litter in you, sweet bitch?"

The words are like a blow to the head, and Jaskier keens and strains against Geralt's grip. "Yes!"

Eskel moves closer, and Jaskier is so hot and wet and he needs it so bad. He wriggles as best he can, lifts his hips and, when Eskel just stays there, looking at him with a hunger that Jaskier would be afraid of in any other situation, he reaches down and pulls the lips of his cunt open. Eskel snarls, and his prick twitches, leaks.

"Please, alpha," he whispers, "please, I need it. Make me yours, let me have your pups, please, please, Eskel-"

Finally the alpha moves, and he bats Jaskier's hands away from his cunt and instead pushes into him in one steady stroke. Jaskier's body arches, goes tight like a bowstring as he yowls, the sudden stretch exactly what he needs. Eskel immediately starts up a fast, relentless pace that rattles the teeth in Jaskier's head, that has him swaying atop Geralt. He has no earthly idea how the alpha withstands this, but withstand it he does. Jaskier is getting squashed between the two alphas, Eskel fucking him like he'll die if he doesn't, and Geralt mouthing at his neck and throat and jaw, his hands still holding him open for his brother.

"Gods, still so fucking tight," Eskel gasps, and he presses his forehead against Jaskier's sternum as he ruts into him. Jaskier always laughed at the phrase 'getting your insides rearranged' but that's exactly what Eskel is doing, it feels like. All Jaskier can do is hold on and scream when Eskel hits him just right. "Thought you were a songbird," Eskel forces out, his breath hot against Jaskier's skin, "but you're not, are you? You're a wolf bitch, Jaskier, our wolf bitch. Gonna put a pup in you, filthy thing, a Witcher pup. You'll be so sweet, with a big belly and your tits sensitive and leaking for us, won't you?"

Jaskier barely knows what he's saying in response to that, he just knows he has to answer. "Yes, alpha, yes, gonna be such a good bitch for you, give you pretty babes, please keep me full, please alpha, please-"

Eskel roars, hips slamming against Jaskier's as he fucks his knot into him, and Jaskier screams again as he comes, squirting like a damn fountain, and before he can catch his breath, Eskel leans over him, gasping for breath. Their eyes meet, and Jaskier whimpers. "You sure?" Eskel asks.

Yes, Jaskier thinks, I've never been this sure about anything.

"Do it," he gasps, and a heartbeat later Eskel's teeth sink into his throat, and Jaskier whimpers and clings to Eskel as hard as he can. There's blood trickling down the back of his neck, hot and sticky, and he whimpers louder when Geralt's mouth is there to catch it.

It doesn't end, it seems to his cock dumb brain, the pleasure of getting what his body has been begging for turning his limbs to water. Eskel groans against his throat, teeth sinking just that much deeper, but then he pulls away, replacing his teeth with his tongue as he laps at the mark. It should hurt, should burn like a motherfucker, but it doesn't. Instead it, too, feels so fucking good. His skin tingles everywhere Eskel touches him, and every little shift of their hips makes stars pop behind his eyelids, little bursts of pleasure that just keep going.

Finally Eskel stops licking at the mark, but it's only for his tongue to be replaced with Geralt's, the pale alpha taking over while Eskel leans up to kiss Jaskier. The bard sighs into the kiss, hands tangling in Eskel's hair, and when they part he laughs. "I love you," he whispers, and Eskel's eyes crinkle at the corners.

"And I you, sweet thing." He steals another kiss, soft and precious, and Jaskier sighs again. Then he yawns, so wide his jaw cracks with it, and both alphas chuckle. "Hold on to me," Eskel murmurs, and Jaskier does. He wraps his arms and legs around Eskel, and the alpha moves him easily, lifting him off of Geralt and rolling them over once more. Geralt follows them, rolling onto his side and his palm coming to rest in the small of Jaskier's back. There's a lull in Jaskier's heat, now that he's knotted and mated, and the alphas seem content to rest while they can.

Geralt strokes his thumb along the ridge of his spine while Eskel nuzzles his hair and scratches softly at the back of his head, and Jaskier yawns again. "I love both of you, you know that, right?" He's slurring his words, already half asleep, and Eskel shushes him.

"Sleep, darling," he murmurs, and Geralt hums, and Jaskier sleeps.

*********

Jaskier wakes some indeterminate time later, rising up from strange dreams to the sensation of a mouth suckling on his tit, to a tongue lapping at his cunt, and he moans as he claws his way back to consciousness. He's hot, drenched in sweat and so empty it hurts, and he whines pitifully.

"Sssh, we got you, love," Eskel says somewhere to his side, and Jaskier opens his eyes with some difficulty. His head is pillowed on Eskel's stomach, and the mouth on his tit belongs to Lambert while the one on his cunt is, of course, Geralt. Vesemir sits in a chair by the fireplace, dressed only in breeches. All of them are watching him, and he whines.

"'skel," he slurs, and the alpha - his alpha, finally, truly - hums.

"Lambert?"

The young wolf groans around Jaskier's nipple, and the omega writhes under the vibration, under the feeling of Geralt's tongue lapping at his folds. Both vanish a moment later as the alphas exchange places, Lambert kneeling between his thighs and slipping one, two, three fingers into him, and Geralt moves to his side, leaning over him for a kiss. Jaskier mewls into Geralt's mouth as Lambert fucks him on his fingers, and it's good but it's not enough.

Eskel strokes gentle fingers through his hair, a low rumble in his chest. "Give him another," he orders, and Lambert does, he slips his pinkie into Jaskier's hungry cunt and fucks him like that, and Jaskier arches into it. He pants into Geralt's mouth, one hand twisting into the Witcher's milk-white hair, the other grabbing hold of Eskel's wrist, and it's so fucking much but still not what he needs.

"L-Lambert, please." He doesn't really know what he's asking for, just that he needs more. Lambert's eyes are a bit glassy, his cheeks flushed and that pretty cock hard and drooling between his legs, but he makes no move towards putting it to use. Instead, he tucks his thumb into his palm and gives Jaskier his fist, and Jaskier comes with a hoarse shout after only a few thrusts, squirting weakly as he locks around Lambert's wrist. He's panting, shaking like a leaf as he comes down slowly, and Geralt presses a soft kiss to his sweaty forehead.

Vesemir rises out of his chair and walks over to the bed holding a water skin. It's handed over to Geralt who holds it for Jaskier as he gulps down half of it in one go. The old Witcher watches him thoughtfully. "Are your heats always this intense?"

It takes some effort to make sense of the question, particularly when Lambert shifts just slightly, his knuckles rubbing all of Jaskier's good spots at once. His eyelids flutter as he shakes his head. "N-no, not usually."

"Hm." Vesemir watches a moment longer before he says, "Eskel, I think you should keep him on your cock as much as possible. That should settle him more than anything." His eyes go a bit soft as he takes in the bite on Jaskier's throat.

"But what about you?" Jaskier whines, eyes flickering over Lambert and Geralt before coming back to Vesemir. Eskel's fingers tighten in his hair for a moment, and Vesemir sighs.

"We'll be fine, pup. This is about you and what you need."

Jaskier may be somewhat calm right now, with Lambert's fist so perfectly emulating a knot, but his brain is still heat drunk, and he uncurls his fingers from around Eskel's wrist and reaches for Vesemir. "Need you," he slurs, and he arches his back a little, presses against the younger wolves as much as he can, "want you, all of you."

The wolves all make some sort of noise at that declaration. Geralt nuzzles his cheek with what Jaskier would almost call a purr, Lambert whines, something Jaskier is sure the alpha will deny to his dying day, Eskel makes that pleased rumble again, and Vesemir once more hums thoughtfully. Jaskier twitches around Lambert's fist at that. He's almost certain the old alpha is trying to train him to respond like that to his humming.

"If that's what you want," he says after a long pause, and Jaskier mewls in satisfaction. "I maintain that Eskel be the one to have your cunt. It will help your bonding." Jaskier almost suspects that the man is about to launch into a lecture on why exactly that would be the case, and he has no patience for that right now. He lifts his arms and reaches for Vesemir, whines pitifully, and knows he's won when the old man sighs.

By the time Jaskier releases Lambert's wrist, Eskel hauls him up into his arms properly, and the other wolves arrange themselves around the bard. There's no part of him that remains untouched, it feels like, and he floats for a while in that pleasant headspace of a heat sated for the moment. Eskel busies himself kissing him lazily, mouthing at his mark every now and then, and Jaskier gets a little lost in it, losing sight of who of the others is where or doing what. Everything is sensation, is pleasure, and Jaskier lies there and enjoys.

*******

The next rush of heat leaves Jaskier gasping, skin so hot he wants to cry, and an emptiness in his core that feels like nothing could ever fill it. He wakes from the pleasant haze he'd fallen into, surrounded by all his alphas, already whimpering in pain and with his cunt pouring slick. Eskel is there immediately, sliding between his legs and stuffing him full of cock until Jaskier's eyes cross.

But it's not enough.

He reaches, blindly, for whomever is closest, whining and begging mindlessly. Someone feeds a cock between his lips and it helps, it soothes the desperation coursing through him.

It also stoppers the words threatening to escape, the pleas for Eskel to breed him, to get him so messy with seed it will have to take, to fuck a litter of golden-eyed pups into him. If he wasn't half out of his mind with need, Jaskier would be mortified even thinking these things.

He loses time, a bit, only aware of Eskel pressed close to him, into him, of the others filling his mouth and arse both with cocks and fingers, of the way his stomach tightens as they give him knot after knot, load after load. Sometimes, there's a water skin they urge him to drink from, or soft foods like applesauce that he doesn't have to concentrate on chewing for. It's nothing like the heats he has had before, and he feels so incredibly loved and desired that it makes him dizzy.

He finally climbs out of the heat daze after three intense days. He's perched on top of Lambert, the young wolf's knot plugging his arse while Eskel sucks a fresh mark into his throat, and he trembles with exhaustion. It's a little gratifying to look around and see the alphas have been run ragged as well.

"Back with us?" Vesemir's gaze is hooded but attentive, and Jaskier only has the energy for a garbled noise of assent. "Good. Lambert, once you're done you'll help me strip this bed, and then I'm taking you to the baths. Geralt?"

Geralt sprawls beside them, tired eyes on Jaskier and Eskel, and he hums in a way that Jaskier now recognises as, "No fucking way." It's ridiculously endearing. Lambert only grunts, his thumbs dragging lazily over Jaskier's hipbones. 

Jaskier sighs and leans forward, lets Eskel take his weight, and takes stock of himself. He's more sore than he can remember ever being after a heat, all his muscles burning with exhaustion. The skin of his stomach feels hot and tight, and he flushes at the thought that it's because he's been stuffed to the gills with his alphas' come. When he looks down, there's an undeniable bump, making him look a couple of months pregnant, and heat rushes through him at the sight. Under him, Lambert grunts again, his fingers digging into his hips, and Jaskier jolts to realise he's clenching hard around the alpha's knot.

Eskel tips back his head with a finger under his chin. He, too, looks exhausted, but also calm and content in a way that makes Jaskier's heart flutter. "You alright?"

Jaskier nods and steals a quick kiss. "Yeah, just… Yeah." He winds his rubbery arms around Eskel's neck and leans on him even more. "Just tired."

They stay like that until Lambert's knot goes down, and then Eskel lifts him out of the bed. Jaskier's cheeks grow hot at the absolute deluge of come running down his legs as he's moved. Geralt nudges Lambert in increasingly obnoxious ways until the young wolf growls at him and finally rolls out of bed, and the three alphas make quick work of stripping the mattress and replacing the very, very soiled sheets with fresh ones. That done, Eskel sets Jaskier down on the bed once more, and the others turn to leave, but Jaskier whimpers and holds his arms out to them. Vesemir sighs softly, but Lambert obeys the summons immediately.

"Jaskier, you need to rest." Still, Vesemir follows as well, and Jaskier draws them both close with a hand on their napes.

"I will," he whispers, his voice absolutely wrecked, "just… Thank you, alphas." He means it, too. Eskel may be his alpha, but he belongs to the others, too, just like he hopes they belong to him, in a way.

Lambert leans in and kisses him, so softly it makes tears well up in Jaskier's eyes. Vesemir takes his place a moment later, and he rubs their noses together before drawing back. "It was our pleasure," he says quietly, and Jaskier smiles, a wobbly, watery thing.

The two men leave, and in their stead Eskel and Geralt crawl into bed with him, bracketing him on either side. Eskel pushes his face into the crook of Jaskier's neck, lapping at the mostly healed mark, and Geralt presses soft kisses to his cheeks and forehead before he finds his mouth. Jaskier is so exhausted that he can hardly participate but it doesn't seem to matter. It's not supposed to lead anywhere, it's just a show of affection, and if he's not entirely wrong, Geralt also uses the kiss to check on him. Wolves, through and through, he thinks fondly.

"How do you feel?" Eskel's breath is hot against his throat, and Jaskier snuggles deeper into the furs, into the embrace of his alphas.

"Tired, and sore, and incredibly well-fucked." The alphas both chuckle at that, and Jaskier tips his head down, begging wordlessly for a kiss. Eskel obliges him, licking into his mouth much the same way Geralt did a moment ago. When they part, Jaskier rubs his cheek against the alpha's temple. "What about you?"

Eskel grunts. "Also a bit sore. Haven't had a rut like that in… a damn long time." He sounds utterly bemused, and Jaskier loves him so fucking much.

"Sleep," Geralt murmurs as he presses closer, moulding himself to Jaskier's back. "You both need it."

Jaskier hums and takes their hands, pulls them against his chest. "I love you," he whispers as his eyes close, weighed down by exhaustion, and Eskel kisses his jaw again. The omega is asleep within moments, and his dreams are full of laughter.

#oldandkinky #oldandkinky abo #oldandkinky gift #OldandKinky Jaskier/Wolves

[oldandkinky]

Honey Sweet

DD:DNE. The events of "Roses In Between My Thighs" from Lambert's POV.

CW: Rape, Injury, Blood, Anal Sex, Crying, Trauma, Caring Lambert (The Witcher), Jaskier | Dandelion Whump, Dark Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Canon-Typical Violence, Omega Jaskier | Dandelion, Alpha Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Abuse, Abusive Relationships, Scars, Angry Lambert (The Witcher), male omegas have vulvas, sex-related injuries

Read on AO3

********

When Lambert returns to Kaer Morhen, the entire keep stinks of terrified omega, and he briefly wonders which of his idiot brothers got saddled with a Child Surprise this time. Just what they need, really, another chance to fuck up some child, as if that hasn't happened enough in this fucking place. He's only vaguely surprised neither Eskel nor Vesemir mentioned anything.

Instead he finds Geralt with a mate, of all things. A mate who is the source of that awful stench, who sits in Geralt's lap like a rabbit trembling in front of a snake. Jaskier, he says his name is, watching Lambert with trepidation while Geralt fondles him, and something in Lambert throbs in recognition.

Whatever, he doesn't have the brain power to think about this now, and he falls into bed the second he has stowed his things in his room, unconscious for the foreseeable future.

When he's finally able to rouse himself the next day and staggers down for lunch, Jaskier smells just as awful. He shows some bite at least when Lambert asks about his scars, but Geralt deflects the question. Lambert is immediately suspicious, watching the way the omega twitches at that. Things go downhill from there, and when Jaskier's scent bursts with pure rage at Geralt's obvious bending of the truth, Lambert decides to be very on his guard.

He knows his brothers, knows that they are… not quite right, and given the way the boy smells, the way his lips twitch every time Geralt touches him, he knows something is going on there.

It's all confirmed after Jaskier storms off and the whole sordid story comes to light. Lambert is both baffled and furious. He's always known his brothers - and Vesemir, for that matter - have a different set of morals from him, but this? This is unbelievable. He storms away from the table, seething as he follows the omega's scent to the library. He doesn't enter, just listens for a moment, listens to Jaskier's furious crying, and his gut clenches uncomfortably.

*******

Every day now, he has to sit and watch Geralt play at domesticity while Jaskier stares holes into the tabletop. It's so fucking obvious that Jaskier does not want to be here, that he barely stops himself from cringing away every time Geralt touches him. It's painful to watch.

Lambert knows that he's an arse. He's very aware of that fact. His manners are lacking, he has little respect for authority. What Lambert has in spades is anger, and the longer he has to watch this farce the angrier he gets.

He makes a point to leave the kid the fuck alone, to make his displeasure with Geralt known. Jaskier doesn't need another alpha smelling like rage breathing down his neck, not when Geralt is growing ever tetchier, with Eskel obviously hating the omega's guts for taking away his lover.

The day Jaskier slips in the courtyard, Lambert reacts before he thinks. He does that sometimes. It's a problem. He catches the boy before he can crack his skull open on the stones, and when he has set him back on his feet and asked if he's alright, Jaskier looks for the briefest second as if he's about to smile.

Then Geralt grabs him and drags him away, and Jaskier's mouth turns down in a frown.

After that, he talks to the boy sometimes. Nothing deep, just includes him in stories about the past year. Jaskier listens, and Lambert… Lambert likes the way he listens. The omega doesn't look at him, usually focusing on his food or just the table when Geralt is being stroppy and insists on feeding him by hand, but it's clear that he listens.

One evening, Lambert gathers the nerve, when Geralt is off to fetch something from the kitchen, to ask about the sister Geralt mentioned, and it's like someone blew out all the light. Jaskier's mouth twists beneath his scars and his scent plummets into grief so palpable it makes Lambert's breath catch.

"Her name is Essi," Jaskier murmurs. "She… She got lost in the forest, and I- Geralt brought her back. After- after we m-mated, we took her to Ellander. She's with the sisters of Melitele."

Lambert has been so focused on the boy that he has barely noticed Geralt returning from the kitchen, but he sure as fuck notices his rage when Lambert says, "I'm sure she's in good hands at the temple," and Jaskier nods and gives him the smallest, most tentative smile.

Geralt's scent turns absolutely atrocious with a violent, cold rage, and Jaskier stiffens and fear spreads through his scent. "You're done," Geralt says, and then he drags the boy off the bench and out of the hall. Jaskier's eyes are huge and terrified, and Lambert wants to stab someone. Preferably Geralt.

Instead he turns to Vesemir. "How can you tolerate this?"

The old man doesn't even look up from his plate. "It's none of my business what Geralt does with his mate."

Lambert scoffs. "Don't tell me you don't want to cut off your nose so you don't have to smell this constant terror all the time. The kid fucking hates him!"

Eskel snorts into his mug. "So? His cunt doesn't hate Geralt, and that's all Jaskier's got that he cares about."

"You're all crazy," Lambert spits, and storms out, heading to his room.

He passes by Geralt's door on the way, and the air is ripe with panic and the alpha's violent arousal and anger, and as he passes he can hear the slick sounds of the boy getting fingered, and he desperately wants to be somewhere else. Jaskier is crying, whimpering, and Geralt's words are harsh, and Lambert wants to scream.

He storms into his room and pulls off his shirt, throwing it into a corner as he starts to pace. He needs to punch something, needs to do something. 

Jaskier is being raped just a few doors away, and he's not doing anything about it.

He keeps pacing, back and forth and back and forth as he listens, his jaw clenched so tightly he's half afraid his teeth will crack. He can't understand what they're saying, but he gets the gist of it, and it makes him want to vomit. He always knew Geralt wasn't right in the head, but this… This is too far even for him.

Down the hall, Jaskier shrieks, the pain in that sound like a punch to the gut. He should do something, he needs to do something, he-

"Help, please, Lambert, hel-"

He's moving before he's formed a conscious thought, running down the hallway as fast as he can and pushing the door to Geralt's room open, his teeth bared and hands curled into fists.

They're both naked, Geralt straddling the omega's hips. He's clearly fucking him, although his hips have stilled, and he's pressing Jaskier's face down into the mattress with force. The boy is sobbing into the sheets. The fabric is pink with blood and tears and snot.

Geralt looks up at him when he barges into the room, and he looks completely unhinged as he stares back at Lambert with what can only be called hatred, and then he barks at him to, "Get the fuck out!"

He's vaguely aware of Vesemir behind him as he steps further into the room. "Get off of him," he hisses, and fuck, the boy reaches for him with a reedy whimper. Geralt plucks his trembling hand out of the air and forces it down again, and Lambert wants to hurt him.

There's more back and forth, and Lambert screams his rage into Geralt's face as Jaskier sobs into the mattress, and that finally draws Geralt away from him. Jaskier screams in pain as Geralt's cock is ripped out of him without care, and then the alpha rushes towards Lambert, murder in his eyes.

There's a rush of air and Geralt slams into the wall, knocked down by Vesemir's Aard, and Lambert crosses the room in three steps. There's blood everywhere, on Jaskier's face, on the sheets, between his legs and smeared across his crack and arse cheeks.

Gods.

Lambert grabs a blanket and gathers the whimpering boy into his arms, his lips pressed together so he doesn't waste time screaming at Geralt some more. Jaskier needs help, and that's all that matters right now.

He storms past Eskel who is lurking in the hallway, ignoring the sneer on the other's face as he rushes into his room. Jaskier is shaking in his arms, most likely with shock, and he whines in pain when Lambert carefully lays him down on his bed.

"I'll be right back, Jaskier, I'll just go lock the door," he explains when Jaskier reaches for him with a whimper. The bolt slides into place, and he relaxes a fraction, breathing deeply before he turns back to the bed.

Jaskier is still shaking, still crying. He smells like blood and pain, and Lambert has to make a conscious effort to swallow down his anger before he walks back over to him.

"Hey," he says softly as he crouches beside the bed, and Jaskier blinks hazily up at him. "Let's get you cleaned up, alright?"

The omega flinches when Lambert carefully cleans the blood and tears from his face, hisses when he inspects his nose with gentle fingers.

"Not broken," he murmurs, "just bruised and a nosebleed."

Jaskier grimaces. "Lucky me." Lambert ducks his head, unable to keep down the smile.

That smile slides right off his face when he manages to coax the boy out of the blanket. There's blood everywhere, starting to dry already, matting together the hair between Jaskier's legs. Lambert fetches the pitcher with water from his dresser and heats it with a small burst of Igni, then dips a rag into it. Jaskier doesn't look at him as he does it, but the scent of his terror is overwhelming enough.

"Do you want to do it yourself?" he asks softly, holding out the damp rag, and Jaskier's eyes flicker up to his face for a second.

"I… I don't think I can," he whispers after a moment, and Lambert takes a deep breath. The fear and pain in the air makes him lightheaded.

"Is it alright if I do it?"

The boy turns his face away, but he nods, and Lambert takes another breath, steeling himself. Jaskier spreads his legs, whimpering in undeniable pain, and Lambert gets to work. He tries not to think as he wipes the blood away, tries not to imagine what Geralt did to the kid, but he knows he can't shy away from it. He knows the worst is yet to come.

Jaskier is crying quietly the whole time Lambert cleans his crotch, and when he asks, as gently as he can, if he can turn over, the omega starts to shake so hard it rattles his teeth.

"Please don't make me," he sobs, and Lambert's knuckles itch with the need to smash Geralt's face in.

"I'm sorry, Jaskier," he says, trying to keep the rage out of his voice. "I wish I didn't have to ask this of you, but I need to see how… how bad it is."

Jaskier finally lets go of the sheet his hands had been curled into, only to press them to his face, hiding as he falls apart. Lambert sits there, the rag still in his hand, all senses flooded with blood and despair, and he doesn't know what to do. His instincts are screaming at him to comfort the omega, but he's reasonably certain Jaskier wouldn't want to be touched more than absolutely necessary, even if he called out for him.

Finally the boy pulls himself together enough to make a decision, and he looks up at Lambert with a plea in his eyes. He's decided to trust Lambert to do only what he said, to be better than his brothers, and Lambert's heart aches for the omega.

Jaskier moves awkwardly, obviously in pain, but Lambert doesn't dare touch him to help. He'll do what has been allowed and nothing more.

The back of Jaskier's thighs is also covered in blood, as is the cleft of his arse and the curves of his cheeks, and Lambert clenches his teeth for a long moment.

"I'll touch you now, alright? Just- To clean you up." He waits until Jaskier nods, a quick, abortive jerk of his head, before he wets the rag again and wipes at the blood as gently as he can. When that is done, he knows what he has to do next, and he dreads it. "Jaskier, I… I need to check. I'm sorry," he adds quietly when the omega stiffens. "With this much blood… He must have ripped you. You'll probably need stitches."

Jaskier presses his cheek into the mattress. His face is turned away from Lambert, and his heart is racing, but he doesn't bolt. He's crying silently, and his breathing picks up, but he spreads his legs, and Lambert has no idea what he's done to warrant such trust.

He has seen many wounds in his long life, has seen more blood than he ever wanted to see. He knows all the soul crushing things humans do to each other.

Nothing has ever made him feel as untethered as the sight of Jaskier's arse, the flesh puffy and swollen. There are two tears, one on either side of his rim. The boy will definitely need stitches, and Lambert dreads it. His eyes dip down to the slick pink of Jaskier's slit, and he can barely breathe when he realises that he's looking at a scar, right at Jaskier's taint. It's months old, but it looks vicious still.

All of a sudden, he's filled with a boundless, blinding rage. Jaskier is Geralt's mate. He should be treated gently, with kindness, not like he's a piece of meat. It's not that Lambert is ignorant about how alphas behave towards omegas far too often, but still. All of this is wrong, and he can't believe that Geralt doesn't see it.

Jaskier shifts with another whimper, and Lambert drags his gaze away with a shuddering breath. "Yeah, that needs stitches." The omega stiffens, that fear scent growing ever stronger, and Lambert wants nothing more than to scoop the boy up, to keep him safe and take him away from all this bullshit. "I could… use Axii. Make it so you won't feel the pain."

Jaskier's heart stumbles, and he makes a noise of distress. "No, not- Not that."

Lambert purses his lips. "It'll hurt, Jaskier. A lot."

The omega finally turns his head so he can look at him over his shoulder. He looks absolutely terrified. "Not Axii. Please."

Lambert doesn't know what to say, and so he just nods. The boy grabs a pillow once Lambert gets to work, screaming into it with every stitch, and Lambert has to focus on literally anything else. Otherwise he'll drop this and go kill Geralt.

By the time he's done, Jaskier has passed out, still clutching the pillow. He's so pale, with dark circles under his eyes, and Lambert gently brushes the hair away from his forehead.

He pulls the bloodied sheets out from under Jaskier's body and tucks him in under the furs, and then he drops down into a chair by the door, his head in his hands.

*********

Jaskier's state of unconsciousness changes at some point, going from blacked out to asleep, but it doesn't last. The omega wakes up screaming over and over, sobbing into the pillows when he's awake enough. By the time the sun comes up, he hasn't gotten more than an hour of sleep, if that. Lambert got none.

Vesemir showed up a couple of times, shortly after Lambert finished with the stitches and again during the night, and he brings them breakfast. Lambert doesn't harbour any illusions - the old man doesn't do it because he truly cares, but because he feels obligated. If he cared even a little, he would never have allowed things to go this far.

During the day, Jaskier swings between staring at the wall and crying, and in between those, the whole sorry tale spills out of him. Lambert still suspects that he holds some things back, things he's ashamed of, but he won't press.

Finally, Jaskier drifts into sleep, one that is not interrupted by nightmares after a few short moments. Lambert watches him sleep, his heart constricting painfully.

He can't let this stand. Geralt has gone crazy, it's the only explanation, and if things continue like this, he'll kill Jaskier. He can't let that happen.

He has to find a way to get Jaskier out of the keep, and soon.

#oldandkinky #oldandkinky abo #the witcher #oldandkinky honey #OldandKinky non-con #OldandKinky Jaskier/Geralt

[oldandkinky]

Congrats on the 200 followers!! Hope I didn't arrive too late for the prompts, Alpha Jaskier being shared by the omega witchers? Their heats synchronized in winter for safety, the poor bard needing to be drugged or "axiied" to keep up with them.

DD:DNE. A/B/O, extreme dub-con, inappropriate use of Axii, non-consensual drug/potion use, vaginal sex, knotting, voyeurism, painful sex.

*******

"No more," Jaskier pleads, blue eyes shiny with tears, "I can't, I can't, please-"

"Ssh, alpha, it's alright, you can do it." Eskel's fingers twist into Axii, and Jaskier whimpers. "Give Lambert what he needs, he's so slick and ready for you."

They watch, frigging their cunts gently, as Jaskier stumbles over to where Lambert is on his back, arms open to receive the alpha. The heat room stinks of slick and come and sweat, the salt scent of Jaskier's tears layered inside. He whines, high and pained, when he's made to push his poor chafed cock into Lambert, the youngest wolf groaning at the stretch.

"Pretty alpha," he gasps when Jaskier starts fucking him, "with such a pretty cock."

They've all had him over the last two days, the poor boy wrung dry except they feed him potions that keep his balls full, no matter how often he knots them. Axii keeps him on his feet, keeps him going even as his body cries for relief.

They don't want to torture the bard, but when Geralt brought him up the trail, they all knew what would happen. There hasn't been an alpha in Kaer Morhen in far too long.

#oldandkinky #oldandkinky abo #OldandKinky prompts #OldandKinky dub-con #OldandKinky misuse of axii #OldandKinky Jaskier/Wolves #OldandKinky 200 followers celebration #OldandKinky dead dove

[oldandkinky]

A Gift Surpassing All Things Imagined (chapter 11)

This is about 70% angst. Be warned.

Otherwise: lots of cuddling, vomiting, vaginal/anal fingering, vaginal/anal sex, double penetration, foursome, affectionate insults, so much love and reassurance fucking hell, idiots in love being idiots, alpha/alpha sex

For a long time, Jaskier sits in Vesemir's room, staring at the bowl of wheat sprouts. His mind is a jumble of panic and elation, of horror and joy. He never wanted to be a mother, not once in his life. He tolerates children, likes making them laugh and dance and sing along to his music, but he's always been happy when their parents took them away again.

And now there's a child growing inside him. A real, actual human being he'll have to grow and birth and feed and look after so they don't crack their head open learning to walk or something stupid like that.

"How?" he whispers, and Vesemir sits beside him on the bed, taking his shaking hands in his.

"I'm not sure, but… I have a theory. You know about Eskel's magic?"

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#OldandKinky #oldandkinky abo #oldandkinky gift #OldandKinky pregnancy #OldandKinky Jaskier/Eskel #OldandKinky Jaskier/Wolves