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officerjennie · 1 year

Note

How about 39 + Jaskier/Eskel for the hug prompts?

I scrolled and scrolled and scrolled, and for the life of me I could not find the list this was from. So imma just make them hug it out

(considering this ask is 7 months old, something tells me you don't remember which one you asked for either😂)

Edit: I found a hug prompt list on someone else's blog and I'm running with it.

spinning in the air hugs, featuring trans Jaskier and happiness

It was the moment of truth, and Jaskier couldn’t look.

Except he couldn’t wait, either. Not for the first time, the medical portal told him he’d been sitting idle too long, threatening to log him out. He quickly hit the reset button on the timer, fighting with the mouse pad to recognize his sweaty fingers, and then pushed his laptop away again to stare at over his bunched up knees.

He held them close, fingers playing with his baby blue sweats, and chewed on his bottom lip.

This was something he’d been waiting on for years. Literal years, and he’d already told Eskel that he’d gotten a response from his doctor. Eskel had promised to be there for him when he opened it, for better or worse, and it honestly wasn’t wise for Jaskier to open it alone.

So much of his life had been building up to that moment, to reading what his doctor’s decision was. His toes curled and the light on his laptop dimmed, the news waiting for him. Right there, right in front of him - but Eskel wouldn’t be there for another ten minutes.

That was assuming traffic was bad, and Jaskier had lived in the city long enough to know it was always bad. Well, besides for 3 in the morning, which it was not. He squished his cheek against his knee, fidgeting in his spot, but even looking away from the laptop for a few seconds was too much.

Maybe he shouldn’t wait. Chin on his knees again, Jaskier squinted at the heading of the alert he’d gotten. It didn’t give him any more information than the last several times he’d given it a stink eye, though that didn’t stop him from trying. Was it really too much to ask for medical privacy to be damned and for it to just spill its secrets already?

He threw his legs out and grabbed the laptop, pulling it closer. His fingers hovered over the mouse pad, eyes staring the alert down. “Appointment results from 11-4” - that’s it, that’s all it said, but all he had to do was click it and he’d know.

Jaskier shoved his laptop away, swung his legs over the sofa, and stormed off to make some tea. He’d already waited over a decade to get rid of his tits, he could wait ten more minutes to figure out if it was happening soon or not.

Before he could even manage to get a mug out of the cupboard, Jaskier was scampering back to the laptop, squatting down in front of the sofa to squint at it.

Ten minutes. He could hold it together for ten minutes, no matter the news. And then Eskel would be there for him.

Jaskier clicked the alert, and skimmed it as fast as he could, his heart beating in his throat as his hands shook.

When Eskel got there, he didn’t even have time to unlock the door before the door swung open and he had an arm full of crying Jaskier. At first he didn’t know if the tears were good or bad, but after Jaskier blubbered out the brilliant news - “I’m approved, I was approved” - Eskel laughed, picking him up and spinning him in circles as Jaskier happily cried into his shoulder.

Years. He’d waited for years, and finally, soon, he’d be able to look in the mirror and see himself instead of someone else.

@fontegagrilledcheese @damnbert @mothmanismyuncle @geraltrogerericduhautebellegarde @jaskierswolf @oldandkinky @blooodymoon @kan0chan @silvermintnightprincess @flowercrown-bard @sharinalein @concussed-dragon @hayleynzlive @feral-jaskier @sweetiepieplum @stonedstargazer666 @deafeningnightcollection-things @luteandsword @kmuir1 @little-boats-on-a-lake @dani-dandelino @rurousha @renewlucifer

#jaskel #the witcher #mywriting #jaskier #eskel #witcher #jaskier/eskel #eskel/jaskier #jaskier x eskel #eskel x jaskier #witcher fic #the witcher fic #witcher fanfic #witcher fanfiction #the witcher fanfic #the witcher fanfiction #fanfiction

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ao3feed-geralt-jaskier · 3 years

Link

by OldandKinky

Words: 1132, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Series: Part 1 of Smut Prompts

Fandoms: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types

Rating: Mature

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M

Characters: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Jaskier | Dandelion

Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Priest Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Blasphemy, Priest Kink, Doubt, Temptation, Breaking Celibacy Vows, Horny Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia is a Mess, Sexual Fantasy, Dirty Talk, Confessional, Author is not Christian

#ao3feed #fanfic #the witcher #geraskier #geralt x jaskier #jaskier #geralt of rivia #geralt z rivii

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afterhoursfic · 3 years

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Hi! Do you know some good alpha/alpha fic/prompt fill?

I mean with main fics I mainly read geralt/eskel these days so I don't have a lot of recommendations but I did enjoy the reluctant alpha series on ao3 which has some lovely alpha Jaskier and alpha Eskel.

Also @oldandkinky recently did a fill with alpha Geralt and alpha Jaskier which was 👌

Apart from that I dont really have anything, sorry.

Any anons or blogs out there that know somw good fics?

#afterhours talks

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witcherfic · 3 years

Link

OldandKinky August 28, 2021 at 08:10AM

by OldandKinky

Words: 1132, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Series: Part 1 of Smut Prompts

Fandoms: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types

Rating: Mature

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M

Characters: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Jaskier | Dandelion

Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion

#witcher #witcher fic #fic recs #ao3feed

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oldandkinky · 2 years

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I had a Honey thought. Lambert trying to, like, offer himself to give Jaskier a break. And how would Jaskier feel once he found out?

Anonymous asked: "For a future installment of Honey, I think it would be very sweet if Jaskier and Lambert ARE shown falling for each other. Geralt sees them lying near the (fanon!) hot springs and cuddling one day. He overhears Lambert telling Jaskier how he wishes he could give him a child and that he would build a house for the two of them and Essi in a heartbeat. Jaskier adores this idea. As for Geralt's reaction...well..."

Anonymous asked: "Honey prompt idea: Jaskier starts refusing food and drink in an effort to starve himself. Even when Geralt forces him to eat, he purges it immediately after. Geralt begs Eskel to use axii on him, who refuses. Geralt is forced to use his own axii which works for a time. However, he notices that the overuse is starting to impact Jaskier’s mind and causing confusion and memory loss. Unwilling to cause permanent damage, Geralt resorts to to other methods (threatening, pleading, bribing, etc). Bonus points if Geralt becomes incredibly distraught by the thought of his mate starving to death and gets choked up or even cries while imploring Jaskier to eat."

#OldandKinky #oldandkinky talks #OldandKinky honey #OldandKinky non-con

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oldandkinky · 3 years

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“i don’t know what to do” “then let me teach you” & "no one can ever find out about this”

with Geraskier 👀 ?

CW: priest kink, blasphemy, breaking of celibacy vows, loss of virginity, doubt, first kiss, anal fingering/sex

Part one here

*********

Ever since the day where Jaskier stepped into the confessional, things have… escalated. Geralt doesn't quite know what to do with that.

First, there was the touching, more and more of it. A handshake that morphs into Jaskier clasping both of his hands as he smiles at him, while Geralt tries to keep his thoughts on the conversation and out of the gutter. Those long fingers curling around his forearm and squeezing gently, just for a moment, as they stand around in a circle with others from the congregation, talking about the next big event.

It's all perfectly innocent, if it weren't for the way Jaskier will lick his lips or tilt his head just so. Implying.

It's three weeks after that day in the confessional, and they're entirely alone for the first time. Jaskier hung back after mass, fiddling on his phone, and Geralt tried to ignore him as he finished putting things in order, as he said his goodbyes to the altar boys and the lector. He can only guess at what people think of Jaskier staying behind. Everyone knows he only moved to the town recently, that he's a city boy with issues, so he can only hope people will assume that Jaskier is in need of counsel and nothing more.

Jaskier rises to his feet once the door closes behind the lector and walks up the aisle, to where Geralt is waiting by the altar. There's a light flush high on his cheeks, and Geralt wants to kiss him.

They don't talk. They don't need to. Geralt gently takes Jaskier's hand and leads him out the back into the sacristy, and Jaskier is on him the moment the lock clicks behind them. Geralt grunts as he's pushed back against the wall, moans when Jaskier kisses him like his life depends on it.

They stumble over to the credence table and Geralt's hands are around Jaskier's waist, lifting him up, and Jaskier grabs him by the collar and pulls him into the vee of his legs.

"Please," he begs, "please, I can't wait any longer, I need you in me." He's flushed and beautiful, and Geralt aches for him, wants him so much it hurts. Over his shoulder Geralt can see the cross hung up on the wall, the Paschal candle, and he closes his eyes and presses his face against Jaskier's throat.

"I- I've never-" It should be embarrassing to admit, that he has never had sex, that he's a thirty-nine year old virgin, but it's a simple fact. "I don't know what to do," he whispers, and Jaskier makes a soft noise, his hands tangling in Geralt's hair.

"Then let me teach you, Father," he breathes as he coaxes Geralt's face away from his throat, and then he kisses him again, softly, gently.

Jaskier kicks off his shoes and trousers, and Geralt can't hold back the shocked little noise when his fingertips brush against silk and lace. Jaskier gives him a grin and hands him a sachet of lube, winking.

Geralt's breath catches when the other drapes himself over the table, his shirt riding up and exposing the soft blue panties, and Geralt's prick throbs in his trousers. His hand trembles when he reaches out, and his breath catches when he touches Jaskier, when his palm curves around his cheek.

Jaskier shimmies the panties over his hips, lets them drop to the floor, and he guides Geralt's fingers between his cheeks, to the tight, soft, hot furl of his hole. "Careful," he breathes, "but hurry."

Geralt has no idea how he's supposed to do that, not with the way he's shaking at the thought that he's about to be inside Jaskier. Still, he tries, slicking his fingers with the lube, and his breath catches when that first one breaches Jaskier's hole. The other keens and lifts his hips, spreads his legs wider, and Geralt watches with a mixture of rapturous pleasure and mortification as pre drips from the wet tip of Jaskier's prick, as it sticks to the side of the credence table, a thin, glistening ribbon connecting Jaskier and the wood.

It's obscene. It's sacrilegious. He can't get enough.

Jaskier declares himself ready after three fingers, and Geralt fumbles with his belt until he can get his trousers open and his dick out. His skin feels too tight as he slicks himself, like he'll shatter if he makes one wrong move, and Jaskier looks back at him over his shoulder. "Please, Father," he breathes, and Geralt presses in.

It's a revelation, unlike anything he could have imagined. Jaskier is tight and hot and slick around him, taking him so easily in a manner that defies all logic, and he curls around him and rests his forehead against Jaskier's shoulder with a groan. "Jaskier-" His voice trembles, cracks, and Jaskier reaches over his shoulder and gently strokes his hair.

"Ssh, it's alright, take your time." He sounds overcome, his breath hitching softly with every minute shift of Geralt's hips, and Geralt knows he'll never be able to come back from this. He won't be able to live without this, without Jaskier, and it should horrify him but it doesn't.

A voice in the back of his mind tells him that it's the devil's work, that he's being tempted for a reason, but he doesn't care.

He doesn't care.

Geralt pulls back, slowly, then pushes in again, and Jaskier moans, and it's like a dam breaks. He fucks Jaskier hard and deep, coaxing gasps and cries from the younger man, and when Jaskier grabs his hand and presses it to his mouth to keep him quiet, Geralt snarls and only fucks him harder.

Neither of them lasts long. Geralt comes first, deep inside Jaskier after the other doesn't let him pull out, one hand curled vise-tight into Geralt's shirt. He bows over Jaskier as he comes, cheek pushed against his back and with the other's name on his lips. The orgasm turns his legs to water, but he has enough presence of mind to reach under Jaskier and wrap a hand around his prick, jerking him quickly until Jaskier arches and trembles and goes so fucking tight around Geralt's cock still inside him.

They stay like that, sweaty and panting in the silence of the sacristy, until Geralt has gone soft and slips out of Jaskier, and Geralt knows he should step away and downplay what just happened. Should insist that it can never happen again.

Instead he pulls Jaskier upright and kisses him, kisses him with all the desperation the moment warrants, and when they have to part for air, he presses their foreheads together. He cups the back of Jaskier's neck, clinging to him as though the man could vanish into thin air, and then he says, "No one can ever find out about this."

Jaskier hums and rubs the tip of his nose against Geralt's. "I know," he murmurs, and then he kisses Geralt again.

Later, when they're cleaning the drawers of the credence table where Jaskier's come had crept between the gaps, Geralt wonders if he has gone mad. He's risking his career, his calling. Then again, he has already broken his vows. Broke them the first time he thought about Jaskier in a sexual fashion, really.

If he has doomed himself, well. He can't do that more than once.

#oldandkinky #OldandKinky smut prompts #geraskier #OldandKinky prompts #OldandKinky Jaskier/Geralt #OldandKinky blasphemy kink

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oldandkinky · 3 years

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How about 28+34 geraskier, please?

CW: blasphemy kink, priest kink, masturbation, shame, breaking of celibacy vows (kind of)

I was raised a filthy heathen in a majority Catholic area and my knowledge of Catholic rites is superficial at best, but whatever.

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

Geralt hasn't been tempted like this in a long, long time. Sure, there's always someone trying to flirt with him, one of the middle aged ladies with the lackluster husbands who try to get into his good graces. Those he can ignore, just like the obvious thrillseekers who do it to see if they can get him to break his vows.

Jaskier is neither of these things.

The young man showed up ten minutes late to mass five weeks ago, sat in the very back and listened intently, and when Geralt gave out communion, he made his way to the front patiently to receive it.

Geralt had been annoyed by the late arrival and then forgot about him, but then Jaskier dipped to one knee before him and looked up at him with stormy eyes that reminded Geralt of the sea, and Geralt's heart stuttered in his chest.

Then Jaskier opened his mouth, waiting for Geralt to place the host on his tongue, and Geralt's thoughts derailed quite substantially.

Jaskier came up and introduced himself after mass, apologised for being late, and the whole time Geralt was distracted by the man's eyes and that pretty mouth.

After that, Jaskier shows up every Sunday, migrating further and further to the front until he's in the very first pew, and Geralt's skin prickles with goosebumps whenever their eyes meet.

It takes only a few weeks for him to find himself in his bed on a Sunday morning, his hand drifting under the covers to curl around his prick, and he's too tired to notice that he's thinking about sea-blue eyes and soft pink lips. When he comes, it's with a name on his lips, a name he has never allowed himself to even say aloud.

He can't look at Jaskier during mass, can't bear the guilt that threatens to drown him. He can't let himself go down this path, not even in the privacy of his head. Geralt knows where these thoughts lead, to ruin and damnation, and he can't do that.

Jaskier keeps coming to mass and Geralt keeps thinking about him, wakes to half remembered dreams that leave him with a painful erection or wet sheets, like he's a fucking teenager again. It gets so bad that he even considers asking to be moved to a different parish, but he can't just abandon his community. He has a job to do, and he can't let himself be distracted by pretty blue eyes.

Then Jaskier sits down in the confessional, and Geralt's heart plummets.

"Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been six months since my last confession."

Geralt can't. He can't listen to whatever Jaskier thinks he has to confess, but he has to. He has to rein in his own misguided feelings and desires, and so he clears his throat and curls his fingers around his rosary.

"I have-" Jaskier starts, then falls silent, and Geralt has to fight hard to not turn and look at him through the slats of the confessional. "Ever since I started coming to this church," Jaskier finally says, "I have been… tempted. I cannot seem to get a hold of myself, no matter how hard I try."

Surely he can't mean- No, no, that would be outrageous. Still, Geralt's heart is in his throat.

Jaskier shifts on his knees on the other side of the thin wall separating them, and then Geralt can see him lift a hand to the slats, the tips of his fingers pressing between them. "Each of my thoughts about you are improper, Father. I find myself… touching myself to fantasies of you, wondering what you'd feel like against me, inside me, and I can't- I can't stop these thoughts. I know they're wrong, that I… sully you by thinking about you in this way, and I'm sorry, but- I don't know what to do, Father."

A demon must take hold of him then, for it's the only explanation for what comes out of his mouth next. "Tell me what you think about." Jaskier sucks in a breath, and Geralt wants to turn and look at him, wants to see those stormy sea eyes widen in surprise. Instead, he grips his rosary tighter and curls his other hand into the fabric of his trousers.

"I… I think about kissing you. Touching you. Every time you hand out communion, I want to crawl under your robes and take your cock into my mouth instead of the host. I think about riding you, about your hands on me as I do." He laughs, breathless. "I've been jerking off so much, I've gone through three bottles of lube since I started coming here."

Fucking hell, Geralt thinks, his hand so tight around the fabric of his trousers that he can feel the strain in his joints.

"I don't want to have these thoughts," Jaskier continues. "I try, Father, I really do, but… I just can't stop. I want you so much it hurts." Now his voice is growing thick with tears, and now Geralt does turn to look at him. Jaskier's eyes are bright even in the dimness of the confessional, especially brimming with tears as they are now, and Geralt can feel those words echoing in his own chest.

He should send Jaskier home with a dozen Hail Mary's and the order to donate a hefty sum to a homeless shelter or something of the sort, but he doesn't.

He's weak. He may be a man of God, but in the end, he's just a man.

"The Lord tells us not to covet," he says quietly, "not to lust." Jaskier breathes a stuttering sigh, and his shoulders slump, and Geralt presses on. "But he also tells us to love our neighbour, and what are we if not neighbours?" He's bending things so badly, he's hot with shame, but he can't stop himself, especially not when Jaskier's eyes widen and those pretty pink lips part in surprise.

"What are you saying, Father?" He's leaning forward, his face now inches from the slats separating them, and Geralt reaches up and unlatches the partition. Jaskier's breath whispers over the back of his hand, sending a thrill down his spine.

"What I'm saying," he murmurs quietly as he cups Jaskier's cheek, as he presses the pad of his thumb to that tempting bottom lip, "is that I'm afraid I can no longer remain professional where you are concerned."

It's liberating to say this, even though he knows that he's breaking every single vow he ever made to the church, to God. And when Jaskier whispers a soft, "Oh," against his thumb and then opens his mouth wider, when he lets Geralt push the digit inside, he can't help but think that it'll be worth it.

#oldandkinky #geraskier #OldandKinky prompts #OldandKinky smut prompts #OldandKinky Jaskier/Geralt #OldandKinky blasphemy kink

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oldandkinky · 3 years

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For Mermay, Jask is part water creature and needs water to mate sometimes-- practically this means getting frustrated/edging/teased (for days? Unintentionally or not?) Until he has sex while wet (in a pond, bath, rainstorm... Potentially trying it with his hand or foot in a glass of water? Potentially humiliation if he gets caught that way, desperately trying to get off?) Basically edging/control/orgasm desp with water as the mechanism. (Would also enjoy the reversal, where the wolf school has water monster dna, and it's geralt who has to be wet, comes back from water monster hunt with terrible cockstand, or gets hard in the rain, etc, has to hide it from the Bard... ;)

Contains masturbation, weird biology, anal sex.

*******

It doesn't take Jaskier long to grow to absolutely despise his non-human heritage. To be precise, that happens around the same time he learns what his cock is for.

Nobody in his family knows what sort of creature one of their ancestors fucked, or, if they do, they aren't telling him. All everyone knows is that it was some sort of water creature, and this leads to young Jaskier's predicament.

For some reason he can only get off if some part of him is submerged in water. Which, if you asked him, is the most ridiculous side effect of having non-human ancestry he could possibly think of.

Jaskier discovers this shortly after he wakes up with his dick hard enough to smash diamonds. He very vaguely remembers the dream he had, something about a shapely young woman, and he knows orgasms are a thing (he's young and educated, he knows things). So Jaskier pushes his hand into his smalls and takes hold of his cock, and it feels absolutely divine.

Right until it doesn't any more. He strokes himself for what feels like hours, but he just doesn't get there, that release that he can feel building in his gut just out of reach. Frustrated, he stops, pulling a pillow over his face. He waits until his hard-on goes away on its own, thinking it's a fluke, owed to his inexperience.

So he tries again. And again, and again, always to the same result: a body coiled so tightly he thinks he might just explode and then - nothing. It's rage inducing.

He doesn't stumble onto the solution to his problem until a couple of weeks after that first night. He's in a bath, and because he's young, the gentle movement of the water, of his hands across his skin, is enough to make his cock fill out. For a moment, Jaskier considers ignoring it. He has tried until he chafed, until his wrist ached. Why should it work this time?

It takes approximately two minutes until he's coming so hard he thinks he may have burst some blood vessels, his back arching against the side of the tub as he spills into the sudsy water. After, he lies there, staring at the ceiling, and an idea takes root in his brain.

It takes a lot of experimentation to figure out how much of him needs to be wet to enable him to come. Just being wet in general - like after getting caught in the rain - isn’t enough.

He would find all of this hilarious - if it happened to someone else. As it is, he's not laughing.

Once he figures out that having just part of him, say, a finger, submerged is enough to let him reach his peak, he makes sure to always have a cup of water close by. It's a bit of a hassle to set up and takes some practice to keep his hand still as he's coming his brains out so he doesn't knock over the cup, but he manages. Most of his partners don't pay attention anyway, so it works just fine.

Until Geralt.

Geralt has the peculiar gift of being both extremely observant and horribly obtuse. Jaskier is certain the man notices the little cup beside the bed when they fuck for the first time, but he doesn't comment. The bard is relieved, deciding that they've wordlessly agreed to not mention it, except that's not what is happening.

It turns out Geralt thinks it's some weird kink.

The whole thing comes to light when Jaskier does knock over the cup while he's receiving one particularly energetic pounding, and he groans as he realises what that means. It's not that getting his insides rearranged by Geralt's magnificent dick isn't amazing on its own, it absolutely is. He still really wants to come on said dick, and now that isn't happening.

"What's wrong?" Geralt is curled around his back, lips brushing over Jaskier's shoulder as he speaks, and he slows his thrusts, even as Jaskier can feel the way his stomach trembles with the effort of holding himself back.

"I- Nothing, keep going-"

"You can come without it, right?"

Jaskier grows cold inside. "W-what?"

"Your cup. Or did you… train yourself to only come like that?" The Witcher is still humping him, slowly and almost involuntarily, his breath hot against Jaskier's skin, and he can feel a crazed laugh bubble up from his chest.

"I- Geralt, I didn't train myself to do anything!" He sighs, even as he pushes back against his lover. "Is that what you think?"

"I wasn't going to mention it."

Now Jaskier does laugh. "That's not surprising." Geralt is pressing gentle kisses to the curve of his shoulder now, and it derails Jaskier's thoughts for a second or three. Finally he gathers his courage and mumbles, "I need it. I can't… I can't come unless part of me is wet." He swallows thickly. "Sea creature heritage."

Geralt stills above him, and Jaskier's heart stumbles over itself, even more so when Geralt pulls out. This is it, he thinks, this is the moment he gets either skewered by the Witcher in a very much not sexy way, or just gets left behind.

Instead, Geralt urges him onto his back, and then he moves between Jaskier's thighs and slides smoothly back into him. Jaskier keens and grabs him by the shoulders, the angle pushing the fat head of Geralt's cock directly against Jaskier's sweet spot.

"I had my suspicions," Geralt says breathlessly as he resumes fucking him properly, and Jaskier makes a high, questioning noise. "Your singing."

Jaskier scoffs and slaps his arm. "Oh, fuck you, I'm not a siren."

Instead of deigning that with an answer, Geralt catches his flailing hand, and Jaskier watches, wide-eyed, as he brings it to his lips. When they part, Jaskier can see the way saliva pools on Geralt's tongue, and he has about a second to process that before Geralt sucks his finger into his mouth at the same time that he wraps his free hand around Jaskier's prick, and when he feels the slick wetness of the Witcher's spit around his digit, Jaskier is gone. His back arches and he screams his release to the ceiling, coming across his stomach in thick spurts as Geralt works him through it. He's shaking and incoherent when Geralt let's go of his finger, taking hold of his hips as he fucks him roughly, and soon he grunts, eyes closed in bliss, and Jaskier can feel the rush of his seed inside his arse.

They collapse into a sticky, sweaty pile, and Jaskier winds an arm around his Witcher's waist, kissing his chest. "That was incandescent."

"Hm." Geralt's eyes are closed, but there's a faint smile tugging at his lips. "No more cups," he mumbles after a while, and Jaskier chuckles.

"No more cups."

#oldandkinky #OldandKinky prompts #OldandKinky Jaskier/Geralt #OldandKinky mermay

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oldandkinky · 3 years

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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

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oldandkinky · 3 years

Note

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

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oldandkinky · 3 years

Note

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

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oldandkinky · 3 years

Note

Always a slut for Merman Geralt and Siren Jaskier!

(And Jask shielding Geralt from the sun/being sunburned with his wings)

Contains heat sex, vaginal fingering/sex, double penetration in one hole, enthusiastic consent, violent sex, biting, scratching, blood, breeding kink, implied pregnancy.

Jaskier is trans! There is a small bit of gendered language but it's minor and once it's explained, Geralt genders him correctly. Please proceed accordingly.

********

There is blood in the water.

Geralt closes his eyes and scents, lets the water flow into his mouth and out through his gills. The blood is fresh, its source close-by, and his stomach clenches in anticipation. It's sweet blood, not that of a fish or one of the big seals that live near the coast, not a selkie or whale.

It's a siren.

Geralt hasn't seen a siren in many, many turns of the seasons. He used to, back before his hair turned white, when he was still with his pod. They lived close to the coast then, close to rocks where ships would wreck themselves against the ones hidden in the dark waters. They gorged themselves on drowning menfolk then, and their cousins, the sirens, would drop down from their perches on the rocky cliffs to pluck dying men from the water.

But Geralt isn't with his pod anymore. Hasn't been for so long, and he hardly remembers what sirens look like. Well. He's about to be reminded.

He glides through the gloomy water, silent and nigh invisible, his pale belly hiding him from those below, his dark back from those above. He's drawing closer to the source of the blood, and his slow-beating heart speeds up in anticipation. Ahead he can spot a cave, far below the water's surface, the bloody trail leading inside. His hunger propels him forward, but he makes himself stop at the entrance to the cave, makes himself peer into the gloom, makes himself listen, even as he opens his mouth again to let the blood-tinged water flow through him.

Geralt shudders. His hunger mounts.

The cave is dark and silent, but when he strains his ears, he can hear splashing, as though there is a pocket of air at the top of the cave. Then, a voice, soft but angry, and Geralt hesitates. If the siren is hail enough to make noise like that, it will make a poor feast.

But his stomach twists, and he slips into the cave without a sound.

The cave extends upwards, towards the surface, and Geralt rises, silent and deadly. The mutterings of the siren grow louder, angrier, and Geralt slows his ascent. There is light glittering in the water, and he remembers that the top of the cliff the cave belongs to rises up, up, up, above the surface.

He can see the tail of the siren in the water, ironically shaped so similarly to the hooks the humans use for fishing. The tail is twitching restlessly, and below the spot where the siren sits perched on the rocks above the water, blood blooms fresh, and Geralt can hardly restrain himself from just getting his claws into the other's tail, from following that up with his teeth. The blood seems to fill up all his senses, tinting his vision red.

Then the siren speaks. "I know you're down there, you know that, right?"

Geralt stills. Blinks. Something inside him is screaming at him to retreat, to sink back down into the near total darkness of the cave. The siren is quicker than that, slipping into the water with a splash, and then she's right in front of him.

No, that's not right, not she. It's definitely a siren but the creature's dark hair is short, the chest broad and lightly furred where Geralt expected breasts. The siren cocks his head as he watches Geralt curiously, and the scent of blood intensifies. His lips pull back from his teeth.

The siren grimaces. "Ah, well, yes. Sorry. I'm a bit… indisposed, I'm afraid."

Now that Geralt is so close to the siren, he can taste something else, even though the blood is almost overpowering everything else. It's a taste he hasn't caught in a long, long time, ever since he lost his clutch, his pod, since he last saw a siren. "You're going into heat," he rasps, even though his brain has difficulty understanding what is in front of him. The siren looks male but is going into heat? How is that possible?

The siren grimaces again. "I am, unfortunately. Thought I could hide myself away here until it's over."

"But you're-" Geralt swims closer, out of the dimness and into the light falling in through the cave's entrance, and the siren's eyes widen. They're… very, very blue, Geralt realises.

"Male? I am, thank you for noticing," the siren replies softly. He looks Geralt up and down, eyes lingering for a moment on his hair before he meets his gaze again.

"There are no male sirens." He doesn't know why he says that. There's very obviously one right in front of him.

The siren smiles, revealing teeth just as sharp as Geralt's. His wings spread out a bit in the narrow space of the cave. "Then what am I, darling? A hallucination?" He shrugs, then crooks a finger at Geralt before he rises to the water's surface again.

Geralt follows. He doesn't know why, really, except he does. A siren is not a mer, not really, but… He has been alone for so long.

Above water, the cave is larger than he thought. The siren drags himself up onto the rocks, his scales shimmering in the light falling in through an opening at the top of the cave.

He's very pretty. Geralt scowls.

The siren pushes his wet hair out of his face as he makes himself comfortable on the rock. There's a thin trickle of blood on his tail, seeping out through the slit at the front of it. Geralt can't look away, and the siren laughs. "You're half right, you know. Sirens are all female." He taps a finger against his chest, then his forehead. "But not necessarily in here."

Geralt grunts. He doesn't understand, not really. "You don't have tits."

"Very astute, my friend." The siren smiles that sharp smile again as he runs his fingers through the hair on his chest. "Got lucky a couple of seasons ago. A ship went down and inside that ship was a djinn. Granted me my most ardent wish for freeing her from her watery prison." He grimaces. "Unfortunately I phrased my wish poorly in my excitement, and freed her before I noticed. Meaning I look male," here he strokes a hand over his chest, "but she left me my original equipment."

"Hm." Very odd. "What's your name?" He swims closer, until he reaches the edge of the rock. This close, he can smell the beginning heat on the other.

The siren shifts on the rock, watching him. "Jaskier. What's yours, cousin?"

"Geralt."

"Geralt," Jaskier says, eyes closed, and oh. He likes how his name sounds on the other's lips.

"I should go," he rasps, "leave you in peace." He remembers how the females of his pod would get before their heats, irritable and wanting to be left alone. Jaskier cocks his head to the side, watching him curiously.

"Should be two more days," he says, then licks his lips. "Until I'm ready, I mean." Now he shifts, tail twitching in the water. "You could come back," he says softly, and Geralt feels a hunger of a different kind roar through his veins.

Gods, it has been so long.

"You'd want that," he asks, voice rough, and Jaskier smiles. He glides off the rock, back into the water, and then he's right in front of him. Jaskier's wings spread out, spread around him, and the siren pulls him closer with the tip of one against his back.

"I would," he says softly, licking his lips again. His hand drops below the surface, and Geralt's lips curl back from his teeth when Jaskier drags the tips of his fingers over his slit. "I'd want that… very much indeed," the siren breathes.

Geralt grunts, hoping it's enough of an answer. Then he brushes off the wing and Jaskier's hand, and with a last look into those brilliantly blue eyes he slips beneath the water and into the darkness.

******

He spends those two days hunting, and trying not to think.

Geralt doesn't really remember the last time he fucked someone. It was before he lost his pod, obviously, so… more seasons ago than he cares to count. He's oddly apprehensive about it, about his ability to satisfy Jaskier. Which is stupid. The siren will be in heat, almost any dick will do.

He's scowling when he returns to the cave, having already worked himself up into thinking he's just a convenient idiot. He should really turn around and let Jaskier ride this out on his own. It's not like he owes the siren anything.

Then, at the entrance to the cave, he smells Jaskier, and his body makes the decision for him.

The inside of the cave is dim. The sun has barely risen above the waves but if Geralt were to be honest, he just couldn't wait any longer. His head breached the water, and it's like his insides shiver when he catches sight of Jaskier.

The siren lies on the rocks, writhing and twisting as he pants and moans, his wings flaring every once in a while, his tail twitching. He's rubbing at the top of his slit, needy little, "Ah, ah, ah," sounds falling from his lips, and Geralt's mind goes a bit fuzzy.

He swims closer to the edge of the pool, cautious even as his body reacts with the primal need to breed. He's far too aware of what a female in heat can be like.

Jaskier's eyes flutter open, his nostrils flaring, and he bares his teeth at Geralt. "Took you long enough to get here," he hisses. One could mistake his demeanor for hostility but Geralt knows better.

"You said two days." His voice is thick with desire, and he dares to get within arms length. Jaskier rolls onto his front, a clear sign that he's displeased with Geralt. He wouldn't hide his slit from him otherwise. "I'm sorry," Geralt rasps, "I'll do better."

The siren narrows his eyes, considering. Then he rolls once more, towards the edge, and drops into the water.

Immediately, he's on Geralt, reeling him in with a wing. He's smaller than the merman but those wings are strong, and he lets himself be pulled close. Jaskier pushes his nose against Geralt's jaw, tongue flicking out to tease at his gills, and Geralt shudders. "Jaskier…"

"Gods, I can't wait," the siren moans, and his hands are everywhere, it seems. "You're so fucking strong. Know you're gonna breed me good," and then his teeth sink into Geralt's shoulder.

Geralt grunts. He winds an arm around the siren, and with the other he reaches between them, mindful of his claws when he finds the nub at the top of Jaskier's slit. The siren twitches and moans, not nearly as careful with his claws when Geralt starts stroking him, the sharp points sinking into his back. Geralt hums and holds him closer, brings his mouth to Jaskier's ear. "Wanna know a secret?"

Jaskier groans, his tail twirling around Geralt's. They're sinking like this, slowly, down into the darkness of the cave. "Want you to fuck me already."

Geralt smirks. His blood pounds in his ears. "With both dicks at once?"

The siren rears back, eyes wide and pupils blown in the darkness. "What."

The merman takes his hand away from Jaskier's slit and takes hold of his wrist, guiding it to his own slit. He's slick with pre already, both his cocks peeking out, and he groans when Jaskier's fingers slide over the tips. Jaskier's mouth drops open.

"You… You have two cocks."

"Hm."

The siren shudders from crown to tail tip, and the taste of his need spikes sharply in the water around them. "Fuck, I don't care, just get in me, Geralt, I need it so bad-"

Geralt grabs hold of the back of Jaskier's neck with one hand, the other going back to his slit. It's opening, and Geralt can see the plush pink inside of it despite the near darkness. His cocks twitch, and he groans against Jaskier's shoulder. "Gods, you're pretty," he murmurs, and Jaskier whines when he slides two fingers into him, oh so carefully. The siren is burning hot inside, his slit almost sucking his fingers in, and Geralt rubs the palm of his hand against his nub.

Jaskier moans louder, twisting and writhing in Geralt's grip. "Please, Geralt, don't tease me."

"Gonna breed you so good," he rasps, and when he pulls his hand away it's immediately replaced by one of his pricks. Jaskier keens as it slides into him, his claws making a bloody mess of Geralt's back.

Geralt can feel himself descending into rut daze, his arms tight around the siren as they move against each other. Jaskier pants against his shoulder, sticking to him like a limpet, and Geralt's teeth ache in his mouth. He has no memory of ever being in rut, not even when his pod was still around. Maybe he had just been too young then, but he suspects it was more due to a lack of a suitable partner.

Jaskier cries out, his slit hot and slick and soft around Geralt's cock, and Geralt can almost believe that this means something.

They've long since sunk to the bottom of the cave, their twisting and scrabbling kicking up sand, and Geralt pulls the siren even closer. Jaskier moans and whines, and it's beautiful, the most beautiful siren song, and with a groan Geralt sinks his teeth into the other's shoulder as he pumps him full of come. Jaskier cries out and Geralt squeezes a hand between them, rubbing furiously at Jaskier's nub, and the sound the siren makes when he comes echoes through the cave.

They drift to the ground, both breathing hard, and Geralt carefully pulls his teeth out of Jaskier's shoulder, then licks over the wound. The siren laughs. "Oh, that was… quite nice, darling."

Geralt rolls his eyes, but he's smiling against Jaskier's shoulder. "High praise." The siren's slit keeps squeezing rhythmically around him, milking him, and he shudders.

Jaskier hums softly, and he waves his hands around for a moment to wash the blood off his claws. Then he cards his fingers through Geralt's hair, and the merman shudders. "In all seriousness, I don't think I've ever felt this well fucked, my dear." He leans closer, tipping his head back and closing his eyes. Geralt frowns.

"What are you doing?"

Jaskier hums again. "It's something the humans do," he says, "have you never seen it? It's called kissing." And then he's in Geralt's face, pressing his lips to Geralt's.

It's… odd. Not unpleasant, but odd.

After a moment, Jaskier draws back, blinking hazy eyes at him. "So, what's the verdict?"

Geralt licks his lips. "Don't know yet." He brings Jaskier closer again. "Gotta have to keep trying."

*******

Jaskier's heat lasts two days, and when Geralt finally fulfills his promise and fucks Jaskier with both cocks at once, the siren screams so loud Geralt can feel it in his bones.

They leave the cave when the heat ends, both famished, and Geralt is… perplexed when Jaskier shows no signs of leaving. When the sun sets and he looks for a place to rest, the siren is still there.

"Aren't you… Don't you want to go back?"

Jaskier blinks at him. "Back where?"

"To your flock."

The siren's lips twitch. "Geralt, I… I don't have a flock. Not any more."

"Oh." His heart beats faster, and he settles himself into the sand in the small overhang they've found. Jaskier squeezes himself in beside him. His wing twitches, as though he wants to wrap it around Geralt.

"What about you," he asks softly. "Where's… Where's your pod?"

Geralt closes his eyes, even though he can't escape the sympathy or hesitancy in Jaskier's voice. "They died."

"Oh. I'm… I'm sorry," the siren says softly, and then Geralt is enveloped in one large wing and pulled against Jaskier's side. His hair brushes against Geralt's shoulder with the movement of the water around them. "We could… only if you wanted… We could be a pod. The two of us, and…"

Geralt's stomach twists. "And who, Jaskier?"

The siren looks up at him through his lashes, and then he takes his hand and presses it to his belly, just above his slit. "Who do you think, darling?"

Yes, Geralt thinks, he wants that. He wants that very much.

#oldandkinky #OldandKinky prompts #OldandKinky mermay #OldandKinky Jaskier/Geralt

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oldandkinky · 3 years

Note

Can i request some geralt/eskel Royalty AU?

CW arranged marriage, first time, loss of virginity, mildly painful sex, humiliation, semi-public sex, medical examination, Geralt has a vulva and AFAB terminology is used to refer to his genitals

*********

"Come on, I'm sure you'll get along! He comes highly recommended." Jaskier is being disgustingly chipper about all of this, as is his wont. Easy for him to be - he's not the one being forced to marry a complete stranger.

"Do you ever listen to yourself talk? 'Highly recommended', what is he, a bottle of wine?" Geralt tugs at his cravat, trying to ignore the constant sense of mild suffocation. He has been dreading this day ever since his father presented him with the portrait of his betrothed.

Jaskier wags a finger at him from where he's draped across the chaise. "Ah, don't be such a boor, darling. I'm sure he will make a perfectly lovely husband." He throws a look at the portrait, arranged in pride of place by servants and then unceremoniously shoved into a corner by Geralt. "He looks terribly dashing, doesn't he?"

Geralt gives up his fight with the cravat and slumps into a chair instead. "His portrait certainly does." And it does, it’s true. Eskel of Kaer Morhen has a face that could only be described as regal, his eyes intense yet kind. “Too bad he’s likely to be cross-eyed or something.”

His friend makes a face. “Yeah, I admit that’s a possibility.” He slaps a hand onto his thigh and hops to his feet. “Well, nothing for it, old boy. He’ll be here within the hour.” Jaskier squeezes his shoulder as he passes. “It’ll be alright, Geralt,” he adds softly, “chin up.”

Geralt sits there a moment longer after Jaskier has left, staring into space. With every minute that ticks by, he’s one step closer to meeting the man he’s going to spend his life with, and Geralt wants nothing more than to run.

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

Eskel, it turns out, is not cross-eyed. He is terribly dashing, to quote Jaskier, and the scarring on the right side of his face only adds to it, Geralt thinks. It explains, however, why the duke, Eskel’s father, declined the offer of an earlier meeting. He can’t help but wonder if his own father knew about the scars.

After the proper introductions have been made, he and Eskel are herded into a sitting room, accompanied by two chaperones. It’s horribly awkward, and once more Geralt laments his lacking conversational skills. At least Eskel seems to be similarly afflicted, and so they exchange awkward smiles for a while as Geralt tries to think of something to say.

Finally, Eskel heaves a breath. “It was a hunting accident,” he says quietly, and Geralt cocks a brow. “My scars. A boar hunt. The thing nearly took my head clean off.”

Geralt gapes for a moment before he manages to rein himself in. “That must’ve been terrifying.” A full grown boar can easily kill a man, even one as tall and broad as Eskel. Everyone has soft parts, and a strong man’s guts spill just like those of a weakling.

“Hm, it was.” Eskel rubs at the scars absentmindedly for a second before he smiles lopsidedly. “Do you hunt?”

It’s remarkably easy from there. They have a lot in common, it turns out, both avid readers and equestrians, and they spend a good hour discussing nothing but horses. It’s… It’s good. By the time they say good night, Geralt isn’t nearly as apprehensive as he’d been. He could imagine having this man for his husband. Eskel accompanies him to his rooms, their chaperones close by but melting into the background, and neither of the two speaks up when Eskel takes Geralt’s hand and places a gentle kiss on the back of it, just the merest brush of his lips.

“Good night, your highness,” he murmurs, looking up at Geralt with those intense eyes of his, and Geralt’s cheeks grow warm.

“Good night,” he echoes, and then, daring, adds, “Eskel.” His chaperone, an elderly countess, gasps and mutters something, but Geralt isn’t listening. He’s caught, entirely, in the brilliancy of Eskel’s smile.

Later, when he’s getting ready for bed, there’s a knock on the servant’s door, and Jaskier falls through it a moment later. He’s obviously quite soused, and he grins widely. “So! Any plans to flee the country? Or did the dashing young duke dazzle you so thoroughly you have abandoned all your desperate plans?”

“You’re drunk.” Geralt rolls his eyes as he crawls into bed, ignoring his friend’s questions.

Jaskier snickers. “Quite right. What gave me away?”

“The alliterations.”

“Oh, blast, you’re right. I must be more sloshed than I thought if I’m resorting to alliterations.” He snorts and kicks off his boots, then crawls into bed beside Geralt, settling into his side with a happy sigh. Geralt huffs.

“You can’t stay here, Jask.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know, just a couple of minutes. Now,” he yawns heartily, and Geralt already knows he’s not going to get rid of him, “tell me about him.”

Geralt should be embarrassed by how long he talks, by how smitten he sounds, but… He’s not. He likes Eskel, likes the quiet confidence he carries himself with. “I think… I want it to work, Jask,” he says softly. “He’s… He seems like a good man.”

Jaskier yawns again, then cuddles closer, rubbing his cheek against Geralt’s bicep. “Then you have my blessing to marry him, dear.”

It’s Geralt’s turn to snort. “Thanks, whatever would I do without you.”

“Languish in utter boredom, with no one to tend to your delicate heart, my dear. Now, be a love and blow out the candle, my head hurts.”

Geralt sighs. “Gods know why the hell I put up with you.”

“I certainly don’t,” Jaskier replies, a smile in his voice, and Geralt does as he’s bid, blowing out the candle before he settles. This is familiar, and it calms him the way it always does. Jaskier is his oldest friend, despite their bickering. After a while, the poet murmurs, “If he mistreats you, I’ll stab him in his sleep.”

Geralt tries and fails to bite back his smile. “Shut up, Jaskier.”

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

The wedding approaches faster than Geralt would have thought possible, and one day he’s being dressed in his wedding clothes, a ridiculous white suit that does not work with his complexion, at all - or at least that’s what Jaskier tells him, over and over - and someone is pressing a circlet made of dark red roses onto his head.

This is what Geralt has avoided thinking about ever since his father informed him of Eskel’s looming arrival. The wedding night. The consummation.

The witnesses.

Jaskier had tried to reassure him. “It’s not half bad, being watched, you know?”

Geralt had scoffed. “One, you’re an exhibitionist and a slut, and two, you do the fucking. It’s… different.”

“Oh ye of little faith. I am disappointed that you think I’ve never gotten ploughed. I thought we were friends!” Geralt had chosen not to comment on that.

In any case, he’s dreading what is to come. Not because he is afraid of Eskel - Geralt can defend himself, and he has no doubts his fiancé will be gentle. No, it has nothing to do with the other and everything with the fact that there will be six other people in the room with them, watching Geralt get fucked for the first time in his life.

Maybe he should have taken Jaskier up on his offer to run away and live on their respective skills, far away from any courts and arranged marriages, after all. Well, that ship has sailed.

The ceremony is a blur in Geralt's memory. Eskel looks awfully handsome in his dark blue suit, white roses adorning his brow, and after their hands have been bound together and the priest declares them married, the man that is now his husband draws him in and presses an achingly gentle kiss to his lips.

There is a banquet after, congratulations from all around, and Jaskier takes the opportunity to introduce himself to Eskel, and to not at all subtly threaten him.

"Geralt is my oldest and dearest friend, you know, and if I was in any way inclined towards monogamy, I like to imagine it would have been me in your place today. Alas, it wasn't to be."

Geralt can't really tell whether Eskel is offended or amused when he says, "You two would have made a lovely couple."

Jaskier grins and lifts his glass. "Obviously. Anyway, I really only have one thing to say, and that is, harm a single hair on his head and I'll cut off your dick and choke you with it." He's still smiling as he says it, and Geralt kicks him under the table.

Eskel, incredibly, smiles back. "I would expect nothing less." And with that he nods respectfully at Jaskier and lifts his own glass in a toast, and Geralt has no idea what to say.

The evening drags on like that, but all too soon it's time for the bedding. Jaskier had offered to act as a witness, had squeezed his hand reassuringly, and Geralt had agreed. Thankfully his father had accepted as well, so that's one less stranger he has to contend with. He knows there will be curtains around the bed but he also knows they will be gossamer thin, will only offer the barest illusion of privacy.

His and Eskel's hands are still tied together, and when the bedding officially begins, Eskel entwines their fingers and squeezes. Geralt tries to calm his racing heart and to let that small gesture buoy him as they rise and are led to Geralt's chambers. Their hands are untied, Eskel is directed to the antechamber to undress, Geralt behind a privacy screen, and after his valet has helped him out of his suit and into a voluminous nightgown, Jaskier clears his throat behind the screen.

"I could still create a diversion," he whispers, and Geralt smiles despite the terror coursing through his veins.

"We'd just have to go through all of it again," he murmurs, and then he gathers his courage and steps out from behind the screen.

There are six witnesses, three for each side. Both Geralt's and Eskel's fathers, perched on a sofa in the corner. It's clear that it's a mere formality for both of them, their interest in the proceedings minimal. They expect to be obeyed.

In addition to Jaskier there is the royal physician, Regis, a kind man of middle age that Geralt has always gotten along with well. On Eskel's side is his younger brother, Lambert, who scowls at nothing in particular, and the only woman of the party, their court physician. She has a kind face and a mass of dark curls, and Geralt thinks he could like her, if the circumstances were different.

Jaskier offers his hand and Geralt takes it gratefully and lets his friend lead him to the bed. The Viscount says nothing when Geralt squeezes a bit too harshly.

The curtains truly are nearly see-through. Geralt settles on his back in the middle of the bed, and Jaskier squeezes his wrist, just once. "Chin up, old boy," he murmurs, and then he steps away. Geralt stares up at the canopy and tries not to hyperventilate.

It takes a few moments more for Eskel to emerge. He, too, is dressed in a nightgown, and he climbs on the bed in utter silence, shuffling between Geralt's knees. He doesn't touch him, not yet, and it's almost worse, to have to wait even longer. When Geralt looks at his face, he can see his own uncertainty mirrored back at him, and he swallows thickly and holds out a hand.

Eskel lets himself be coaxed down, laying down in the vee of Geralt's legs. It's an odd feeling, the way his thighs are forced apart by Eskel's bulk, his knees tipping up to make room for him. "I'm sorry it has to be like this," Eskel breathes, and when he shifts, Geralt can feel the man's hard prick against his thigh.

"It's fine," he says, just as softly. "I always knew it would happen this way."

Eskel hums. He understands, and that more than anything is a relief. "May I kiss you?"

Geralt's breath rushes out of him, and he nods. "Please."

The first touch is one Geralt can barely feel, the barest brush of Eskel's lips against his. Then Eskel deepens the kiss, and after a moment Geralt opens for him with a soft sigh. It's… good. Really good.

He has been kissed before. Virginity does not include kissing, or at least no one ever told him to guard his lips the same way he was to guard his cunt. Kissing Eskel is… different, somehow. Maybe it's because he knows that this time, the kisses are just a precursor to something else.

As if on cue, someone clears their throat, and Geralt's mouth goes dry. Eskel makes a quiet noise that Geralt wants to call a growl, and then his husband presses a single, soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. "I'm sorry," he repeats, and then he lifts himself up and pushes one hand between Geralt's legs, lifts the nightgown up to pool around his hips.

Geralt is stunned to find that he's wet, and one of Eskel's fingers slips into him easily. He sucks in a soft breath, and Eskel carefully fucks that finger in and out of him for a bit before he adds another, and now Geralt whimpers a little at the stretch. He keeps his eyes tightly closed as he concentrates on breathing, on relaxing, but it only makes him more aware of the way their clothing moves with the witnesses, of their breathing and shuffling, and he feels tears prickling at his eyes.

"Eskel," he gasps, voice tight with tears, and Eskel leans up and kisses him again. He kisses him with what he can only call desperation, and Geralt winds his arms around the other's neck.

Eskel spreads his fingers, spreads him around them. Geralt whines and then Eskel presses his thumb to Geralt's clit and oh.

"Focus on me," Eskel whispers, "just feel."

He tries. He tries so hard to ignore the way he can hear other bodies moving, just beyond the gossamer curtains, but he can't. He feels like a bug under a magnifying glass, and he can't stop the tears that leak from his eyes. "I can't, please, just- Just do it."

Eskel makes a soft, unhappy sound, but then he moves again, and then there's pressure at Geralt's cunt and he whines. "Breathe," Eskel whispers, and he's trying but fuck, it hurts. He whines again when Eskel presses in, deeper and deeper, and the pain mounts, a kind of stabbing sensation, and then finally Eskel is all the way inside him. He's trembling, face pressed to Geralt's shoulder, and he whispers, "I'm so sorry, forgive me, please, I'm sorry," over and over again, and Geralt holds him close.

When Eskel starts to move, it burns, and there's a strange ache, that of a muscle unused to this. Geralt bites his lip and tries to ride it out, to relax and let Eskel do what needs doing, but… it's hard. It's so hard, not because of what is happening, not exactly, but because he knows there are eyes on them, watching every moment of what should be private.

After a while of this, Eskel hooks one of Geralt's legs over his arm, opening him up further, and under the ache and discomfort, it feels… good? Strange but good, and the sound that comes out of his mouth then is more a moan than anything else. Eskel hums and kisses his jaw, his throat, his shoulder, and Geralt opens his eyes and finally looks at his husband.

Eskel's face is flushed, and his eyes are dark and hungry, and something warm unfurls in Geralt's stomach, something that mirrors that hunger. His lips part and his breath deepens, and Eskel smiles at him. "That's it," he whispers, and when he shifts his weight, he reaches deeper all of a sudden, and Geralt gasps at the strange pressure. "That's it," Eskel repeats, and now he sounds just as breathless as Geralt feels.

It doesn't take much longer. Eskel's thrusts become harder, a little faster, and all Geralt can do is hold on and breathe. It's still uncomfortable, and he's still so aware of the other people in the room, but it's bearable, and the longer it goes on, the more aware Geralt becomes of something building inside him, something that feels, distantly, like… arousal. It shouldn't be possible, he thinks, but he's sure that, under different circumstances, this would feel nothing but wonderful. He knows what an orgasm feels like, and that thing inside him feels like the first thin tendrils of one.

He wonders, idly, if he'll ever be able to come on his husband's cock.

Above him, Eskel is breathing hard as he works his hips, and Geralt reaches up and cups Eskel's cheek. My husband, he thinks, and leans up for a kiss. Eskel obliges him with a groan, and Geralt moans softly as the change of angle changes the pressure, pushing Eskel down against his clit. Eskel groans as he tightens around him, and Geralt hums. "That's it," he echoes Eskel's words, and the other shudders above him. "Spill for me, husband," he breathes, and Eskel makes a sound that goes straight to Geralt's core.

Eskel bares his teeth as he comes, grinding deep into Geralt. It's good, he thinks, as good as can be expected, considering who they are. Gently, he strokes Eskel's hair away from his face as the man holds himself up above him on trembling arms, and when their eyes meet, Geralt smiles. Yes, he thinks, they'll figure things out.

After a long moment, Eskel rolls off of him, and Geralt is again reminded of his duty when Regis and the woman move towards the foot of the bed. She brushes away the curtains, and Geralt stares at the canopy, trying to ignore the way they coax him closer to the foot of the bed. He doesn't want to. All he wants is to curl up on his side and ignore the ache in his pelvis, wants his husband to hold his hand as their breathing evens out. But those are pipe dreams.

Gentle fingers on the inside of his knee urge his legs apart, and he closes his eyes so he doesn't have to see the flicker of the candle's flame, doesn't have to be aware of the two of them leaning down to inspect his cunt. He flinches when someone - the woman, he thinks, although it's hard to tell, Regis has such slender fingers - touches the inside of his thigh, and then a cloth is pressed to his opening and he can't hold the whimper inside. It's humiliating, degrading, like his only worth lies there between his legs, like he doesn't even matter.

He jumps when someone takes his hand squeezing gently, and when he looks it's Eskel. His husband looks stoic, but there's a tightness to his jaw that Geralt prefers to think is there because Eskel feels the same about this whole situation.

Finally the two physicians straighten and step away, and the woman carefully tugs the curtains back into place. "Everything is in order, your majesty," Regis says softly, and Geralt wants to curl up and disappear.

He ignores whatever is said after. All he cares about is being left in peace, and he shoves himself up on the bed until he finds a pillow. He winces when he rolls onto his side, sore between his legs and humiliation still simmering in his chest, and he wants to sleep for a week and not have to face anything more of this circus. He knows it's not possible, they have duties, appearances must be kept, but… He wants, anyway.

One by one the witnesses file out, and he acknowledges Jaskier's quiet, "I'll see you tomorrow, darling," with an equally quiet hum, and then the doors close and he's finally, for the first time, alone with Eskel.

His husband. Geralt huffs quietly. He still can't quite wrap his head around it.

Said husband heaves himself onto the pillow next to Geralt. "I'm sorry," he says again, so earnestly it makes Geralt ache anew. "Next time will be different."

Geralt snorts. Next time. He can't wait. "It's not your fault," he says, and Eskel rolls onto his side and gently takes his hand again.

"I hurt you, whether I wanted to or not." He leans closer and, after a second's hesitation, presses a soft kiss to the back of Geralt's hand. "I'll make it up to you," Eskel murmurs, and Geralt thinks that he could have done so much worse for himself.

#oldandkinky #OldandKinky prompts #OldandKinky dub-con #OldandKinky Geralt/Eskel

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