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oldandkinky · 3 years

Note

“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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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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witcherfic · 3 years

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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 · 3 years

Note

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

Note

For your most recent prompt list can I get 25 + 64, for Geraskier?

Thank you! ♥️♥️♥️

DD:DNE. CW: dubious consent, sexual coercion, insults, slut shaming, anal fingering/sex

25: “get on your hands and knees, right now”

64: “i love the way you look with my fingers inside you”

**********

It wasn't supposed to be like this.

Jaskier knows he's a hopeless romantic, even if he flits from lover to lover like a bee does between flowers. At heart, he's hoping for true love, for the one person to complete him, to sate this seemingly bottomless need for attention, for appreciation, for care, that drives him from one person to the next. Always hoping that this time he'd have found them.

Geralt was supposed to be the one, despite his crotchety personality, the monster guts in his hair, the way he doesn't seem to appreciate all that Jaskier does for him. Despite all that, Jaskier knows he's a good man, a good friend, and he'd hoped… Well. He'd hoped.

If he had the breath for it, he'd scoff at himself. As it is, he's hindered by Geralt's tongue forcing itself into his mouth. It's not the kind of kiss he'd secretly been dreaming about, a gentle exploration, passion simmering underneath. No, it's harsh and full of teeth, Geralt's hand curled into his hair holding him in place, and all Jaskier can do is go pliant and let himself be manhandled.

Geralt had been denied at the brothel, the third in a row, and when he stomped back into their shared room, his gaze had zeroed in on Jaskier's half open chemise with an intensity that sent a chill down Jaskier's spine. The Witcher was upon him only a moment later, forcing him onto his back on the bed, one thick thigh pressing between Jaskier's legs as he kissed him.

Normally, Jaskier would protest at such treatment but… This is Geralt, his friend, the man he has been not so secretly half in love with for years. Geralt needs him, needs to find some relief, and there's no way Jaskier would ever deny him.

Still. It wasn't supposed to be like this.

Geralt pulls off his clothes, leaving love bites in his wake as he moves down Jaskier's body, and then there's a bottle of oil in his hand. "Get on your hands and knees, right now."

Jaskier knows he ought to protest. What gives Geralt the right to order him around like this, to demand this of him? This is the first thing he has said to Jaskier since he returned to the room,and it hurts, somewhere behind his ribs.

But Geralt needs him, and so he obeys. He rolls over and pushes himself up onto all fours, presenting himself to Geralt's hungry gaze.

"Such a whore," Geralt murmurs, and then he pours the oil over Jaskier's hole before unceremoniously pushing a finger into him. "Should've known you'd just bend over for it."

Jaskier bites his lip, his head hanging low between his shoulders. He tries to ignore the humiliation coursing through him, the pain at the realisation that this is what Geralt thinks of him, that he sees him as someone who'd let anybody fuck him. I wouldn't, he thinks as Geralt works a second finger into him, followed quickly by a third. Not just anybody.

Three fingers seems to be as much as Geralt deems necessary, even though he fucks him on them for a long time, murmuring filth the whole time. When his fingertips graze against Jaskier's prostate, he can't hold back a moan, and Geralt chuckles. "Hungry little hole," he says softly, right before he aims for that spot again, with intent now. It has Jaskier writhing in no time, and Geralt holds him still with his free hand on his hip. "Fuck," he says, and he sounds almost awed, "I Iove the way you look with my fingers inside you. Open up so easily for me."

If things were different, Jaskier would preen under these words, would treasure them for a long time to come. Now though, every single one is like a barb, like a pinprick, leaving him feeling small and cheap. Still, those are Geralt's fingers on him, in him, and the man knows what he's doing. Soon, he has Jaskier whimpering, begging, broken little pleas falling from his lips, and he pulls his fingers away with a content hum.

More oil, and then the distinct pressure of a cock against Jaskier's twitching hole, and then Geralt pushes into him. It hurts, the Witcher's prick so much thicker than he'd anticipated, and Jaskier gasps and claws at the sheets, but Geralt is relentless. He pulls Jaskier back, holds him still as he works himself into him to the root, and all Jaskier can do is open for him, whether he wants to or not.

Gods, does he want to.

Geralt fucks the way he does everything else, with precision and focus, and Jaskier is soon a whining mess beneath the Witcher, his arms giving out after a while to leave him with his arse in the air and his face pressed into a pillow, drooling mindlessly as Geralt fucks him. It would be perfect, if it weren't for the constant stream of thoughtless insults dripping from Geralt's lips like poison.

"Fuck, you take it so well, bard, like a seasoned whore. Should have known you'd be this easy, this open, a slut like you needs it, don't you?"

His orgasm catches him utterly by surprise. Geralt hits his sweet spot just right as he reaches between Jaskier's legs and curls a hand around his prick, and next thing Jaskier knows he's coming, crying out as his hands scrabble at the sheets.

"That's it," Geralt pants into his ear as he fucks him through it, "come on my cock, little slut."

Jaskier hates it. He hates that the words make his prick spew another jet of come, that goosebumps prickle all over his skin, that Geralt brushes a gentle kiss against his shoulder right before he straightens again and starts deep-fucking Jaskier like he paid money for it. Each punishing thrust sends sparks through Jaskier's brain, makes him go stupid, and he's soon back to begging, and he hates it.

Finally, after what feels like hours, Geralt's grip on him tightens, and then he's coming deep inside Jaskier with a wild groan, and Jaskier hates that, too.

Geralt pulls him close after, holding him with an arm thrown over his waist, and mumbles a sleepy, "Should've done this sooner," against Jaskier's shoulder.

Jaskier doesn't reply. He's too busy trying to stop himself from crying as Geralt's breath deepens as the Witcher falls asleep, body curled against Jaskier's side.

#oldandkinky #OldandKinky smut prompts #geraskier #OldandKinky dub-con #OldandKinky Jaskier/Geralt #OldandKinky whump

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oldandkinky · 3 years

Note

34+87 Lambert/jaskier

CW: bodyguard AU, age difference, exhibitionism, sex toys, rimming, anal play, mentions of underage sex and attempted non-con

34: “i’m afraid i can no longer remain professional”

87: “wanna fuck?”

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

Jaskier is… a problem, Lambert realises pretty damn quick. The boy is nineteen and spoiled as shit, disrespectful and mouthy, and Lambert knows he's going to lose his patience with him sooner rather than later. Which isn't ideal, given that the kid's father pays him a small fortune to keep the brat safe.

One of the first things Jaskier says to him is, "Wanna fuck?" and Lambert is caught too off guard to reply with anything but an annoyed grunt. He has been propositioned by clients before, sure. Part of the job. But never this brazenly by a kid two decades his junior.

He has to hand it to the boy, he's persistent. Jaskier doesn't really stop asking if Lambert wants to fuck him, and it becomes clear quickly that the kid has no shame at all. He'll prance around the house wearing nothing but lace panties that leave absolutely nothing to the imagination, layering a silk robe on top if he's feeling particularly bashful. Though that doesn't happen often. Lambert is more likely to walk in on him reclining on one of the plush couches in his personal living room - rich people, for fuck's sake - fondling himself through those ridiculous panties as he watches porn on his phone than to actually encounter Jaskier fully dressed.

It's a problem, one that becomes harder and harder to ignore.

********

After only a month of this, he's at the pub with Geralt and Eskel, staring morosely into his drink as he tries not to think about the dusky pink of Jaskier's nipples or the twist of his lips as he gives Lambert a saucy grin. It's… really far more difficult not to think about these things than it should be.

"You look like someone just ran over your cat," Eskel says, nudging him with his elbow. Lambert just grunts. He really doesn't want to talk about this.

"It's the Pankratz boy, isn't it?" Geralt asks, and Lambert gives him a look.

"You know anything?"

Geralt gives him a lopsided grin. "Know the kid's a slut. Apparently he has fucked every single one of his bodyguards ever since he turned fifteen."

"Jesus." Lambert rubs a hand over his face. The news doesn't surprise him, and part of him is reassured to hear that he's just part of a pattern for Jaskier. The rest, the one that he stomps on viciously, feels dejected at the realisation that it's not him Jaskier is interested in, that he's just another notch in the boy's bedpost.

"I heard about that," Eskel muses. "Heard he gets folks fired if he's not satisfied with their performance."

"So if I were you I'd start looking for a new job," Geralt throws in jovially, and Lambert elbows him in the ribs.

"Funny." He picks up his drink and gulps down half of it, then sighs. "I'm not gonna fuck him. He's trouble." He shrugs. "And this gig pays far too well to risk that."

"Don't have to justify yourself to us." Eskel nudges him gently. "We've all been there, Lamb. Clients get needy. The kid isn't special that way. He's just young and stupid."

And far too pretty for his own good, Lambert thinks.

********

The next time he walks in on Jaskier, he's in his bedroom. Lambert made a point to knock, waiting for Jaskier to tell him to come in. He's trying, alright?

Of course Jaskier doesn't care about his efforts.

The boy is on his knees, face pressed into the mattress as he fucks a frankly ridiculous dildo into himself. He's moaning like a pro, hips twitching back against his hand, and it's only the many years of experience that keep Lambert from turning on his heel and fleeing from the room.

"You're supposed to get ready for school," he deadpans, keeping his eyes on Jaskier's face instead of the pale curve of his arse or on the way his hole seems to suck the dildo right on. He's definitely not supposed to look at the way the kid's pretty cock bounces between his legs with each thrust of the toy.

"Fuck school," Jaskier gasps as his hand speeds up. His arse jiggles with every thrust, and Lambert's trousers grow tighter by the second.

"I know what you're trying to do."

"Oh, good," Jaskier gasps, his back arching. His prick drools pre onto the sheets. "I thought I might have been too subtle."

"As subtle as a brick to the face," Lambert says. "But I'm not going to fuck you. I'm not risking my job for an orgasm."

"I wasn't planning on only one." The kid slows down until he stops entirely, and then he pulls his hand away, leaving his hole stuffed with the dildo. It quivers as Jaskier clenches and twitches around it, and now Lambert has to look. The thing is thick, probably as wide as his wrist, and Jaskier's rim is stretched white around it. "I know what people say about me," he says, breathless. "That I'm a slut who fires the people who don't fuck me well enough." He shifts as he looks back at Lambert over his shoulder, and the toy shifts with him. "I got the ones fired who tried to force me after I told them I wasn't interested any more. That's all."

That… puts things into perspective a bit more, Lambert thinks. Still. "You're a kid."

"I'm a legal adult, for fuck's sake." Jaskier rolls his eyes in truly dramatic teenage fashion, and Lambert smothers the smile that threatens to break out across his face. "Come on," Jaskier says, wriggling his pretty arse, "what have you got to lose? I'm not gonna have you fired unless you turn out to be an abusive jerk. Besides," he adds, and he reaches behind himself and oh so slowly pulls the dildo out of himself, "I'm already prepped and everything."

Lambert shouldn't. He really shouldn't. It's unprofessional.

Fuck professionalism. I'm afraid I can no longer remain professional, he thinks as he watches Jaskier, the boy's gaping, slick hole simply begging to be filled again, and Lambert isn't the sort to deny when he has lost a battle. Doesn't mean he has to be happy about it.

"You're a fucking menace," he hisses as he pulls his shirt over his head, and Jaskier giggles. His hole winks at Lambert as he laughs, and Lambert dives in face first.

So what if he gets fired, he thinks as he laps at Jaskier's soft rim, as he listens to the kid squeal when Lambert tugs on his balls. There's always another job.

#oldandkinky #OldandKinky smut prompts #OldandKinky Jaskier/Lambert #OldandKinky modern au

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