#it's once again Jaskier in lingerie what can I say

[jaskierswolf]

Hey babe <3 Here's a soulmate concept for you: soulmates share a braincell and all of the same kinks. (It's us. This is a callout post for us)

Soooo this is going undercut from the get go... I wasn’t sure how I was going to write this but once I started I kinda fell in love with it. It’s also late so I’m not sure how effective proof reading was....

Geraskier modern AU - Soulmates but kinky? 1.4k.

Warning: 18+, no actual sex but this is very horny...., mentions of sex toys, masturbation, handcuffs... and more? Seriously... 18+ Only.

Now with a sequel by @geraltrogerericduhautebellegarde

Part Three now up

Also on AO3

Geralt was having a shit day, shit week really. Ciri had been sent home from school the day before for fighting with one her classmates, despite the fact that she had been defending herself from a bully. Work at the fire station had been especially draining too, non-stop calls all week. He was irrationally angry at the world, not helped by the burning itch under his skin. He’d been unbelievably frustrated all week and no matter how much he jerked off in the shower, he just couldn’t get rid of that ache at his core. His dreams this week had been pure filth, dreams of bursting through a window into a burning building to rescue the most beautiful man he’d ever seen, gorgeous cornflower blue eyes that haunted him even during his waking hours.

Dandelion’s eyes.

He groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. His infatuation with the OnlyFans star was getting out of hand. He’d discovered Dandelion just over a year ago, his dating life was non-existent and he had been getting unbearably horny. He’d stumbled upon Dandelion on a desperate bid to sate his growing urges. It had worked for a few months, but lately it had only been getting worse again. Every Monday evening he’d spend in frustrated torment, dreaming of Dandelion in lingerie, or watching him as he brought himself to the edge of an orgasm before letting out a pitiful whine as he gripped the base of his cock before he could come. This week he’d been plagued with the thought of Dandelion going about his day with a plug up his arse so that, by the time he was ready to record his video, he could get straight to fucking himself on his favourite bright pink vibrator.

The thought of the lube sliding down Dandelion’s thick thighs as he pulled out the plug had been enough to send Geralt over the edge as he bit down on his hand, come painting the bathroom tiles white before being washed away.

The weirdest part about Geralt’s fantasies was that no matter what he thought, or dreamt during the week, Dandelion’s videos would match when they were released on Wednesday. So Geralt was taking bets on either a role-play where Dandelion needed rescuing or the butt plug, he was secretly hoping butt plug, the fireman rescue scenario would be too close to home. He was already struggling to put distance between his life and Dandelion’s online one. He sighed and pulled out his phone to check the time. The video wouldn’t be released for another couple of hours at least, which was fine. He wouldn’t be able to watch it until Ciri was safely tucked up in bed, the unenviable life of a single parent. First he needed to finish the grocery shopping, pick up Ciri from school, cook dinner, help Ciri with her homework and then maybe watch some TV with her before he could bundle her upstairs to bed. It felt like an awful lot of work for his day off.

He groaned again, thinking about Dandelion in public had been a mistake, and one he’d made countless times before. If he were the superstitious type, he might have said that Dandelion was his soulmate. There were all sorts of papers and articles that suggested that soulmates existed, that your soulmate was one that understood you on a level that no one else did, that you in some way were telepathically linked. On one hand it would explain how a random OnlyFans porn star knew exactly what Geralt had been dreaming of all week despite the fact he never mentioned it in his comments, on the other hand it was bullshit.

Utter bullshit.

He grumbled under his breath and went in search of the snack aisle. He’d been craving white chocolate covered pretzels all day and Ciri had finished his supply off without telling him. He was so lost in thought that he didn’t notice the other man standing by his favourite snacks until it was too late. He crashed into him, putting his arms around the other man to stop him from falling.

And suddenly bright cornflower blue eyes were staring up at him.

“Fuck!”

Geralt stared back into the eyes of Dandelion… the man he’d been infatuated with for months.

“Umm… hi?” Dandelion gave a little wave, biting his lip and running his hand through his soft brunet hair. Geralt swallowed as Dandelion released his lip, a move he’d done thousands of times in his videos.

“Sorry,” Geralt grumbled. “Wasn’t thinking straight.”

Dandelion laughed, a beautiful musical laugh that was even more captivating in person. “Oh darling, I never think straight. I’m Jaskier, by the way.”

Dandelion, no Jaskier, extended his hand and Geralt took it, surprised by his firm grip.

“Geralt.”

“White chocolate covered pretzel?” Jaskier asked, tilting his head and passing Geralt a box.

Geralt blinked and took the box without thinking. “Thanks.”

Geralt’s thoughts were going a hundred miles an hour and yet he could only manage single syllable words whilst Jaskier smiled at him, brighter than the fucking sun. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He was so smitten.

Shit.

Jaskier just laughed again, his hand gripping Geralt’s arm. “Forgive me for being bold, but you sir, are fucking gorgeous.”

Geralt licked his lips, barely resisting the urge to push the brunet up against the shelves and kiss him senseless, but he knew he needed to tell Jaskier the truth before anything else was said. “You’re Dandelion.”

Jaskier blushed very prettily and scratched the back of his neck. “Ah. Yes. Hello.”

“Sorry, I thought you should know,” Geralt frowned, he hadn’t meant to make Jaskier uncomfortable. “I umm… I like your videos.”

Fuck, why had he said that?

Jaskier laughed, the sounding easing the tension in Geralt’s shoulders, and winked. “Oh so do I, they’re a pleasure to make.”

Geralt smiled at the joke. “What’s the video this week?”

“That would be telling. What would you like it to be, Geralt?” Geralt name fell from his lips like fucking prayer.

Geralt’s mouth went dry as he thought about his fantasies from Monday night, and the dreams of rescuing Dandelion that had he rutting against his bedsheets in his sleep. “Had a couple of ideas.”

Jaskier raised an eyebrow at him. “Oh really?”

“Yeah.”

“Well how about you give me your number, and we can discuss this somewhere more… private?”

Geralt nodded and they exchanged numbers. Geralt felt like he’d stepped into a fever dream, why Jaskier hadn’t been put off when he’d admitted he was a fan, he had no idea, but he wasn’t complaining. They’d only just met but Geralt couldn’t shake the feeling that Jaskier was going to change his life. He felt lighter already, the day seemed brighter. He was just saying goodbye to Jaskier when the man shuffled awkwardly, letting out a soft moan, his face flushing deep crimson.

“Jaskier?”

“Fuck, sorry. I umm, I’m filming a bonus video later tonight. Once I’ve posted Monday’s. It needed a little prep work,” Jaskier admitted with a sheepish smile. “If you catch my drift.”

Geralt blinked at Jaskier. “The fuck?” He muttered mostly to himself. “You didn’t happen to record a role-play on Monday did you?”

Jaskier’s eyes went wide and his jaw dropped. “How did you know?”

“It’s gonna sound stupid.”

“Tell me.”

Geralt took a deep breath and then closed his eyes, not wanting to see Jaskier’s face when he admitted it. “Been dreaming about it. Your videos always seem to align with my dreams, or umm… thoughts when I’m alone.”

“Like… soulmates?” Jaskier’s hand was on his cheek, the contact burning his skin and he felt a swell of arousal, heat prickling his skin.

“Never believed in that,” Geralt admitted, opening his eyes to find Jaskier gazing back at him with wide hopeful eyes that made Geralt feel strangely warm inside. “Starting to wonder though.”

Jaskier leaned in, brushing his lips against Geralt’s cheek. “Call me, Geralt, who knows maybe I’ll even make a video specially for you? Or…” Jaskier smirked, winking in a way that should have been illegal “you could always join me. There’s some things I’ve been dying to film that simply require a partner.”

“I’ll bring the handcuffs,” Geralt murmured so that only Jaskier could hear.

Jaskier laughed. “Oh we are going to get along splendidly, Geralt.”

Geralt chuckled as Jaskier sauntered away down the aisle, filling his basket with Geralt’s favourite foods. “Soulmates,” he scoffed.

Maybe it wasn’t bullshit after all.

#the witcher #geraskier #modern au #geralt of rivia #jaskier pankratz #nsft #mind the rating #it gets spicy #wolfie's witcher writing #geraltrogerericduhautebellegarde

[comfyswitcherblanketfort]

Gentle

number 3 on the poll was ‘the softest yennskier smut i can muster’ and y’all i don’t know that i’ve ever written softer smut? idk, y’all be the judge of that

shoutout to @geraltrogerericduhautebellegarde for betaing this fic for me and being lovely and encouraging 💖

Warnings: well its smut, fwb to lovers, yen is scared of vulnerability and getting burned, penetrative sex, oral sex, m/f but don’t y’all think for a second these two aren’t bi as fuck. i don’t wanna hear any of that ‘but its a straight ship comfy!!!’ from anyone. understand? good.

______________________

“Bard, don’t start with me tonight.”

“Too late,” Jaskier hummed, looking up at her from where he was sprawled on the bed. He was, admittedly, a rather pleasing sight. His chest covered in a thick layer of hair and his legs long and lean. He looked like something one would paint. And he was lying on her bed, nearly naked, looking at her with a coy smile that held... too much. 

Yennefer didn’t often think things were too anything- painful, expensive, annoying- but this man was too sincere in everything he did, including wooing her. He called it wooing. She called it ‘following me around like an orphan pup’. 

Either way she’d already partially given in. She thought she was firm in her boundaries though, repeatedly claiming they were just fucking. This was just revenge and fun. She would not fall for anyone, especially not after the way all of her past relationships had ended in disaster.

She settled into her nighttime routine, taking out her earrings and wiping away her lipstick at the borrowed -not stolen- vanity across from the bed in the borrowed -not stolen- master suite she’d been staying in, “I am not one for love. Don’t get your hopes up.”

“You’re almost as much of a hopeless romantic as me,” Jaskier laughed, rolling so he was sitting at the end of the bed facing her.

She could see him in the mirror over her shoulder but resolutely ignored him. There was a long stretch of silence where he watched her take away all the different things she adorned herself with. From eyeliner to jewelry to the way she curled her hair, it was a very carefully constructed facade and she feared he may have seen through it. 

As she stood, he reached out and caught her hand, tugging her to stand in front of him. She raised an eyebrow, expecting a remark about her body, maybe even something about a strip tease before bed. But the bard continually surprised her.

“What’s wrong with a little vulnerability?”

She sighed and pulled her hand back, crossing her arms over her dressing gown and rocking back on her heels, “Do we need to do this right now?” 

Jaskier stood, so close that she could feel the warmth radiating off him, but he kept his hands to himself as much as she could see he wanted to touch her, “You don’t want to know someone? To let them take care of you for once?”

“No.” Her stare was resolute but her voice wavered, even on such a small word.

“Why not?”

She pursed her lips and held back the immediate insult she’d thought. He deserved an answer if she really was going to let him stay, and she knew she would. Whatever the reason, she found she didn’t want to be without him anymore.

“It hurts,” she whispered, hoping he would understand and let her be. Or better yet distract her. 

He ran his hand down her arm, fingertips dancing across her skin and leaving goosebumps in their wake. He said nothing, just watched and waited, completely open and patient and infuriating in his persistence. She could easily go for the kill, both metaphorically and literally, but she knew she wouldn’t. This was the first person in decades who had bothered with her. She didn’t count Geralt anymore. There was so much magic and Destiny and manipulation tangled up in their relationship that she’d lost track of any sincerity. 

No, the bard was genuine. He didn’t have any other motive but to love her. And the thought terrified her. 

She shook her head and looked at the ground, “You don’t understand. I haven’t… I’ve never had a love that ended well.”

Jaskier smiled and tucked her hair behind her ear, “Only the shitty ones do.”

A puff of air left her before she could conceal her amusement.

“You don’t have to be scared. I want to be gentle with you. In every way. I want you to know what it’s like to be taken care of,” Jaskier’s whisper spoke directly to the part of her she’d kept locked away for far too long. The part of her that yearned to be held for nothing other than lying close; that wanted sweet nothings and breathless kisses and actual lovemaking, not just goal oriented sex. 

Her tongue worked of its own accord, used to acting only in defense, “How many times have you used that line?” 

A moment of hurt flashed over Jaskier’s face before those big blue eyes were framed with a kind of sadness only someone who’d known the sting of neglect could understand, “Not once.” 

She searched his eyes for something, anything that she could use to push him away, but found nothing. For once her choice was simple; take what is freely and sincerely offered, or continue on miserable and alone. 

For once, she took a risk. 

Yennefer draped her arms over his shoulders, tilting her chin up to level him with what she hoped was the pleading expression she was going for, “Just don’t lie to me.” 

Jaskier pressed their foreheads together and rested his hands on her hips, “I won’t.” 

It had been a lifetime since Yennefer had believed someone like she believed Jaskier and it settled achingly into the pit of her stomach. She leaned in and stood on her tiptoes, brushing their lips together as she took a shaky breath in. 

When they finally kissed it was… calm. There was no unquenchable fire sparking in her belly, no stirring need to cling to him as if she’d never see him again. They were simply together, and the realization made her giggle.

Jaskier rested a hand at her jaw, brushing his thumb over her cheek as he nervously chuckled along, “What?”

She bit her lip and stared up at him through her lashes, running her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck, “It’s nothing…”

“Hmm, doesn’t seem like nothing,” Jaskier’s tone was light as he sat back onto the bed, pulling her to straddle his hips, “What’s so funny?”

“S’not funny,” she sighed, pausing to kiss him again, feeling the same sense of calm, “Just... nice.”

“Just nice?” Jaskier was beaming up at her as he held her close to him, “I think I can do better than nice.”

She raised her eyebrows and grinned, brushing his fringe out of his eyes, “It wasn’t a challenge.”

He tilted his head back and forth and scrunched his nose as if to argue before laying back on the bed and pulling her with him. She braced herself on her elbows, one on each side of his head, as he trailed his hands up and down her sides. 

This kiss was different.

This kiss set her whole body on fire, not the desperate kind that made her frantic, but a slow, hot-burning flame that she wanted to sink into and let consume her. 

Jaskier clutched her to him as he rolled them over, gently brushing her hair out of her face and placing feather light kisses over her cheeks, eyes, brow, chin, everywhere he could reach. She sighed when he finally kissed her lips, tangling her fingers in his hair and pulling. 

Jaksier chuckled, “Mmm, greedy? Impatient?”

“Whichever you like,” Yennefer gasped, not quite slipping the teasing tone in with her words, distracted as he sucked a dark red mark right behind her ear. She tugged at the hem of his smalls and he quickly kicked them off, giving her a pointed look. 

“You promised better than nice,” she countered, giving a small shrug as he hovered over her again.

He hummed as he moved down her neck, chest, and finally made it to her silk robe, “Shall we get rid of this? Don’t- Don’t do it yourself,” he grabbed her hands and pinned them by her head, not with much force but she still felt a heat pool in her core, “I want to.”

She nodded and stared at him in awe as he carefully untied the delicate silk belt and softly, oh so fucking softly, brushed the material over her shoulder. The cool slide on her skin sent shivers down her spine and his warm, calloused fingers were a delicious contrast. 

He skipped her breasts completely, kissing a trail down over her stomach, leaving a small circle of delicate kisses around her navel as he held her hips almost reverently. Unlike his normally teasing habits, he wasted no time in freeing her from her simple lingerie, holding her thighs where he wanted and leaving more kisses along the inside of her knee. Every now and then his fringe would brush over the delicate skin and Yennefer would gasp, reaching for him, any part of him, as if it would ground her and dull the feeling of lightning traveling beneath her skin to a manageable shock. Even when she got her hand in his hair, it didn’t change how she gasped when his tongue tickled the crease of her hips or how she shivered when he nosed along the soft curls between her legs. 

“J-Julian,” She keened, then bit her lip and stared at the ceiling in mute horror. She remembered vividly when he’d shouted at several different people for using that name, for pretending to know him well enough. 

He licked up her folds, making sure to look her in the eyes as he spoke, “Say it again.”

Her breath hitched when he spread her apart and flicked his tongue over her clit, it was no trouble at all to let out a needy sigh of his name over and over again. 

When she tensed her thighs, he held them open, and when her hands curled into fists in his hair, he only groaned. He worked slowly, and any other time she would be annoyed at his pace, but this time she relaxed and let him take care of her. Let him delicately stretch her until he felt she was ready as his free hand stroked any bit of soft bare skin he could reach. 

“Julian, please,” she begged, and for once it wasn’t performative. She needed him. Needed him so acutely she wasn’t entirely sure what she’d do if she couldn’t have him in her immediately. 

He rested his forehead on her hip, breathing heavy as he slowly circled her clit with his thumb, “Tell me what you want.”

“You know,” she whined, clenching around his fingers. She’d deny it in the morning, but she whined. It almost startled her when she realised that, like this, she was completely at his disposal and she didn’t mind one bit. Anything he said she would agree to, anything he did, she would follow his lead. 

He crawled up her body, leaving kisses in his wake, her skin on fire wherever they touched, “Let me hear it?"

“I need you, all of you. Please?”

Jaskier’s breath came out shaky before he kissed her, “You’ll have everything I am,” he whispered.

For a moment she wondered if she was supposed to hear his words. They sounded almost like a confession, so softly spoken that it was almost impossible to tell he’d said anything at all. But she was quickly distracted by his tongue on her lips as they kissed and his cock sliding through her slick folds. She moaned softly, her hands sweeping up his chest to cup his jaw and hold him close. 

Nothing else mattered. Not their troubles, not their heartbreak, not the politics they’d found themselves in the middle of. The other person was all they had the consciousness for and they completely consumed each other. 

Jaskier finally broke away gasping and adjusted so the head of his cock was positioned at her entrance. He looked into her eyes and before he could ask, she breathed a soft “yes” and kissed his nose. Their foreheads rested together as he slowly pushed in, blue eyes locked with violet as they both gasped and hissed. Neither of them moaned wantonly like before, neither of them put on a show, and certainly no one grunted in frustration. They moved in a gentle rhythm together, each taking the time to really feel the other and hold them close. 

For the first time in such a long time, Yennefer was content.

She didn’t realize she’d squeezed her eyes shut until Jaskier kissed her again, probably several minutes later, and whispered, “Look at me.”

He looked at her like she was his only guide, only anchor keeping him in this world. There was a light sheen of sweat on his forehead and his cheeks were as rosy as his kiss-swollen lips and Yennefer wished she could capture the image forever. She thought of painting him again, if only she could paint worth shit.  

He kissed her again and breathed, “close,” as he picked up his pace. She nodded, wrapping one leg around his hips and reaching between them to circle her clit as he thrust. 

She came first with a gasp and soft “oh” as she did her best to keep her eyes on him, let alone open. She truly didn’t remember the last time she was so quiet when she orgasmed, or the last time she caressed her lover instead of digging her nails into their back. Her body shivered, but it wasn’t earth shattering. Nothing about it would be memorable aside from the way he looked at her. 

The adoration and unbridled passion behind his gaze would haunt her forever. Only time would tell if she’d be glad to see his ghost. 

She wrapped her other leg around him as the fog began to lift, leaving her just on the pleasant side of over-sensitive. Jaskier buried his face in her neck as she smoothed her hands over his back, trailing her fingers down his spine and turning to kiss his temple. She cradled his head to her as he came, body shaking as he whispered her name like a prayer. 

Her hands roamed his body, reveling in the softness of his skin and the power held in his frame as she gently soothed any tightness in his muscles. After a while she settled to carding her fingers through his hair as he rested his cheek on her collarbone. He’d slipped out as he softened, but they laid still, Yen enjoying the comforting weight while Jaskier recovered. 

“Are you alright?” she whispered her question, tucking her chin in to try to get a look at his face. 

He just hummed and nodded, turning his head to face her with a dreamy smile.

A bright smile spread across her features and she kissed his forehead, “Do I get to call you Julian now?”

One of his arms snaked up under her back as he snuggled in closer, “Only you.”

Yennefer paused, holding her breath as she debated whether what she thought was worth saying.

“Spit it out, love,” Jaskier spoke through a yawn.

She let out a breathy laugh and wrapped her arms around his shoulders before she whispered, “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Wanting to… to take care of me.”

#yenskier #yenskier smut #yennefer x jaskier #yennefer/jaskier #yennefer of vengerburg #jaskier #yennefer #julian alfred pankratz #the witcher #the witcher smut #yennefer smut #jaskier smut #they're in love #i dont wanna hear it from yall #they'd be so good for each other #AND YEN DESERVES TO BE SOFT #i know she pegs #i know #and jask is defs into that #like a lot #but plz #let this woman who has been so strong and dealt with so much shit and betrayal and manipulation her whole fucking life #be soft #plz #thank you for coming to my ted talk #idk what else to tag this?

[mordoriscalling]

48 Weeks (3/4)

(Part 1) (Part 2)

Throughout the 48 weeks that Geralt and Jaskier spend apart, their relationship develops.

Aka, part 3 of the Singer and the Sailor AU no one asked for but I wrote anyway. The events of this story happen after Stay or Sail Away but before Homecoming. Warnigns: some sexual content ahead!

Weeks 25-36

Week 25

“There seems to be something special about the sea, doesn’t it?”

“Hmm.”

“You know, Tolkien once wrote that there was a special melody in between the sound of waves and seabirds’ song. Music that elves were susceptible to and, once they heard it, they couldn’t be satisfied by anything else but life at sea.”

There does seem to be something to it. Geralt hums again and asks, “Are you calling me an elf?”

Jaskier laughs. “You certainly are beautiful like one.”

Geralt scowls, thankful to all the gods that he can hardly blush. “You look more like an elf, with the ears."

Jaskier grins. “Ah, yes, that and my dashing good looks! And the fact that I love singing, and I don’t look my age and... wait.” Jaskier blinks. “Tell you what, maybe I am an elf.”

Geralt chuckles.

“And you, sir, you could be an elf too. You look like a legendary warrior from the First Age who would talk to dragons and outwit them.”

He rolls his eyes but lets Jaskier ramble on about his "warrior-ness".

Week 26

“You fucking what?!”

“You tried to teach chickens how to fly.”

“How is that worse than trying to school a bumblebee?” Jaskier shrieks. “What the fuck, Geralt?! How would you even attempt to do that?”

“We first trapped it in a jar –”

“Oh no.”

“– and then we would tap on the glass to make it fly in the opposite direction. In the end, it would fly away if it noticed our fingers getting close to the jar. That was our idea of schooling it.”

“The poor thing had to be terrified.”

“It was Eskel’s idea,” Geralt grumbles.

Jaskier sighs dramatically. “I can’t believe I love such a cruel man!”

Geralt freezes. “You what?”

“Shit."

Week 27

When Jaskier picks up, Geralt takes him in and his beauty is even more striking than usual. His features, both soft and sharp, his bright eyes, his charm and wit. Jaskier’s a talented, successful man, and Geralt can’t wrap his head around it.

“You love me?” he blurts out, still disbelieving.

“I’ve been serenading you for the past six months but thanks for noticing.”

Geralt snorts. “No, it’s... it’s you, and I am... me.”

He almost growls in frustration because words fail him yet again when he needs them most. Jaskier’s gaze softens with understanding anyway.

“Oh, my heart,” he replies quietly, “I know you think yourself broken and undeserving of good things because of your past but... you haven’t had an easy life and yet, you’re kind and willing to do so much for the ones you care about. You’re witty, sharp, capable and reliable. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted in a partner, really,” Jaskier says, his smile almost shy.

Geralt doesn’t know what to say to any of that. Three decades ago, he was living in an orphanage, just a kid with anger management issues and shitty, shitty prospects for the future. Now, he has a fucking celebrity confess his love to him.

“I...” he begins, then trails off. He knows he has to say something. ‘Love’ refuses to pass through his throat but there’s no mistaking about the warmth Geralt feels whenever he even thinks about Jaskier and all the ways in which he’s ridiculous. “I,” he starts again, “I... feel the same.”

For once, Jaskier is silent, his eyes glistening.

Week 28

“The tour was a success! Minus all the expenses od renting venues and everything else, we still made some decent money, which is great news. And the fans!” Jaskier gushes, “oh, Geralt, the fans! It feels fantastic to be appreciated by so many.”

“Hmm.”

“It’s good to be home, though. It’d be even better if you were here, you know? I... I wish you were.”

Geralt swallows hard. “Me too.”

There’s the heavy silence between them again as they look at each other helplessly. This time, it’s Geralt who breaks it.

“Now that you’re back,” he says, “could you see how’s Ciri doing? You could... drop by Yen’s place sometime.”

Jaskier’s grin is blinding. “Sweetheart, I’d be honoured! But only if Yennefer allows it too, of course.”

Now that, that part’s going to be the hardest.

Week 29

“I can so imagine you in lingerie.”

Geralt raises his eyebrows in surprise. Jaskier takes it as a clue to go on.

“The lingerie would be black of course and oh, it’d look magnificent on your body. I’d just watch you touch yourself, sprawled on the bed. Darling, what a sight you’d make. I could come just from looking at you but I’d try not to because I’d want to take the lingerie off of you, piece by piece. Slowly.”

Geralt’s breathing is already harsh and laboured, and he’s undoing his trousers with his free hand. “Jaskier,” he grits out.

“Yes, dear?”

“Keep fucking talking.”

Jaskier smiles dangerously.

Week 30

Earlier this week, he received a message with another recording from Jaskier. The song is slow, gentle and loving, because there’s no other word for it. It makes Geralt feel abashed.

When Jaskier picks up the video call, Geralt asks, referring to the lyrics, “you really think you see me?”

“I think I do,” Jaskier replies, his voice warm.

It’s a lie. Jaskier has no idea about Blaviken, he doesn’t know the whole of Geralt’s story. Still, it’s a nice lie to believe in.

Jaskier tells him he loves him once again. Geralt says it back. He wants to have this as long as he can.

Week 31

On Saturday that week, it’s Ciri’s fifteenth birthday. Geralt’s call interrupts the birthday party.

“Happy birthday, Cub.”

Ciri grimaces a bit at the old nickname, making him chuckle. She starts growing into a proper lioness, not a cub any longer. Cirilla is their pride and joy – a clever, talented, headstrong girl. Geralt could’ve never raised such a child alone. When he found out he was supposed to be her legal guardian just a week before he turned thirty – that he’d have to take in a traumatised four-year-old with vague memories of her family she lost in a car crash – he needed help. He contacted Yennefer for the first time in years. Caring for Ciri brought their love back to life. Before he knew it, he proposed, and then the three of them made a proper family Geralt never knew he would have. Whenever he was away, Yen had help from her brothers, and if they were deployed too, she could always count on Vesemir.

His marriage to Yen turned out to be a disaster in the long run and really, all of them – him, Yennefer, Eskel, Lambert, Vesemir – are just different shades of fucked-up. Ciri is their collective effort, though, and it often feels like she’s one of the few things they’ve ever done right.

“I’m sorry I can’t be there,” Geralt tells her.  

“It’s all right, dad.”

It’s not, he knows it isn’t. Geralt should be there with her. He’s missed out on so much of her life already, and yet the Navy took almost another year away from them. Geralt fears that when he finally returns for good, he’ll seem like a stranger to her because of all the time they’ve spent apart. He's afraid that she’ll not even want him to make up for it.

“I love you, Ciri,” he says, desperate for her to know it all of the sudden.

She smiles slightly. “I love you too, dad.”

He smiles too and wants to apologize again but then Jaskier appears. Ciri starts talking about taking piano lessons from him and then Jaskier joins in, chattering about what they’ll work on first. Geralt simply sits back and lets their words wash over him in warm waves.

Week 32

There seems to be some development in the relationship dynamics back at home.

“Your ex-wife is very sexy and very scary,” Jaskier says, all casual, “I wish I could hate her but her fashion sense is impeccable. Is sexy and scary your type, by the way? Because if so, I only fall in within the sexy category.”

“Hmm.”

“Geralt, you wound me–”

Week 33

“I hate him.”

Geralt sighs. “You two are getting along, then?”

“He will do,” Yennefer answers. “You downgraded, of course, but you could’ve done worse.”

“Yen.”

“Fine. I’ll say this: I think he’ll be good for you.”

A smile tugs at his lips. “He is.”

“I’m glad to see you happy.”

Her voice is gentle like it almost never is and there’s an ache in his chest. In moments like this, the old regret that they didn’t work out burns bright. They’re too different and alike for it to be anything but damaging, though; similarly scarred and scared, knowing exactly where to bite on the raw. They lash out when they’re hurt, and they’re not good people, not exactly. All of this does not mix well. The good days, when they soared, could not compensate for all the pain.

The divorce two years ago was one of their best decisions, but they’re there for each other still, in a way no one really understands.

“I want to see you happy too, Yen,” he says.

“I have Ciri.” He doesn’t reply and she lets out a heavy breath. “I’m getting there. I think I really am.”

“That’s good. You... deserve it.”

“Aw, Geralt, Jaskier’s turned you all soft.”

Week 34

The past week, there have been three storms, two damages to the ship and one conflict among the crew. Geralt is just grateful that his job pays as well as it does.

He does miss home but the heaviness in his chest at the thought of his loved ones is not crushing anymore. Most days, he doesn’t think about them as much as he used to. When he focuses on work at hand, it seems like the ship, the crew and the waves around are the only things existing in the world. They’re supposed to get from one point to another, one task after another, and it’s fulfilling when they achieve it. He’s at home in the simplicity of it.

But then, there’re moments when he remembers that there’s another home, right where his family is, a whole world away. His weekly calls with Ciri, Yennefer and Jaskier only serve to aggravate him, showing him that there’s a different life for him out there. The sea pales in comparison to it.

This week, Geralt doesn’t like the reminder especially. He sees Jaskier on the screen and hates that he’s so far away, that it’s been like this for so long.

They don’t do much talking. Jakier strums his guitar idly and Geralt listens.

Week 35

“Your older brother is so nice!”

Jaskier angles the camera so that it shows Eskel next to him. Eskel raises his hand in greeting with a smile. Ciri is there too, focused on cutting vegetables.

They’re standing by the kitchen island in Yennefer’s apartment. Eskel returned from a deployment a few days ago and, being a good brother and uncle, he’s started taking care of their cub right away.

“He’s the devil incarnate,” Geralt grunts in reply.

Eskel makes a rude gesture at him.

“I refuse to believe it, darling!” Jaskier answers, “Such a sweet man cannot be evil.”

Eskel and Jaskier smile at each other. Something in Geralt goes dead cold.

He’s very well aware that his older brother is more attractive than him, particularly when it comes to character traits. Eskel’s gentler, more articulate and charming; a much better match for Jaskier, in truth.

Geralt secretly dreaded Eskel and Jaskier finally meeting and now as he watches the two joke and talk, it appears that he was right.

Week 36

“Just three more months!” Jaskier exclaims in greeting.

Geralt brushes his hand over his face because there’s nothing “just” about it. It’s been eight months at sea and the memories from before the deployment are like a distant dream.  

“I wrote you a song, by the way. It’s about you coming home.” Jaskier smiles. “I know I’m getting a bit ahead of myself but it’s a nice thought. You being back.”

The song is by far the shortest and simplest Jaskier wrote for him but Jaskier voice has the haunting quality like it always does. Geralt, as always, can’t stop thinking it.

That day, he stands at the side of the ship and listens to the waves. He can almost hear the sea’s music and he already knows he’s going to miss it but at the same time, he can’t wait to be back on land; to return to the other home.

#myfic #geraskier #geralt x jaskier #the witcher fanfiction #modern au #the Sailor and the Singer AU

[justablobfish]

Hot tea and cozy sweaters

Day 6 of my Advent Calender. A new drabble or oneshot everyday until Christmas, following the Continent’s favourite found family and what they’re up to in the winter season. Based on this prompt list

Read on AO3

Day 1, 2, 3, 4, 5

______

Yennefer rushes through the opulent hallways of Oxenfurt Academy, ignoring the horny but frightened glances some of the older students throw at her. She doesn't have time for such shenanigans. There are more important things to do. 

She stops by the familiar door in the professors' quarters and knocks heavily, barely able to contain her excitement. Not that she would ever show that on the outside, of course. To the untrained eye, she appears perfectly calm. And yet, she has been looking forward to this little tradition of theirs for ages. 

The door opens immediately and Jaskier greets her, his own excitement very visible in the way he bounces back and forth on his heels and barely manages to stand still. 

"Yennefer! You made it!" he beams. "Come in!" 

"I wouldn't miss our little tradition for anything in the world," she returns with a bright grin of her own, her protective walls crumbling down in the presence of her beloved. "The one I got you is extremely beautiful. You'll weep when you see it." 

"Don't get ahead of yourself, dear,"Jaskier chides as he picks up a beautifully wrapped parcel from a nearby table. "The one I got you is excellent as well." 

Yennefer pulls her own present out of her bags and with a flourished bow from Jaskier and a curtly nod from herself, they exchange the parcels. 

Yennefer rips open her gift without much care and holds this year's ugly sweater up to her chest. 

Attached to the thick, bright red chest part is a wreath made from evergreen twigs. Tiny brass bells hang from it. Woven into the pattern of the knitwear are images of candles that appear to be rising from the wreath. When Yennefer hovers her hand over the tip of the candles, they start humming with faint magic and glow brightly. 

"Oh Jaskier, it's hideous," she sighs. "I love it. Open yours!" 

Jaskier unwraps his parcel and inspects the sweater Yennefer had gotten for him. The front of the green sweater shows a stylized picture of a man. It's head is cut off and the image ends just underneath the neckline, so that the sweater makes it appear like the wearer's head is also the head of the depicted man. The outfit the picture dons is very familiar to Jaskier. It's the same kind of outfit his nemesis Valdo Marx tends to wear when he participates in bardic competitions. 

"Once again, you've outdone yourself, my dear," he muses. Let's get changed and have some tea?"

"Of course," Yennefer replies. "There's the second part of the tradition, after all." 

A short while later they are sitting at Jaskier’s tea table, donned in their respective sweaters and sipping tea. 

"You start," Yennefer orders with as much authority as she can muster in this outfit. "What stupid things did Geralt do this year?" 

"Oh boy, where do I start," Jaskier teases as he rubs his fingers together in excitement. "There was that one time when he visited me in Oxenfurt during the summer break. I decided I'd prepare a romantic dinner for us. Cooked it all myself and even bought the extra long spaghetti noodles, just to be fancy, ya know?" 

"Oh I dread where this is going," Yennefer throws in. "What happened then?" 

"Well he was all awkward during dinner," Jaskier muses. "Kept shuffling around in his seat and glaring daggers at his plate like the noodles had personally offended him. But you know how he is when there's a problem. Wouldn't say something even if it killed him. I watched him squirm for, I kid you not, ten full minutes until I eventually asked what was wrong."

"I hope he didn't have a problem with your cooking?" Yennefer asks. "I don't know how you do it, but your meals are always exquisite!" 

"No, none of that," Jaskier reassures. "He looked up at me with big eyes and sheepishly admitted that he prefers to cut his spaghetti short with a knife. Like, who does that? He simply had no idea how to eat them with a spoon or fork!" 

"Oh that's brilliant!" Yennefer snickers. "I can definitely imagine him sitting there, not wanting to say anything but not able to eat his dinner, either! But I also have a story in terms of awkward dates: You already know that for my birthday this year Geralt got me a bunch of buttercups he picked from the side of the road. But did I ever tell you what else happened that day?"

"I'm almost scared to ask," Jaskier admits with a wide grin. "Though I guess I should be glad Geralt screwed up or else you would have been pissed at me for not being able to make it to your birthday this year." 

"Well, admittedly, I was rather sad about that," Yennefer agrees. "Which is why Geralt promised that after the party Triss insisted on throwing me, he would be waiting for me at the place I stayed then and that we could do whatever I wanted in the bedroom." 

"Now that's an offer up your alley," Jaskier points out. "Especially coming from Geralt. And that didn't sway you to forgive the buttercup incident?" 

"It would have," Yennefer sighs. "But that's not the end of the story. Well, I got changed before leaving the party, so I came home wearing nothing but a coat and this really nice set of lingerie that I specifically bought myself for my birthday and paid a pretty penny for and what do I find once I make my way to the bedroom?"

"I have no idea, but I fear the worst!" Jaskier giggles. 

"So there I was," Yennefer continues, "leaning in the doorframe like your most exquisite fantasy come true and what do I find once I flicked on a candle? Geralt, sprawled out in the middle of the bed, snoring softly. He was vast asleep, out like a candle in a storm!"

"Oh no!" Jaskier gasps before they both burst out into laughter. 

"Well, Geralt rode all the way from Oxenfurt in only a fortnight!" he adds once they've gotten themselves under control again. "It's only understandable that he was tired. I hope you didn't tell him to his face that he snored, though. I tried that before, but he denies everything!" 

"Don't I know it," Yennefer sighs. "I thought cursing him with a cold would be a good punishment for everything, but the snoring only got worse!" 

"I'm sure it wasn't as bad as last month, when we took that contract in Hommeln, though," Jaskier protests. "We could convince the fairies that plagued the town to behave, but Geralt managed to breathe in some fairy dust. When we camped in the woods that night, I didn't get a single moment of shut-eye. But that wasn't all! In the early morning a man suddenly stumbled into our camp and screamed bloody murder! It took a while to calm him down, but in the end it turned out he was from the local lumberjack guild and thought we were felling trees in his forest. And do you know what Geralt said about the snoring once we managed to placate the poor man?"

"He blamed it on you?" Yennefer guesses, grinning widely. 

"He blamed it on me!" Jaskier repeats and throws his hands in the air, exasperated. 

They look at each other for a moment and then burst out in laughter. Yennefer enjoys the rare sensation of being allowed to let loose. 

"Sometimes I wonder if Geralt is doing the same thing up in Kaer Morhen," Jaskier wonders after a while, still slightly out of breath. "Does he tell his brothers embarrassing stories about the two of us?" 

"Impossible!" Yennefer exclaims. The tiny bells on her sweater jingle slightly as she leans forward conspiratorially. "We never do anything embarrassing!" 

#the witcher #the witcher fanfiction #geralt of rivia #Jaskier #geralt/yennefer/jaskier #yennefer/jaskier #polyamory #theblobfishwrites

[jaskierswolf]

Dearest Wolfie, may I request some vampire Geraksier sexy times? Perhaps Jaskier is... thirsty... if you catch my drift. (from @geraskier-trashh)

@dani-dandelino darling this got out of control....

Gerakier - featuring Vampire!Jasker. Rated E. Words: 2.3k

CW: Biting, blood drinking, frotting, sex magic (but with explicit consent), lingerie, orgasm denial, dom/sub undertones

On AO3

Geralt gripped his silver sword in his hands as he moved silently and slowly through the mansion. The whole situation was like a scene from one of Jaskier’s ballads. There was a storm outside, lightning flashing through the broken shards of glass from what were once windows, thunder crashing into the night. Geralt’s hair was a sodden mess, soaked through and cold against his skin. Wind howled through the empty dusty cobweb riddled corridors of the abandoned house and floorboards creaked underfoot much to Geralt’s displeasure. 

He growled under his breath and raised his sword as a door slammed in the distance. The creature was on the move. Geralt’s eyes flickered around at inhuman speed, not wanting to be caught off guard. The contract had stated there was some sort of vampire loose in the abandoned mansion but Geralt wasn’t sure. A place like this was far better suited to a wraith. It would explain the chill down his spine. Something wasn’t right. 

“I wondered when I’d be seeing you, witcher,” a melodic haunting voice sang through the halls. 

Geralt spun around in a pirouette but there was still no sign of the monster. “Show yourself,” he growled. 

“Ah ah. Patience, darling.”

Geralt froze, his sword almost clattering to the ground. 

That voice.

“Jaskier?” he asked, praying to the gods he didn’t believe in that it was a trick, some cruel trick, an illusion. It couldn’t be him. 

Jaskier’s musical laughed bounced off the walls and echoed all around him. He spun around again but couldn’t pinpoint where the sound was coming from. He growled and focussed his senses, the metallic scent of blood burning his nose, but he could finally track the vibrations of Jaskier’s voice. He stalked through the halls, keeping a tight grip on his sword. He wouldn’t let himself be tricked by this illusion… he just needed to keep a clear head. 

“Getting warmer, witcher,” Jaskier purred as Geralt pushed open the door to what appeared to be the master bedroom. 

Unlike the rest of the house this room was in perfect condition.  A grand chandelier hung from the ceiling and in the centre of the room was a large four poster bed adorned in red silk sheets. Jaskier lay in the middle of the bed, a shimmering white silk robe that was barely tied shut, dark chest hair peaking out between the soft fabric. He looked… beautiful, exactly like he had when Geralt had last seen him, except the colour of his skin which was now a ghostly white. His lips were blood red, which almost looked like the paint Yen used, almost. 

“Jaskier?” Geralt asked cautiously, not lowering his sword. “You. You’re not?” he snarled, cutting himself off.

It hadn’t been that long since they’d seen each other. Jaskier had waved a cheery goodbye and then set off to Oxenfurt as the chill began to hang in the air. Jaskier’s gave him a sheepish smile and cocked his head, “Sorry darling, ran into some trouble at the University.”

“Fuck,” Geralt growled, his sword finally falling to the ground. “Jask.”

His voice cracked as he crawled onto the bed and pulled the bard into his arms. Jaskier felt deathly cold beneath his fingers, gone was the warmth that had always been so comforting. Jaskier cupped his cheek and pressed their foreheads together. “I’m still me, Geralt, and I’ve never killed anyone! I promise, I wouldn’t, I couldn’t… I only ever take what I need.”

“The alderman…”

“Is mad because I slept with his wife a couple of years ago.”

Geralt stared at the bard turned vampire in his arms, stroking a thumb along Jaskier’s cheek. His eyes were still the same cornflower blue but even in the darkness Geralt could see the slight shimmer of magic; an illusion. “Your eyes?”

“Red,” Jaskier smiled sadly, and glanced away. “But I found a mage that helped me, sold me an illusion spell for far too much coin.”

“Can I see?” Geralt asked, not wanting Jaskier to have to hide a single part of his new self. “Please, Jask.”

His medallion hummed and blue eyes morphed to blood red, striking against his chalk white skin. Jaskier’s bottom lip quivered, and Geralt ran his thumb along it. Jaskier’s honey chamomile scent remained the same and Geralt knew in his heart that this was no illusion. He would know his bard anywhere. Only Jaskier would spend the last of his coin on a spell to keep his eyes blue when he’d been turned into a monster from his own ballads. 

“I could never kill you,” Geralt whispered and pressed their lips together. 

Jaskier hummed and threaded his fingers into Geralt’s hair, pushing Geralt back onto the mattress. “I was so hoping you’d say that,” he whispered against Geralt’s lips as he straddled his waist. Geralt felt heat prickle over his skin despite the coolness of Jaskier’s touch. Jaskier’s thighs were firm under his fingers as he ran his hands under the silk dressing gown. The iciness of Jaskier’s skin felt strange after so many years of his human warmth but Geralt still loved him, how could he not?

It was Jaskier. 

He tugged at the tie around Jaskier’s middle and the robe fell open. He was wearing silk lingerie underneath, a deep rich purple fabric that barely hid Jaskier’s cock from view. Geralt ran his fingers up Jaskier’s torso, through the thick hair and brushing over the smooth fabric covering his pecs. Jaskier let out a soft whine as Geralt’s fingers swept over his nipple.  

“Geralt, sweetheart…” Jaskier breathed, eyes dark as he stared back down at Geralt, a soft blush on his cheeks. He wasn’t nearly as red as he would have been before, but Geralt was happy that he hadn’t completely lost that little slice of humanity. 

“Hmm,” Geralt replied, and rolled his hips up against his lover. “Were you trying to seduce me to stop me from killing you?” he asked with a smirk, the softly scented candles, the bed, the silk robe, the lingerie. The dramatics of it was ridiculous and so very Jaskier. 

Jaskier licked his lips and ran his hands over Geralt’s torso “Did it work?”

Geralt chuckled. “Not sure.”

Jaskier snorted and leaned forward to brush his lips along Geralt’s jaw, “Oh really?”

“Hmm.”

Jaskier’s lips moved to his neck, pressing a kiss just below Geralt’s ear. “You know, my venom can be quite pleasurable, so I’ve been told,” he whispered, a slight rock of his hips that felt like sin against Geralt’s hardening cock. 

“Not to witchers,” Geralt muttered, for the first time in his life regretting the mutations’ ability to counteract toxins. 

“Are you sure about that, darling?” Jaskier’s lips pressed to his throat and Geralt felt the scrape of his sharp teeth. Jaskier had always found pleasure in marking his lovers and Geralt had often been left with bruises and teeth marks all over his neck, but this was a new feeling. Jaskier biting him as a human was a possessiveness that Geralt found endearing but trapped under his newly vampiric boyfriend… Geralt felt a rush of arousal, heat coiling at his core. 

Jaskier could probably cause him some serious harm, possibly even kill him. It depended on which class of vampire he had become. Geralt had never known one that could turn humans before, this was something new, something unknown. He gasped as teeth sunk into his skin, sharp pain pulling him from his thoughts. 

Jaskier giggled, caressing his cheek as he pulled away. “You’re thinking too loudly, darling,” he half moaned as he rutted against Geralt, blood now staining his lips. Geralt’s fingered the bite on his neck but his witcher healing had already closed the shallow wound. He found he was disappointed. If Jaskier’s venom truly was pleasurable to those he drank from then Geralt wanted it to be him. He didn’t want anyone else to see his bard like these, wanting and desperate for his touch… his blood. 

The movement of Jaskier rolling his hips against him was becoming unbearable. Every movement creating friction and heat between them, a constant low ripple of pleasure running through Geralt’s body, across his skin. He growled, fingers digging into Jaskier’s waist, stilling his movements. “Stop teasing.”

Jaskier leant forward against to kiss him. “Oh but it’s so much fun, and you look so beautiful laid out underneath me like this, my White Wolf lying on his back, letting me take my pleasure.”

Geralt’s breath hitched. Fuck, the bastard had a way with words, he knew exactly what to say to drive Geralt mad with lust. He reached up to tug the silk robe from Jaskier’s shoulders, wanting to see more of the pale skin, to see how much Jaskier’s transformation changed him. Would Geralt have to relearn Jaskier’s body, his likes and dislikes… he would do it. Even if it took them a lifetime, something that meant something quite different now that Jaskier’s lifespan was more like his. 

“Off,” he growled as the robe tumbled to the mattress, leaving Jaskier in just the pretty silk undergarment, soft and beautiful against his skin. Geralt hummed as he stroked against the fabric. “This can stay.”

Jaskier whined under his touch and started tearing at the buckles on Geralt’s armour, quickly getting frustrated. Geralt chucked and hooked his legs behind Jaskier, flipping them over so the bard was lying back against the bed, pouting up at him, red eyes wide through dark eyelashes. Geralt pecked him on the lips and rolled off the bed so he could get rid of his armour. Jaskier watched intently, palming his cock through the thin panties as Geralt stripped off as efficiently as possible. It wasn’t sexy and he felt ridiculous, but he was in a hurry to get back to his lover. Jaskier whined impatiently and reached out for him as his last layer of clothes hit the ground. He crawled into the bed and captured Jaskier’s lips in a blistering kiss. Jaskier’s fingers pulled at his hair, moaning into the kiss, the taste of Geralt’s blood lingering in his mouth, reminding him of what his boyfriend had become.

my venom can be quite pleasurable

Jaskier’s words echoed, a seed planted in his head that refused to die and fade away. What if he wasn’t immune? He wanted all that Jaskier could give to him. He rolled them back over so Jaskier was on top of him, their bodies rubbing against each other, pawing at each other’s skin. 

“Bite me,” Geralt growled. 

Jaskier’s lips froze on his collar bone and the bard pulled back to look at him, a crease between his brows that Geralt wanted to kiss away. “What?” he asked, voice strangely quiet. 

“You want to?” Geralt asked, rubbing circles with his thumb into Jaskier waist. 

Jaskier closed his eyes and groaned. “Gods yes, do you have any idea how good you smell, how good you taste?” Jaskier’s fingers brushed over Geralt’s neck where his teeth had been earlier. “I almost couldn’t stop.”

“I trust you, I want you,” Geralt hummed, gripping the soft silk that adorned Jaskier’s arse. “Please.”

That last word seemed to ignite something it Jaskier. He let out a low hiss, eyes turning nearly completely black and he lunged forward, hands fisting in Geralt’s hair. He licked and sucked at Geralt’s neck until Geralt was gasping for breath, writhing underneath him. Geralt didn’t care, there weren’t many times he could relax and let down his guard, but he could with Jaskier. He wasn’t ashamed of how much the bard affected him. 

By the time Jaskier’s fangs broke his skin he was already thrusting up off the bed, he wanted more, he wanted… 

Waves of pleasure crashed over him, making his mind feel hazy. Whines and moans escaping his throat that didn’t sound like they could come from him, desperate, pathetic sounds. Jaskier’s arse was grinding into his cock, happy hums rumbling in his chest, his grip in Geralt’s hair unrelenting. Geralt’s eyes rolled back. He felt like putty, melting into the soft sheets on the bed, the burning heat on his skin almost too much to bear. He could do nothing except moan helplessly as Jaskier rutted against him, taking his pleasure from Geralt’s limp body. He could feel the drag at his neck as Jaskier drank, but he’d never felt anything quite like it. He was in pure bliss and he hadn’t even cum yet, his hard cock between their bodies a stark reminder of that fact. 

“Jask…” he slurred, tongue heavy, unable to think anything but the pleasure that was flooding his senses. 

With a strangled moan Jaskier pulled away from him, one last hard thrust and broken cry before collapsing onto Geralt’s chest. Geralt whined at the loss of Jaskier’s bite. He was still hard but he felt like he’d cum at least three times already, satisfied and yet aching, cock leaking against his chest. Jaskier’s fingers released his hair and he trailed slopping kisses over Geralt’s chest, fangs still pricking at his skin. Geralt let his head fall back against the pillow, feeling both blissful and wanting at the same time. His brushed his fingers along Jaskier’s spine, tripping over the fastening of his bra. HIs other hand reached down, brushing past his own stomach towards his cock, sending a shiver through him but before he could grip himself Jaskier’s hand swatted at his. 

“No,” the vampire slurred. 

“What?”

“Tomorrow,” Jaskier lifted his head lazily, blood stains trickling down his chin as he gaze up at Geralt, a smirk on his lips. “If you’re good I’ll let you fuck me tomorrow.”

Geralt groaned but let his hand drop back on his stomach. Apart from his new found bloodlust Jaskier hadn’t changed one bit. Geralt pressed a kiss to the bard’s hair. “Bastard.”

“You love me,” Jaskier trilled.

Geralt laughed quietly, still feeling heavy headed and hazed from Jaskier’s venom. “I do, still a bastard though.”

____

Tag list: @geraltrogerericduhautebellegarde @slythnerd @hailhailsatan @thecomfortofoldstorries @gelos @moonysourenza @frances-the-red @honeysuckletook @elliestormfound @sleepy-thief @artistsfuneral  @kittynannygaming @stinastar @fontegagrilledcheese @baka-yu @anythinggoesfandoms @veritasrose @trickstermoose67 @nonegenderleftpain @kueble @justjess94 @kozkaboi @wherethewordsare @dapandapod @damatris @mayastormborn @jaskierslastbraincell @dazedandinked @jaskierstark @bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher

#the witcher #geraskier #vampire!jaskier #geraskier smut #wolfie's witcher writing #suddenly-a-twilight-blog