#and he called him jask

[seaoffandoms]

i have screamed the biggest scream that i have ever scrumpt

[existential-queeer]

im being so normal about this guys i swear i have never been more normal in my entire life he just called him "jask" im--

[bardsandbees]

i cannot put into words the severity of my emotions when geralt so casually called him jask

[roughentumble]

WAIT Jaskier decides to invest in a horse, maybe after hurting his leg or something so it's a more urgent thing, but Geralt insists that Jaskier get a mule instead

and he does it bc he knows a mule will be more wary and have a better sense of self preservation so Jaskier will be safer

oughghhhh thats so cute 😭💕

[thedemonofcat]

“What would you give to save him?”

“Anything,” Jaskier replies truthfully.

Instead of claiming Jaskier’s soul or whatever ominous, otherworldly voices do, it says, “By the gods, that is precious! I’ll heal him with no charge this time, and I’ll grant you a boon because it’s been centuries since I’ve seen such beautiful devotion!”

Confused, but not wanting to offend the powerful being who was suddenly being very helpful, Jaskier says, “I—I am honored by this favor you have shown us. I swear to write a song in your honor, my dear.”

“Aren’t you just lovely? You may dedicate your song to ‘The One Who Joins Hands’”

Jaskier had no idea what the fuck that meant, but he made a mental note.

“And your boon?”

“Pardon?”

“What would you like as your boon?”

“Oh,” what would he like? More importantly, what wouldn’t come back to bite him in the arse later?

“How about I guarantee that your love will always remain true?”

“Oh, well, there’s really no need.” Jaskier would like even the barest hope that he’ll get over his unrequited feelings some day. And Geralt would hate for his feelings to be messed with. This being liked the idea of them together though, so best to find a good excuse. “I do not doubt my beloved. Really, the only thing to separate us would be my shorter lifespan.”

“Done!”

“What—?”

“Your lifespan is now tied to his! You’re welcome!”

———

Geralt wakes and is surprised to be alive. He soon spots his bard, staring dazedly at nothing.

"Jask…" Geralt called, hurrying to the bard's side, gently patting his face. "Jaskier, wake up."

It took a moment, but Jaskier's eyes eventually fluttered open, regaining focus. "Geralt, you're alright!" he exclaimed, throwing his arms around the Witcher in an embrace.

"Yeah, I'm alright. But what about you?" Geralt asked, his voice tinged with confusion.

"I'm fine. Do you… not remember anything?" Jaskier replied cautiously.

"The last thing I remember, I was fighting something… must have killed it if it's gone now," Geralt said with a shrug.

Jaskier froze, his mind racing. Geralt didn’t remember—he didn’t know about the deal. The bargain Jaskier had struck with *The One Who Joins Hands* to bring him back.

"We should probably get going," Geralt continued. "I promised to meet Yennefer soon."

Of course, Jaskier thought bitterly. Geralt loved Yennefer. Never him.

[lycheeloving]

I'm currently re-watching the first season of the Witcher... I forgot how much I love Geralt. So I had to write yandere headcanons for him ofc:

He still has to hunt monsters, but he tries to keep it to a minimum, as to not endanger you

When he does have to do something dangerous, he leaves you at the safest place that's nearby-ish. He doesn't tie you down, so you can still run away if you're in danger. At the beginning, this means he always has to chase you down after he gets back, but he couldn't live with himself if you got hurt because you couldn't get away from some monster.

That being said, you quickly realize that Geralt does, in fact, leave you in the safest place possible, whether that's an inn in a town or somewhere in a forest. Running away usually only gets you into trouble that Geralt has to save you from, so at some point you stop running. He always finds you in no time anyways, because of his enhanced senses. You might as well stay where you are, that's less exhausting.

He doesn't punish you for running away. He thinks it's annoying and might grumble and complain a bit while carrying you back, but that's all. He knows that this isn't an ideal situation for you and how could you ever love him, but he just can't live without you.

He does teach you some basic self-defense stuff, and how to act around certain monsters, so you're not totally unprepared if something were to happen. Usually the only thing you should do is run, though. (He teaches you for which monsters you should stand still, so you don't make a horrible mistake)

You'll sleep outside most of the time.

Downside: he insists on cuddling while you sleep. His arms are around you like a vice and you can't go anywhere. Plus the floor is uncomfortable (even if he has started to carry more comfortable sleeping bags etc with him bc you kept complaining) and cold. Really cold.

Upside: At least Geralt runs hot, so he keeps you warm?

Being outside all the time also means you usually have to bathe in various rivers and lakes... Geralt always stands guard with his sword in his hand. Just in case. He has to look at you, to keep you save! Not because he likes seeing you naked or anything...

If you're ever in a town, don't expect the people there to help you. Nobody wants to enrage a Witcher, especially not the butcher of Blaviken...

Geralt will let you talk to others if you want, as long as you (or they) aren't flirting. He gets jealous easily. So if you don't want them to "mysteriously" disappear, try to be careful about how you talk to others. And who you talk to.

Doesn't care if other people call him names because he's used to it, but if anyone makes a comment about you because you're with him? They're dead.

Lets you ride Roach. of course.

I feel like he would still be friends with Jaskier. Jask would just think you're being silly if you talk about how Geralt kidnapped you and won't let you leave or whatever. "Haha, yeah, I get it, I keep coming back to him as well, his life is just so fascinating! So, what did you think about my new song?". Useless in helping you escape, but at least he's fun to be around. Might try to hit on you once, but immediately realizes that he should never do that again if he wants to live keep being friends with Geralt.

I feel like Yennefer would flirt with you and make demeaning comments like "Can I borrow your little toy?" about you, to piss Geralt off. You don't like when she's there because she always makes him feel like he needs to prove that you're his.

Will probably leave a bite mark on your neck, to mark you as his. So everyone knows not to touch you, even if he's not around.

Yes, he'll take you to Kaer Morhen. The others make fun of him for "acting like a lovesick puppy". He doesn't care, as long as they're not making fun of you. If someone does make fun of you, Geralt will seriously hurt them, unless you convince him not to. In which case he'll have to hear even more comments about how he's totally whipped. But at least it makes the other Witchers like you more, if Geralt hurts them for you that just pisses them off, and in that case nobody has a good time.

[lassieposting]

Okay so

In the last ep of S2, we see Jaskier asleep in a room at Kaer Morhen. There are three interesting details about this scene.

The room actually looks somewhat lived-in compared to the empty, spiderweb-ridden rooms Ciri explores in an earlier episode. Jaskier hasn't been at Kaer Morhen long enough to have a lived-in guest room.

When Yennefer gets him out of bed, we see him grab his coat, which is lying next to a mostly-empty bottle of booze. He also asks Yen if she's making a hangover cure, because he feels like shit. He wasn't drunk when Geralt asked him to take Ciri home, so we know that his first night at Kaer Morhen, he got white girl wasted.

He's mostly dressed in bed. Like, he's still got his boots on, even. The only thing he seems to have taken off is his coat. But he's not shivering or curled up like he's very cold. He seems quite comfy.

This makes me think five things.

Jask met Geralt's family for the first time and promptly got blitzed with them. That's why he's the only one in the keep with a hangover - they can't get drunk on his booze.

What do Jaskier and the Witchers have in common to talk about? Well, Geralt, of course. Not only do Vesemir and the boys get a detailed rundown of every amusing anecdote Jask has from his 20+ years travelling with Geralt (along with a heaped helping of Poetic Drunken Yearning - gods, where did Geralt get this walking bag of feelings?), but Jask also gets treated to Every Embarrassing Thing Baby!Geralt Ever Did.

The room looks lived-in because it's Geralt's. Everyone was too busy drinking and spilling tea to think about making up a guest room for the bard. So when Jaskier finally passes the fuck out, and Vesemir tells Lambert to find him a bed to sleep it off in, Lambert goes "Eh, close enough" and sticks him in Geralt's. Geralt's twink. Geralt's problem.

This is also why Jaskier is still almost totally dressed, boots and all. Lambert is so not going there: he's a Witcher, not a nanny or a nurse. He drops Jask on the bed, flings a blanket over him and calls it a day.

At some point post-S2, Geralt is going to wake up in a cold sweat at like 3am and realise that leaving his bard unattended with his family was a Terrible Idea and they definitely swapped stories and he's not going to hear the end of it from anyone for a really long time

[valdomarx]

"Does the witcher know how lucky he is to have you?"

Jaskier flashes an enigmatic grin, as if such concerns are immaterial to a famous, Continent-trotting bard.

But Radovid looks back at him earnestly, like it's a question that's supposed to have an answer.

-

"Never have I ever seen you have a crush." Vespula laughs, bright and teasing. "Except for the obvious one."

Jaskier pretends he has no idea who she's talking about.

"My dearest lady, my heart is a wild beast, roaming free, and it could not possibly be constrained by such a petty tie as a crush."

She purses her lips and says again, "Except for the obvious one."

-

"Pankratz."

"Witch."

Yennefer doesn't smile, but her eyes soften a fraction into an expression that could almost -- almost -- be called fond.

"Still traipsing around after Geralt, I see."

"Excuse me, I do not traipse! I frolic."

She snorts with amusement at that. Then a crinkle forms between her brows, like she's looking straight through him. "He is trying, you know. Trying to be better. More reciprocal."

Jaskier deflates. "I know he is."

-

"So he hunted monsters for twenty years." Ciri raises an eyebrow at him. "And you followed him around singing songs about it."

"Yeeeees." Jaskier waits for the other shoe to drop.

But Ciri just nods, far too perceptive for her young age. "I see."

-

"I do appreciate it, Jask." Geralt's hand on his shoulder is warm and so, so heavy. "I know this life can't be easy for you."

Geralt's eyes are sincere and his lips curl in the smallest suggestion of a smile, and Jaskier is gone, gone, gone.

Jaskier shrugs it off with a laugh. "Oh, I'm tougher than I look. A few ravenous monsters and sleepless nights aren't enough to put me off."

Geralt tilts his head.

Jaskier's mouth can't stop moving. "You should know by now, you're stuck with me."

"Hmm." The suggestion of a smile blooms into something undeniable. "Guess I am."

[thelostgirl21]

Somehow, I don't think I've ever truly taken the time to appreciate just how sort of... ridiculous Radovid's introduction scene is?

Not Radovid himself, he's adorable!

But it does make you wonder...

How often does King Vizimir just... randomly yell his name at the top of his lungs like that to get his attention, and then, just... basically lets him carry on, because turns out he didn't want anything from him?

He's like: "Nah, don't worry about it, 'bro! I just felt like loudly shouting your name in a crowd rather than simply telling Dijkstra that I'd decided you'd be leading the 'Princess Ciri finding efforts' from now on! Just reminding him of how adorable you are, you know? Look Dijkstra? Isn't he adorable? That's my baby brother with his little bottle making cute little "whoo! " sounds right there..."

Because, you know, once Radovid realises that his brother is calling him, he makes literally no effort to go see him, either!

I know he's playing dumb/drunk, but still!

"What's that?! Oh, okay! It's just Vizimir trying to locate me. Whoo!"

WHAT *IS* THAT?!

It's like a parent at a children's party suddenly going "SAMUEL!".

Child: *Stops playing to look at their parent.* "What?!"

Parent: "Oh, no worry, honey! I just wanted to make sure you hadn't run off, drowned in the pool, got kidnapped or something! But I see you've got your grape juice bottle and are having fun with your friends, everything's fine! Go on!" Child: "Yay!"

I mean, you might reasonably expect King Vizimir to shout Radovid's name in a crowd like that to get his attention so he can motion to him to come over, and then introduce him to someone he's never met before.

Which, on a meta level, is technically what he's doing: introducing Radovid to the audience.

But in Universe?!?!

It's Dijkstra. Dijkstra knows who the crown prince of Redania is, Vizimir! You could've just told him, and he'd have gotten it! No need to get all dramatic about it!

TL;DR: King Vizimir is a ridiculous drama queen that loves showing off his pet baby brother every chance he gets!

And Radovid's gotten so used to it by now, that he's totally stopped attempting to figure out what his big brother wants when he calls him.

What if it's not just Vizimir, though, and Radovid just has that reputation for constantly getting himself into trouble if left unsupervised for too long.

So, people at court have a habit of periodically shouting his name; just to get him to manifest himself in large crowds, or crawl out of whatever hole or tight space he's crammed himself into, make eye contact, and locate him.

Therefore, in my new personal headcanon, there's now a scene at the Thanedd Ball that pretty much goes:

- Dijkstra: "RADOVID!" - Philippa: *walking over to him* "I think I saw him leave earlier with his royal security detail. He's probably sniffed out the bard's scent..." - Dijkstra: "Oh, good! You made sure those guards understood their assignment, right?" Philippa: "Of course!"

***Meanwhile, in the nearby woods.***

- Captain of the guards: "RADOVID!" - Other guard: "It's no use sir, we've lost him! " - Captain: "Gods damnit! Dijkstra won't be pleased..." - Radovid: *having already put plenty of distance between them, on his way to go see Jaskier* "Whoo!"

It's a good thing Philippa wasn't with them, or what might have happened would have been something closer to:

- Philippa: "Don't worry! I've got this!" *in whispering tones* "Sabrina was right. Valdo Marx's compositions are far superior to Jask -" - Radovid: *instantly traveling across space and time to appear right before her* "Valdo Marx has NOTHING on Jaskier! His sublime ethereal melodies, and the poetry of his lyrics, elevate the bardic arts to -" - Philippa: "Oh. Look. There he is!"

[write-ur-wrongs]

Stayaway

In an attempt to get out of funk, here is a very short, not edited, written-directly-into-tumblr, song-inspired grealt x reader fic. Inspired by Stayaway by MUNA (the best band in the world, begging y'all to listen to their music you will be forever changed!!).

*********

"Come on! I know you're home, I followed you!"

The bard was yelling and banging on your door incessantly and you knew you had to answer eventually. The bastard followed you home after all, he knows where you live.

"I'm not home!" you shouted back, delusional.

"Y/N! I may be a fool but I'm not stupid," he replied, and you could hear the familiar smile pulling at his lips, "Now open up! The door and your heart!"

"Jask," you sighed, laughing despite yourself at his poetic antics, "go away!"

"No! I miss you!"

"I'm not home!" you tried again, will wavering.

"Y/N!" he pleaded, and you swore you could hear half that cursed smile pull down into a pout.

You rested your forehead against the door and bit your lip, debating. All the while, your hand betrayed you, reached for the doorknob and turned it open.

Before you knew it, you were face to face with an old friend and while the sight of him filled you with joy, you were also flooded with other, less welcome feelings of remembrance.

"Y/N!" he exclaimed, pushing himself into your home and saving you from dwelling on the heavy memories that tried to creep up over you. "You're home, what are the odds?"

"Hilarious as always, Jaskier," you said, closing the door behind him. "What brings you to my little hamlet?"

"Fate, chance, what have you," he said, his cheery demeanor working overtime to cover for his abject curiosity, "The sea called and I had to answer. You know how it is."

"I do, do I?"

"Don't you? I mean you just disappeared... I assumed something called and you, you know, answered?" His tone stayed light, the practiced levity of someone who's spent years buttering people up for information all while staying neutral.

"I guess..." you bit your cheek, busying yourself by playing hostess, and pouring you both a glass of wine, "things changed and I thought, 'hell, why not change too?'"

"Fair enough... oh thank you."

"Of course," you said, taking a sip of wine yourself before guiding you both towards your couch, "but seriously Jaskier, why are you here?"

"Seriously? I was just passing through on my way to Oxenfurt when I saw a familiar face. A face I thought I'd never see again..."

You looked up from your glass then, but immediately regretted it when you met the bard's earnest gaze.

"Yennefer thought she saw you in Novigrad a while back but then... nothing. We thought you were gone for good."

"Jaskier, come on," you pleaded, praying he wouldn't elaborate on who 'we' entailed, while another, less disciplined part of you hoped for the opposite. Maybe if you knew he missed you, maybe if you knew he was looking for you... maybe you could let yourself be found.

No!

"Don't shake your head at me, Y/N. You disappear from the city, you quit your job, no one has seen you at the pub, the library - anywhere!"

"I- I know... but Jask," you stammered, trying to start three sentences at once and fumbling them all.

"I mean, you loved your job, didn't you? And what about us?" he asked, voice cracking slightly. "Gods, was the breakup that bad?"

"The thing is, Jask," you sputtered between large sips of wine, "It wasn't. It was easy, actually. He did what he always does when we fight; scowl, shut down, turn away, and then take it out on our friends. The break was clean."

"If it was so clean, then why did you leave?"

"It's the rest of it! The, the staying away that was, is impossible. If I had stayed and kept going it out with you guys, we'd drink and dance and I'd wonder where he is. Or one moment I'd be at the library studying and the next, Yen be asking me about the breakup and trying to 'cheer' me up by bringing up the good times and next thing you know? I'm answering the door for him when he rolls back into town injured and brooding. I couldn't stand it! I- I couldn't risk it."

"That's -"

"Pathetic? I know."

"No! No, but if there were so many good times, so many reasons to go back then why not-"

"Damn it, Jaskier! This is why I had to leave." You said, gesturing between the two of you before dropping your hand on your lap with a smack. "If I let him back in, then he's not the man who broke my heart anymore. Not the one who told me I was overemotional for being worried when he'd disappear for months. Suddenly everything is fine... until it's not and I'm hurt and alone again."

You felt tears begin to prick the back of your eyes and shoved the heel of your palms into them to force them down.

"Hey... Y/N," Jaskier said, gently pulling your hands away from your eyes and taking them in his. "I'm sorry, I didn't know..."

"It's okay," you said, giving your friends hands a squeeze and looking up to the ceiling, letting your tears fall for a moment, "I'm okay."

"Y/N..."

"Oh alright, but I'll be okay," you amended, laughing at yourself lightly and wiping the tears away. "Jaskier, don't look so sad. I just need time, space, distance... I will be fine."

Your words had little effect on your friend though, who seemed to grow more anxious and sad with every passing moment. You quirked your brow at him and shoved his shoulder playfully, trying to break the mood.

"Jaskier, will you relax?" you asked, desperate to get him to smile now. You really had missed Jaskier and now that he was here, you realized how much you wanted him to stick around.

"Y/N, I'm really sorry." He whispered, refusing to meet your gaze.

You were about to try another lighthearted quip when you heard a knock at your door. Not someone knocking, just a knock. One quick but deliberate rap.

"Who...?" you heard yourself asking, even though you only ever knew one person who knocked on doors like that.

"Y/N, I'm so so sorry," Jaskier kept repeating. "I really didn't know. I never would have told him if I'd known."

Your mouth was bone dry but you couldn't get your hand to reach for your glass of wine. You just kept staring at Jaskier, watching him babble.

"I'll go tell him to leave, Y/N, I'm so sorry," you heard him say, his voice barely registering over the ringing in your ears.

You felt him get up off the couch, your blurred vision registering the now empty spot on the couch only after you heard your door be pulled open.

Every fiber of your being was on fire. You were frozen. You wanted to throw yourself on the floor. You wanted to run to him.

"Y/N..." you heard him say. Fuck he sounded sad. You wanted to hold him, tell him it'll be okay. You wanted to slam the door in his face. You forgive him. You'll never forgive yourself.

Against your better judgement, you felt yourself to turn look towards the front door and your breath caught when you saw him.

Gods above, you thought, he should have stayed away.

[the-hidden-pages]

Kinktober Day 4 - Thigh Riding | Sex Pollen - Jaskier x Fem!Reader

Thigh riding | Sex pollen | Forced orgasm 

Disclaimer: I did interpret “sex pollen” as loose as aphrodisiac - it’s not an actual pollen, it’s a liquid.  Also, it's late, I have work, I did rush a little to get this out but it's better than another day sans post I hope!

Summary: Geralt had warned you of the dangers of consorting with witches. But you had never anticipated the dangers being this.

Warnings: NSFW, Public Sex/Orgies, Aphrodisiac, Dub Con because of the aphrodisiac but they love each other I swear.

Geralt had warned you.

Geralt had warned you of the dangers of witches often enough. Even Yennefer, a witch herself, often advised against mingling with others that dabble in Chaos.

But that didn’t stop Jaskier from accepting the opportunity of performing on behalf of a town’s witch.

It didn’t stop you from attending the gathering in support of him.

Which is how the pair of you wound up in the mansion of the local town’s “healer”, surrounded by townsfolk that were in the know, and various other mages and witches.

Jaskier had sung wonderfully, as captivating as he ever did - and to hold the attention of those as vain as witches and mages was no small feat, you’ll give him that.

As the night went on, he was free to mingle, returning to your side and sip on the wine that was being freely poured, to feast on the foods presented.

“And to think Geralt was worried,” Jaskier scoffed, in his element, overconfident in the way he often became when things were going a little too smoothly.

It didn’t stop you from smiling though, an easy grin matching his on your face. “A worrywart, that one. A white haired worrywart of a Witcher.”

“Isn’t he just? He ought to have more trust in us.”

You chuckled, taking another sip before waving your glass in emphasis. “Did he warn you about the wine?”

“No, what of it?”

“Yennefer mentioned some witches put something in it, an aphrodisiac. Makes the night more fun as it goes on.”

Jaskier made a face, somewhere between a grimace and a grin. “Oh woe is me, a witch’s orgy. Save me, Butcher of Blaviken!”

A snort escapes you as the pair of you take another sip, continuing to pass the time discussing his various adventures with Geralt, his performance, and the various attendees of the soiree.

The conversation carried on easily, until the vibe of the room suddenly, inexplicably, intangibly…Shifted

Suddenly the air was heavier, thicker in a way that was hotter, heavier. It felt as though the voices of the other partygoers was quieting, slowing down. You became more aware of certain things - men sitting with their hands on other women’s thighs, just a little too high. A flush on women’s cheeks that ran a little brighter, went a little further down than the typical blush from too much wine.

And you were very aware of Jaskier sitting beside you.

His thigh lightly touching yours was suddenly scalding you, but in a way that you felt you simply couldn’t move away.

You hadn’t realized you had stopped listening to the conversation entirely until Jaskier called your name.

You met his eyes, ready to apologize, before immediately regretting it.

Were his eyes always so piercing? His hair always so soft? Did you always notice how deeply he unbuttoned his shirt, how noticeable the droplets of sweat were running down it.

Oh.

Oh.

“Jaskier,” you croaked out, suddenly noticing how dry your mouth was. You licked your lips and continued. “Jaskier, the wine. I don’t think Geralt was wrong.”

“Hmm?” the bard only hummed, and you met his eyes again. He was practically in a trance, staring at where your tongue had darted out to wet your lips.

Slowly, around you, you begin to hear soft sighs, and the lower, hushed tones of lovers speaking to one another.

You grow more aware of the unbearable, present, nearly painful heat between your legs, and when you shift, you realize that you’re already drenched.

“Jask…”

The bard reached forward, placing a large, warm, calloused hand on your thighs.

“They spiked the wine,” he breathes out, turning himself enough that his head is resting against yours, words breathing right in your ear and sending chills down your spine.

“Mhm,” your eyes are closed, trying to ignore the stimuli coming from all senses that your body seems hyper aware of. The gasps, the quiet moans, people growing closer.

Jaskier right beside you.

“Darling we can leave right now,” he breathes, hand on your thigh growing tighter, wandering ever so slightly higher. “We can rent a room in the nearest tavern - or two, if you want to wait this out. We don’t have to stay -”

You cut him off, pushing him back. You can see him start to form an apology, but before giving him the chance you stand and move to position yourself on his lap, straddling his legs and capturing him in a frantic kiss.

It’s not coordinated, or careful, or planned. The moment Jaskier’s brain catches up to what you’ve done, he’s immediately pried your lips open with his tongue, tasting you, claiming you, his hand coming around to cradle your head and pull you in deeper. His other hand wanders quickly, greedily, grasping at every inch of you that he can.

You already don’t want clothes in the way.

As quickly as you get on him, you stand again. The bard is dazed, bright eyes nothing but dark pupils gazing at you as you begin to make quick work of your clothes.

It’s the wine, some tiny, miniscule part in the back of your mind speaks. It’s the wine making you strip in front of a room of strangers, the wine making you mount your friend in a fit of desire.

The wine. Only the wine.

It has to be.

Your hands, in their flurry, begin to struggle with the laces, of which Jaskier is far too eager to help you with.

He leans forward, reaching up to help you loosen the corset. As it’s flung somewhere to your side, he makes quick work of your undershirt, your skirts.

Quickly, so quickly it all began, and just as quickly you’re completely nude, with the bard urging you back into his lap.

In your haste, you slip a little, falling to one side and straddling only one of his thighs.

Despite this you moan, jolting slightly as sliding on the thigh offers some friction to your throbbing clit.

“Fuck,” you gasp, grasping on to his shoulders tightly, your body moving without your full consent as you seek any form of relief to the growing burn within you.

It’s too much, the feeling of the cotton trousers beneath you, offering a burning friction to satiate your need, the growing groans echoing throughout the entire room. 

It’s not enough, when Jaskier himself lets out a beautiful moan, feeling you begin to soak through his clothes as you claw at him desperately.

“Dove, please,” he begs, leaning forward to pepper your neck and collarbone with bites. Your hips rock faster, until he tugs harshly at your hair, exposing your neck fully as you shout. His teeth mark your neck and his grip remains firm, his other hand wandering down to aide your movements. 

Your mind, in its wine and drug and lust addled haze, can only focus on two things: easing the burn between your legs, and hearing one of his beautiful sounds again.

And so your hand promptly finds his cock, working it through the flap in his trousers and stroking.

Gods is he hard.

It’s his turn to have his head thrown back, to let out a loud, melodic moan to the room to join the symphony of the others’. It’s rougher than you expected, lightly due to his night of signing and shouting boisterously to a room, but hells did it ever manage to turn you on.

You’re rushing it, you know it, he knows it, but somehow no one can bring themselves to mind as you raise yourself up further, straddling him properly once again.

You stare into the bard’s blue eyes, taking in every expression as you sink down fully, gasping as you feel every inch, every curve, every vein. It’s easy, with how wet you’ve become, and within seconds you’re riding him and hard as you can.

He’s eager to help you, hands grasping your hips so tightly they’re bound to leave bruises, controlling your pace and pulling you ever so slightly closer.

“This isn’t,” Jaskier gasped out, between groans and moans bites to your neck. “This isn’t what I wanted for our first night together.”

“You dreamed of this?” You tease half-heartedly, feeling a warmth in your heart bloom despite the absurdity of the situation.

Was this bard really about to give you a love confession whilst balls deep in you in the midst of a sex party?

“Of course,” he moaned, head thrown back and eyes clenched shut. “Gods, so many nights I wanted to have you, in the nearest room in a tavern, against the nearest wall, in the midst of camp. There was a plan, wine and dinner and singing and flowers, just us - fuck do that again.”

You reach for his hair, forcefully pulling his head back to meet your gaze.

“We’ll do this again,” you promise, thighs burning as you ride faster, chasing that growing feeling within you. “I’ve wanted it too, and we’ll talk about it when this damned wine isn’t in our heads but Jaskier, please just fuck me right now I’m so close -”

He stops you, hand travelling forward to meet your clit, rubbing in just the right way that has you seeing stars within seconds.

With your high comes his, and you can’t help but whine at the feeling of his cum shooting deep within you, warming you from the inside out as you clutch each other desperately, needly, as though you were the answer to some eternal unasked question.

As the pair of you come down, gasping, panting, your ears pick up the rest of the party beginning to quiet as well. It was almost as if the spell had a time limit, you thought aimlessly.

As you came to, and the sensations began to dull, your mind grew louder.

You had just fucked Jaskier.

You were still sitting on his cock.

As you go to move, his hand holds your hip tightly, and the other travels upwards to brush some hair out of your face, cupping your cheek. His gaze is gentle, kind, but hungry.

“We’ll do it again, you say?” he teases, that overconfident smirk back on his face. You can feel him hardening inside you once again, and you shift as a reflex, causing a burst of heat to ignite in you once again. “What say you to back at the inn?”

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

They did not give me cannonical aphrodisiac usage at witch parties for nothing.

Thank you to @flightlessangelwings for their Kinktober list this year!

[ladyannemarie5]

Things we learned/confirmed about our bard in S3:

He's a slut (and we support and defend the bard's slutty rights).

He's a Monster fucker (at least for once and once again we support and defend the bard's slutty rights).

The best tiddies in the Continent

He's a cat boy

Has platonic feelings for Geralt

Has a crush on Rafovid because he's different

Is bisexual (more pansexual)

Wears eyeliner

Is Ciri's funcle

Geralt's and Yennefer's best friend and #1 trusted person

Geralt calls him "Jask".

Keeps writing love songs to cry all night long

He's still the Sandpiper

He's traumatized

He's the bravest bait that ever lived

And finally, Joey Batey is the love of my life

[roughentumble]

@hale-of-stiles-heart

ok idea under a cut just cuz it got a lil long

ok so. jaskier's been teaching at oxenfurt. he's made human friends, but he still thinks about geralt constantly, meets up with him once a year to make sure jask's settling in alright, sometimes calls to geralt to ask him to hang out. and he's drunk and he wants his friends to meet geralt and see how lovely his wonderful demon is!!

so. he uses geralt's name. the long one, the one geralt cant ignore.

so he can introduce geralt to all his friends.

and when geralt is pulled there, he's /seething/. full wrath-of-a-demon. he'd been in the middle of an important deal when he was dragged away. perhaps something like, a child being abused, making a deal for protection? but now he's /here/. dragged there by a drunked human treating him like a toy, like a dog to sit and speak on command, no gravity for the immense power jaskier has over him by knowing that, AND the power everyone else in the room has if they can remember what he said. and geralt doesnt hold any of this back, has been violated by humans stomping all over his boundaries for years, tells jaskier all of this, the deal and his feelings and being turned into a puppet.

and at the end of it jaskier, he's sobbing, because he didnt mean any of that. and his friends are all deadly quiet, drunken revelry brought to an end. and when he finds his voice, all he can ask is "will she be alright? the child?"

and geralt still feels angry, and violated, but he softens. pets jaskier's hair, because he a foolish human but he isnt nasty and cruel. thoughtless sometimes in his youth, but not a monster. "i dont know," he says honestly, "we'll just have to hope she summons me again, and soon."

@hale-of-stiles-heart

oh my gods i just had a thought about demon!geralt

ok so i already did the "names have power" thing that i just threw in there. but. what if. geralt's name. is literally the long du haute bellegarde thing. and like, for each piece of a demon's name you know and use, the stronger the compulsion they have to answer your call. like they can ignore a summons if they want to, but with enough of their name you can eventually literally yank them out of whatever theyre doing and FORCE them to be there

so what valdo knew was "geralt of rivia", and that's what most people sortve know, there are other name fragments he responds to. but his full title is something long and obnoxious like:

geralt roger eric du haute bellegarde, knight of rivia, duke of hell, apprentice to archduke-of-hell vesemir and his infernal heir

[thedemonofcat]

Jaskier was cursed as a baby. His curse is to turn into a monster when he kisses his true love.

Because Jaskier would rather not become a monster, he just doesn’t kiss people. Not even his lovers.

Then, Geralt is put under a curse that can only be cured by true love’s kiss.

Jaskier cannot be certain his kiss will cure Geralt, but he has to try. He cannot withhold aid from Geralt. Even if it comes at a terrible price.

As Geralt felt the curse lifting from his body, a wave of clarity washed over him, and he knew exactly what he wanted. He wanted to take Jaskier's face in his hands and kiss the bard until the world melted away. But before he could even utter a single word, Jaskier bolted, vanishing behind a large object just out of Geralt's sight.

“Jask, are you alright?” Geralt called out, concern threading through his voice. He moved closer, trying to catch a glimpse of the bard, who remained hidden.

A small, trembling whisper emerged from Jaskier’s hiding spot. “Are you here to kill me?”

Geralt’s heart twisted. “Why would I ever kill you? I love you,” he said, his voice laden with hurt at the very thought.

“Because…” Jaskier hesitated, his voice barely audible. “I’m cursed. When I was a baby, I was cursed to turn into a monster if I ever received a true love’s kiss.”

“Can I see you?” Geralt asked gently. He heard a sharp intake of breath from the bard and added quickly, “Not to hurt you—just to see you.”

There was a long pause, punctuated only by the faint sounds of shuffling. Finally, Jaskier stepped into view. Small antlers adorned his head, delicate and almost ethereal. White freckles dappled his face, and his ears now tapered into soft points. Geralt caught sight of a swishing tail behind him, completing the transformation.

“Oh, deer,” Geralt said with a quiet chuckle, unable to resist the pun. “You’re absolutely adorable.”

“Don’t laugh at me,” Jaskier murmured, his voice thick with emotion. He looked on the verge of tears.

Geralt crossed the space between them in an instant, pulling the bard into his arms. “I’m not laughing at you,” he assured him, his voice warm and soothing. “It seems whoever cursed you wasn’t very specific. Humans tend to see anything different as monstrous.”

He leaned down, brushing a tender kiss across Jaskier’s forehead. “But you, my little deer, couldn’t be less monstrous if you tried.”

[a-kind-of-merry-war]

Here is my thumb at the polling station!! I was gonna take a picture directly outside but someone else was taking a selfie and I felt weird waiting for her to be done. Anyway what do I get in exchange??

HELLO THUMB. I like that you've got a different coloured sign, bravo.

I'm using this opportunity to share some of what might actually be the most self-indulgent thing I've ever written. This is the start of chapter two, but... yeah. It's pretty obvious what's going on here. The only context I'll give is that this is post-everything, post-game, "settled down and married and owning an inn in Toussaint".

(I'd also like to thank @spielzeugkaiser for encouraging this one)

Also adding a cut because it's long and I couldn't decide where to cut it off 😅

---

“Geralt, my darling love, my handsome witcher, my saviour of men?”

“What do you want?”

“I— what makes you think I want something?”

“You only use that tone when you want something and it’s—” Geralt shuffled around in bed and peered out of the window. It was still dark out. “Before dawn,” he finished. Paused. “What are you doing up, anyway?”

Jaskier stared down at him, dressed only in a nightshirt which Geralt was fairly certain was his.

“I heard a noise,” he said.

Geralt resisted the urge to pull him back into bed. “You heard a noise.” He repeated, tonelessly.

“Yes. It woke me up,” Jaskier continued. “And now there’s something in the stables.”

With a grumble, Geralt finally sat up. “What is it?”

Jaskier gave him an exaggerated sigh. “Well I don’t know, do I?”

“Why don’t you go check, then?”

“What if it’s a bandit? Or some sort of horrid beasty? You truly can’t expect me to deal with it, can you?”

For a moment, Geralt considered suggesting just that. But Jaskier had a point. He was  famously unhelpful in these sorts of situations. With a sigh, he swung himself out of bed and hastily dressed in the first clothes that he could get his hands on. After a second of consideration, he grabbed his sword as well.

“Come on, then.”

There was a disturbance in the stables, it turned out. Geralt could hear the horses snuffling and pacing - clearly something had spooked them. As they approached the sturdy stone building, Geralt could see that the door was swinging open.

“Stay here,” he muttered towards Jaskier over his shoulder.

“Right-o.”

The stables smelled like horse and sweat. But beneath that, a tang that Geralt didn’t recognise. And beneath that, one he did: blood.

It was too early and he was too tired to fuck about. He gripped his sword, set his shoulders, and called into the dark.

“I know you’re in here,” he said. “Show yourself.” 

At first, nothing happened. And then there was a rustle from the far corner, and a voice.

“Please, m’Lord—” 

A head appeared over the hay. A man. He was all cheekbones and angles, with a thatch of wild untamed hair. Geralt’s first thought was how young he looked. Probably no older than twenty-three or four. He looked terrified, too, and his eyes swept over Geralt in a dance Geralt had grown familiar with. The expression of fear melded from one of being caught, to one of being caught by a witcher.

As the man moved, the smell of blood grew stronger. There was a little cut on his face, just below his eye - which was marred with a huge purple bruise - but that alone wasn’t enough for such a strong scent. Geralt wondered where else he was bleeding from.

He wasn’t a bandit. He didn’t seem particularly dangerous.

“Please,” the man repeated, struggling to his feet. “Please, I’ll just— I’ll go, I swear, I just needed—”

He took a step forwards and immediately toppled, grabbing onto the wall to steady himself. He was clearly more hurt than he was letting on, and he looked exhausted. Geralt wondered how long he’d been running for. What he was running from. When he met the man’s eyes, they were wide and swimming with unspilled tears, and again, all Geralt could think was how young he looked.

Younger than Ciri, even.

Shit. Geralt was going soft. 

“Jask,” he called over his shoulder. “Come here. I need a hand…”

Jaskier’s face appeared in the doorway.

“I’m not sure what you think I can—” his eyes landed on the man. “Oh. Oh, Gods, Geralt, what’s going on?”

Geralt shrugged. “I don’t know. Help me get him inside…”

Jasker, thank Melitele, was better at this than Geralt. He quickly rushed over to the man, wrapped an arm under his shoulders to support him, and started talking to him in a low, calming tone.

“Are you alright? Look, just— you’re going to be okay, yeah? Just lean on me like that—”

Together, they manoeuvred the young man out of the stable and across the yard, his legs threatening to give out with every step.

“Thank you—” he mumbled, his voice hoarse. “Thank you, I don’t— I just— Thank you—”

“That’s quite alright,” Jaskier said, giving him a little squeeze. “What’s your name?”

The man sniffed, and winced.

“Penn.”

[renegadesstuff]

He called him 'Jask' 🥺🤏🤍