Long ago, a curse befell Kaer Morhen, turning its witchers into stone wolves by day, only to regain their human forms at night. The curse could only be broken if one among them chose to stay. Over time, however, the witchers began to forget the details of their plight, living in a haze of fractured memories and routine.
Generations passed, and Kaer Morhen became the property of the Pankratz family, a noble lineage from Lettenhove. One of its heirs, Julian Pankratzâbetter known as the bard Jaskierâhad his own curse to contend with: he was destined to transform into a bird unless cured by true loveâs kiss. Faced with a choice between giving up his bardic life to marry according to his family's wishes or spending a year at the ruined keep restoring it, Jaskier chose the latter.
Life at the mountain fortress wasnât as unbearable as heâd feared. The solitude provided ample time to compose songs, and on fair-weather days, he could hike to the nearby village to perform. Yet something odd began to trouble him: every morning, a wolf statue seemed to have moved, never in the same place as the day before.
Unbeknownst to Jaskier, the witchers had been aiding him in secret under the cover of darkness. On his very first night, Geraltâthe White Wolfâsaw the bard sleeping peacefully and was struck by a love he dared not voice. Convinced that someone as bright and carefree as Jaskier could never return his feelings, Geralt contented himself with watching from afar.
But one fateful night, Jaskier awokeâand found himself face-to-face with Geralt.
Geralt makes the sweets, and Jaskier sells them without making customers fear for their life.
A man with a mustache stood at the front counter where Jaskier was working. "So, are you free?" the man asked, leaning forward slightly.
"That depends," Jaskier replied, his tone light and teasingâplayful enough to be mistaken for flirting by the unwary.
The man smirked, clearly emboldened. "There's a new restaurant down the street. You're coming with me." It was less an invitation and more a decree, as if Jaskier had no say in the matter.
Jaskierâs smile widened, amusement flickering in his eyes. "Oh, that sounds lovely," he said sweetly, "but I was planning to check it out with my husband."
Before the mustached man could process the words, the doors to the bakery's kitchen swung open, revealing a tall, broad-shouldered figure with white hair and piercing golden eyes. Geralt strode in carrying a tray of freshly baked cookies, his muscular frame radiating an effortless authority.
"Is there a problem here?" Geralt asked, his gaze settling protectively on Jaskier as he addressed his husband.
I was GOING to say. That when you read a wine menu and see something like "notes of leather and wet stone" you think "did an insane person write this its grapes" but after youve read about wine and growing regions and the effect of oak barrels on aging and tasted a bunch of stuff and given it some thought you find yourself taking a sip of french syrah and thinking "mmm little bit of leather on the finish there" and all of a sudden that shits not crazy anymore. Youve been cooked in the soup. Youve been living in the monkey house.
Aiden turned his attention towards where Jaskier was sat by the fire alongside the wolves, the bard's face a strange mixture of disbelief and elation, as was his scent. Aiden crinkled his nose slightly as he fought back the urge to sneeze or cough at the unfamiliar combination being directed at him.
"Yeah, it's me. Happy to see you too?" Aiden ventured, despite the fact that it couldn't have been more than an hour since they'd last seen each other. Aiden had gone back out into the courtyard after dinner to run some drills, despite the harsh weather, and get rid of the excess energy he could already feel building up. Vesemir was gracious enough to refer to it as 'extra training' and not act like it was a necessity if they all wanted Aiden to avoid getting so restless he literally started climbing the walls.
"No! I mean...I didn't realise before now until I saw you silhouetted like that with your swords and everything, but it's you!"
Aiden suddenly found himself with a limpet of a bard hanging off him, determined to cling despite the rainwater which now soaked both of them.
"Jaskier, I-"
"Oh right. You probably don't remember, what am I saying, of course you don't - Jaskier you fucking idiot. It's been thirty years, no doubt you've lost count of how many humans you've dealt with in the meantime. But-"
"Jaskier." Lambert huffed out from where he was dozing on the fur which acted as a hearth rug, not even bothering to open his eyes, "Let Aiden go dry off and then maybe some context to go with your twittering, Birdie."
By the time Aiden returned, Jaskier's excitement was enough that even the Wolves were giving him their full attention as he re-entered the main hall. Eskel and Geralt's books lay abandoned on a side table while a now awake Lambert was sat leaning against the wall by the hearth. He pulled Aiden down to sit next to him, the fire hot stone through his thick, wool shirt creating a pleasant warmth against his back.
"Alright then." Jaskier started from where he was sat cross legged in one of the old armchairs, leaning forwards as he once again addressed Aiden directly, "Before I start, do you remember anything about a night in Lettenhove thirty years ago. At the Viscount's estate."
Aiden shook his head, although something about this was starting to niggle the back of his mind.
"Name of Panktratz. Little boy, around six years old?" Jaskier continued, eyes growing sadder as it became clear this memory was potentially very one-sided, "Somehow convinced you to-"
He wasn't sure if it was the name or the wide-eyed look the man was throwing him, but Aiden felt something suddenly tumble into place. "Wait, I do remember that night!"
Aiden fought back a growl as he took in the various toys littering the floor, the miniature four poster bed...whose occupant was an even smaller lump under the covers.
That son of a bitch! That slimy twat had hired him to 'take care' of his nephew so he'd be next in line for the title instead, implying the whole time that his relative wasn't exactly deserving of the title. Aiden had accepted the job - what difference did the inner squabblings of Nobility make to him afterall.
In hindsight he probably should have asked more questions but he didn't have a copper coin to his name and this guy had paid upfront; enough for him to be able to eat regularly and maintain his gear for the foreseeable. He started planning after his employer graciously provided him with a blueprint of the estate and pointed out the targets rooms. He'd failed to mention however, that said target looked to be scarcely old enough to wield that wooden sword properly, nevermind any degree of power.
Fuck it. He should stay as far away from this potential mess as possible. It was bad enough when their employers pointed the finger of blame at them when they assassinated an adult, but a child? That was a complication none of them needed. Mind made up, he turned to climb back out of the window (which had been concerningly easy to coax open from the other side), making sure hood and mask were still firmly in place.
"Hello."
Aiden froze. Speaking of complications....
Rookie mistake! He'd been so caught up in everything else he'd forgotten to keep one ear focused on the other heartbeat in the room. He ran through possible scenarios: he could do what he'd been paid to do, but now the kid was awake there was every chance he'd scream and alert the house before Aiden could even lift a finger. Same potential problem if he tried to leave. He could always cast somne...
"You're a Witcher aren't you? I can see the shape of your swords!" Aiden's nose twitched at the boys scent. Strange. Even through the cloth covering the lower half of his face he could tell the boy didn't smell afraid. He smelled excited, happy even?
"I know all about Witchers. You keep us safe from monsters. Is that why you're here, is there a monster in my room?" The small voice turned slightly fretful as a faint whiff of fear started to sour the air - yet more strangeness in the fact that it was due to imagined monsters rather than him.
Aiden dared to turn and look, something about this child's initial boldness piquing his curiousity (who the hell starts questioning a stranger in their room instead of screaming the place down?). A small boy stared back at him with large eyes as he clutched the soft looking sheets to him like a shield as he curled up in the centre of the bed. "My Uncle Desmond says that monsters like to come out at night and eat little boys. I don't like him. He's mean."
Aiden gave a bittersweet smile at the pout he could see on the little face.
'Oh. You have no idea just how mean, kid.' He thought to himself.
"No, no monsters here. Go back to sleep."
The boys pout turned into a frown, "You didn't even look."
"Because I don't need to."
"Please, Mister Witcher." His bottom lip wobbled in a practiced tremble as his eyes grew even bigger.
Aiden bit back another smile. Kid was good, he'd give him that. Such audacity deserved some sort of reward.
"Alright. One very quick monster check, then you go to sleep. Deal?"
The boy nodded enthusiastically, "My name's Julian, by the way."
"I don't care."
"...are you going to tell me yours?"
"No."
"Can I see your swords?"
"No."
"How about your-"
"How about no talking until we make absolutely sure there's nothing waiting in your wardrobe?"
Turns out the only monstrous thing in Julian's wardrobe was a few hideous combinations of frills and lace. Behind the curtains yielded nothing, as did underneath the bed.
"Ok. Now you hold up your end of the deal and go to sleep."
Julian scowled at him in response from where he was now stood up on the feather mattress to watch rather than huddled under the sheets, arms crossed expectantly.
"What?"
"You're supposed to say sweet dreams."
Aiden blinked at him before replying "Sweet dreams." Monotonously.
"Tuck me in?"
Aiden cast the sign for somne, Julian's body flopping down before he'd even finished. Cheeky little fuck would've been wanting a lullaby next. Still, it wouldn't do for him to get cold, there was no fireplace in this room after all. He grabbed the quilt from the bottom of the bed, not bothering to straighten it as it fell haphazardly over the small body before doing what he should have done thirty minutes ago and taking his leave back through the window.
"I told my parents about you the next morning. They didn't believe me of course. Said it was probably just a dream and that if there had been a Witcher in my room I'd be dead. Although, I suppose that explains why my Uncle Desmond looked apoplectic when I came down to breakfast. I never knew he'd hired you to, you know." He flicked a hand across his neck in a throat cutting motion. "Why didn't you by the way? Not that I'm saying I wish you had or anything. I was a human child, you could've killed me multiple times as easily as scratching an itch but you didn't. Why?"
Aiden's features settled into a frown, "Oh trust me, if your Uncle had waited ten more years it probably would've been a very different outcome. As it is, once I had all the facts, I just decided against accepting a contract on a kid. The one who offered me the contract however..."
Jaskiers eyebrows shot up as he shuffled further forwards, "Are you saying you offed my uncle? He did just sort of... disappear."
"Not exactly. I merely broke back in and left evidence of what he'd planned somewhere I knew the current Viscount would find it. What he chose to do with that I had no involvement in. If he just so happened to be on the lookout for an assassin and I was coincidentally still in the area, well...no Witcher is ever going to turn down such well paying jobs so close together."
Jaskier laughed, causing the wolves to look at him in shock, "Oh don't look like that. I didn't learn the extent of it until I was older but besides trying to murder me he was an absolute cock. Definitely not somebody you'd want in charge of anything!"
"The ones that desperate for power usually aren't." Eskel mused, Lambert raised his cup in agreement.
"You know, I'm so happy that Geralt ended up being the Witcher I ran into in Posada. But when I started out from Oxenfurt, I was actually looking for you."
Aiden straightened up in slight surprise, "Why?"
"Because I wanted to do this." Jaskier got down on the floor and once again wrapped his arms around Aiden, the Witcher returning the hug this time.
"Thanks." Jaskier muttered, "For humouring a scared, probably irritating as hell, little boy."
Aiden tightened his hold slightly, "You're welcome, Julian."
youâre skittish, of course, and yet you still tilt your head. brush everything aside. give me space to clamp my jaws down on your throat. make the sweetest sounds, too. squirm not to get away but get closer. i could tear you apart. i should tear you apart. you should not be offering this so easily. itching for the slice of teeth that are too sharp. something, somehow, that soothes & delights. doesnât send you running. why arenât you running? you should not let me take and take and take. but you do. i could bleed you dry. and i want to. i want to feel your pulse get weaker and weaker while i drink my fill. feel you grow cold beneath me. donât i?
(the 'jaskier likes a dilf fic' fic has a sequel, because i'm very nice ;)
following this
The blood is getting into Geraltâs eyes.
âFuck,â he mutters, blinking it away, the wound on his forehead throbbing with every step he takes.
It must be a bad one if his healing still hasnât kicked in. The gash runs deep and long near his hairline, bleeding sluggishly along his face. Geralt feels dizzy with the blood loss, the world spinning before his eyes. His senses are dulledâdark spots swimming in his vision, the ringing in his ears, slowed reflexes.
Head wounds are tricky bastards, he curses silently.
Geralt lets his feet drag himself forward, with much resistance from the uneven terrain and the injury, but carrying a fully grown man certainly doesnât make it easier.
âOh, thank you, master witcher!â Andrej says, draped over Geraltâs shoulder, head lolling upside down. Between every other word, he hisses from the pain in his broken foot. âIf it werenât for you, that beast would have eaten me whole!â
âHmm.â
Geralt grunts, head pounding.
âI know you are a humble man, master. Jaskier told me all about it! He said youâd never admit to being a hero, but you are! Whatever shall I do to repay this debt?â
He says Jaskierâs name so casually, so intimately, without titles or honorifics.
The headache suddenly gets worse. Geralt has to suppress a groan. The barkeepâs weight is slipping from his shoulders, so he hikes him up with a jolt.
âNot humble,â he squeezes out the words in the end. âJust doing my job.â
âStill, you have no idea how much this means to me. To think I nearly died today, and my Lucja would have been left without a family. I fear no one would have taken her in this time. When that beast dragged me away, all I could think about was my daughter, master Geralt! My life is of no importance, but my sweet LucjaâŚâ
Geralt grits his teeth as Andrej goes on and on about how he puts his daughterâs life before his, how he values nothing more in this life.
Stupid, kind-hearted Andrej, the best father in the world.
âHow noble of you,â Geralt says pettily, out of nowhere. The blood loss lowers his inhibitions, making him more candid than he would like.
More reasons for Geralt to hate head wounds.
Distantly, he remembers he should not make such jabs at an innocent man who deserves no ire from him, but Andrej doesnât seem to notice.
âI do not see raising my daughter as a noble deed, sir,â he simply goes on. âThey say I saved Lucjaâs life, but in truth, it was she who saved me! For you see, it is a privilege to love such a perfect daughter, who chose me as her family. I am only grateful for her arrival every single dayâŚâ
A growl falls out of Geraltâs throat on its own, the pettiness in his chest boiling hot. He barely notices the tavern appearing before his eyes as the good man rambles on.
Jaskier waits by the door, sitting on the step next to a small Lucja, whoâs eyes are red and puffy. His arm is around her and patting gently, eyes brightening as he finds Geralt carrying Andrej back safely.
Geralt sets the barkeep on the ground, relieved both physically and mentally. When the beast came and carried Andrej away right in the middle of town, the heartbreak in Jaskierâs eyesâŚ
He shakes away the memory of Jaskier panicked and pleading when the man of his dreams was in danger.
âPapa!â Lucja runs towards Andrej and jumps into his open arms. The broken foot is not the worst thing for a human, but it must still hurt when he lets her slam into him and picks her up.
Of course, the perfect father would do that.
âI am safe and sound, my sweet girl,â Andrej says between kissing Lucja. âYou must thank master witcher. He saved me!â
Jaskier is hovering around the both of them, touching and checking Andrej all over. His face finally relaxes into a smile when he turns to Lucja. âAs I said, Geralt is a hero! You see, your papa is back! Everything will be alright now!â
Geraltâs chest twists at the sight of the three of them, something heavy lodged in his throat. They make a lovely picture together, almost too precious for him to intrude.
With that, he turns to leave, but a dizzy spell suddenly takes over.
He stumbles, vision darkening. The ringing in his ears drowns out all the noises in the world, and thereâs something warm and sticky on his chin. He touches it, and his hand comes away with fresh blood.
Itâs nothing a few hours of meditation canât fix, but he does need the rest. Now that Jaskier has the perfect man back, heâll be busy cooing over his brave heart and broken foot, and on top of it, his undying paternal love even in the face of death.
Geralt needs to take care of himself, alone.
Itâs fine, nothing he hasnât done since before Jaskier came along.
Really, Itâs fine, he tells himself again.
Geralt winces, and takes another step. His head must be more messed up than he realizes, because he only hears his name called out after a few times.
ââŚGeralt?â Jaskier appears out of nowhere. âHey, darling. You are alright. Iâm right here.â
Careful hands support Geralt by the arms, taking most of his weight. By instinct, he leans into Jaskierâs embrace. Itâs familiar, and itâs a surprise.
Oh, Jaskier is right here.
âWhyââ Geralt says, shaking away the fuzzy feeling in his head but only making it worse. The confusion of Jaskierâs presence by his side grows. âAndrejââ
âHush, now. Here, let me.â Jaskier puts Geraltâs arm over his shoulder, guiding him up the stairs. âYou saved Andrej, alright? His foot will be fine, because you carried him all the way here. Stupid witcher with your stupid heartâŚâ
Jaskier complains more about Geraltâs heroics, but he didnât do it to be a hero. He only didnât want Jaskier to be sad.
âOh. Iâm not sad, dear. Donât you worry about me.â
Hmm. Somehow, Geralt has said the last part out loud.
âYeah, you did. Nowâoof, letâs get you into bed.â Jaskier answers another one of Geraltâs train of thoughts, pushing open the door to their bedroom. âYou are saying everything you think. It must be the head wound. Those are tricky bastards, I know.â
Geralt feels himself being lowered into the soft bed, the pillows against his back. Jaskier is all over him soon enough.
âJaskier?â
âYes?â
Those blue eyes are too close for Geralt to be thinking, he only leans into Jaskierâs touch. A soft, damp rug is pressed on his forehead, cleaning the blood away.
Geralt winces. âWhy are you here?â
Jaskierâs hand stops, holding the rag and hovering. He shifts closer on the bed, his thigh pressed against Geraltâs. âWhere else should I be?â
âAndrejâŚâ Geralt closes his eyes, waiting for Jaskier to have the same realization. âYou should go to him.â
Jaskier only looks more confused. His brows knit together in sympathy.
âOh, my sweet witcher. It must be the injury messing with your head. Ugh, now I know why you hate head injuries so much. Itâs making you ask these nonsensical questions.â
âNot nonsensical. YouâŚâ Geralt hesitates, not wanting to admit it to his treacherous heart. âYou love him.â
The room is silent for a moment. Geralt focuses his senses on Jaskierâs breathing, the steady rise and fall of his chest, grounding as always. The headache feels less intense when he can listen to Jaskierâs breathing like this.
The gash is still an open wound, and Jaskier resumes his gentle care, cleaning away the blood clots and finding the bandages from the drawer.
âHeâs a nice guy. I did, perhaps.â Jaskier says. âAnd?â
The bandage covers the wound, wrapping behind Geraltâs head. Jaskier gently tilts him forward so he can reach all the way around.
âAndâŚâ Geralt finds himself at a loss for words. âAnd, you love that heâs a good father to Lucja.â
Jaskier only shrugs, tucking in the corner of the bandage near Geraltâs nape. Both of his hands cup Geraltâs chin, helping him tilt forward, nearly tucking his face in Jaskierâs shoulder. A shudder runs down Geraltâs body at the closeness.
âLucja is a very lucky child.â Jaskier finishes his work and pulls away. âStill, you are hurt. Why should I be anywhere else?â
It comes out as naturally as breathing, like itâs a choice Jaskier has never needed to make. To stay with Geralt.
âHuh.â
âI may have a thing or two for these gentlemen who happen to be lovely parents.â Jaskier meets Geraltâs eyes, blinking. âBut as kind-hearted as Andrej is, heâs not the best father I know.â
Geralt blinks. âThere are better ones?â
An unnamed annoyance rises again in his chest. There are more men Jaskier is noticing, more of them for the bard to get all hot and bothered over.
Geralt is trying really hard to not pout, but he canât help the way his mouth tugs into the shape of displeasure. The blood loss must be getting to him.
A tiny smile appears at Jaskierâs lips, proud and wicked. âWhy, yes. Of course,â he says. âThereâs this one man. Heâs better than the rest of them combined.â
A low growl rumbles in Geraltâs chest on its own volition. Before he can hide it, Jaskier lets out a chuckle.
âShould I describe him to you, dear witcher, so you may learn about my most prestigious, and frankly, almost impossible standards?â
âNo, Jaskââ
Geralt really doesnât want to hear, yet again, how Jaskierâs attention has passed right over him and landed on another man, but Jaskier simply interrupts him.
âWhere shall I begin? You see, heâs the best one in my eyes, not because heâs perfect. Itâs the opposite, rather. Heâs just as flawed as everyone else when they become a parent for the first time, but he always tries to do better. He knows of his shortcomings, perhaps too much, too intimately.â Jaskierâs eyes soften. âHe feels guilty, for falling short in the early days, even after all this time. Thatâs why Iâm here to remind him, of how far heâs come, how much heâs done for his daughter. Itâs hard to raise an orphan-princess in the middle of war, you know?â
Jaskier smiles knowingly, and Geralt lets out a surprised oh.
âIââ he splutters. âJaskier, itâsâI donâtââ
Geraltâs stomach flutters, his cheeks heating up.
âAnd heâs the reasonâŚâ Jaskier pauses, caressing Geraltâs cheek gently, careful with his injuries. âWell, heâs the reason I started to notice the rest of them.â
âThe rest of them?â Geralt asks, brain still trying to catch up.
âMm-hmm.â Jaskier nods. âAll the other fathers started to catch my attention. Suddenly, I was swooning left and right at the sight of an older man taking care of his children. Once I added being a good dad to my list of standards, do you know what I realized?â
Geralt is now feeling woozy again, this time not for the blood loss. âWhat did you realize?â
Jaskierâs hand trails from Geraltâs face, making him chase for a brief moment, longing for the gentle touch. He catches Geraltâs hands, lifting them to his lips for a chaste kiss, and then another.
âNone of them can compare,â Jaskier answers, solemnly. âNot Andrej. Not any of them. I have a man in my heart already, taking up all of the space, showing up in all my dreams. When heâs here, heâs the only one I see. Flaws and all.â
Geralt is warm all over when Jaskierâs eyes are on him like this, like heâs the most important thing under the sky.
âHe soundsâŚâ Itâs hard to say it, but Geralt has always been more candid when his head is all over the place. âHe sounds amazing. You should tell him more.â
âYes.â Jaskierâs smile stretches. âI forget, sometimes, how deeply those doubts lie. Hopefully, heâll forgive me for being neglectful.â
âIâm sure he will.â
âOr I should just profess my undying love, and never let his insecurities prevail again.â
Geraltâs eyes widen, his heart nearly giddy with hope. âYou should.â
Jaskierâs features soften impossibly when he holds Geraltâs chin in his palm, leans in, and presses a gentle kiss on his eyebrow.
âWell, for one, he is you,â he whispers it like a secret, resting their foreheads together. âI love you, at your best and at your worst. I love all your faults and mistakes, and my love only grows when you try to do better. You are my favorite person, Geralt of Rivia. You are my heart, and my songs, and you are everything hopeful about this world. Nowââ Jaskier kisses him again on the cheek, a big wet kiss that he wipes away with a thumb, pulling away. âWill you stop being an idiot?â
Warmth spreads from Geraltâs stomach, making him hum with happiness. The way he melts into Jaskierâs embrace, losing all the words, may indicate that heâs still failing at the not-being-an-idiot part.
âYou love me,â Geralt mutters the most important thing, not sure how to react, so he traps Jaskier in his arms and buries his face in his chest, refusing to let go.
When Jaskier laughs, itâs carefree and indulgent, the vibration rumbling against Geraltâs cheek. His fingers have returned to Geraltâs hair, playing with it patiently.
âI love you, and Iâm in love with you, my brave, concussed, impossible witcher. I might even say I have a crush on you when you are being particularly sweet like this,â Jaskier says. âAnd you do need some rest if we want that head wound to heal, dear.â
But Geralt is very comfortable, snuggling into Jaskier like this, and he also has a crush in return.
âI need to tell you too.â Geraltâs voice comes out muffled and sleepy, his eyes closing in contentment. âSo you wonât have doubts⌠so youâll knowâŚâ
The fingers in his hair are soothing, petting in a gentle rhythm that is getting slower and slower, lulling Geralt into a meditative state.
âWhen your head is clear, perhaps,â Jaskier answers. âIâll still be here when you feel better. I shall confess my love again, lest you forget, and you can tell me all that you feel, all the sweet things you want to say to me. Wellâon the other hand, when you feel better, Iâll also have the chance to tease you.â
âWill you?â
Jaskierâs smile sounds wicked, but Geralt cannot find it in himself to care.
âOh, of course. Relentlessly. This is too good of an opportunity to pass, you getting the idea that I might care for Andrej more than you, simply because he is a good father. Hmm, letâs see, who should hear it first? Ah, yes. Ciri, of courseâŚâ
Jaskierâs voice blends into the background noise, chirping in excitement about the prospect of telling Ciri everything, his arms around Geralt, never for a second trying to let go.
Geralt closes his eyes, letting out a long sigh and finally letting himself rest in satisfaction.
A head wound may not be the worst thing in the world, he thinks.
He just needs to get better soon enough. Thereâs a love confession waiting for him, after all.
i am shrunken down and brought to the gnome world and when i attempt to assimilate to their culture I use an acorn cap as a hat and they all laugh cheerfully at my silly mistake of wearing what they use as a bowl like a cap and though this is a transgression that would have humiliated me in my human life I am instead laughing alongside them at my humorous misunderstanding
they ask me what I would like to eat and knowing that gnomes enjoy fruit i ask for my favorite fruit, an apple, and they all laugh raucously and say that i must be very hungry indeed to desire an entire apple rather than just a small chunk, and i go along with their joke and say that while my body may have shrank my stomach has not! and they all guffaw with delight until their faces turn red and see that my request is met and we all sit around a toadstool and share many apple slices together
over my time spent with the gnomes, my antics are still regarded with much delight. though i am past the age in which i am confused by their customs and norms, i occasionally pretend to be clueless about simple and easily understood things, such as shock at how toads are as tall as I am. they all continue to laugh at my feigned surprise, and sometimes join in, asking me if I need any help distinguishing what berries are for eating and which are for painting. i laugh, too. there is a sense of grace that comes with my shortcomings amongst the gnomes. they are entertained by my misunderstandings, yes, because life is to short to not be jolly.
i wake up one morning back at my original size. the small cavern in the roots of a tree that i lived in is destroyed in my sleep. my clothes, tailored from cut-up scraps of fabric, are shredded around me. i am a human again. i am horribly embarrassed.
the gnomes of the community gather around where i sit, all looking at me and exchanging glances with each other, none of them speaking the obvious. i can no longer stay here, now that i am not their size. but i was part of their community. i became one of them, indistinguishable from these people only from my past. how am i supposed to return to the world of the humans now? there is no life left for me there. that is not a life where i may fish for minnows in a babbling brook and feast off a bounty of raspberries. i am distraught. i cry.
my community comforts me. friends, all minuscule to me now, pat me wherever they can reach, nimbly dodging the tears that fall from my face. one of them offers me water. they don't have any containers that are big enough for me, they apologize, so just this acorn cap filled with morning dew will have to suffice.
i take the acorn cap and look at it in my hands. it is so small now. with a sniff, i put it atop my head.
the gnome chuckles. then laughs. then bends at the waist, bellowing with laughter, supporting himself on my knee. then i am laughing too, face red, tears still falling, and my community of gnomes laughs with me as well, so loud that a flock of birds takes off in the distance, and i am still laughing even as i stand to my feet and lumber away, back to where i once came.
For the people wanting to know more about them here are a few character facts:
-When they first met the knight did not like the jester. He found him infuriatingly ridiculous and silly. He is still mostly convinced that the jesters flirting isn't serious and that he's just doing it to make fun of him. Alas the jesters persistence is wearing him down. (How can you not like a silly little guy?)
-If you've seen my OG colored jester art then you may already know this but the Jester has heterochromia
-The jester has never actually seen the knights face. At this point the knight keeps refusing to take off his helmet just to annoy him and the jester keeps trying different methods to get it off of him which culminated into a game of strip poker where the knight removed every other piece of armor but left the helmet on
This is entirely @chronicoddity âs fault for sending me the slutty costume picture and then I couldnât resist đ
Not portrayed but a second later the knight panics and rips down a tapestry from the wall to cover the jester up with. If it was anyone else the king might have been upset given that it was a very old one but heâs enjoying the drama.
This addition is NOT for the jesters eyes so if you are him then leave now
Some knight sketch designs. Iâve had a pretty clear idea of what he looks like for a while now and finally wanted to do some for him. Also a few additional facts:
-The knight blames the jester for at least half of his gray hairs because of all the stress he puts him under. Fighting in battles is nothing compared to the stress of a jingly menace
-The jester likes to try and pick fights with guys bigger than him but then will do the âYou canât hit me! Iâm just a silly little guy!â He is always delighted when the knight steps up to defend him and sometimes does it purposefully for just that
-The knight definitely has some type of Pavlovian response to bells. If he hears jingling he immediately perks up and starts looking for his favorite menace
-Also once the jester finally does get to see his face he definitely targets that scar on his mouth for kisses
Iâve seen some people here getting insanely up in arms about people tagging their posts as fictional characters and itâs like⌠thatâs literally one of the most harmless things someone can do to your posts. Believe me.
I myself donât care at all, if I tell a funny story about something that happened to me and someone reblogs it and goes âthis is JUST like when Jean-Pierre and Kevin found the Magic Stoneâ I just nod. No idea who these people are but I agree. Typical Jean-Pierre and Kevin behavior.
This fic is dedicated to a sweet boy named Sunny that I desperately wanted to take home with me
-
âI think I love you.â
Jaskier smooshed his face against the glass, dancing his fingers in the air, watching the large cat within the enclosure stretch from its tail to its large paws, claws digging into the blanket it had just been lounging on.Â
He frowned, and lifted his head just enough to squint over at the piece of paper taped to the outside of the little kitty room. His tail and his large paws. Nose back to the glass, Jaskier cooed at the apparently two year old cat, his heart full to bursting as he stretched up to gently bap at the glass where Jaskierâs fingers were dancing.
âOh, youâre just the sweetest, arenât you? Such a good boy, the best boy.â Said best boy was also the largest cat Jaskier had ever seen, and according to his nice little blurb he liked cuddles.
Big, warm cuddles. He really never stood a chance.
âJaskier.â
The exasperation in that tone made Jaskier pout, which really worked in his favor when he turned to Geralt. For maximum effect, he jutted his lip out a little more (he considered a quiver but thought it would be too much), and didnât have to try that hard to get his eyes to mist.
âHis name is Sunny.â
âNo.â
âHeâs been here for so long, Geralt!â A strategic step sideways covered up the little kitty blurb, and he hid the movement with a wild gesture. âJust- just look at him! Look at that face! Can you really say no to that face?â
Geralt didnât look at Sunny, his arms crossed, the betta pellets theyâd come for in his hand.Â
âIn and out, Jaskier. We donât need anything-â
âHe needs us, though.âÂ
â-but the fish food. Have you even owned a cat before?â
Deflating, Jaskier heaved a sigh, turning to stare wistfully at the sweet baby who was now batting around a crinkle toy behind him. âNo. My father was allergic, and even after the divorce my mother couldnât stand them. Sheâd apparently owned quail once and had a vendetta ever since one killed a few of them.â
âAn impulse fish is one thing,â Geralt said, though not unkindly. And he was right, technically, even if Jaskier wasnât a fan of the logic.Â
Didnât mean Jaskier was really ready to give up. Especially when Sunny meowed at him - Jaskier gasped, and cooed at him again, letting the sweet ginger boy chase his fingers.Â
âHe has such a tiny voice for such a big, big man. Isnât he so sweet though?â
Geralt was quiet standing next to him, and Jaskier studiously ignored his judgment, complimenting the newest love of his life like heâd never get the chance to ever again.Â
In the midst of their bonding, Geralt leaned down to read Sunnyâs bio, dryly saying âbeen here so longâ when he saw Sunny had only been there for three days. He was still reading it when a worker came by at a brisk walk, holding a dripping mop and pushing their frazzled bangs out of their face.
âHeâs up for greetings if you want,â they said quickly, stopping just long enough to point at another worker who was fishing out some cherry shrimp for a mother and her small child. âSheâs got the keys.â
âWe can meet him?â Jaskier was certain the worker was an angel, albeit an angel barely hanging on to their sanity, and he quickly turned his big, wet eyes to Geralt again before he could try to talk him out of it. âJust a quick meet and greet. A cuddle or two. A hug? It couldnât hurt anything, and heâs probably lonely.â
Geralt gave up in record time, sighing with a shake of his head as he went to fetch the worker with the keys. And Jaskier did his best to not be a sore winner and hid his fist pump.Â
In a matter of minutes, they were let into the back, in a small room where the kitties could meet their prospective adopters. Sunny was plopped down with little fanfare, and he stretched himself out again, reaching up a nice scratching post on the white cat tree that took up a good portion of the room.Â
Determined to make the most of their short time together, Jaskier picked through a toy box until he found a nice feather wand, and he did his best to get Sunnyâs attention. But Sunny only watched the feather for a few seconds, batted at it once, and decided the tall man that was ignoring him was far more interesting.Â
Geralt didnât even flinch when Sunny launched himself at him, climbing up his leg like he was the cat tree. Up he went until he was standing on Geraltâs shoulders, and he let out a soft mew, bonking his head against Geraltâs hard enough that Jaskier heard it.
âMust have a hollow head,â Jaskier said solemnly, coming up next to them to pat Sunnyâs side gently. âOrange cats share a brain cell, Iâve heard.â
For a split second, Geralt frowned. His hand went up to steady the large cat that had decided to sit on his shoulder, Sunnyâs weight shifting as he licked a paw and started to clean his face.
âHeâs not dumb,â Geralt said decisively, and if Jaskier hadnât known any better he would have said fondly.
Or, maybe he didnât know better. He squinted at Geralt, who was not looking at him - rather pointedly not looking at him.
âNo, no. Of course heâs not dumb.â Jaskier stroked Sunnyâs soft fur, letting his tail flop with a thud against Geraltâs back. âIâd hate for anyone to think he was.â
When Sunny started to purr, Geraltâs expression softened, and Jaskier had to bite back a devious grin.Â
âCan you imagine misunderstanding such a sweet boy?â He sighed dramatically, scritching Sunnyâs chin - and Geralt had to hold onto him to make sure the poor thing didnât fall right off his shoulder. âI hope he gets picked by someone who would love him, and who wouldnât ever dream of insulting him.â
âI know what youâre doing.â
âI have no idea what youâre talking about,â Jaskier lied, but one look at Geraltâs face and he gave up with a full body slump. âFine. But Iâm not wrong, we could give him the best home.â
âWe donât have anything for cats at home.âÂ
Jaskier opened his mouth to respond, but snapped it shut, narrowing his eyes at Geralt - because that had not been his âweâre absolutely not doing thisâ tone. And Jaskier was ever an optimist when it came to getting what he wanted.
So he leaned into his boyfriend, arm wrapped around his waist, and pet the sweet kitty who was hard at work making biscuits out of Geraltâs shoulder.Â
âPet store,â he said, catching Geraltâs gaze and flicking his eyes towards the door. âAnd if weâre confused, we could always ask for help picking out what heâd need. Look, Geralt, he loves you - could you really say no to that face?â
Sunny took that moment to bonk Geralt on the head rather hard, and Jaskier saw the moment Geralt gave in.Â
âFine,â he grumbled, but Jaskier was already pumping the air before he got the word out. âYouâre cleaning the cat box.â
âA fair trade for taking such a sweet, good boy home.â Jaskier reached up to scratch both of Sunnyâs cheeks, and teared up when the kitty started to lick his hand. Heâd never fallen in love so fast in his life and couldnât wait to set their place up for Sunny - it was going to take a chunk out of his savings but it was absolutely worth it.
Especially when he caught a glimpse of the soft smile Geralt was trying to hide. He wasnât the only one whoâd fallen in love, after all.
When heâs still coming down from his potions, everything is too loud, too bright, too scratchy, too bitter. Usually, Geralt pushes through that - heâs been trained to do so, as every witcher is - and sometimes the routine of cleaning his armor and swords, making sure his trophy is bundled up in oilcloth, and bandaging any injuries he may have taken - in whatever order seems best at the time - is enough that he can almost forget that the light is like daggers in his brain and his tunic feels like it weighs as much as full plate.
Or rather, that is what Geralt used to do, before Jaskier.
These days, when he gets back to camp, still black-eyed and corpse-pale, stained with the ichor of his kills, Jaskier is waiting. Thereâs a bucket of water beside the fire so Geralt doesnât need to use an Igni to warm it, and clean cloths stacked next to it, and a White Honey in case even Geraltâs twice-Grassed strength is not enough to bear the potions he has had to take.
And Jaskier is waiting, setting his lute down as soon as he sees Geralt approaching and bouncing to his feet to help Geralt out of his armor, murmuring under his breath at the mess and the recalcitrant buckles but never raising his voice enough for it to hurt Geraltâs too-sensitive ears. He lets Geralt clean his armor, because Geralt is particular about it, but Jaskier has learned to stitch up a wound and to apply poultices, and itâs his clever hands that wipe the ichor and blood from Geraltâs skin with soft cloths soaked in warm water, gently enough that it doesnât scratch at all.
And when everything has been tended, Jaskier coaxes Geralt down onto their shared bedroll, where he can rest his head on Jaskierâs chest and listen to the bardâs heartbeat and the low murmuring of Jaskierâs constant chatter - still kept almost too quiet for any but witcher ears to hear - while Jaskier strokes his hair in long, gentle passes.
The fire is still too bright, but Geralt can look away from it. Speech would still be too loud, but Geralt can focus on the steady quick beat of Jaskierâs heart, and tune out everything else. Cloth would still be too rough, but Jaskierâs skin is soft, his surprisingly abundant hair also astonishingly fluffy. Geralt has gotten into the habit of rubbing his fingers over it, just gently, and focusing on that tiny tickling sensation instead of anything else.
He loses time, like that. He has no idea how long it takes him to purge the potions from his system; how long until his eyes are yellow once again, his skin a slightly less unnatural white. But however long it takes, Jaskier is there holding him, ever-moving hands steady on Geraltâs hair and shoulders, ever-babbling tongue made softer for Geraltâs sake.
Is it any wonder, then, that when Geralt feels like the world is bearable again, the first thing that he does is push himself up just far enough to kiss those singing lips?
Geralt comes into the kitchen to find Jaskier leaned over the counter, rifling through an enormous, open bag of Halloween candy with a focused expression. Beside him on the counter is a pile of little yellow boxes.Â
Heâs momentarily distracted by his boyfriendâs costumeâthe sparkly silver mini skirt that shows off his long legs hugged by white stockings, the matching bra, the platform shoes. The straps of his garter belt disappear under the fabric in a way that is extremely distracting indeed. Itâs barely 5pm, though; there are many hours to go before Geralt can peel that costume off him, so he tears his eyes away and tries to focus.Â
âWhat are you doing?â
âPicking out all the Milk Duds,â he says without looking up, tongue sticking out in concentration between darkly painted lips. Geralt is almost afraid to ask, but he canât resist.
ââŚWhy?â
âBecause I hate them, Geralt,â he says as though itâs obvious, and continues to jiggle the bag around, peering into the brightly-colored depths to pluck out any hiding boxes. âItâs right there in the name: these little bastards are DUDS. Gross tacky caramel, too sweet, they stick in your teethâŚugh. And this is our bag of Backup Candy, and if we donât wind up needing to dig into this bag, I donât want to risk getting stuck with a whole heap of little boxes of disappointment that will sit around in the pantry for six months before I throw them out. Soooooo, Iâm pulling out all the shit candy and adding it to the bowl.â
Geralt blinks. âWhy not just buy a bag without Milk Duds then?â
Jaskier huffs and rolls his eyes like Geralt is the one being unreasonable, tossing the poofy white wig out of his face. Geralt canât help the fond smile that breaks over his face watching his ridiculous boyfriend. âBecaaaause, this is the bag that has the Reeses Pieces and Whoppers! But those great candies come at a price, and that price is Milk Duds. Thus, my very smart plan is to ditch them in the bowl for the trick or treaters.âÂ
âSure. For the kids.â
âKids are stupid, Geralt, and have notoriously bad taste in candy.â Jaskier dumps a double handful of Milk Duds over the top of the pile of candy in their biggest mixing bowl, then stands back with his hands on his hips and regards it skeptically before leaning back in to stir up the contents a bit and disguise his candy crimes among miniature Snickers and little packages of M&Ms. âAs long as itâs sugar, theyâre happy. They eat Smarties, for fuck's sake. And candy corn. Hell, I used to eat those black and orange taffy things with the chalky peanut butter in the middle when I was a kid, and those are only barely candy.â
Geralt shakes his head at the rambling, smiling helplessly, and picks up the big bowl of candy to take to the porch. Jaskier snags a Twix out of the bowl as he takes it away. This is their first year living together, and somehow, despite knowing each other for a decade and dating for two years before moving in together, itâs still been a journey of discovery sharing these little moments with Jaskier. He loves it.
âStop eating candy, Jaskier. Youâll make yourself sick. Eat some real food.â
Jaskier squawks indignantly. It's one of Geralt's favorite sounds. âIâve only had, likeâŚthree pieces!â
âI can see the pile of wrappers in the trash. Unless Roach has been eating chocolate? Do we need to go to the vet instead of handing out candy?â he asks dryly as he leaves the room.
âNo. FINE, Iâll eat some cheese or something.â He can hear the pout in his boyfriendâs voice. Itâs adorable.
âPut on the ears, Geralt!â Jaskier calls after him. âAnd the tail! Without them youâre just wearing all black, and that is not a costume.â Geralt rolls his eyes and groans, but snags the cat-hear headband and the long tail off the entryway table on his way outside anyway. Despite his grumbling, he loves giving out candy to the kids in his neighborhood, though heâs never dressed up before. He plops into one of the chairs on their broad front porch and settles the cat ears onto his head with a soft smile, ready for trick or treaters.
so obviously drinking blood from someone's neck is incredibly homoerotic, it's a classic for a reason
but someone drinking from your wrist? getting to look at them as they sink their teeth in your skin?? being able to watch as their eyes flutter close and they barely hold back their instincts to devour you whole??? Being just as enthralled by that sight as they are by your taste???? hello?????
Additional tags: porn what plot/porn without plot, okay there's some plot but not a lot, threesome- m/m/m, roleplay, possesive behavior, biting, so much biting, chasing as a sexual act, yeah that's a thing now, rimming, face-sitting, oral sex, blowjobs, jaskier has a fat ass because i said so, coming untouched, fight sex, spitroasting in a way
Word count: 3,448 words
Chapters: 1/1
Rating: explicit
Part 3 of the Predator & Prey series
Summary: "What kind of animal would I be," Radovid drawled, the words leaving his mouth before he could stop himself. Jaskier sent him a strange look.
"Pardon?"
"In this game of yours," Radovid clarified. He tightened his grasp around Jaskier's hips. "What am I?"
Jaskier tilted his head to the side as he inspected his face. His eyes darkened, his tongue poking out to wet his lips.
"A fox," Jaskier concluded. Radovid hummed.
"Elaborate on that."
"Smart, cunning," Jaskier explained, teasing a finger down the side of Radovid's neck. "Crafty. Seemingly a harmless puppy, but you bite hard. Not afraid of a challenge. Leaner and not as tough as a wolf - but still very strong. And you have these sharp features and that reddish tint to your hair, so... a fox. Definitely."
Well, Radovid could make do with that information. It planted a new image in his head - one where that sweet, eager bunny was hunted by not one, but two apex predators at once...
It was as if Jaskier read his mind because he leant in really close to his ear and whispered "why? Would you like to join us?"
Author's notes: So why isn't Geralt/Jaskier/Radovid a thing? (okay okay I know it's because Geralt and Radovid hasn't met in canon but oh well)
Anyway, I had this mental image in my head since someone mentioned that Radovid looks like a fox, so I invited him to Jaskier and Geralt's little game. Oh, also, these fics aren't in chronological order or anything, and the individual stories aren't necessarily connected. The only thing that ties them together is the wolf and bunny roleplay.
Read on Ao3
*
Radovid never thought himself to be the type to share, but he quickly had to learn that Jaskier couldn't be tied down. His heart would always belong to Geralt, and so he would always return to his witcher. It bothered him at first, but he soon learnt to appreciate the times he got to spend with Jaskier all the more for it. The bond between Jaskier and Geralt was an unbreakable one, but it did not make Jaskier's love for Radovid inferior. He had enough love for the both of them.
And, well, there may have been a thrill in that, too - shortly after they started seeing each other, Jaskier revealed to him how adventurous his sex life was with Geralt. Getting past the initial jealousy of the knowledge, Radovid grew intrigued by the mental image of Jaskier being naughty with his big buff witcher. Radovid saw him in passing, and he couldn't deny that Geralt was very attractive. Him and Jaskier must have looked delicious together.
Eventually, it was Radovid himself that would ask about the things Jaskier and Geralt did together. One night, Jaskier opened up about something that made his eyebrows shoot up, and heat coil in his core at the same time.
Jaskier had a cheeky little smile on his face as he revealed the details to him about a certain game that he liked to play with Geralt.
"To be fair, we don't always do it like that," Jaskier chuckled from where he sat on Radovid's lap, his arms wrapped around the prince's neck. "But pretty often. We both enjoy it a lot. It's... thrilling. Letting go completely. The animalistic desire of it all, literally. It's always the best kind of sex we have."
"So, Geralt is a wolf, because that's the nickname you came up with for him all those years ago," Radovid mused. He idly caressed Jaskier's lower back. "And you're a bunny, because..."
"Ah, it's not just the nickname. I mean, that happened for a reason. It's his personality. Strong, brave, insanely protective of his loved ones. He's a hunter, all sharp teeth and deep growls. Hard, steely muscles. Agile and fast. A lone wolf, most of the time, but caring for his pack a lot. He can be a bit possessive too, I guess. The dark clothes, hiding him in the darkness of the night as he's looking for his prey... Yeah."
Radovid noted how Jaskier's breath hitched the more he spoke about Geralt like that, and how his cheeks flushed. He really seemed to like this game.
"And, uhm, I'm a bunny because I'm overly energetic, soft and roundish, and irresistibly adorable."
Radovid laughed. "Yes, you are."
"And you know, it's quite sexy to play prey. Just letting a big scary predator do whatever the hell they want to me."
Radovid hummed. He drew patterns onto Jaskier's skin with his fingertips. The more Jaskier said, the more Radovid felt himself become interested. He imagined Jaskier on all fours, whimpering and presenting his rotund behind to a snarling Geralt. He grew hard in his breeches at the thought. Jaskier must have noticed the bulge under him, because he made an amused little sound and wiggled his ass against it.
"Oh, my, what do we have here?"
"What kind of animal would I be," Radovid drawled, the words leaving his mouth before he could stop himself. Jaskier sent him a strange look.
"Pardon?"
"In this game of yours," Radovid clarified. He tightened his grasp around Jaskier's hips. "What am I?"
Jaskier tilted his head to the side as he inspected his face. His eyes darkened, his tongue poking out to wet his lips.
"A fox," Jaskier concluded. Radovid hummed.
"Elaborate on that."
"Smart, cunning," Jaskier explained, teasing a finger down the side of Radovid's neck. "Crafty. Seemingly a harmless puppy, but you bite hard. Not afraid of a challenge. Leaner and not as tough as a wolf - but still very strong. And you have these sharp features and that reddish tint to your hair, so... a fox. Definitely."
Well, Radovid could make do with that information. It planted a new image in his head - one where that sweet, eager bunny was hunted by not one, but two apex predators at once...
It was as if Jaskier read his mind because he leant in really close to his ear and whispered "why? Would you like to join us?"
Radovid had to think of that very old lady from the kitchen to stop himself from coming inside his pants like a pathetic teenager.
"Seriously?" He asked, his voice choked up with arousal. Jaskier bit his lip in a sultry way as he nodded.
"Mhm. I'd love that."
"And Geralt? You said he's possessive."
"Yeah, but I'm here, aren't I? He lets me play with you, too, so I don't think he would hate the idea."
To emphasize his words, Jaskier slipped a hand inside Radovid's collar and caressed his chest, running his fingers through the coarse hair there teasingly.
"That wolf loves spoiling his bunny," Jaskier all but moaned into his ear, "and if his bunny wants to be hunted down by a fox as well, he will cave in."
Radovid reached up to tangle his hands in Jaskier's hair, pulling him down into a heated kiss. He couldn't stop thinking about the idea for a single second.
--
Apparently, Geralt was on board right away. He really had to be whipped for his bunny - not that Radovid blamed him for it. He also never managed to resist Jaskier.
He joined them in their camp in the woods. Slipping out without his guards noticing and making a huge ruckus wasn't an easy task, but he managed. He did laugh at himself a little for how ridiculous it was, that a wealthy prince was sneaking around in the forest just to pretend to be animals with two other men, but his curiosity and his lust were stronger than his embarrassment.
His breath caught in his throat when he spotted Jaskier, sitting on Geralt's lap like he sat on his just about a week prior, dressed only in one of Geralt's shirts and nothing else. He rocked against Geralt's crotch in a steady rhythm as they kissed languidly. Geralt's big hands squeezed the soft, thick flesh of Jaskier's thighs as he pulled him closer. The sight of them together was beautiful.
"Hello?" Radovid called out, a little uncertain. The pair broke apart. Jaskier's eyes lit up when he saw him. Geralt gave him a nod as he released Jaskier.
"You came," Jaskier grinned as he rushed over to him and kissed him on the lips happily. If his mind wasn't already so fried with arousal, Radovid would've made a "not yet" joke.
His eyes fell on Geralt, once him and Jaskier parted. His naked, extremely chiseled torso drew his eye. He understood perfectly why Jaskier was so attracted to him - all those hard muscles, that tall, broad built were ridiculously gorgeous.
"We haven't officially met yet," Radovid said as he reached his hand out for Geralt. Geralt shook his hand with a hum. His skin was warm and his fingers calloused, so different from his and Jaskier's softer, smaller hands.
"You have a surprisingly strong handshake," Geralt noted. Radovid couldn't help but smirk. He glanced at Jaskier who watched them curiously, his long lashes fluttering.
"Are there any rules?"
"Not really, just let go and enjoy," Jaskier told him. "And if someone doesn't like something, we can always stop."
"You gotta show me how it's done," Radovid drawled. Jaskier grinned.
"Want some free show, huh?"
Radovid shrugged with a cheeky grin, but his eyes lit up with interest as Geralt stepped over to Jaskier. It was truly a miracle how Jaskier, who was merely a couple inches shorter than Geralt, with a fairly muscular built covered with nice handfuls of soft flesh managed to look so much smaller compared to the witcher. It was in the way his eyes grew big and innocent as he looked up at him, Radovid noted. A strange instinct, one he's lacked before, flared up in him as he watched Geralt kiss Jaskier with fervor, all but devouring the bard as his hands squeezed all over Jaskier's needily trembling body.
Jaskier threw his head back, revealing his neck to Geralt. Geralt licked a long stripe over his throat, and Jaskier made a noise that caused Radovid to stifle a similar sound.
"Is the bunny not gonna put on a fight?" Geralt drawled. He nosed at Jaskier's jaw with a smirk. "Doesn't he wanna escape?"
"Does he even stand a chance," Jaskier moaned, clawing at Geralt's chest as Geralt sucked on his throat, painting it deep blue and purple with his marks. Jaskier's eyes fell to Radovid, still so big and pleading. Fuck, this was really, really hot. "Does he even stand a chance against two predators at the same time?"
Geralt's eyes were dark and curious as he looked at Radovid.
"Does he?" He asked. Radovid looked at Jaskier, who licked his lips excitedly. His eyes were hooded with lust. The fire inside Radovid burnt harder.
"No, he doesn't," he replied, his voice deeper, thicker than usual. It surprised even him.
"Oh, let's see about that," Jaskier grinned. Then, he started running - not very fast, mind. He clearly had no intention to actually outrun Geralt who sent Radovid a questioning look before he leapt after him.
That would've been so ridiculous if Radovid wasn't so turned on already. Running through the woods in his fancy boots like an idiot? Chasing his lover who pretended to be a horny rabbit?
That was exactly what he did when overcome by a mad lust he hasn't felt before, started running after them. He could only hope he wouldn't trip over a branch and break his neck.
The adrenaline, along with an unfamiliar, primal lust pumped through his veins as he ran between the trees, never losing sight of the other two. Jaskier played the part really well: he kept throwing anxious glances over his shoulder, as if he wasn't burning up with the desire to get caught. Geralt was close on his tail, and Radovid soon caught up to them as well.
Jaskier - possibly on purpose - tripped, and Geralt took the opportunity to grab him and tackle him down onto the ground. Jaskier let out a gasp as Geralt pinned him down, his iron grip around Jaskier's wrists never easing up as he sunk his teeth into Jaskier's neck, growling around the patch of skin in his mouth. Jaskier writhed underneath him, weakly struggling under Geralt's bulk.
Radovid came to kneel next to them on the ground. He watched with rapt interest as Jaskier moaned and whimpered in pleasure as Geralt bit all over his neck and chest, leaving red teeth marks on his skin.
"Doesn't the fox want to take a bite?" Geralt suddenly asked him, his voice surprisingly cheeky. "Don't let go of your prey that easily."
A growl ripped out of Radovid as he leant down and nuzzled Jaskier's neck. Jaskier tilted his head back, encouraging him. So, Radovid did as Geralt told him, and took Jaskier's soft skin between his teeth. It yielded deliciously, and he trembled and whined so prettily. Radovid wanted to hear more. He grabbed Jaskier's shirt and tore at it, trying to get more of his body. Jaskier practically purred in delight.
Radovid and Geralt knocked together in their haste to try and claw and bite as much at Jaskier as they could. Radovid gasped when Geralt suddenly nosed at his neck. He looked up at him questioningly, and Radovid nodded. He swore under his breath when Geralt nipped at him, lighter than he did to Jaskier.
He wasn't sure what came over him again when he growled and sunk his own teeth into Geralt's neck. The witcher's breath hitched. His skin was different from Jaskier's, his scent stronger. Radovid growled harder as he bit all over Geralt's neck, one of his hands gripping at Jaskier's chest and pushing him down on the ground.
Geralt lightly shoved at him, clearly not putting in as much strength as he could, lest he completely shattered him. His eyes were dark with lust as he bit at Radovid's shoulder, tearing at his shirt.
"Mine," Geralt growled, possessively squeezing at Jaskier's thigh. Jaskier's breathing picked up as he watched his predators fight over him, absolutely delighted by the sight.
"Mine," Radovid snarled back. He clawed at Geralt's chest, his fingernails leaving a faint red mark on his skin. When he pulled back, he saw that there was a tiny smear of blood on Geralt's neck where he bit too hard. Radovid's eyes widened in horror.
"Shit, I didn't mean to..."
"That's okay," Geralt drawled, licking his lips. "That's a feisty fox you lured here, little bunny."
Jaskier grinned. His cheeks were flushed pink, his chest heaving with his aroused breaths. His cock was straining, steadily oozing precome.
"Very bitey. I like it."
"Let me just..." Radovid leant in and licked the droplet of blood off Geralt's neck. He was surprised to find Geralt shivering in response.
"Fuck," Jaskier moaned. He pushed himself up on his elbows to see better. "Oh, these are some very possessive predators, alright."
Geralt hovered above him. His strong hands held Jaskier down as he licked and nibbled all over his body. Jaskier looked like the most beautiful, most delicious meal as he laid beneath them, so open, so willing. Radovid hasn't seen him like that before, but now that he did, he couldn't get enough.
They were right about this game, he thought as he sucked hickies into Jaskier's hip, adding his own marks to Geralt's collection. This sinful roleplay woke something primal up in him as well, something that made him want to shed every societal expectation, that made him want to never stop biting and clawing at that beautiful prey beneth him.
He was going to eat him alive.
"Hop on my face," he told Jaskier. Jaskier sent him an amused look, but he did sit up gingerly, grinning when Radovid lay on the ground and started grabbing at his hips.
"Aw, the fox seems really hungry," Jaskier cooed as he climbed up on Radovid's body, hovering above his face in a backwards position. "Don't worry, we have just the treat for him."
He started lowering himself down. Radovid grabbed him and yanked him down in one quick motion, until Jaskier's plump buttocks covered his face. Jaskier let out a gasp when Radovid licked over his hole with a hungry moan. He grabbed onto Jaskier's meaty thighs, digging his fingers into his flesh as he lapped at Jaskier's entrance.
"Oh... What a clever tongue this fox has", Jaskier moaned. He ground his hips down gently, his breath hitching when Radovid lightly nipped at his sensitive skin.
Radovid felt something brush against him. Since he couldn't see due to Jaskier's luscious body covering his face, he could only guess that Geralt knelt over him.
He heard the sound of a belt unbuckling. He moaned straight into Jaskier's hole that fluttered against his tongue eagerly.
"The bunny seems pretty hungry, too," Geralt said. There was an excited little gasp, then Jaskier leant forward. Radovid heard Geralt let out a moan, then hot, wet, sucking sounds. He realized Jaskier started sucking Geralt off, and that made his already painfully hard cock twitch.
"Isn't it great that there's enough of this bunny to share," Geralt growled. His voice rumbled deep in his chest, thick with arousal. Jaskier moaned, his voice muffled by the cock in his mouth.
"He's a whole feast."
He definitely was, and Radovid truly wanted to devour him. He pointed his tongue and thrust it inside, making Jaskier's hips twitch above him. He was heavy, and so warm, his bum, round and thick like a ripe peach, covered his entire face. He ran his hands over his fuzzy, soft thighs, enjoying the way they trembled.
He felt Geralt place a hand on his knee as he moved forward to rock into Jaskier's mouth. Jaskier made a choking sound as Geralt's cock hit the back of his throat. His hole fluttered around Radovid's tongue.
"Does the bunny taste good?" Geralt asked, breathless. While having Jaskier on his face was a heavenly experience, Radovid kind of wished he could see Geralt's face in the throes of passion right now. Radovid moaned again as he circled his tongue, teasing the sensitive nerve endings. Jaskier whimpered around Geralt's dick, grinding his hips down.
Jaskier breathed harshly through his nose as Geralt gently thrust into his mouth. Radovid followed suit as he buried his face in deeper, his hand kneading Jaskier's hips and thighs, fingernails digging into the small rolls at his waist forcefully. He caressed Jaskier's sensitive inner walls with his tongue before he pulled it out and teased it along his rim. Jaskier made a choked-up sound akin to a sob. Geralt shushed him softly.
"That's a good bunny, so good for us."
Radovid continued teasing that tight ring of muscle until Jaskier trembled above him, desperately rocking against his face for more. He plunged his tongue back in, stretching him out, forcing their needy bunny to take everything the fox and the wolf wanted to give him. He fucked Jaskier with his tongue in rhythm with Geralt who canted his hips into that needy mouth.
He heard a deep, guttural moan above him, then a shaky release of breath. Jaskier swallowed audibly. Radovid moaned when he realized what just happened.
"Fuck," Geralt moaned. He kissed Jaskier on the lips noisily. Jaskier whimpered against his mouth.
"Is the fox doing okay under there?" Geralt asked, gently tapping Radovid on the chest. "That rump is quite the handful."
Radovid gave Geralt a weak thumbs up. He could barely breathe with how heavy Jaskier was on his face, especially when he grinded down so desperately, rubbing his plump bottom right against his mouth, but right now, Radovid believed that if he died like this, suffocating under his bunny, it would be worth it.
He fucked Jaskier harder with his tongue, pointing it and thrusting it in as deep as he could. Jaskier cried out in pleasure as Radovid repeatedly hit his sweet spot with the tip of his tongue.
"That's it," Jaskier whimpered, his voice growing high-pitched, his hips stuttering as he approached his climax, "fucking devour me."
Radovid let out a groan. He circled his tongue quicker, his lips closing around Jaskier's hole like a vice to suck on it, attacking him with pleasure from every angle. When his teeth scraped his sensitive skin again, Jaskier came, nearly sobbing as he spilled over Radovid's chest.
Geralt helped Jaskier off Radovid's face. Radovid gasped for breath and blinked against the sudden light as Geralt's face came into view.
"Still good?" He asked. Radovid nodded tiredly. Jaskier nuzzled into his neck with a happy giggle.
"Everyone ate, but what about the wolf?" Jaskier cooed. He settled down comfortably, letting Radovid rest his head on his thighs. "I bet he's hungry."
Geralt's eyes were dark as they landed on Radovid. It made him tremble with want. Geralt reached for Radovid's belt with a questioning look. The prince nodded frantically.
He swore when Geralt's hand closed around his dick. The witcher gave it a few experimental pumps. Radovid threw a hand over his face as he continued cursing. Jaskier caressed his hair, murmuring something Radovid couldn't make out. He didn't even have the chance to comprehend anything because he was engulfed in a warm, wet mouth. He watched, mouth agape, as Geralt bobbed his head up and down, taking his full length easily.
"He's very good at this, isn't he," Jaskier purred, gently scratching at Radovid's scalp. Radovid gripped onto the grass, trying to hold on a little longer as Geralt sucked on his tip, his eyes dark with lust. "When a beast like that unhinges its jaw, you'll be swallowed whole."
Geralt took this opportunity to sink completely down on Radovid's dick, choking lightly when he hit the back of his throat.
Being so aroused for so long now, it didn't take much for Radovid to lose it and empty his load into Geralt's mouth. Geralt pulled off slowly, making sure his teeth scraped over Radovid's oversensitive dick, causing it to twitch one last time.
Geralt laid next to him and kissed Jaskier over Radovid's head. Radovid looked up at them, a grin spreading on his face.
This was definitely the weirdest thing he's ever done, but also the most amazing.
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