MarwoLovescrafting

[marwolaeth1993]

I'm Marwolaeth1993, I'm ace and bigenderfluid, preferring the pronouns they and them. I started writing the witcher fanfics about 6 years ago, have posted a few on ao3 under my pennane Marwolaeth1993 and I'm working on several more.

I'm inspired by inexplicifics, who wrote the witcher AU, The Accidental Warlord and his Pack (AWAU) and Must Brave the Thorns (MBTT) She is an amazing writer and lets me and others play around with her AU, she incourages us actually. So I wrote Growing like a weed, Inspired by AWAU. Most of my works are NSFW or cute and fluffy. If you stumble on this post feel free to check me out on ao3.

Welp that's it for a first post, follow me or not, I'm going to keep posting my ideas and will write whatever strikes me up the head and comes out of the plunny factory. I blame the AWAU discord server for most of my works.

[marwolaeth1993]

The weird cursed inn

There was a portion of the ceiling from which meatballs fell. Lambert didn’t know why that was happening or how exactly it was possible, his guess was a drunken mage spelled the ceiling to expell meatballs. But whatever the cause was, there were meatballs coming from the ceiling and after some poking and prodding and testing, Lambert had tasted one and they were actually pretty good. So Lambert figured it wasn't much of a problem to have free food coming from a portion of the ceiling.

For some reason the innkeeper didn't think it was a good thing. The man had hired Lambert to come and look at the ceiling expelling food afterall to try and fix it. Only Lambert had no idea how he could stop the ceiling from expelling food. One part expelled meatballs, another part just oozed some sort of spiced red tomato sauce, another part expelled vegetables and a fourth part spat out thin long strings of some sort of cooked dough. All of it was pretty tasty on their own but when you combined the four foods it was even better.

Lambert would never admit it but he had actually waited long enough for the ceiling to expel enough food for an entire meal and then some and he had enjoyed it. The innkeeper wasn't paying him much after all to figure out this very weird curse and Lambert wouldn’t be getting his coin until after he fixed the issue. And even if he did fix the issue, the coin he'd earn would barely be enough to pay for a single night in a room, not counting meals and stabling for his horse.

Surprisingly enough the innkeeper wasn't charging him extra for the room or the food or the stabling, for being a witcher. The man wasn't even being mean or rude. He was polite and more than a little desperate and fed up with random food coming from the ceiling in a hallway leading to the kitchen.

Lambert couldn't say he blamed the guy, it wasn’t very convenient to have food coming from your ceiling. It just fell to the floor and made a mess you had to clean up. But he mused, if you put a bowl or a plate under the patches of ceiling expelling food you could probably combine the four different food types and make a few meals and sell them.

Lambert wasn’t sure why the inkeep hadn't thought of that, maybe because the food wasn't exactly something you saw on the Continent. He certainly had no clue what the strings of cooked dough were. But they tasted pretty nice when combined with the sauce and the meatballs and the vegetables.

Though he supposed it was a bit hard to catch the food when the patches of ceiling it came from fucking changed every five minutes. Lambert cursed, loudly, in three different languages as a heap of dough strings landing on his head. There didn't seem to be a pattern to the shifting patches of food falling from the ceiling, not one he could figure out at least. And he had looked for a really fucking long time to try and figure it out.

Lambert scooped the strings of dough from his head and let them fall to the floor. "Fucking mess," he grumbled angrily. "This is such a shit job," he added to himself. Nothing he had tried worked and after two days of observing the ceiling and searching the inn for any sign of a curse being anchored to it anymore, he was about ready to give up.

He twitched as the fucking patches shifted again and swiftly stepped backwards to avoid getting doused in tomato sauce. Yeah, fuck this. He was getting the xenovox Merigold had pushed into his hands last winter, just before he had left the keep, and he was going to call the sorceress and ask her to deal with this mess.

Lambert turned and left the hallway, heading up to his room. It wasn't very big, really just the attic space with a cot shoved in a corner and a bedside table next to it holding a single candle. There wasn't much of anything else in there, no wash basin or wardrobe for clothes, no chair to sit on. No if Lambert wanted a wash he had to go to the nearby river, which was cold as fuck, and wash himself and his clothes in in the freezing water.

He grumbled and bitched and complained as he fished the xenovox from one of his saddlebags. He opened it up, activated it with the password and asked "Merigold, you there?"

There was a long moment of silence afterwards. Lambert sat down on the cot with a grunt, scowling at the xenovox. Fuck. What if she was too busy to help him out? He waited a minute and then called out for the sorceress again. She responded by opening up a fucking portal right inside the tiny attic space and stepping through. He cursed at her, pushing back on the cot as the portal closed behind her.

"Lambert!" She cried, looking awfully concerned, stepping toward him with glowing hands. "The fuck, Merigold! What are you doing?"

She paused, lowering her hands with a frown as she looked him over. "Are you alright? Are you hurt?" She asked him, sounding just as worried as she looked. He blinked at her and then scowled. "Fine, just some bruises. Not why I called you. Inn's fucking cursed or some shit. Ceiling shots out food in the hallway by the kitchen. Can't figure out how to fix it."

She looked at him like he lost his head. "I'm sorry, the ceiling does what?" He closed the xenovox, set it aside and got up. "Fucking expells food, four different kinds. Keeps shifting spots from where the food appears too. It's annoying as fuck. Tastes good but still fucking irritating."

He moved past her, through the door and down the stairs. She followed him right to the hallway where a rather disgruntled looking woman was busy cleaning up food. Said women glared at him, hissing at him to fix the problem before she went off into the kitchen.

Lambert gestured to the ceiling and scowled when a patch expelled vegetables all over him. Triss muffled a laugh at the sight. "I'll take a look," she promised and she did. She raised her hands and he could feel the chaos within her rising up and reaching into the ceiling. Lambert watched her frown and mutter something under her breath, a moment later his medallion vibrated hard against his armor and the ceiling shimmered once before it rippled and settled back down. Triss lowered her arms and shot him a smile. "That should do it."

They waited and watched the ceiling for more food, when none appeared after five minutes Lambert sighed in relief. "Thanks Merigold, I'll go get the fucking payment." Triss smiled, "Want me to stick around?"

"Nah, I'll be fine. Want the coin?" He asked her, fully prepared to pay her for her work. She laughed and shook her head. "Keep it, I don't need to be paid to help you Lambert. I'll go back to Kaer Morhen then. I've been helping Vesemir grow a new plant, which should help Eskel with the pain from his scars."

"Shit, that's good. Need help testing it?" Lambert had a few scars of his own which occasionally hurt like a bitch on cold winter days. Probably not as much as Eskel’s scars hurt him, but it would be nice to not feel that shit every winter. And if testing a plant helped his brother, well he wasn't going to say that's what he wanted to do.

"Sure, it couldn't hurt to have another opinion. I'll call you when it's harvest time." With that she disappeared into a portal. Lambert huffed and went off to find the innkeeper. The man refused to pay him until he had spent ten minutes looking at the ceiling and was convinced that there really was no more food coming out of it. He ambled off to a room in the back of the inn and came back with a tiny leather purse. Lambert took it, weighing it in his hand. It really wasn't much but it did weigh just the right amount for the amount of coin promised for the job so he didn't complain.

He thanked the inkeep and headed back to his room. It was about time he got back to the Path and he really wanted to see Aiden again. He stashed the coin purse away in his saddle bags, gathered up his things and headed off to the stables. He saddled up his horse, got the bags all tied in place, fed her a slice off apple and ate the rest of the fruit himself. Then he mounted up and left the tiny village behind.

[marwolaeth1993]

Ineffable Witchers and their mortal part 2

It had been a long, exhausting, but productive day for Geralt and Eskel, but mostly for Geralt as the angel had gotten some flying practice in that afternoon. It showed in the state of his wings and Jaskier had decided that they were in need of a good grooming, something Eskel had readily agreed to teach him how to do.

Which is why Geralt was utterly naked, resting on his front, on his bed with his head pillowed on his arms. Jaskier sat kneeling to his left, hands gently petting the angels wings. “So, how do we do this?” he asked curious and eager to begin. Eskel chuckled, his own hands resting at the top of Geralts right wing. The dragonic demon was kneeling on top of the angels ass, his cock resting at the cleft.

He gently began running his blunted claws through the angels soft, white wings, instructing Jaskier to do the same. The bard paid close attention as he followed Eskels example and began to tend to Geralts left wing, the angel letting out an appreciative moan at the gentle ministrations to his wings. They began at the top of the wings, at the lesser wing coverts and worked their way down, gently combing through feathers, shaking them carefully and pulling out the loose ones. Setting them aside for whatever Geralt decided to use them for later.

Geralt moans as strong, caloused hands run through his right wings median coverts , combing out loose feathers and smoothing slightly ruffled ones. He shudders when lute caloused fingers gently pluck feathers from his left wing, the owner humming in delight at the little moan Geralt let out.

Jaskier, ever the poet, couldn’t help but whisper compliments about the angels gorgeous wings. “So gorgeous for us Geralt. Your wings are absolutely magnificent, darling. And so soft. My gods but they are very soft.” And they were soft, very soft and sensitive to the touch. Each one electing little moans and sighs of pleasure from the angel as they worked. First on the coverts, then on the primary and secondary feathers.

Getting rid of the loose feathers took close to an hour and by the time Eskel set aside the last one, Geralt was lightly dozing off. Only to startle awake when Eskel began running his fingers deeper through Geralts feathers, quickly settling into a rhythm of straightening and smoothing the feathers one by one. He told Jaskier to watch carefully as he demonstrated fo the bard, how to properly straighten and oil a feather. When the bard got it right, after a few tries and careful corrections, they settled into a gentle but firm rhythm.

Each feather was grasped gently, fingers reaching deep into the base to gather the natural oils onto lute caloused fingertips and distribute them down the feather as he slid his fingers from base to tip, sending sensations of warm pleasure down his wings and into the rest of his body. The attention to each feather got Geralt quietly moaning, the touch soft and gentle. Eskel on the other hand was a bit rougher, firmer with his touch. Not as hesitant as Jaskier, more confident and secure in the knowledge that he wouldn’t hurt his lover, not even accidentally.

Eskels fingers worked deeper into Geralts wings, massaging firmly against the membranes of his wings. The angels eyelids fluttered closed as the sensations increased, filling him with such undulating waves of warmth that he couldn’t help but gasp in pleasure. Loudly too, much to Jaskiers delight, the bard curiously asking what the demon dragon had done to elect that particular response. Upon which the demon replied by doing it again and instructing Jaskier om how to do the same. The mortal did. Much gentler than Eskel did, his touch still careful but much more confident already.

They worked together like that, straightening Geralts feathers, massaging the membranes and getting them nice and glossy. Eskel kept his touches firm and a little rough, just the way his lover liked it. Jaskier’s touch were light and gentle, almost teasing. Eskel greatly enjoyed Geralts little moans of pleasure, he responded to them; semi-aggresively chasing down the areas that made the angel moan harder, that made his back arch, his hips flex into the bed.

By now the witcher was rock hard, his cock pressing into the sheets below him, creating a delightful friction with each flex of his hips. His hips flexed again when Jaskier pressed a kiss to one of the primary feathers and then carefully let his tongue out to lick, curiously laving the feather with saliva. His fingers chased after his tongue, spreading his spit across the feather, before stroking upward. Elated at the shuddering groan the action earned, Eskel shifted his position a little. He leaned forward to press a kiss at the base of Geralts wingjoint.

The angel moaned, low in his throat when Eskel did it again, this time kissing following by licking a stripe from the top of the base all the way down to Geralts lower back. Strong fingers ghosted over the skin in between the wing joints, applying gentle pressure as they moved down in a slow circling pattern, elicting soft moans of pleasure.

Finally Eskels hands came to rest on the small of Geralts back and pressed down to massage the skin and muscles there. This time the angel let out a sighing moan, relaxing further into the touch. The demon dragon hummed, pleased at the reaction and moved away a little to grab a vial of oil. Geralt grumbled his displeasure and lifted himself up on his ellbows. Jaskier hummed thoughtfully at Eskel and then shifted, kneewalking a little so he could settle by Geralts head.

He leaned down, placing both of his hands on the sides of the angels head and pulled him up for a kiss. Geralt happily arched his back, shifting his wings so he could kiss Jaskier properly, moaning a little at the contact. It wasn’t an ideal position, his hands resting next to the bards knees, ellbows straining to keep him up, but it worked for the moment and that was all that mattered.

Eskel settled back over the back of Geralts thighs and slicked up his palms with oil, before placing them on Geralts lower back. With a hum he began to massage the angels back, slowly and sensually moving his hands up and down and to the witchers sides. And down over his hips, back up and over the globes of the angels ass; massaging and kneading the soft supple flesh. He moved up to the base of Geralts wings and began to massage the skin were the joints came from the angels back, electing a high pitching pleasure filled whine from the witcher.

Pleased Eskel repeated the motion, over and over again. Moving his hands and fingers up and down over the sensitive skin, through the scapular feathers with firm but gentle motions. He repeated each movement which elected a low moan or a high keening sound of pleasure from the angel, chasing after the sounds with determination to cause as much pleasure as possible.

“Gorgeous like this, Geralt.” Eskel whispered, sliding oil slick fingers over the top of Geralts wings, through the lesser wing coverts, down to the median wing coverts and back up. The draconic demon got each feather to shine with oil, straightening them out and massaging the skin where feathers met flesh. He loved doing this for Geralt and to Geralt; making him moan and whine in pleasure.

Eskel kept up his massage much to Geralts pleasure, the angel resting his head in Jaskiers lap, right next to the bards cock. Jaskier shuddered with each puff of Geralts breath ghosting over his cock. His hands were in Geralts hair, massaging his head with gentle fingers. The angels wings were fluttering, he himself moaning at Eskels ministrations. After several minutes of stroking and massaging the base of Geralts wings, Eskel leaned over, pressed a kiss right at the base and sucked.

Geralt came with a howl of pleasure, shuddering violently as spurted into the sheets, his head buried in Jaskiers lap. He was gasping, shuddering with the aftershocks of pleasure crashing through him, wave after wave. When he came down from his high, Eskel was massaging his ass, slipping his fingers in between the cleft and rubbing teasingly at his hole. “You alright Geralt?” he asked, both checking to see if the angel was doing alright and if he was ammendable to more.

Geralt hummed in response, very much okay and very willing for more pleasure. “Words Geralt,” Eskel chidded amused, well aware of what Geralts hum meant but still wanting a verbal confirmation. “Fuck me.” Came the crude, hoarse reply, accompanied by a wiggle of the angels hips. “Alright,” Eskel agreed, slipping a single, blunted clawed digit inside of his lovers hole.

A single finger quickly became two, then three and finally four fingers were buried deep within Geralts ass. The angel was moaning, hips twitching in pleasure as Eskel finger fucked him. Then in a sudden, violent movement, air blew into Jaskiers face as Geralt folded his wings back, tucking them close against his back so Eskel was cradled in gorgeous white feathers. “My god,” the bard whispered, stunned at the sight of Eskel wrapped in wings. “Fuck, Geralt?” Eskel grunted from inside the feather-cocoon, his fingers having hit Geralts prostate dead on.

“Fuck,” Geralt moaned, arching his back and pushing against the fingers in his ass. The demon dragon got the message and set a punishing pace, fucking Geralt fast and hard with his fingers, pausing after several thrusts to massage the angels sensitive bundle of nerves. The witcher was hard again and humping the sheets, gasping and moaning and pleading for more. For Eskel to hurry up and fuck him already. Eskel ignored the begging and the pleading and kept circling Geralts prostate, drawing out a series of high pitched moans. Several long minutes of his prostate being massaged, had him coming again, gasping his pleasure against Jaskiers rock hard cock.

Smug, Eskel kept circling Geralts sweetspot, milking his orgasm until the angel was giving out little moans, body lax beneath Eskels strong body. Finally he pulled his fingers free and slicked up his rock hard, ridged and covered with bumps, cock. With one hand he spread Geralts legs a little, with the other he guided his cock in between Geralts ass cheeks and pressed against Geralts hole. He moved in close and shoved hard, burrying himself deep inside the angels slick ass. He held still then, giving the witcher time to adjust.

His head was just barely visible, as he kissed his way across Geralts shoulders. The angel let out a little moan and reached back to touch him. When he couldn’t manage it he huffed, resting his head in Jaskiers lap and letting his wings do all his touching for him. Rustling them and moving them up and down, caressing Eskels body with his feathers.

Finally Eskel moved, slowly pulling out and pushing back in, setting a slow but steady pace. Rolling his hips and grunting a little, trying to find the angels sweet spot. When Geralt moaned particularly loud, Eskel knew he’d found the right spot.

The Demonic dragon set a harsh pace, pounding into the angels warm, slick hole, intent on giving his lover a third orgasm. Geralt let out moan after moan, hands digging into the sheets next to Jaskiers legs, his head pillowed on the bards lap. The angel mouthed at the mortal's hard cock, licking at his balls but unable to do much more than that. Jaskier couldn’t say he minded, content with being licked and fondling the top of the angels wings.

Again and again Eskel hit Geralts sweet spot, hammering in and out of that tight, slick hole. The dragonic demon was intent on getting his brother to orgasm again, uncaring that he’d had one less than fifteen minutes ago. Geralt could handle it, he knew; having driven the angel to orgasm after orgasm in a short period of time before. “Fuck, so tight. So hot. So good for me Geralt. Fuck, fuck.”

“Gonna fuck you, breed you, make you mine.”

Eskel kept thrusting, alternating between hitting his lovers prostate and purposely gliding just past it. He leaned forward to mouth at Geralts wings, gently scraping his teeth over the soft, smooth feathers. It earned him a lewd moan. With the next thrust he bit down, gently so as to not hurt the angel to badly. Just hard enough to make the other cry out in pleasure.

It took several more, well aimed, thrusts before Geralt felt his third orgasm of the evening approaching. A hot mouth sucking at the back of his neck did him in. He shuddered. Hard. Contracting around Eskels cock, wings fluttering as he came. It was a gentler orgasm this time, but just as pleasurable as the others had been. It left him pleasantly warm and tingly and moaning softly as Eskel fucked him through it. The other now chasing his own pleasure, holding onto Geralts wings and fucking into him with as much force as he could manage.

With a sigh, Eskel stilled himself and shifted, hiking up Geralts hips and pushing him forward a little. Geralt shuddered but got his knees under him, spreading his legs and arching his back. With his ass up and his head now closer to Jaskiers cock, Geralt decided he wanted something in his mouth and set to sucking cock with glee.

Eskel gave an appreciative moan and slid back inside, setting a languid pace for several minutes so he could focus on biting as much of Geralts skin as possible. He loved that too. Biting. He enjoyed leaving bruising teeth imprints behind, gently scraping his teeth over soft skin, sucking at each wound he made, licking around the indents in the skin. It settled his instincts, made him feel all warm and pleased inside. And Geralt rather liked it when he bit lightly at the base of a wing joint, scraped his teeth just right… A shout and a moan and Geralt was rock hard again, pleasure flaring through his wings. “Ah, Eskel. Fuck more!” he demanded and whined loudly when Eskel repeated the action.

And again, this time licking at the bite mark and sucking at the skin, burying his hands inside the angel's wings and tugging lightly with every bite. Thrusting inside the angels wet hole with each tug, elicting moan after moan from the witcher. A particularly well placed bite had Geralt coming onto the sheets with a shout. Eskel shuddered at the sudden tightness around his cock but kept thrusting, feeling his own orgasm swiftly approaching. He sped up, his hands now grasping the top of his lovers wings and tightening his grip with each, hard thrust.

Soon he was pounding into Geralt, who had his whole mouth around Jaskiers dick and was letting the Bard fuck his mouth with a series of moans. He loved having something in his mouth, always had. Geralts favorite thing to do was sucking cock and rimming. Getting fucked was his second favorite thing to do and he let his enjoyment know; loudly.

“Fuck, fuck, almost there. Fuck so tight, so good for me.” Eskel panted, feeling his cock tingle, his Knott beginning to swell. He thrust again and again, growling his pleasure. “Gonna take my knott, Geralt.” He growled out, “Gonna take it, gonna lock inside and fill you up. Breed you full of my pups.” He gave a vicious thrust against the angels prostate, earning a loud moan. With a second hard thrust and a loud growl he burried himself deep inside Geralts hole, his knott popped in with a rough grind of his hips, locking them together. Spend spilled from the tip of his cock, coating the angels insides white and filling him up.

He shuddered, rolling and grinding his hips, chasing his pleasure and mouthing at Geralts wings. He was panting and growling, hunched over Geralt and shuddering as he came and came. The angel hummed his pleasure around Jaskiers cock. The bard moaned, snapped his hips forward and came down Geralts throat. The angel happily swallowed the spend down, slurping a little and humming in pleasure, earning himself a shout from the bard.

Jaskier took a little longer to come down from his high than Eskel. But when he calmed he had a dopey smile on his face, pulling up Geralts head and leaning down for a kiss. Then he buried his hands in Geralts wings and set out to fondle each feather, much to the angels pleasure. Eskel followed his example, buried and locked inside of Geralts hole, he couldn’t do much more than fondle the man’s gorgeous wings.

And that is exactly what they did, stroking the feathers and wringing another orgasm out of the angel. By the time Eskels knott came down, Geralt was half asleep in orgasmic bliss. He moaned when Eskel pulled out, spend dribbling from his loose hole. Jaskier pet his head, murmuring compliments while Eskel left the he’d to fetch a cloth. When the dragonic demon came back, Geralt was mouthing lazily at Jaskiers cock. Eskel chuckled and set to cleaning them up. When he was done he chucked the cloth into the bucket of water he’d used to clean them up and set the bucket aside.

Then he moved back onto the bed and tugged the dirty sheet out from under Geralt, tossing it aside. Finally done, the dragon demon manhandled the angel away from Jaskiers cock and onto his back. Jaskier sighed and lay down next to the angel, cuddling up, uncaring that he was still hard. Eskel hummed thoughtfully, clearly the Bard could go another round. “Need a hand with that, Bard?” he questioned, motioning to the mortals cock. “Hmm no, it’s fine. I’m quite satisfied.” And Jaskier was, he’d had a lovely orgasm and had greatly enjoyed touching Geralts wings, bringing the other to orgasm several times. No, he decided. He had enough and wanted a cuddle.

And so the three settled in for the night, sated and happy to hold each other.

[marwolaeth1993]

Innefable Witchers and their mortal part one

Jaskier is petting Geralt’s feathers, lying on top of the angels broad chest. Humming in satisfaction as Eskels nimble fingers work him open. His tongue flickers out to lick at the base of Geralts wings, earning a moan from the white featherd man below him. Strong hands run over Jaskiers back, petting and exploring the expanse of his back. The mortal moans “so goood”, wiggling a little and arching his back, as one of Eskels fingers curls just right inside him. The angels wings flutter as nimble, lute caloused, fingers start stroking his feathers, one by one.

A filthy moan flees Jaskier’s mouth as a fourth finger slides into his wet hole, rubbing and curling inside him. Eskel hums, a low sound in the back of his throat and then his long wet tongue joins his fingers; licking around Jaskiers rim, electing a pleasure filled moan from the mortal bard. A chuckle, pleased at the sound, leaves the demons mouth, “Like that mortal?” he questions in amusement, his tongue flickering back to Jaskiers rim and licking, from his rim over his perineum and back up, tongue prodding at the slick hole. His fingers crook sligthly, rubbing and massaging the bards inner walls. His tongue slips into Jaskiers hole, slithering deep into the wet, loose hole, slick with oil and spit.

Eskel spreads his fingers wide, stretching Jaskiers hole wide open, then brings them together and sinks them in deeper, fingertips grazing the mortals sensitive bundle of nerves. The bard whines loudly, arching his back and pushing back against Eskels fingers. A strong hand presses down on his lower back, pushing him down and holding him stil. Eskel hums, lazily lapping at his lovers rim, fingers plundering the sweet, loose hole. The vibration of his voice sends tingles down Jaskiers spine, the bard moaning into Geralts broad, scarred chest.

The angel was petting his semi human lover, he wasn’t quite sure what else the bard was, but it wasn’t fully human. That much was obvious, humans tended not to survive the long and dangerous trek up to Kaer Morhen, the air was simply to thin for them to survive, not without magic anyway. Not that it mattered to either the demon dragon currently licking the bards ass or the angel rubbing and pinching his nipples, the bard was theirs, no matter what he was.

Jaskier gasped when Eskel began massaging his prostate and let loose a string of filthy moans, head thumping down on Geralts chest and he arched into the glorious fingers within his ass. “Yesss. Fuck. Eskel. Fuck. More, more. I need, please, please.” He warbled loudly, pleading for more, he needed more. More sensation, more fingers it wasn’t enough. Not enough, he felt empty, even with the fingers and the tongue in his ass. Massaging the bundle of nerves inside him, licking at his perineum. He moaned, “Gods, gimme more, more.”

Eskel chuckled lowly and pulled back, fingers sliding from Jaskiers ass. The bard let out a pitiful whine, arching his back and wiggling his ass enticingly. “Nooo, Eskel, please, please, i’ll be good, please, more, I neeed…” The demon dragon rumbled soothingly, hands petting the firm ass beneath him. “I know what you need mortal, patience.” His large hands spread the mortals cheeks apart, exposing the wet, open hole to the warm air of their shared room. Jaskiers rim was red, swollen and winking at Eskel, who rumbled in pleasure at the enticing sight and bend forward to lick at the rim.

Almost immediatly Jaskier sighed in pleasure and went still, strong arms holding him against the angels firm chest. Eskel hummed and began his self appointed task of licking the bard open, his long tongue delving deep into the mortals sensitive hole, elicting a pleasure filled shout. A high, breathy sound left Jaskier when the demon dragon pressed closer, fangs delightfully scraping against the swell of his ass.

Jaskiers hand scrabbled at Geralts wings, fingers digging into the top of his gloriously, soft white wings. Geralt let out a low moan, the grip was tight but not enough to be painful, it felt good to have his wings touched like this. He shuddered under the bards touches, fingers carresing his wings, digging in with a moan at each deep prod of Eskels tongue at his hole.

Just when Jaskier was about to come, Eskel stopped. With a final lick at his rim, the demon moved away, placing his hands on the bards waist and shoulder and pulling him upright. Jaskier moved, legs shifting until he was kneeling over Geralts knees, legs spread wide and resting next to Geralts legs. Eskel settled behind him, chest to his back, cock rubbing at the cleft of his ass. They moved like that, Eskel rubbing his cock between Jaskiers firm ass and Jaskier grinding back, moaning at the touches to his nipples.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, the head of Eskels cock nudged at Jaskiers hole and pushed. And pushed until it popped in with a slick noise. Both mortal and demon moaned at the feeling of being filled and warm, slick heat wrapping around the head of his cock. Jaskier let himself fall forward, his hands moving to rest on Geralts hips, as he bent over, giving Eskel better access to his hole.

The dragonic demon tightend his grip on Jaskiers hips and with a powerful thrust of his hips, burried the full lenght of his cock deep inside of the bards hole. Jaskier shouted at the feeling of being filled and stretched out so suddenly. Eskel wasn’t a small man and neither was his cock, it was almost as thick as Jaskiers own wrist and had little ridges running along the sides of his firm lenght and bumps covering the underside of his cock.

Eskel withdrew and pushed back in, setting a slow and steady pace. Jaskier moaned with each thrust inside, hands grasping Geralts hips. Then he leaned further forward, wrapping his mouth around the head of the angels cock. One of his hands moved to fondle the witchers heavy balls, while he sucked and licked at the mans long, three finger thick cock.

Geralt moaned, his hands coming to rest on Jaskiers head, fingers burrowing into the bards soft hair. He threw his head back with a startled shout as Jaskier relaxed his throat and went down, all the way down, swallowing his cock. And swallow he did, his throat constricting around Geralts cock. The witcher shouted his pleasure, his head throwing back and his hands gripping Jaskiers hair tightly. It felt so good, the warm, wet heat around his lenghts, the tongue licking thd underside of his cock, the throat constricting around him.

Jaskier moved back up, cock slipping from his mouth with a pop. The bard smiled, a hungry look on his face. “Delicious,” he purred hoarsly and then he went back down. Hot mouth sucking at Geralts cock, while Eskel began to truly pound into his ass, thrusts going from a slow languid pace to deep and hard. Ridges and bumps sliding over Jaskiers walls, rubbing past his prostate, causing the bard to moan around the cock in his mouth.

He swallowed the angels cock again, nose touching soft, white pubic hair. Geralt couldn’t help the loud, pleasure filled moan from escaping. The heat, the tongue, the sucking felt far too good. Jaskier kept a fast pace, bobbing his head and timing it with Eskels thrusts. With each thrust into his slick hole, Jaskier sank his head down, swallowing Geralts cock whole and making the man moan and groan into the air.

Eskel’s thrusts stayed hard and deep for several long minutes, his teeth aching with the need to bite. Then he hunched forwards with a deep thrust and bit down on Jaskiers neck, teeth sinking in but not breaking the soft skin. He sucked, earning a moan from the bard. His mouth pulled away, moving to another spot and biting down as he angled his hips and thurst deeply. Hitting Jaskiers sweet spot with a deadly accuracy. With a filfthy smirk, pleased at having found the mortals sensitive bundle of nerves, Eskel started hammering.

Slamming his cock in and out of Jaskiers wet, slick hole. Aiming for the bards prostate and hitting that sweet spot over and over again, until the bard was a sobbing, moaning mess. His mouth was slack, his throat relaxed as Geralt had taken charge and was eagerly fucking his mouth, hips snapping up at a steady pace. Equal to Eskels own rhithm.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck. So tight. Gonna cum for me mortal? Going to spill for us?” Eskel growled into Jaskiers ear, one hand sliding over Jaskiers hip to curl around the bards straining, weeping dick. Pre-cum dripped from the head and the bard wailed when Eskels hand wrapped around his cock. And pulled, hand sliding over the skin of his cock, over the head and back down.

The next thrust against his prostate was his undoing and Jaskier exploded over Eskels hand, cum spurting from his cock in ropey strands of pearly white fluid. Eskel grunted at the sudden tightnes around his cock, the bards hole constricting around him as his orasm raged through his body. Jaskier went limp, body relaxing at the sheer orgasmic bliss, only held up by the grip in his hair and the strong hands on his hips.

Eskel moved upright, firmly holding Jaskiers hips, his claws digging into the bards smooth skin as he thrust. And thrust and kept thrusting straight through the mortals orgasm. Hitting the bards sweet spot, over and over again, milking the orgasm until the man was a shuddering, moaning mess, a second orgasm quickly coming, coiling in his gut. The demon dragon grunted, snapped his hips and Jaskier wailed as he came again, his cum staining the bedsheets and Geralts legs.

The witcher kept slamming in and out, his balls tightning up, pleasure coiling in his lower abdomen as he fucked through the bards second orgasm of the night. “Fuck, Eskel, i’m close,” Geralt groaned out, voice tight as his own orgasm was fast exploding. His hips stuttered as he pulled out and pushed back into Jaskiers mouth. A chorus of “fucks” fled his mouth as his thrusts grew shorter and shorter. With a final thrust he pushed Jaskiers head down and came, grunting out his release. The bard swallowed as much as he could around the cock in his throat, trying to get as much spend as possible.

Eskel felt it, coiling in his gut. The pleasure building up higher and higher with each deep push inside the bards welcoming heat. His balls tightend and the base of his cock began to swell. He grunted and with a final moan pushed deep inside, ramming straight past the mans sweet spot, his knott popping inside with an obscene sound. He howled his release, hunching over and biting down on Jaskiers neck, teeth digging in as he came, hard inside the bard.

Cum spurted from his cock, staining the bards inside white. His hips stuttered, knott pulling at Jaskiers rim as Eskel groaned and moaned around the flesh in his mouth. He rolled his hips slowly, grinding his cock deep inside, spurt after spurt of spend filling up the bard, bowels expanding to accomodate the sheer volume of seed pouring into him.

Geralt pulled the bard’s head up with a sigh, the mans mouth was open, his lips swolled red. Saliva and spend dribbled from Jaskiers mouth as he licked and sucked, gathering up as much semen as he could. “Fuck Jaskier.”

Eskel pulled away from the mortals neck, licking at the tender skin. He hadn’t drawn any blood but the bite had been deep enough to leave a bruising imprint. The draconic demon kept his hips still and moved his arms to wrap around Jaskiers chest. He hauled the bard upwards, nuzzling the side of his neck with a pleased rumble, still burried deep inside the bard. Geralt was quick to follow, settling down in his knees and wrapping his arms around them, his own mouth placing a kiss on Jaskiers lips.

They stayed like that, petting and kissing each other, waiting for Eskels knott to go down. Geralt hummed low in his throat, nuzzling Jaskiers neck, one hand sliding down. Over his abdomen and down to his cock, his hand coming to wrap around Jaskiers semi-hard cock. “Again,” Geralt growling, hand moving to stroke at the base of the mortals cock. Eskel shuddered as the bard constricted around him, moaning his pleasure as the angel set a firm rithm. Stroking the bard to completion for the third time, making the bard wail his pleasure as he stained Geralts hand with his spend. The angel gave a pleased hum, keeping up slow strokes until the bard came down from his high.

An hour passed by and Eskels knott finally went down enough for him to pull out. Which he did. Slowly. Much to Jaskiers displeasure. The bard whined, pushing back against Eskel, trying to keep the demon inside. “Hush, mortal,” he reprimanded the man, swatting his left ass cheek and earning himself a moan. Finally his cock slipped from Jaskiers hole, spend dribbling out.

The hole was swollen, stretched open and leaking spend at a slow pace. Eskel moved down, kissing the back of Jaskiers neck, mouthing at his back, sucking and licking at the skin, leaving red hickeys behind. His hands caressed Jaskiers distended belly, full of spend. Then glided down over the bards hips, to his thighs and the back of his knees and back up to the swell of his ass.

Jaskier shouted in surprise as a hot mouth land on his rim and sucked. He would have toppled over if it wasn’t for Geralts strong grip. The angel kissed him, holding him still as Eskel sucked and licked the spend from the bards swollen hole. The draconic demon was kneeling, bent over, behind Jaskier. His hands were caressing the mortals ass, massaging the firm globes and pulling them apart to stretch the bards wet, cum filled hole, apart.

Eskels tongue licked deep into the bards hole. It honed in on his most sensitive spot with deadly precision, tickling and stimulating the mortals sensitive bundle of nerves. Jaskier cried out in pleasure, head thrown back when that long, probing tongue, found his sweet spot and pressed against it. He writhed in pleasure, moaning high in his throat.

Geralt pressed a kiss to his throat, above his adams apple. He sucked at the sensitive skin, electing a moan and leaving a red, already purpling, mark behind. He moved down, kissing another spot, this time biting down, his fangs breaking the soft skin easily. Again Jaskier moaned, a high keening sound at the pleasure of the bite and the tongue in his ass. He was pleading, begging for more, for Eskel to give him more.

“Anything!” He cried out loudly, “please, please, Eskel, I need, more, please. Fuck me, Eskel, Geralt, please. I need!” He wailed in denial when Eskel pulled away with a final lick at his rimm, humming in though. “Anything?” the demon dragon purred darkly, fingers ghosting over the bards puffy rim. “Yes!” Jaskier cried out, shifting his hips, tilting his ass backwards and up as much as he could in his current position. “Please, anything! Take me. Use me. Please, I feel so empty. Eskel. Geralt. I want you, need your cocks. Please, please.”

The bard moaned as a finger slipped inside and rested there, unmoving. “Oh, both our cocks, little mortal?” the demon purred against Jaskiers neck, hot breath puffinf against the bards hickey littered skin. Jaskiers breath stuttered at the question. Both cocks. At once? He moaned, eyes fluttering closed, at the picture etching itself into his mind. To be filled and stretched open by both witchers. To be fucked and used and pumped so full of spend he wouldn’t be able to walk without it sloshing inside of him. He moaned again, very much liking that idea.

“Yes, yes, both. Please, I need,” he was cut off by four fingers plunging into his hole at once, wailing loudly as they grazed his sweet spot. He cried out when they stretched and scissored inside him. The curve of the demon dragons long fingers was perfect, the depth just right, the firmness of the touch against his walls was glorious. Wait. Those were claws, not fingers, Jaskier realised, gasping at the feeling of blunted claws grazing his insides. Claws designed not to dig or shred or otherwise destroy him but to bring ultimate pleasure. And they did bring pleasure.

He keened in pleasure, high in his throat as claws gently circled his prostate and carefully pushed and massaged him in small circles. The touch was so gentle and so very, very focused on the task ahead that it left him gasping and moaning and wailing at the constsnt pleasure. It felt so incredibly good, the thrill of claws inside of him, of fangs grazing the swell of his ass, of biting at his neck and shoulders.

Finally Eskel slipped the index finger of his other hand inside the bard, who moaned at the stretch. He kept the stretching, scissoring and gently pushing his claws in and out, up for several minutes before adding another finger. Determined to have the bard as loose as possible, ready to take both his own cock as well as his brother’s.

Jaskier was teethering on the edge of another orgasm by the time Eskel had eight fingers inside his hole. Spend and oil was dribbling out liberally around the dragonic demon’s clawed fingers and quickly lapped up by Eskels long tongue. The demon moaning at the taste of his own spend and something that was pure Jaskier.

Deeming the preparation enough Eskel pulled his fingers out and moved back into an upright position. He settled behind Jaskier, on his knees, his legs spread for stabilty. He leaned down to kiss Geralt over Jaskiers shoulder, one hand cupping the mans jaw. The angel moaned into the kiss, it was a hard kiss, full of teeth and tongue, wet and messy and when they pulled apart their pupils were blown wide with lust.

“Help me with him, Geralt.” Eskel commanded sliding one arm under each of Jaskiers thighs and pulling the bard back. Geralt was quick to help manouvre the startled bard around, the bard remaining pliant and very willing in their arms. Finally Eskel sat back, Jaskier’s ass flush against his cock, his back against the demons chest, the bards legs spread wide; suspended over Eskels arms. The witcher holding him up with little effort.

“Fuck.” Was all Geralt could say at the sight of the bard. The mortal was resting against Eskel, gasping into a filthy kiss and grinding back against the cock resting between the cleft of his ass. His hole was gaping wide, leaking oil and spend down onto the sheets below. “Beautiful like this, little mortal.” Eskel rasped into the mans ear, nibbling at his earlobe. “Fuck.” Geralt agreed, leaning forward to kiss the bard, placing his hands on the mortals hips.

Eskel hummed in pleasure and shifted his hips, then lifted the bard up and lined his cock up with the bards hole. Geralt leaned back to look, rumbling in pleasure, lazily stroking his own cock. Jaskier whined as he was lowered down onto the witcher demon's cock, the head pushed past his rim and popped in with a squelching sound.

When he was fully seated he was babbling incoherently about the size and the feeling of the ridges and bumbs covering Eskels cock. About how good it felt to be filled up, to be full and how ready he was for more. And more he would get.

Geralt moved in closer, kneeling before the pair and enjoying the sight they made; Jaskier suspended in Eskels arms, speared on his thick cock. He rumbled, leaning forward to give them both a kiss before he pressed impossibly close and guiding his prick to Jaskiers hole. It took a bit of manouvring before Geralt was pushing the head of his cock inside alongside Eskels own.

Jaskier cried out in pleasure at the stretch. The scent of their sweat and musk, of seks and lust hung heavy in the air. The sensation of being stretched almost too far, of a second cock sliding in alongside the first was enough to send him teethering over the edge into another orgasm. Making him feel light and warm, simultaneously drifting in euphoria and racked by shocks of intoxicating electricity as he came.

Geralt kept pushing through the orgasm until he bottomed out, shuddering at the tight feeling wrapped around him and the press of Eskels cock against his own. “Fuck,” he groaned out, biting down on Jaskiers shoulder to ground himself. Eskel wasn’t faring much better, having been sent almost over the edge by the force of the bard's orgasm. The demon was panting against the back of the mortals neck, hips twitching upwards.

Jaskier shuddered and went still, head hanging low as he panted for breath, coming down from his high. It was then that the two witchers began to move, experimenting together. Testing to find out how to move together, how fast and how deep they could go in this position. It took a few tries before they established a rithm, Eskel would lift Jaskier up and then lower him back down as Geralt thrusted upwards, the bard letting out stuttering moans of pleasure.

They used him like that, with Eskel lowering the mortal down onto his cock and Geral thrusting up and back inside. It was slow and steady, neither going to fast nor to slow. Just fast enough to drive the bard utterly insane. “Please, please, more,” gasped the bard, “harder, faster, please.”

When Eskel next lowered the bard he thrust upward as hard as he could manage and kept thrusting, Geralt quickly following his example. They kept up the pace, giving the human what he wanted and chasing their own pleasure at the same time. Pleasure coiled in their guts, building up higher and higher. Geralt was uttering the word “fuck” over and over again, grunting and moaning at the effort it took to fuck the bard into oblivion.

Together they drove the mortal into another orgasm, the fifth one of the evening, leaving him a moaning, sobbing, gasping mess. Geralt quickly followed him over the edge, his hips slamming up as he pushed inside as deep as he could go, howling his orgasm and biting down at the junction of Jaskiers neck. Hot spend flooded the bards insides, making both him and Eskel, moan at the feeling of cum staining the demons cock and filling up Jaskiers hole.

Geralt panted, resting his head in the crook of Jaskiers neck, wrapping his arms around both the bard and his brother. Eskel was grunting now, arms straining to keep the bard lifted, hips thrusting upwards, snapping up again and again. Pleasure coiled in his gut, hot and warm, zings of pleasure shooting up his spine as his orgasm was fast approaching.

Several thrusts later saw his knott swelling, growing larger. Another, hard thrusts, saw him pushing it inside, forcing it past Jaskiers rim and popping it inside of the bards warm, wet, stretched wide hole. Cum spurted from the tip, flooding the mortal's insides with more spend, his already distended belly expanding even more to accommodate the combined spend of Eskels first load with Geralt's own load and the demon dragon's second batch of semen.

Finally the flood of spend tapered off and the trio spend the next hour cuddling eachother. Trading sweet kisses and petting Jaskiers swollen belly. “So full,” the bard moaned, one palm flat over his distended abdomen. “Full of our cum. Maybe our pups as well.” Geralt growled out, even though the possibility of them having fucked a human male pregnant was extremely low if not outright impossible. Still the picture it painted, of a pregnant Jaskier, round with child, was one to savour.

It never occured to Jaskier that a part of him was very much capable of bearing children, after all he was human wasn’t he, bearing a witchers child simply wasn’t possible. But the idea was nice and if he could, he mused, he’d gladly bear a child for his lovers.

And as Eskels knott went down and they sepparated to clean up, the thought went from his mind. He caressed his belly, content and utterly blissed out of his mind and let his lovers clean him up. When they were done and had removed the dirty sheets, they cuddled together, Jaskier in the middle, with a plug firmly in his ass to keep the spend from leaving. They fell assleep in eachothers arms, well fucked.

[marwolaeth1993]

Getting inside you.

Vesemir was old, wise and loved nothing more than to read and lounge around in the hotsprings, the water feeling warm and tingly to his cool scaly skin. Currently the elder eldritch demon was lurking in his favorite pool, one of the hotter ones, his tentacles swirling under the water, his smooth, silver grey scaley skin was shimmering beneath the water, tiny pinpricks of light glowing brightly and dimming in an odd pattern as the demon rumbled in discomfort. Six of his tentacles were partly out of the water, the tips oozing a light blue glowing slime with each shudder racking the elder demons frame. It was time for his heat it seemed, he grumbled and had an internal debate on whether to call some of his boys in to help or take care of it himself. Eskel had offered to help the old demon out several years ago, when he’d last had his heat. But his boy was busy with that half mortal, half whatever else the was bard and Geralt had been just as occupied with the bard, so Vesemir couldn’t call on the angel either. Could he?

Vesemir grumbled, another nerve wracking spike of heat wracking through his body as he tried to sink deeper into the water. His many golden, slitted eyes, eyed one of the colder pools, should he move? It was getting uncomfortably hot. No. He mused, best to stay where he was, if he got into a colder pool his eggs might shriffel up and that would be more uncomfortable than his heat. He winced as his heat ramped up, a hot wave of arousal flaring through him, his six, thick and ribbled tentacles secreting more glowing slime as he shifted a little in the pool. He really was getting uncomfortable and he didn’t like it.

Just as he was about to call for Eskel, footsteps sounded on the stairwel; someone was coming down to the hotsprings. Too uncomfortable to shift to his more humanoid form, Vesemir sunk just below the water, grumbling to himself and shuddering as another spike of heat flared through his many limbs. “Oh” someone breathed out in surprise and awe. “Vesemir is that you?”

The elder demon blinked, his many eyes landing on a surprised looking Guxart. The shapeshifter had chosen to look like a human man in his fourties today, with sandy brown silver streaked hair and faded red slitted eyes. “Guxart” Vesemir grunted out, body shuddering again as he took in the other’s very fine shape. “You look…” Guxart began, taking a step forward and halting his speech when his old friend shuddered again, this time twitching in pain. “Ves, are you allright?”

“Fine,” Vesemir replied grumpily, shuddering again and sinking under the water a bit more. “Heat”, he added in explanation, earning a look of understanding and a surprising scent wave of lust from the elder shifter. “Right, do you…need help with that?” Guxart asked, already taking of his shirt and tossing it onto a stone bench. His friend remained silent, tentacles waving in the air as his eyes glued onto the shifters muscular body. Yes, his old friend had chosen a very fine shape today, Vesemir mused. “You offering?”

A now naked Guxart grinned, cock half hard as he moved towards Vesemir’s pool. “What if I am?” He stepped into the pool, lowering himself down into the water with a pleased sigh, the water soothing his aching muscles. A tentacle brushed against his leg, sliding up and curling around his cock, earning a moan as he felt the smooth scales and the sticky substance secreting from the tentacle’s tip. “Good” Vesemir grunted, siddling closer, his other tentacles moving to caress Guxarts skin, earning breathy moans from his friend.

The shapeshifting eldtritch’s hands wandered over Vesemir’s form, caressing the smooth scaley skin, running his fingers over the ridges covering the skin of six tentacles. Thinner tentacles were weaving and slithering over Guxarts body, curling around his cock and balls, squeezing and pulsing gently. Others curled around his torso, pulling him flush against Vesemirs body, skin rubbing over his sensitive nipples. An assortment of different moans and gasps fled from Guxarts mouth as his friend wrapped him up in tentacles, leaving his skin slick and slimy from the glowing substance secreting from the tips of Vesemir’s tentacles.

The friction of cool scales against his own skin was incredible, tentacles rubbing against his skin, leaving him flushed and panting with pleasure as they caressed his inner thighs, stroked around his rock hard cock and rubbed against the underside of his balls. One tentacle slid over his ass, cupping one of his cheecks, sliding between them and nudging the rim of his hole, making him gasp and arch his back as it prodded at the tight ring of muscle.

After a few seconds of prodding it withdrew, only to be replaced by a smaller tentacle. Said tentacle didn’t prod, but instead pushed against Guxarts entrance, until the muscle gave in and the tentacle slid inside. The other demon moaned breathily, pushing back against the tentacle sliding into his ass. It writhed around, pushed and pulled back out, only to push back in to rub against his prostrate, sending sparks of pleasure through his entire body. “Fuck, fuck Ves…” he mosned wantonly, helpless in the others firm hold on his body, moaning and crying out as the tentacle slid in deeper and deeper. It wriggled around and spread a thick cold liquid around, before it withdrew, leaving him empty and slick. His hole fluttered, empty and aching for the tentacle to be pushed back in.

The thick, ridged tentacle was back, nudging at his rim and pushing. It pressed, firm and hard until his rim gave away, allowing the thick organ to push inside. Guxart moaned, low and filthy against Vesemirs cool, steadily getting warmer, skin. His back arched, his fingers curled around a tentacle each, sliding over slick, glowing skin. Vesemir’s skin was littered with scars and pinpricks of glowing light, which flashed brighter and duller and brighter. Smears of glowing blue slick streaked Guxarts skin as the tentacles moved over his skin. Sliding this way and that, rubbing against his nipples, one wrapping around his throat, curling against his jaw and nudging the tip of a ridged tentacle against his mouth.

He opened up with a moan, tongue flicking out to taste the glowing blue slimy substance leaking from the tip. A shudder wracked his body, the fluid tingled on his tongue and he moaned as the tip pushed into his mouth. He was quick to wrap his lips around the tip, sucking and licking with enthousiasm, as another tentacle pushed its way into his ass. Vesemir made a satisfied, happy noise as he plundered his friends mouth and ass. His tentacles pushing in and out of both holes, slowly and gently, taking care not to go to doop or too fast. He was driving Guxart mad with the sensation of being filled achingly slow, only for the tentscle to pull out just as slowly, twisting around and rubbing against his inner walls as it did.

He moaned around the thick appendage in his mouth, his hips twitched and his cock leaked a spurt of precum as Vesemir’s tentacle suddenly pushed back into his ass. Hard. It pulled out just as sudden and drove back in, punching moans from Guxarts body.

Vesemir was panting, heat flaring through his body, muscles strained as he kept his tentacles wrapped around his friend. Restraining the shapeshifter so he could ravage him with his tentacled cocks. The ridges rubbed against the inside of Guxarts hole, rubbing over his prostrate with each push in and out. It felt so good to be inside that warm, wet, intviting heat. To push inside and wring moan after moan from the others limp body.

Guxart moaned when the next push went deeper than before, pressing right against his protate and rubbing right past it. The tentacle slid out, until only the tip was left inside and then slammed right into his prostate. He came with a shout, moaning around the tentacle in his mouth, cock spurting spend over the thin tentacle rubbing around it. The one in his ass kept pushing against the bundle of nerves in hole hole milking his orgasm until he was left limp and pliant in Vesemir’s hold.

The tentacle in his mouth left, rubbing against his cheeck. “Good?” Vesemir asked, keeping one tentacle slowly pushing in and out of Guxarts wet, open hole. “Hmm.” The elder demon hummed, satisfied he got a reply, even though it wasn’t as verbal as he’d hoped.

His tentacles tightend briefly around Guxarts limbs as a pulse of heat wracked his body. Then he was moving, lifting the other into the air and out of the water. He landed, gently, on his knees on the stone floor next to the pool. Vesemir used his writhing mass of limbs to spread Guxarts legs and bend him over, head resting on the floor. A tentacle prodded at his wet, open hole, the rim red and swollen. A shout left Guaxarts mouth, his back arched as it pushed back inside and set a punishing pace.

Vesemir loomed, half out of the pool, tentacles draping over Guxarts back as he set to fucking the daylights out of his friend. Who was writhing and moaning beneath him, gasping with each slam back inside. His nerves tingled, his skin felt pleasantly hot as tentacles slid over him, rubbing against him and smearing blue glowing slick over his skin. He was being marked and he loved it, loved the way a tentacle pushed against his mouth, sliding inside as he parted his lips. Vesemir lifted his chest up and off the floor, tentacles straining from Guxarts weight.

He was rumbling and groaning, grunting and moaning, pleasure searing him inside and out. His eggs warmed within the sacks beneath his skin and he pushed eagerly deep inside the others ass. He held still for a brief moment, letting a pulse of heat pass through him before he went back to slamming into Guxarts inviting hole. “Good, yes. So good at taking me, Gux. Going to fill you. Breed you.”

Vesemir let out a howling sound, burying his tentacle deep inside Guxarts warm body, and spilled. Warm, hot spend deep inside, coating Guxarts insides, earning him a muffled moan as the tentacle in his mouth, pulled out and spurted a glowing blue liquid over his face. Vesemir shuddered, leaning over his friends body, tentacles wrapping around him as something soft, round and hard traveled from his eggsack to the tip of the tentacle in Guxarts ass.

It pulsed and then pushed inside, electing a low moan from Guxarts, whose mouth was wide open, eyes closed as blue spend dripped from his face. He licked at the substance, moaning at the taste and whining as a second egg pushed inside of himm, then a third and a fourth. Vesemir pushed a bit deeper, sliding another egg inside the soft, warm body, a satisfied rumble leaving his lips. “So good for me Gux, so warm inside. Gonna carry my eggs for me, like a good little incubator?”

Guxart moaned at the words leaving tbe others mouth. “Yes, gods yes. Ves. Fuck. Yes.” He moaned as yet another egg slid inside, his abdomed bulging slightly, skin stretching as he was filled with egg after egg. A tentacle slid over his niples, causing him to shout in pleasure and moan as the one around his cock began to stroke him, slow and gently over the head of his cock. An egg rubbing against his prostate send him over the edge. He moaned loudly, semen spilling from his cock, gasping when the tentacle in his ass wriggled in a little deeper, nudging at his prostate. More eggs slid inside and it didn’t take long before Guxart was coming a third time.

Neither men knew how long it took for the last egg to be deposited, but when it was done; the eggs safely nestled inside Guxarts guts, his belly distended from their weight, Vesemir fucked him again, slow and gently, battering his prostate in a steady rithm. “Ves, Ves fuck oh fuck. I’m, i’m…” Guxart shouted as the tentacle pushed into his bundle off nerves sending him over the edge for a fourth time, tentacle burrowing deep inside and pulsing as Vesemir came with a pleasure filled groan, blue spend filling him up and leaking from around the tentacle.

Finally coming down, Vesemir gently manipulated Guxarts limbs and body so he was laying on his side next to the pool. He slowly withdrew a tentacle, gently sliding out, mindfull of Guxarts now oversensitive insides. “You good Gux?”

“Hm yes. Gods Ves. That was….” Guxarts breathed out, wiping his face clean and opening his eyes. Tentacles slid away from his skin and he whined, hands scrambling to hold them. “Don’t…” he moaned a little as he moved, lifting up his head to look at his best friend. “Stay? Cuddle?” He asked, holding out a hab, the other resting on the floor, holding him up. Vesemir rumbled in agreement, tentacles sliding over Guxarts skin and pulling him up and back into the pool.

The two settled down, Guxart resting in Vesemir’s hold, tentacles wrapped snugly around him, another nuzzling at his face and a second sliding back into his ass. One of his hands rested over his distended abdomed, feeling the eggs beneath his skin. “You filled me up good.” He murmered sleepily, closing his eyes and sighing at the feeling of a thick tentacle resting inside him. Vesemir hummed, a little smug at the ammount of ehgs he had filled the other witcher with.

The two stayed in the pool together, both resting after a very good round of seks. Vesemir’s heat wasn’t over yet and it wouldn’t be for a few more days, but for now they could rest and clean up and then move to a different room for another round of seks.

[marwolaeth1993]

Growing like a Weed

One day Dandelion comes down with an illness and ends up passing away in the middle of the night, in his bed at Kaer Morhen. A distraught Geralt, buries him beneath a tree. Next spring a giant weed, with the bulb of an unbloomed flower, grows on the bards grave. Recognizing it as a Dandelion weed Geralt leaves it were it is, no other witcher dares to touch the grave of the Warlords consort.

A week later on a sunny day, the day of the bards birth the keep is startled by the cry of a baby. Alarmed the witches spill out of the keep and flock to the bards grave. The Warlord gets there first and finds to his astonishment a tiny, squaling, baby with cornflower blue eyes and blone hair resting on top the biggest Dandelion ever seen, easily capable of fitting a newborn baby at its center.

Confused but awed Geralt takes the baby into the keep, to Triss and Yennefer who both examine the child. Finding nothing wrong but an healthy child they decide to raise the baby boy and name him Dandelion. Raising the boy proves to be both easier and harder than expected, for the boy grows like the weed he is Names after. Literally. With each passing day he looks a month or so older than he is supposed to be. As time passes, he continues growing like a weed.

Soon he is 24 days old, looking to be two years of age, walking, talking as a particularly intelligent toddler is won’t to do but above all he is singing. Songs no witcher has heard or utterd a word off since their beloved consorts passing. Figuring he must have heard it from the servants the witchers don’t think anything more of it and instead focus on their daily tasks and go about their lives.

Eskel and Milena work on the various diplomatic letters, reports and other papers being sent, Geralt signs whatever he’s told to sign with the sort of grumpiness one excepts of a bad mannered dwarf, he hadn’t been the same since his Jaskier had died, neither had Eskel been the same as he was before the bards passing. No one at the keep had been really, though most had stopped fully mourning.

Still no one had been in the mood for music, they hadn’t played any nor sang since Jaskiers passing. Which is why it had been odd to hear little Dandelion singing their Jaskiers songs in a clear and sweet ringing voice. But since they had heard the humans in the keep still on occasion humming the songs, whenever they thought the witchers wouldn’t hear, they passed it off as the boy having picking it up from them.

As he grows older both Triss and Yennefer give him regular check ups, both concerned with his astonishing and quite frankly worrying rate of growth. They never found anything, other than a somewhat abnormal appetite for a human child. But then they figured he wasn’t human, was he? He had been found lying on a dandelion of all plants, a tiny newborn baby crying his tiny lungs out. He still had the same hair color and the same cornflower blue eyes. It was strange but every test they preformed came out as negative, the child appeared to be human. Well and part elf if the elegant arch of his pointed ears were anything to go by. And so they let the boy leave to play and sing and learn with Vesemir in the library.

He was remarkably intelligent, capable of full sentences by the time he was twelve days old, speaking like a six year old would have. He was already learning how to read, though he couldn’t write yet. But he was learning extremely fast, worrying if it wasn’t for his excellerated aging.

And so little Dandelion continued growing like a weed. Being raised by his papa Geralt and daddy Eskel and being cared for by aunties Triss and Yennefer and his many witcher uncles and aunts. He played with the other little children at the keep and with his big sister Ciri. He sang songs both his own and Jaskiers, learned to read books from uncle Vesemir and drew pictures of two different families. One of what had to be a father and a mother with what could only be three children, each one slightly bigger than the other. The other was clearly a family of witchers for the eyes were a bright cheerful yellow.

He continued to grow, soon looking like he was four and being able to write words and short sentences, learning how to play the lute and a little wooden sword. Then one day he woke up looking six with scars on his back and Aubry, having volunteered to bathe him that morning, took him straight to Triss. Who, upon seeing the scars, called in Yennefer who’s Curses of rage alerted every witcher in the keep. They preformed several diagnostic spells, finding nothing but genuine scar tissue, red and raised but healed and slightly painful to the touch. Finding nothing else wrong, they applied a salve and informed Eskel and Geralt. Both men were utterly horrified at the sight of their little boys scarred back and spent the rest of the day hovering over him.

The scars on his back didn’t bother him, neither did all the ones that appeared on his skin in the following days. Nearly each day a new scar would appear, some big, some small but nearly all off them appearing to be from lashings done by a whip. They never bothered Dandellion much and he always squirmed whenever the bad smelling salve was applied. He never complained though. He continued learning, playing with the children, playing the lute and singing his songs.

But then one day he turned 144 days old, looking to be twelve and puberty set in. His baby fat began to gradually dissappear, his voice lowered and it was Eskel who first began to notice the similarities in the boys face; the similarities between his face and that of the late Jaskier. Disturbed by the similar features, Eskel took Dandelion to Triss and Yennefer again, who both insisted there was nothing to be found, the boy was hale and healthy. Though even Yennefer agreed that he did look a little similar to their beloved bard. But he had come from a weed growing atop said departed bards grave, so perhaps it had to do with that. Though they had no idea what exactly the cause for the somewhat disturbing similarities could be.

And so it was pushed aside and ignored, though it became harder and harder to look at the boy with each passing day. They child continued to learn from the library, trained with the witchers at the keep, played his lute, sang and danced and helped with the tending to the plants in the greenhouse. He continued drawing pictures, each one more detailed than the last. He wrote poetry and songs and preformed in the great hall once he started looking like a fourteen year old.

There was life in the keep again. Music and laughter and warmth. But then one day little Dandelion woke up with a scar that very much wasn’t an lash mark. No this one looked to have been created by ropes, ropes around the wrist. It was then that suspicion began to set in with Eskel and once he shared with Yennefer and Triss they to began to grow concerns. But not Geralt. No, the Warlord refused to see the similarities between his lost lover and little Dandelion, refused to see the scars that matched those the deceased bard had, had, refused to think of how the now young man’s voice sounded exactly like Julian’s, how he looked the exact same but younger.

And then one day he couldn’t unsee it. Couldn’t deny it. For one day Dandelion woke and remembered.

He remembered not being Dandelion, son of the Warlord and Eskel Amber eyed. Oh he remembered those days but he also remembered more. He remembered being Julian Alfred Prankratz de Lettenhove, remembered being the son of a count, rememberd having two sisters, remembered being consort to the Warlord of the North. He remembered being Jaskier.

And as Aubry entered his rooms to pick him up for training he stared at the wolf witcher and whispered, “Brother.” And he cried. He cried long and hard, entire body trembling, hands grasping his chest as he remembered his life as Jaskier. Remembered being ill and wasting away in bed and remembered dying. He remembered the pain in his lungs, the agony caused by breathing, how it had felt to feel himself growing sluggish with fatigue, how it felt to cough up blood and how it felt to breathe his last; his breath rattling in his chest and stopping. The lack of panic as he was pulled under by a heavy darkness as he forgot the faces around him, lost his hearing and went. As he had died.

Aubry held him, shocked at the word Dandelion had uttered, never had he called him brother. Ever since little Dandelion could talk it had been Uncle Auby and nothing else. To hear brother coming from the one who looked exactly like his little brother, the late consort Jaskier, was unnerving. And then the words came and Aubry went still and pale.

“Melitelle! I died!” Jaskier cried out and it was Jaskier. “I died, I died, I died!” He screamed, burying his head against Aubry’s chest, sobbing and clutching at the others armor. “I remember how it hurt to breathe more and more, how I felt so tired and couldn’t get out of bed. How cold it was, how hard it was to move, to talk, to play, to sing. I remember breathing becoming so hard.” He wailed the words to Aubry’s growing horor. And not just to his, other witchers, drawn in by the scream and the scent of utter terror and grief, overheard as they entered the hall to his room. “I remember the coughing, the blood and the pain. It hurt, it hurt so bad brother! I died! I remember it, I remember trying to call for Eskel and Geralt, for Triss and Yennefer, but I couldn’t talk, couldn’t get a noise out. I just coughed and coughed and then I just stopped breathing after a final breath and it just felt cold. I was so tired and everything went dark and silent and then I was…I was.”

He couldn’ talk anymore, gasping in panic at the onslaught of memories, clutching at Aubry’s armor as though it was a lifeline. He cried and gasped and sobbed and couldn’t stop. Aubry was still and silent, unable to speak himself, the shock and disbelief of what he had heard was too much.

There were footsteps, loud and hurried in the hall, then the door slammed open and Eskel ran inside, followed by Geralt, Triss and Yennefer. It took them half an hour to calm Jaskier, Dandelion, down. When he could finally breathe properly he haltingly repeated what he told Aubry. The shock hung in the room and no one blamed her when Yennefer, shaky and upset, touched Jaskier’s temple and searched his memories. When she came out of his mind she was pale, shaking and her eyes were wide with shock. “It’s him, it’s our Jaskier.” She said finally, after a moment of silence

“I don’t know how or why, but it’s him. He has all the memories of our bard.” Silence permeated the air and then Eskel and Geralt were hugging Jaskier to their chestst, sobbing his name. They touched him, kissed his hair and his mouth, needing to affirm to themselves that this was real. That he was real.

His miraculous return was announced at dinner and while many were concerned at first, it didn’t take long for people to cheer. Genuinely happy their bard was back. And over the next days and weeks they got used to their bard being back. Soon it was as if he hadn’t been gone at all. All that was left was a grave with a patch of dandelions growing atop.

[marwolaeth1993]

Lambert's dress-up time

Lambert loved dressing up. He loved the feeling of soft fabric on his skin, loved the way the garment hugged his muscled body and he loved the swish of a skirt around his ankles. He likes the tightness of the corset and the way it gave him the look of having a curvy waist. He loves the feeling of pretty bracelets around his wrists and likes the clip on earrings dangling from his lobes. He likes the way the whole ensemble made him look pretty. And right now that was what he wanted.

But ever since Milena came into his life and started sharing his room, he hadn’t dared to put on his favorite green strapless dress. But he wanted to. And he knew his gorgeous lover was with Aiden in Wolvenburg and wouldn’t be back until later in the evening.

So Lambert gave in to the urge to be pretty and went to the hotsprings for a thorough wash of his body and his hair. When he was done amd dried up, he dressed in his usual clothing and headed back to his rooms.

There he went over to the bed, kneeling down to remove a chest from underneath. He set it on the bed, caressing the smooth wooden lid. Then he flipped it open, revealing his well kept secret. A gorgeous velvet green dress with black lace trimmings along the bottom and a matching, slightly darker green leather corset.

Getting dressed was as easy as breathing and he did that a bit easier once the dress and the corset were wrapped around his body, the tension in his body leaving him. He moved over to Milena’s dressing table, took a seat and began to comb his hair, until it hung loosely over his shoulders, red curly locks framing his face.

He admired himself in the handheld mirror for a moment, then got up to put on his silver bracelets with the pretty bangles and clasped on his earrings. He hummed in thought when he was done, something was missing. A little hesitant, he moved back to the dressing table and picked up the little tub of red lippaint he had given Milena a few months ago.

Curious as to how it looked on him, he removed the lid and smeared a little on his lips. He put the lid back on and put the small vessel back where it had been, then he looked into the mirror again. He looked…. Good, he decided, admiring himself. He set the mirror down and twirled in the room, loving the way the skirt of his dress swished around his bare ankles.

[marwolaeth1993]

The sea serpent and the Crane witcher

Maelor the Crane grumbled in annoyance as he rowed out to the sea, leaving the massive ship behind. He was out on a contract to hunt a sea monster. Some kind of serpent according to the people he spoke to. The beast reportedly had a strangely shaped head, big and had been twisting this way and that. That meant it was extremely agile. Maelor didn't much like agile sea monsters, they were a bitch to fight, often eeling out of his way before he could get a strike in. But he was being paid handsomely, 200 up front and another 100 after the job was done and even if he failed, he'd get to keep the down-payment. But that did mean he had to go on a skelliger ship, all the way to the sea, which was fine with him. He loved the ocean, he just didn't like rowing out in dinky little shitty ass rowing boats.

So here was sitting in his little boat, holding a fishing rod with live bait, waiting for the monster to show up.

What he got was the mating call of a whale. Followed by a second and then a third. His boat rocked in the water as two powerful bodies twisted around each other in the water. That's when he saw it. The sea monster.

Maelor stared for a moment, hearing the cries of "whales" and "sea serpent" coming from the ship. His lips twitched in amusement as he watched the 'sea serpent' rising from the water. It indeed twisted this way and that. But it was no sea serpent, not of the monstrous variety, at least.

No. Maelor began laughing, doubling over and gasping for breath as the giant 'sea serpent' moved around in the air, flopping around, attached to the twisting form of a whale. The so-called sea serpent was a wale dick.

Maelor laughed and laughed and still laughing began rowing his way back to the ship. Upon arriving he was still chuckling in mirth and when asked why he didn't fight the sea serpent he let loose a peel of laughter again and in between gasping for breath told them of the whale dick flopping around in the air. Sighs of relief and waves of laughter met his tale.

[marwolaeth1993]

Sad Eskel

Eskel looked at the silver sword in his hands and felt sad.

He walked over to the window and reflected on his cold surroundings. He loved homey Kaer Mohren with its thoughtful, terrible crumbling walls. It was a place that encouraged his tendency to hoard soft blankets and where he could allow himself to feel sad, without risking getting attacked because he let his guard down.

Then he saw something in the courtyard below, or rather someone. It was the figure of Geralt. Geralt was an taciturn witcher with white hair and strong legs.

Eskel gulped. He glanced at his own reflection. He was a tall and big man with strong hands and ugly scars on his face. His brothers saw him as a good man, kind and gentle. Once, he had even jumped into a river and saved a baby goat.

But not even a kind person who had once jumped into a river and saved a baby goat, was prepared for what Geralt had in store today.

The snow flurried around the keep, making Eskel feel more lonely than ever.

As Eskel stepped outside and Geralt came closer, he could see the small smile on his face.

Geralt gazed at him and spoke in hushed tones, "We need to talk."

Eskel looked back, even more lonely and still fingering the silver sword. "Geralt, I can't not today," he replied.

They looked at each other with mixed feelings. Eskel studied Geralts face for a moment. Eventually, he took a deep breath. "I'm sorry," began Eskel in apologetic tones, "but I don't feel like talking today, I know you want to, but I just can't not now."

Geralt looked confident, his emotions raw, he was angry at everything and needed to talk to Eskel.

Eskel could actually hear Geralt's emotions shatter into pieces. Then the taciturn witchers turned and hurried away into the distance.

Not even a drink of ale would calm Eskel's nerves tonight.

[marwolaeth1993]

There's a plunny in my head and it's refusing to leave. I don't know if I'll wrote it but here's the plunny:

Lambert had a twin brother named Keegan who stayed behind when Lambert was given to a witcher as payment. While Lambert went to Kaer Morhen, trained, survived the grasses, and became a witcher, his twin brother lived with their abusive alcoholic father. Until one day, the man killed his wife. Keegan, in a fit of rage, ended up having a conduit moment and killed his father. As he buried his mother and father near the cemetery, a mage from Ban Ard came for him and took him to Ban Ard to be trained as a mage, renaming Keegan in the process.

Many years later, after the witchers banded together and created an empire under the Warlord of the North, Lambert's brother left Ban Ard and went to Kaer Morhen, wanting to join the Warlords empire and help protect the people. He also hoped to find out what had happened to his ten minute older brother, Lambert.

Upon reaching Kaer Morhen and being allowed to stay, he also met Lambert. The reunion didn't go well. Lambert had firmly believed his little brother was long dead by now. And yet here was a mage called Berath who looked exactly like him. Seeing him was a shock for Lambert and his first instinct was to grab a silver dagger to test for a doppler, curse like a sailor, and toss insults at the mage who looked almost exactly like him, monster scars not included.

Figuring that being insulted and cursed at was better than no contact at all the mage traded insults back, giving as good as he got. He wasn’t about to let his brother walk all over him. From then on, the two regularly traded barbs, insults, and curses, both acting like utter assholes to each other. It took months before someone, fed up by the increasingly getting worse fights, pointed out to Lambert that the mage smelled a lot like him and suggested that maybe they were related. Berath was confused when Lambert proceeded to tackle him in the courtyard and began sniffing him, only to reel back when Berath called him Lamby and told him to stop suffocating him. Lambert fled, because Lamby was what his brother Keegan had used to call him and fuck if the mage was his brother...

[marwolaeth1993]

Lambert changing diapers

Lambert's first time changing a diaper goes about as well as he expected. That is to say, it went shit.

The moment he started getting the tiny human being unclothed the hell began. A wail so loud it rattled the windows and pierced his eardrums errupted from tiny lungs. Lambert swore impressively, resisted the urge to clamp his hands over his ears, in favor of divesting the baby on the table from his tiny breeches and then the diaper.

The moment he pulled away the cloth the smell he had already detected doubled and all but hit him in the face. It was rancid and made his eyes water. But he inhaled through his mouth, gagged a little and soldiered on. He grabbed a wet cloth and began to clean the, still wailing like a banshee, kids behind. He refreshed the cloth a few times, cleaning it in lukewarm water and got the baby's bottom squeeky clean. He dried the now quieter child off, just as he finished a stream of yellow liquid shot out and hit him in the face. He reeled back, spluttering and cursing and then sticking out his tongue, because fuck it got into his mouth.

"Fucking, fuck gross. What the hell kid?" Lambert spluttered at the baby, who now laughed at the face he was pulling.

Lambert grabbed a clean cloth and wiped his face clean, grimacing at the smell. "Not funny kid," he told the gurgling child, grabbing a clean diaper cloth and frowning. Now he just had to figure out how to put the damned thing on. Lambert grumbled as he shoved the cloth under the kid and began to pin the flaps together.

The kid chose then as the perfect time to fart and Lambert cursed, wrinkling his nose at the smell hitting his sensitive nose. "Ah, fucking hell, gross. Fuck!"

The baby just laughed at his response, clapping his tiny hands together. Lambert finished putting on the diaper and got the kid into a fresh pair of tiny breeches and a new shirt. He wrestled socks onto little feet and wrapped the kid up in a blanket. He was done, someone else would have to clean up, he was done.

[marwolaeth1993]

Lambert the Hedgehog

Yennefer stormed out of the room with an angry huff, ranting about asshole witchers not shutting their mouths and getting their noses into where they don't belong, leaving a befuddled Lambert behind.

Lambert who was now very close to the ground, a little deze and found himself confused as to why everything was so big.

Lambert who no longer had arms, legs or even a head, at least not a human head. No, Lambert tried moving and found himself falling, though not very far. Weird. The foul mouthed witcher cursed and startled, because all that came out was a chittering noise.

Dread filling him, Lambert tried looking at himself, he saw tiny paws where hands should be and stilled. Oh fuck no, the witch didn't! He stared at his tiny paws for a few minutes, processing the fact he had no hands. Oh fuck, oh fuck no, no he had no hands, he was so tiny. Lambert was panicking, for the witcher was now a hedgehog. Admittedly he was rather big for a hedgehog but then he was a witcher hedgehog now.

Fuck he was so tiny, no oh no what do I do? Lambert's tiny paws gripped his tiny head and began chittering in panick, instinctively curling up into a ball of prickles and rocking back and forward. He was a fucking hedgehog, what the fuck, fucking witch!

That was how Eskel found him, curled up into a ball of prickles. The dragon of Kaer Morhen stared, confused, at the abnormaly large hedgehog in the room. His comfusion as to why there was a hedgehog in the keep, melted away with concern when the critter kept rocking back and forth, rolling around a little. Cautious of the prickly spines, Eskel lifted the ball of prickly hedgehog up and into his arms.

"Best take you outside, little guy." He spoke, earing himself a suddenly uncurling hedgehog. The critter scrambled around to sit up and Eskel froze, faced with a pair of cat slitted yellow witcher eyes. "The fuck?" He brought out, lifting the hedgehog up to get a closer look. It chittered angrily at him, waving it's little paws around.

Eskel frowned as he sniffed the not so tiny hedgehog and found horror filling him up. He held the animal, or not really an animal, away from him. "Lambert?!" He croaked out in horror, the hedgehog nodded at him and he stumbled to a chair and quickly sat down. Oh gods his little brother was a hedgehog! "What happend?" He found himself asking before realising abruptly that Lambert couldn't answer him like this. He shot to his feet and headed to the door, "I'm getting Yennefer."

At her name Lambert made an angry noise, that made Eskel freeze and give him a look. "Did she do this to you?" He asked warily, dread filling him and coming up with all the different ways of why the sorceress would have turned Lambert into a hedgehog. When Lambert nodded, Eskel groaned, clutching him to his chest much to Lambert’s chagrain. "Oh thank melitelle, I thought you were cursed by something else."

Lambert, the hedgehog squeecked at being crushed to his brothers chest. That wasn't very pleasant for him right now. He squeecked again, and Eskel's grip loosened with an apology from the bigger man. Lambert scowled as much as he could, being a hedgehog and all but found himself relaxing as he was carried out of the room, through hallways and into the dining hall. Where everyone could see him, oh fuck. Lambert realised that everyone was going to know it was him. He squeecked and rolled himself into a prickly ball. Eskel quickly adjusted his hold and headed to his usual seat, where he plopped down next to Geralt who gave him a curious look.

Eskel sighed and held up Lambert, who squeecked again but unfurled to glare at Geralt who sat frozen in his seat. "What?" He tried wracking his brain, searching for any mention of anyone mutating hedgehogs into witchers and came up empty.

"Yennefer cursed Lambert, I don't know why." Eskel informed him, plopping Lambert onto the table and reaching out to grab food. Lambert sat still, glaring at the white wolf, daring him to say something. All Geralt could do was humm and try not to laugh at an angry hedgehog. Lambert looked kind of cute like that.

News of Lambert's new status as a hedgehog quickly spread around the keep, and Yennefer found herself begrudgingly turning the prickly witcher back into a witcher, at dinner time. Leaving a naked Lambert to flee the hall in search of clothing.

[marwolaeth1993]

Professor Lambert

Lambert is teaching in full armour, lecturing students on the properties of drowner brains and their uses in potions. "Fresh brains are the best," he lectures before explaining that the best way to get fresh brains is to go out and find a drowner to kill. He launches into a full-on explanation on how to best approach a drowner and how to kill it as fast as possible, adding in that if any of them try it, they will likely die. "Leave the drowner hunting to witchers," he tells his students firmly. And yes, he admits it now. They have become his students.

It started several weeks ago, with a single boy helping him gather ingredients for swallow, he had already had the fresh drowner brain he needed for it. The boy was asking him questions whilst Lambert worked and when Lambert launched into a full explanation on the properties of each ingredient he was using and how they each reacted to each other, the boy took notes. The next day the boy was back with friends, Lambert was making a simple salve and found himself explaining every step he took and answering any questions the young men had and then some that weren't about anything Lambert had been working with at that moment. It just evolved from there, with Lambert returning to the labs to make potions and salves and students of Alchemy showing up to ask questions.

The first time Lambert found out they had a shitty teacher they were treated to an in dept lecture on ingredients, how to properly chop, dice, slice them, how to prepare them for different potions in different ways depending on other interacting ingredients. The students listened, took notes, asked questions, and even copied his method of preparing ingredients. He found himself teaching before he knew it himself, students taking diligent notes and participating in his demonstrations, copying his movements.

The first time a paper on drowner brains was given to him, he just stared and then found himself correcting any mistakes he found.

Before he knew it, more papers landed in his hands, and he found himself grading them in the evenings, much to Jaskiers amusements. A month later, one of the members of the treasury department stopped by with a contract and a bag of coins. A heafty sum too, and Lambert found he had been added to the payroll for the colleges Winter course on advanced Alchemy with an added course on basic Alchemy for beginning students.

After a good fifteen minutes of cursing, Lambert took the coin, read the contract and then signed on to teach for the winter and next winter too. Because the current professor had shit for brains and never showed up.

Which was why Lambert was now in a classroom, instead of the previous professor, having replaced the moronic sack of shit. He was in his armor, wearing a pair of reading glasses and the most annoying, ugly, black teaching robe Lambert had ever had the displeasure of wearing. But it was mandatory for professors so Lambert wore it over his armor. Fuck anyone who said he had to go without armor and his swords. He was teaching in his gear and that was that.

[marwolaeth1993]

Experiment gone wrong

Lambert bodily tossed himself aside when his latest experiment blew up, taking out a good portion of his equipment with it. He coughed as he inhaled the smoke and waved his hands around to try and clear the air.

An odd chirrup sound caught his attention, and he blinked, looking around for the source. He got to his knees, a little sore from his fall, and frowned hard, squinting his eyes at his workbench. Something was there, but he couldn't see because of the smoke. The odd chirrup noise was back, definitely coming from his workbench. He got to his feet and approached, waving his hands through the smoke.

When it finally cleared, his eyes landed on the source of the chirrup noises. It was a ball of fur. He stared, body going utterly still as his instincts screamed at him to get his ass out of there.

"The fuck," he rasped, blinking and leaning forward to take a better look at the thing on his workbench. Yep, a quivering ball of fur making chirrup noises, thrilling and crooning in its place. Warily he reached out with gloved hand and poked it, quickly withdrawing his hands, all it did was thrill in a rather high pitch. Hesitantly he got closer to the table and picked the furball up. It had four tiny paws, legs? Lambert wasn’t sure what to call the four tiny limbs, they had tiny claws, but overall seemed harmless. He turned the furball over in his hands, no eyes. He carefully prodded it, looking for a mouth, he found nothing.

Baffled, he set the thing back onto the table. It chirred at him, bobbing in place. "The fuck did I do," Lambert muttering to himself, utterly baffled at what he had created. It was alive, that much he could tell. Fairly docile, and so far, all it did was make crooning noises and bob and sway gently in its place. It had no visible gender, no eyes nor a mouth that Lambert could find. It was utterly weird, that was what it was.

Lambert sighed and moved to pick up some of his ingredients only to find the furball eating his Belladonna roots. He stared at it, as it rapidly consumed the plants and roots on the bench. Well that answered the question of whether it had a mouth or not. Evidently, it had one. Were those fangs? Lambert cocked his head and took a closer look, wincing when he caught singing of a row of razor-sharp teeth gnawing a mandrake root it half.

With teeth like that, it could probably eat flesh too. Or rather rip it straight from the bone. "I should feed it," Lambert decided and with no regard for his own safety, picked up the vibrating ball of fluff and carried it with him and out of the room.

He swiftly made his way to the kitchens and asked Marlene for meat. She retrieved it for him and watched with horror as the creature insisted arms leaped onto the table and proceeded to devour the cows leg on it. "Holy fuck," Lambert cursed as his creation stripped the meat from the bone and then ate that too, it's silver colored teeth crunching it in pieces.

"What in goods name is that?" Marlene asked, panic in her voice and fear in her scent. Lambert stared at her for a moment and then looked back at the thing he had created. It sat quietly now, well mostly quiet. It was swaying lightly and chrring and crooning again. "I don't fucking now," he confessed.

"Well, you had best find out my lord, because that is not safe." Marlene told him, her voice wavering as she shoved a whole chicken to the creature and watched as it devoured that as well. Lambert felt himself agreeing with her, for all that it looked harmless it definitely wasn't. Sure they had fed it now, but he had no idea how much it needed to eat, what it's limits were regarding food or even if it would stop at animals, flowers, roots and plants. What if it could eat humans?

Lambert picked the creature up and shuddered, remembering that it had very sharp teeth somewhere. Still he found himself all but hugging it to his chest and carried it out of the kitchen. He needed to tell Geralt and maybe Eskel and may e one of the sorceresses should examine it. Because, whatever the fuck he had created, was dangerous. His instincts still screamed at him to drop it and haul ass. He wasn’t going to, letting an unknown omnivorous creature with the potential to eat humans loose in the keep was a bad, bad idea.

And so he made his way to the council rooms, barged in without knocking and dropped his creature onto the table. It crooned at him and began eating a stack of papers. Lambert let it. Wisely staying away from its teeth. Everyone else stared from him to the creature and then watched with horror fascination as it started making a dent in a stack of papers, which had been eye height high. It no longer was.

"Lambert, what in the hell is that?" It was Vesemir who voiced the question. "Fuck if I know. My experiment blew up, created that. It eats plants, Belladonna, mandrake, wolfsbane, chicken, a whole cows leg and paper too. I think it eats anything it can get its teeth on. Its soft, has four stubby legs with claws, a row of silver colored teeth, razor sharp as it crunched through the bone of the cows leg like it was a cookie." Lambert answered, he motioned to the now thrilling creature, it seemed to be singing. "I couldn't find any eyes and it's teeth are really well hidden. I don't fucking know what the fuck it is. But it just does that," the creature crooned at him, bobbing up and down and chirping to the room. "And eats whatever."

Yennefer had a look of fascination on her face as she approached. She reached out to touch it, withdrawing her hand when the flufball revealed a row of razor-sharp teeth and growled at her, inching towards Lambert and keeping its teeth in her direction. Lambert quickly put a hand on its head, and abruptly the growling stopped, the teeth vanished, and a crooning sound filled the air. "Guess it doesn't like sorceresses."

"Kill it," one of the schoolheads spoke up. "We can't have unknown creatures roaming the keep. You said it likely eats anything. What if it eats humans?" Lambert bristled, the creature made an odd noise and then began devouring anything pile of paperwork. Eskel made a devastating noise, reaching out to stop it and found himself with a hand full of crooning fluff. The creature rubbed itself against Eskels hands, crooning and chirring in delight. "So it eats whatever it finds, hates sorceresses and likes Eskel and Lambert." Vesemir mused thoughtfully, observing the ball of fluff with interest.

Geralt curiously reached out and when it didn't growl at him, began petting it. Much to its delight, if the noises it made were any indication. "Maybe it just likes witchers," Yennefer mused. She looked like she wanted to take the being apart to see how it worked.

"What we need to do, is figure out how much it needs to eat, how to stop it from wandering off and what it might attack so we can avoid the thing just wandering around, eating residents." Vesemir spoke up, notebook in hand and already making notes. Lambert sighed and rubbed his face. "Fuck, look I can take it hunting. See how much it eats or if it can hunt for itself."

"I'll come along, make sure it doesn't wander off." Eskel volunteers to go with Lambert. Obviously wanting to keep an eye on the younger wolf and make sure the creature didn't hurt him. "Thanks," Lambert grunted, twitching when his creation hopped over to him and began chirping and bobbing up and down. "Wonder what that means," one of the school heads piped up curiously. Lambert picked the creature up and let it rest in his arms against his chest. It quieted down immediately and crooned at him.

"Well, we know who it likes best." Yennefer pointed out. She itched to let her Chaos examine the critter, whatever it was, it was new and exiting. Who knows what secrets it held, what it could tell her, what discoveries there were to be made.

"Right, let's hunt. Get it fed and then figure out what exactly you created." Vesemir decided, snapping his notebook shut. And hunt they did. Lambert headed out with Eskel, whilst Vesemir and Geralt got the lab ready with Yennefer.

The creature turned out to be able to leap onto animals once it got into range but couldn't hunt down anything on its own. It relied on Lambert to get it close and then leapt forward, razor sharp teeth digging into skin and muscle and swelling a massive bite, leaving a bleeding neck behind with a huge chunk of meat and muscle just gone. It devoured its kill at a rapid speed and didn't even leave bones behind for scavengers. Eskel winced as the creature crunched its way through the bones of a bear. And it hadn’t been the first kill either. No Lambert’s creation had devoured two deer, a wild boar, sixteen rabbits, two hares, and now a bear. It also uprooted a few plants and ate a bunch of poisonous herbs. Lambert approached it with two rabbits in his hands and held them out, the creature made no move to eat them, so the redhead tied the dead animals to his belt and picked up his deadly creation. "Seems like it enough," he decided, cradling it close to his chest. It let out a burping noise and then cooed. Eskel gave him a disturbed look, "Lambert, it just ate two deer, a boar, sixteen rabbits, two hares, and a whole bear. Bones and all. I sure hope it's done eating."

The redhead shrugged, glancing down at the fluffball in his arms. "Let's get it to Vesemir." He turned around and headed back to the keep, figuring out what the creature was, was next on the list of things to do.

[marwolaeth1993]

We were talking about witchers turned into geese by Ciri, this came into my mind. I'm sharing it with you lot.

Lambert the Goose

Ciri was staring at the spot where her uncle Lambert had been just moment before her spell had hit him. In his place, stood a goose. A very bewildered red colored goose with amber eyes. The goose, Lambert? looked around and wobbled in place. Then it, he, looked up and up to Ciri. Its, his, feathers bristled and puffed up and then an angry, dare Ciri say it, accusing honk filled the air.

Ciri stared then snorted, the goose honked again, this time louder. "Uncle Lambert?" Ciri asked amused, though she tried to hide it. Another angry honk and flapping wings was her answer.

Lambert the goose didn't stop either and kept honking. Ciri had a feeling he was actually cursing, the honks changed in pitch and sounded linke a string of honks, like a flock of Geese all wrapped into one. It was a little funny, Ciri admited to herself.

She sighed and then crouched down reaching out to pick up Lambert the goose. It earned her a brief pause of silence and then the angry honking started up again. She stood and left the room, angry Lambert goose in her arms. She made her way to where she knew her papa would be. And where her papa was, so was auntie Yennefer, in the councils meeting room.

Lamberts angry honking gathered the attention of passing witchers, who stopped to stare when she said, "Uncle Lambert, its okay. I'm taking you to auntie Yen, shell fix you, promise!" Murmers of "is that Lambert?" followed her as she kept walking. Eventually Lambert quieted down, tired of honking.

Several minutes later the odd pair reached the councils meeting room. Ciri opened the door without knocking and entered, closing the door behind her. "Auntie Yennefer I need your help!" she cried out, feeling a tiny bit guilty now for turning her uncle Lambert into a goose.

The sorceress in question gave her a curious look, "where did you find a red goose, cub?" Ciri winced when said red goose started honking angrily again, pecking her in the arm. "OW, Uncle Lambert!," she cried loudly.

Silence deafend the room, as all eyes turned on the very angry red goose in her arms. Lambert the goose honked again, pecking at her arm again u til she let him go. Once back on his webbed feet, he started angrily pacing, feathers fluffed out and wings flapping angrily as he honked loudly.

#witchers #plunnie #witcherturnedintoagoose

[the-slumberparty]

WIP (Work In Progress) It Good

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