Can't help but send this to everyone with the egglaying/oviposition/eggpreg kink listed in their kink list... Easter themed stories for everyone!! Maybe it's a creature, Easter Hare/Sprigon/Springtime goddess maybe it's easter eggs, maybe it's a fertility ritual gone wrong/right!! So much fun springtime/fertility/creature lore out there, go wild and feel inspired!
Hope you don’t mind that I combined these two--they were both so good! Although sadly I didn’t manage to work in CBT. Next time! (Also, to the 3 months-old prompts still sitting in my inbox, very sorry for the delay! Those will definitely be my next priority.)
read on ao3, or below:
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Geralt woke with the first breaths of spring, shaking the cold out of his bones and shedding the winter that had settled over his forest for the long months. He had much to do in preparation for the months to come—an entire world to bring back to life.
It was easy enough to coax the lands back into blooming, and it was a task he always enjoyed, convincing the flowers to blossom and the trees to bud. He wove among the trees, feet treading lightly on the soft grass springing up.
And then he heard it—someone singing, the spring breeze carrying the melody to him from afar. The singer’s voice was beautiful—clear, joyful, reaching soaring highs. And an idea came to Geralt.
He knew he would soon need to bring new life to the world, the beginnings of cramps in his abdomen already making themselves known. His eggs wouldn’t be ready for another few weeks, which was perfect—it gave him time to prepare, time to plan how he would snag the singer to be his mate, to bear his young and to renew the forest.
Geralt laid his trap in advance—a trail of treats leading from the village to just outside his warren, sure to pique the curiosity of the young bard, if not the appetite. And then, hiding in the bushes, belly heavy with eggs, he waited for his soon-to-be-victim to appear.
It didn’t take long. Jaskier—as Geralt had learned his name was—had taken to walking the forest paths in the evenings, sighing over the beauty of the forest or the beauty of a lover or any other thing that caught his poet’s attention. And sure enough, when he saw the first treat Geralt had laid out, he picked it up, and the next, and the next, until he found himself in front of Geralt’s warren.
“That’s odd. Who would--?”
He was cut off as Geralt leapt, bursting from the bushes to snag Jaskier around the waist. The bard yelped, too surprised to even fight back—in a short moment Geralt had navigated the twisting hallways of his warren (an impossible maze to anyone but him) and deposited Jaskier solidly on the pile of furs that made up his nest.
Jaskier stammered for a moment, lost for words as his brain processed the quick turn of events, until he finally gathered his wits. “Now see here!” he started, and then he finally took in the creature before him.
Geralt stood, bare as Mother Nature had birthed him, stomach gravid with new life. His rabbit ears swiveled under Jaskier’s inspection, his nose twitching as he waited for Jaskier to speak.
“What—who are you?”
“Geralt.”
Jaskier paled at the name—he had only just realized he was in the presence of a god, apparently. “What—what will you do with me?” he whispered, fingering nervously at the hem of his shirt. Geralt kneeled down next to him, pulling away his hands and pinning them to his side, just as he pinned him with a stare.
“You’ll bring new life to the forest.”
Jaskier’s eyes flickered downwards and back up again just as quickly. “I think there’s been a mistake, I can’t—I’m not a woman,” he said bluntly, trying to tug his hands out of Geralt’s grasp. Geralt held firm.
“You’ll bear my eggs just fine.” Saying that, he released Jaskier’s wrists so that he could begin to divest the bard of his clothing, but he wasn’t expecting the sudden resistance he was met with.
“What—no,” Jaskier protested, batting his hands away and drawing his knees up to his chest. Geralt admired how it rounded his arse—which he would soon be sinking into. “I—I mean, please, o God of Spring, I urge you to reconsider,” he begged.
“I’ve considered it enough,” Geralt answered, “and decided. You’re perfect for me. Young, full of life and song. You’ll make a wonderful mate.” Then, hoping to calm the bard’s racing heart, he leaned forward and kissed him, gentle lips trying to put him at ease.
It didn’t work—Jaskier went even stiffer, turning his face away and squeezing his eyes shut. “Please,” he whispered. “Please, let me go. Don’t do this.”
Geralt grew angry. It was an honor to be chosen by a god—who did this young upstart think he was, turning down such a generous offer? But he knew of a way to ensure Jaskier’s compliance. “What do you think happens if the God of Fertility is unable to complete his ritual?” he bit out.
Jaskier didn’t answer.
“I’ll tell you. The forest will stagnate, devoid of new life, and your village will starve,” Geralt said bluntly. “If that’s what you want…”
Jaskier bit his lip, reddening it. “No,” he finally sniffed, all the fight fleeing him at once.
“Then let me breed you,” Geralt rumbled, and leaned in for another kiss, testing Jaskier’s resistance. He was met with none, although he wasn’t met with enthusiasm either. That was fine—Geralt didn’t need a willing host.
He pushed Jaskier backwards until he was lying on his back, and made quick work of his clothes. Jaskier stared resolutely at the ceiling the entire time, face creased in distress, but he didn’t struggle. Soon he too was bare, and Geralt wasted no time in hiking up his legs, exposing his tight hole.
“Wait,” Jaskier interrupted, a new fear in his eyes. “Aren’t you going to—please don’t fuck me dry.”
Geralt growled. He didn’t want to waste any more time—the eggs were growing heavier by the minute, his body anticipating his coming laying. But he supposed lubricant would make it more pleasurable at least, and the boy wouldn’t run the risk of tearing.
He dropped Jaskier’s legs and went to fetch a vial of oil, confident inn the knowledge that Jaskier wouldn’t—and couldn’t—flee. He returned shortly, and Jaskier was still where he’d left him, shivering a bit in the cool springtime air.
Geralt would soon warm him up. He poured out some oil and hiked Jaskier’s legs up again, oiled fingers coming to prod at his hole. He was tight, but under Geralt’s constant pressure, soon yielded to the press of two fingers stretching him wide. And Geralt knew he would only stretch further as the night went on.
Jaskier’s lips parted at the first intrusion, brow creasing in not-quite-pain. “Relax,” Geralt murmured. “It’ll feel good, if you let it.”
Geralt worked him with two fingers until he was panting, subtly shifting his hips in search of more. Geralt obliged, slipping in another finger, rewarded with a moan as Jaskier threw his head back. Geralt reached for his cock, intending to bring him to orgasm so that he would relax further, but was surprised when Jaskier gripped his wrist.
“What are you doing?” he growled, and Jaskier released his wrist instantly, eyes widening.
“Please don’t—just get this over with?” he pleaded.
“You need to relax, or else my eggs won’t fit.” Jaskier turned watery eyes to him, but Geralt couldn’t be budged. “I know what you need. Just relax and let me.”
Jaskier shut his eyes, but made no move to further hinder Geralt as he once again reached to stroke Jaskier’s cock to full hardness. It only took a few strokes before he was moaning louder, bucking up into Geralt’s fist, driving himself back down on Geralt’s fingers.
Geralt twisted his wrist just as he prodded at that sensitive spot inside of Jaskier, and Jaskier spilled with a cry. Geralt pumped him through it, only stopping when Jaskier began to shudder from overstimulation and twist away. Geralt’s fingers remained deep inside Jaskier’s hole, keeping him stretched and ready for his cock—which was proudly standing at attention, eager to sink into that warm slickness.
Jaskier’s eyes rolled back in his head as Geralt breached him for the first time, Geralt himself only barely holding back from sinking all the way in. Fuck, Geralt hadn’t felt something this good in a long time. Even parted around Geralt’s thick cock, and even after orgasm, he was still so tight, hot and contracting sinfully around him.
Geralt sank in slowly, until he was buried to the hilt, Jaskier gurgling underneath him. Geralt could oh-so-faintly see the outline of his cock in the bard’s abdomen, piercing him all the way up past his navel. Geralt pulled out and sank back in again just to watch it bulge, feel the way Jaskier clenched.
“Fuck, gonna breed you so good,” Geralt grunted, his composure leaving him as he began to thrust faster. Jaskier moaned, writhing a little beneath him, his hot, sucking hole fluttering as if trying to draw Geralt deeper. Geralt’s pleasure grew higher and higher, until, with a grunt, he emptied himself into Jaskier, hot cum splashing deep, filling his stomach in preparation for the eggs that were coming.
They weren’t very big, but there were many of them, all clamoring to get out, to be laid inside a warm host. Geralt gripped tighter around Jaskier’s waist, pulling him further down onto his cock as the first few eggs spilled out of him. One, two, ten, bump after bump traveling the length of his cock and being deposited inside Jaskier.
“Fuck,” Jaskier gasped, muscles twitching. “Feels so weird—so much—”
“There’s plenty more to come,” Geralt replied, groaning as another batch made its way out of him. Jaskier made a guttural noise and tried to pull away instinctively, his body screaming at him too much too much too much.
Geralt yanked him ruthlessly back down, and Jaskier screamed, voice cracking as he sobbed. “Please, enough,” he wheezed, and Geralt knew he had to be struggling for air, his lungs unable to fully inflate with how full his stomach was becoming.
He didn’t listen, pinning Jaskier in place despite how he struggled, animal instincts trying to flee, until he gave up all at once, sobbing beginning anew. His lithe body quaked underneath Geralt, each jolt sending a shock of pleasure to his cock, still trapped in that wet heat.
The last egg, one of perhaps a hundred, popped into Jaskier. He lay there shuddering, covered in sweat and his own come, gasping for breath. His eyes were closed, but they flew open as soon as Geralt took his cock in hand again, stroking just to feel how wonderfully tight he clenched around Geralt with every touch.
“Nonono stop,” Jaskier gasped, pushing ineffectually at Geralt’s chest. “Stop, it’s too much—”
Geralt didn’t stop—Jaskier felt too good around him. He grunted, speeding his hand and thrusting into Jaskier, chasing a second orgasm as he forced Jaskier towards his second.
Jaskier came with a cry, fresh tears rolling down his cheeks as he spasmed around Geralt, and Geralt followed him, spurting his seed into Jaskier once more. His body couldn’t take it, full as he was, and it spilled out around Geralt’s cock, leaking out onto Jaskier’s thighs and onto the furs.
Geralt pulled out, watching hungrily as more come leaked out, though his eggs stayed firmly inside, where they would remain until the time came to birth them.
“You’ll carry my eggs so well,” Geralt praised, picking Jaskier up—careful not to compress his overfull belly—and laying him down on a cleaner pile of furs.
Jaskier didn’t reply, too wrung out to even muster a word. His eyes slipped closed, his body falling into a much-needed rest, so that he didn’t hear Geralt’s next words.
