#and jask is SO offended when geralt blames him for it

[witcher-and-his-bard-archive]

Calling For You

Pairing: Geralt x Jaskier Warning(s): smut Rating: explicit

Summary: Jaskier accidentally says Geralt's name whilst in bed with someone else. He thinks his night is ruined until he returns to his own room to discover that Geralt heard him.

We’re just jumping right into the smut with this one, so the whole fic is under tthe cut just to be safe <3

"Oh, Geralt-"

Jaskier freezes as soon as the words are out of his mouth, as does the man above him. Jaskier's hands are on his thighs, his fingers digging into his flesh and he only tenses further as his partner shifts. The worst part is, Jaskier doesn't know his name, doesn't even have a good reason for blurting out someone else's name because he didn't have the correct one to start with. So he can hardly blame the guy when he scrambles up and off the bed.

"What the fuck?" the guy asks, tugging a blanket from under Jaskier's body. Jaskier opens his mouth and closes it again, for once at a loss for words.

Because what is he supposed to say? that he was imagining someone else riding him? that he would rather be next door with the big, grouchy Witcher he rolled in with?

"Fuck, sorry-" he manages but evidently, it's too much for the guy to get over. Jaskier can't even really blame him.

"Just... go. I'm sure you'd rather be somewhere else anyway."

Silently, Jaskier climbs off the bed and tugs his trousers back on, not bothering with the rest of his clothes. He scoops them up from the floor and mumbles another apology as he slips backward out into the corridor.

He leans against the railing, looking down over the open bar area. There are only a few stragglers left, the rest of them having turned in for the evening, and Jaskier contemplates joining them, seeing if he can convince one of them to join him for the evening. But realistically, he's already fucked up once tonight, he doesn't need to risk a second misstep.

So, reluctantly, he turns back toward his own room, hesitating before pushing the door open. Geralt is still awake, lying in bed, and when the door opens, he turns to Jaskier.

"You're back early. Wasn't expecting you until the morning."

"Mm," Jaskier hums. He lays his clothes out, tugging his trousers off before realizing he isn't wearing anything under them. Whatever. It isn't the first time they've slept naked together, he'll survive so long as he doesn't say any other stupid things tonight.

He crosses the room in silence, shoving Geralt over to climb into bed with him. Just as he's shutting his eyes, Geralt opens his mouth.

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why are you back so early? I was rather enjoying the silence." Geralt's lips twitch up at the corner and Jaskier resists the urge to thwack him.

"I seem to have offended my partner for the night," Jaskier mutters, rolling away from Geralt and tugging the blankets up over his shoulders.

"Didn't like being called someone else's name?" Geralt asks nonchalantly.

Jaskier chokes on air.

"What?" he splutters, rolling onto his back.

"I heard you," Geralt admits and Jaskier just stares up at him as Geralt leans up on his elbow.

"What? Do you always hear me? How long were you listening for? did you-" fuck, this is terrible.

"Jaskier?" Geralt asks, completely ignoring the fact that Jaskier is currently having a meltdown mere inches away from him. "Why were you thinking about me when you were fucking another man?"

He's at a loss for words. Funny how Geralt is the only one who does this to him. Funny and unbearably frustrating.

"Geralt-" he starts, but he chokes on his own words and Geralt slips closer.

"Would you rather it was me?" he purrs, still altogether too unfazed to be really fair. "You'd rather it was my hands on you? My body pressed up against you, pushing inside you-" Jaskier squeezes his eyes shut, biting hard on his lower lip because this is truly unfair considering he never got to come.

The shame and embarrassment had dampened his arousal well enough, but his cock picks up quickly at Geralt's suggestions, straining against the fabric of his shorts. He wants to say yes because at this point there's no denying it - there really isn't any other reason for calling out another man's name during sex - but he can't make his voice work.

Hot breath dusts at the back of his neck and Jaskier shudders. He wants Geralt badly enough on a regular basis, but tonight his skin burns for it and he wants to rock back against him, wants to pull Geralt's cock out and just slide back onto him. He's already prepped, already slick and ready for him and his body has caught up to how close he was to coming before he was thrown out of bed.

His hips give a little twitch and Geralt's hand reaches out to steady him, pressing firmly and sliding down his thigh.

"You're practically vibrating," her hums, "and I can smell it on you, how fucking badly you need it." Jaskier whimpers but somehow manages not to shove his hips back. "Is it a fantasy?" Geralt asks, "or do you really want me?"

Jaskier doesn't answer, so Geralt prompts again, nosing at the back of his neck.

"If you want me, I'd be more than happy to help you out, but you have to tell me, Jaskier. I'm not going to fuck you because you get off thinking about someone else during sex."

"Please," is all he can manage but Geralt just hums at him. He leans in, pressing his lips to the back of his neck and when he shuffles forward, Jaskier can feel how hard he is, the thick line of his cock pressing through his shorts between his cheeks.

"Tell me, Jask, what is it that you want?"

"You," he whines, "fuck Geralt, it's always you-" he bites down on his lip, but Geralrt's hand comes around, running his thumb along Jaskier's lip and pulling it free from his teeth.

"You can have me," he breathes and his hand slips down, following the line of Jaskier's chest to wrap around his cock.

Jaskier's head rolls back immediately and Geralt shifts so he's leaning up over him, bending to kiss him as his hand works over Jaskier's aching cock. He keeps his strokes steady as if working him up, but Jaskier needs more, needs it quicker, harder. He's already been on edge for so long now, he just wants to come.

But Geralt plays with him, rubbing his thumb under the head and grinding up against his ass without giving him any room to move with him. He keeps him steady, pinned against his body, and Jaskier is overwhelmed in a matter of minutes, whining against Geralt's mouth and desperately trying to fuck against his hand. And just as he finally rocks forward, Geralt pulls off of him.

He tugs his shorts down, kicking them off before grabbing Jaskier's hip again. Geralt's cock is hot and hard where it slips between Jaskier's cheeks and he's wild with it. Jaskier rocks back quickly, rubbing himself against Geralt's cock and Geralt settles back against the bed, fingers trailing up Jaskier's thigh.

"Fuck yourself on it," he whispers and Jaskier nearly comes right there.

He rolls his hips back, letting Geralt's cockhead catch on his rim, but after the third time, he gets impatient, reaching back to position him. Geralt groans as Jaskier sinks onto him, fingers sliding down and clenching around his thigh and Jaskier commits the sound to memory, basking in it.

He's too impatient to take his time and he doesn't need any prep, so he slides onto him all at once, barely stopping to settle before pulling himself up and sliding down again. He groans, head back so Geralt can nip at his neck, kissing over the little bite marks and sucking at his skin. And Jaskier is dizzy with it, with the realization that this is Geralt wrapped around him and that he's allowed to have him this way.

Jaskier rocks himself back, hips too slow to keep up with the need burning through him and when Geralt's cock hits that spot inside him, he cries out, shoving back hard. He holds himself there, rutting onto him so Geralt stays pressed up against that spot and he whimpers as Geralt's hand slips down between his thighs, still gripping him firmly.

He wants that hand on his cock, wants Geralt to stroke and squeeze him, to play with his balls and press against his hole. He wants him to feel where he's pressed into him, to rub the stretched muscle and feel how he fills him so entirely. But Geralt seems uninterested in any of that, though his hips jerk abortively with every roll of Jaskier's.

"Want you to come on my cock," he breathes, nosing against Jaskier's shoulder. "I'll suck you off or jerk you off after if you want, but I want to see you come on my cock. Think you can?"

"Fuck," Jaskier groans, "gods, Geralt you can't just throw that out there like that. Yeah," he huffs, "yeah, I can come on your cock." Even saying it out loud has him twitching and he leans back against Geralt's chest, grinding back a little more firmly.

"Yeah," Geralt whispers, "fuck, like that." Jaskier's not going to last long like this, and when Geralt gets his leg over his, rocking forward to meet him, he just whimpers.

"Geralt," he huffs, "Geralt, fuck I can't- I'm gonna come, please- fuck-"

Geralt's hand finds his hip, pulling him back hard and Jaskier tenses up against him, groaning loudly as he spills between the sheets, cock twitching as Geralt presses up against his prostate. He squirms through it, so overwhelmed he feels like he's crawling out of his own skin and Geralt coaxes him through it, kissing his neck and shoulders and brushing gentle fingers over his skin.

It feels like an eternity before Jaskier's calm enough to breathe properly again and he turns his head, opening his eyes to find Geralt leaning over him. He dips down as soon as Jaskier sees him, catching his mouth in a heated kiss and shifting around him to slip out and roll Jaskier onto his back.

Geralt pushes the blankets off them and climbs over him, kneeling between Jaskier's legs and dropping onto his elbows. He pulls his legs up, hooking them over his shoulders and presses light kisses to the inside of Jaskier's thighs. Jaskier squirms but Geralt doesn't let up, his kisses getting firmer, interspersed with soft nips until he reaches his hips.

Geralt glances up, meeting Jaskier's eyes before licking a stripe up the length of his softening cock. Jaskier whines, trying to press into the touch and simultaneously pull away from it because he's only just come and his body hasn't had time to settle. But Geralt does it again, this time sliding his lips around the head of his cock and suckling gently. He runs his tongue over the tip, pressing at the slit and then sliding a little lower, so the whole head of Jaskier's cock is in his mouth.

He sucks more firmly now, sliding over him a little and pressing against the underside. His tongue rubs against him, swirls around him, and Jaskier can already feel himself growing hard again under Geralt's attention. The sensitivity slowly fades and soon Geralt's taking him all the way down and Jaskier writhes under him, begging for more.

He slips his fingers into Geralt's hair, fascinated with the way he moans when Jaskier tugs and he makes a point of repeating it every time Geralt does something that feels exceptionally good. And before long he's panting again, hips jumping up to meet Geralt's moth as he slides over him and then, just as he feels like he can't hold on any longer, like he's about to burst, Geralt pulls off.

Jaskier groans at the loss, hips rising off the bed to chase the heat of his mouth, but Geralt presses him down again with one firm hand. When Jaskier looks up at him, he's a mess and his cock twitches at the sight. Geralt's eyes are dark, his lips slick and swollen, and between his legs his cock hangs hard and heavy, dripping with precome and too enticing for his own good.

"Fuck me," Jaskier breathes, reaching up to run a hand down Geralt's chest. "Wanna come again, wanna make you come."

Geralt doesn't need any more encouragement than that and he moves forward, shifting onto his knees and pulling Jaskier's body toward him. He gives himself a couple of strokes before pressing back between Jaskier's cheeks and sliding in.

He sinks deep before moving, starting with shallow thrusts, barely pulling out at all until Jaskier's breathless under him, arching off the bed and clenching his hands into the sheets.

"Please, Geralt, fuck," he groans, "I'm gonna come."

Geralt buries himself deep, rocking into him and breathing hard against his chest. He kisses a line down his chest then wraps his lips around a nipple and Jaskier shuts his eyes, groaning as his body shudders under the pleasure of it. With Geralt's mouth on him, he feels like he's going to fall apart at the seams, but he doesn't know if he can come untouched again and he aches for it.

But Geralt shifts, resting on one elbow as he brings in his other arm to wrap a hand around Jaskier's neglected cock. He strokes him firmly but quickly, keeping time with his own thrusts until Jaskier can't hold it together any longer and he comes, spilling all over his chest and Geralt's hand.

Geralt doesn't stop, bringing himself closer and fucking him in long, hard thrusts that have Jaskier gasping every time. He presses his head to his chest and Jaskier brings his hands up, running them through his hair and tugging gently until Geralt stiffens and stills, buried deep inside him.

He stays like that, still buried in him as he stretches up to kiss him again. All the heat and urgency is gone and Geralt's mouth is soft against his, his tongue gently pressing against his lips to deepen the kiss. Jaskier gets his arms around his chest, hauling him up on top of him. He's too tired to worry about the mess and Geralt doesn't seem to mind anyway, so he just slips his arms around him and kisses him.

Geralt pulls away from his mouth, nuzzling against his neck and pressing soft kisses to whichever bit of him he can reach.

"If it was me you wanted, why did you always go fuck everyone else?"

"Didn't want to fuck this up," Jaskier mumbles, feeling rather bare. Geralt's arm tightens around his hip, pulling him in closer.

"You couldn't," he hums, "I'd be more than happy to have you in my bed any night of the week. And it's not going to change anything." Jaskier tries not to let his disappointment show, but the sound of agreement he makes comes out sad and Geralt huffs a soft laugh, pressing in to kiss the back of his neck. "Well, it might change some things."

#geraskier #spicy #rex writes

[comfyswitcherblanketfort]

Geralt and the Minotaur p5

Y’all can thank @bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher for how fast this came out. Brain Cell Bae, feast on the serotonin my dear 💖

Pairing: Geraskier

Warnings: canon consistent violence, blood, gore, fight scene, talk of human sacrifice, talk of child sacrifice, talk of animal sacrifice, reference to bestiality, talk of dismembering monsters, beheading monsters 

some background for y’all that don’t know: King Minos had a deal with Poseidon that he would sacrifice his prize bull to the god every year but one year Minos couldn’t do it. He was way obsessed with this fine ass bull and sacrificed the second best and Poseidon got PISSED. So, like the little shit he is, he made Minos’ wife get hot for the bull and hence we have the Minotaur. This is an extra big no no in ancient Greece bc bulls were practically worshiped and seen as holy. There’s some other fucked up shit to do with bull sex but like I’ll let you live on in blissful ignorance like I wish I could. 

also just in case y’all didn’t know the Greeks used to collect and sell gladiators sweat as perfume. Idk how that smelled good but like, as a thirsty hoe, I kinda get it. 

heres part 4!

__________

Geralt woke to screams. 

It took him a moment to realize what was happening, let alone where he was. Jaskier was curled in his arms, still sound asleep as the screams made way to sobs and the singing of a sword being pulled from its scabbard. It was time, but Geralt felt nothing.

He shook Jaskier awake and snatched the ball of twine and sword, tucking the blade into his belt and praying to Athena, Poseidon, any god that would listen that the guards wouldn’t shove it loose. Jaskier snatched the twine from his hand and stowed it in his own clothes just in time for the soldiers to reach their cell. 

They were ushered at sword point up a path to the back of the palace where dingy stone steps lead down to a massive stone door, underground by a dozen feet at least. Jaskier clung to Geralt’s hand, clenching his jaw tight and looking forward as they were lead to the doors. It took three men to open them and Geralt heard someone in their party mumble about how well and truly fucked they were. He couldn’t blame them. 

They were shoved through the arch, surprisingly without ceremony, and the doors were heaved closed behind them.

When the rumble of stone on stone finally ceased and they were left with near darkness Geralt finally felt the panic. Everyone was looking at him, he could barely make out their features, but he knew, and all he could do was stare at the door. 

Jaskier gave his hand a gentle squeeze, offering him the now glowing gold ball of twine, “Geralt?”

Something snapped into place deep in Geralt’s gut and the panic vanished. He took the twine and tied it to the door before removing the sword from his clothes and handing the dagger to Jaskier.

“Do not stray from the twine. Stay with the group.” He growled, now better able to see from the light of the yarn. Everyone was terrified, but they were his responsibility now, and if he had to scare them further to keep them safe he would. 

“What if it sneaks up on us?!” A young girl squeaked, she couldn’t have been more than fifteen.

“We’ll hear it. Now, follow me.”

“Do you know where you’re going?” 

Geralt frowned, ready to admit like before that he hadn’t a clue, but then he heard it. It was faint, and he could only hear inhales, but there was snarling breathing that couldn’t be mistaken for anything other than a monster.

“I do.” He turned to go before anyone asked any more questions. 

Jaskier was at his heels, one hand gripping the dagger and the other clutching at Geralt’s belt to stay close, “Geralt, do you really know where we’re going?” he whispered.

“I can hear him.” Geralt muttered. Every muscle in his body was tensed and ready to strike as he lead the way down the arched corridor, unraveling the twine as they went. 

They walked on for what felt like forever, the hall twisted and turned, even went up a flight of stairs, but nothing about it seemed very maze-like. Jaskier kept quiet, but Geralt could feel his hand at his back trembling. Others in the group were whispering, They say it has a battle ax and Maybe it'll kill us quickly. 

Geralt held a hand up upon coming to their first T, “Everyone hush.” He closed his eyes, doing his best to listen past the panicked panting of the group. It was there, just barely, but the deep breathing of something much bigger than him was coming from the left. 

This continued for hours, or maybe it was only minutes, Geralt couldn’t tell,  until everyone could hear the beast’s steady breath and see a faint orange glow around a corner. 

Geralt stopped, turning to face the terrified group of teenagers, “Stay here and stay quiet.” he instructed. Then, handing off the glowing twine and whispering to Jaskier, “If I die you have to run. Sprint back to the doors, all of you should be able to open them. I’d tell you to go now if I weren’t afraid of waking it.” 

Jaskier had the gal to look offended, “If you think for one second I’m letting you go in there alone-”

“You will. The ship we came in on will be leaving in the morning with or without us. Be on it.” Geralt was getting jumpy, being a little more aggressive than he needed to, but the thought of Jaskier being left to die in this labyrinth without him was overwhelming and he’d never had more adrenaline coursing through him before. 

Jaskier held Geralt’s face between his hands and drew him in for a lip bruising kiss. Geralt’s unoccupied arm looped around his waist and pulled him close as his whole body screamed at him to run away with him. Nothing sounded better right then than sneaking out of the labyrinth and sailing off to some other island where they could live their lives in peace. No responsibility, no destiny, no monsters. 

Someone cleared their throat and Geralt pulled back, blushing furiously as he switched his sword back and forth between his hands, “That was one hell of a goodbye kiss.” 

Jaskier rolled his eyes, “Good luck, not goodbye. You’ll be fine.”

Geralt nodded and peeked around the corner, catching a glimpse of a large open hall with a fire burning at its center and what one might have mistaken for a pile of furs and pillows laying in front of it. He ducked back into the corridor, pressing his back against the wall and doing his best to take a deep breath that wasn’t a panicked gasp. His limbs felt like goatskins full of water and his palms were already starting to sweat. He barely kept his face under control as he tried to work up the nerve to move. 

Jaskier held his free hand, gently massaging at the tendons, “You’ve done this before, you can do it again.”

“It’s huge, Jask,” Geralt whispered, mortified that he’d made it all this way, and now when it mattered he couldn’t stifle the panic. 

“You threw a man twice my size halfway across the deck on our way here. You are strong and brave and deceptively intelligent.” Geralt raised an eyebrow at his words but let him continue, needed him to continue, “The blood of the gods runs through your veins and you’ve been blessed by the goddess of strategy and wit herself. You can do this.”

“Athena sending my mother to the sea is hardly a blessing.” Geralt argued, pushing off the wall and squeezing Jaskier’s hand before letting go. 

Jaskier pursed his lips, eyes somber despite his annoyed expression, “I’ll be waiting for you.” 

Geralt nodded and, though his limbs were still shaking, he stepped out into the hall of the Minotaur. 

He ran over all the advice he could remember from every soldier he’d spoken with as he crept toward the sleeping beast. As he got closer to the fire he saw the bones of previous sacrifices, some no bigger than a child’s, and the remnants of animal carcasses that were far fresher. The stench was getting progressively worse as he approached, so much so that he wondered if he might vomit before he could attack. He wanted to look back, he wanted to run back, but he kept his eyes trained on the beast before him. It was at least twice his size, covered in a strange coat of hair with a tail to match. Horns protruded from it’s forehead, long and sweeping forward in dramatic curves. He couldn’t see it’s face and prayed he wouldn’t have to while it was still alive.

When he was within feet of the Minotaur he raised his sword, gripping it in both hands and set his feet, readying to stab it in the neck. It was laying on its side, half curled into a fetal position as it slept. He felt a pang of sympathy for the creature. It wasn’t given a chance, wasn't guilty of the sin its mother committed or the offence her husband had committed against Poseidon. With it sleeping so still and so vulnerable he almost forgot the horror stories he’d heard from before they caged it here. He paused a moment too long.

As he brought down the blade the creature shifted and his sword cut deep across its back rather than a fatal blow at the neck. 

The roaring scream it let loose was disorienting, it rattled Geralt’s bones and had him shuffling backwards. It rolled to its hands and knees, or what functioned as knees, and Geralt slashed at it’s arm, slicing through thick ropy muscle as if it weren’t there. He thanked the gods the sword Triss had given him was sharp as he jumped out of the way of the Minotaur’s other arm swinging at him. He brought his sword down where he had just been standing, barely missing the monster’s forearm, but exposing his side, just like Eskel had warned not to. The Minotaur, now standing upright and towering over Geralt, kicked him in the ribs, sending him tumbling across the floor. He barely kept hold of his sword as he rolled to a stop, gasping for breath. 

It snarled at him, stomping closer on cloven hooves but holding one arm close to its middle. Geralt waited, kept gasping for breath long after he’d regained the ability to breathe properly and let the thing get closer. When it was within reach, raising it’s good arm in preparation to pummel Geralt into the stone, he lashed out again with his sword. This time the metal swiped clean through the canon of its left leg, severing the hoof from the leg completely. The Minotaur fell forward, nearly pinning Geralt to the ground as he scrambled out of the way. It struggled to push itself up on its one good arm but Geralt kneeled on its back, knee digging into the wound across it’s shoulders. He barely registered the screams of pain and outrage over the thrumming of his own pulse as he grabbed one of its horns with one hand and dragged his sword across its throat with the other. 

The screaming stopped, replaced by a stomach churning gurgle and trickle of blood. A deep, nearly black red liquid oozed out in every direction from the beast’s wounds as it struggled and twitched. Geralt didn’t want to take any chances. Cursed beasts had magical properties and he’d be damned if he left the thing alive enough to heal. Before the corpse began to cool he hacked and slashed until the head was completely severed from the body. 

Only then did he feel the pain radiating from his side all the way down his leg and into his toes. He threw the Minotaur’s head toward the corridor he’d entered from and collapsed on this good side, barely missing the rapidly expanding pool of blood. He grunted out a labored “Fuck.” before he heard shuffling feet and felt hands under his arms.  

Jaskier and the girl with all the questions were hauling him toward the fire. 

When they set him down Jaskier’s hands were flitting over his body searching for injuries, “I told you you’d be fine.” he teased, an undercurrent of fear cutting through his tone.

“Not fine,” Geralt huffed as Jaskier prodded his side and he tried to sit up, “Alive.”

“You probably broke a rib, go slowly.” Jaskier warned, helping Geralt up.

“You’re a doctor now?” Geralt teased, wincing as he straightened to full height.

Jaskier patted Geralt’s chest, “I’ve been kicked by a cow or two.”

He pulled Geralt close and kissed him softly, sighing like the world had been lifted from his shoulders. 

When he released the prince he rearranged the soft grey fabric and whispered so only Geralt could hear, “I could sell your sweat for a fortune right now.”

Geralt laughed and rolled his eyes, beginning to limp back to the other Athenians and scooping up the Minotaur’s head by the horns, “Lets go, I need a bath.” 

____________________

Next part here!

#the witcher #geralt of rivia #jaskier #jullian alfred pankratz #the witcher greek au #the witcher greek mythology au #geralt of rivia greek mythology au #geraskier #geraskier greeky mythology au #geraskier fan fic #geraskier fic #the witcher fan fic #the witcher fic #geralt of rivia fic #jaskier fic #geralt of rivia fanfic #jaskier fan fic #regan writes