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jaskiersbow · 3 years ago

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Dog Shifter Jaskier

In which Jaskier can shift into a dog and also fucks/gets fucked by them. Written for @thewitcherbog's DDmas event.

Explicit. Warnings: bestiality, Underage sex (with dogs), Dirty Talk, Humiliation kink, Knotting, Jaskier fucks female and male dogs. 5,800 words.

Pairings: Jaskier/Female Dog, Jaskier/Male Dog, Geraskier (Jaskier is of age here)

---

The first time Jaskier shifts into a dog, he's ten years old. He's arguing with his mother one second and then looking up at her from her feet the next. He goes to speak and a high-pitched bark comes out. His mother looks down at him in shock before scooping him up and hurrying into his room. When he finally shifts back into a boy, she tells him that his father can never find out. Somehow she finds a mage willing to help him get control of it, but there are a few months where he has to avoid any kind of excitement or else he'll shift without meaning to. It's a lot for a young boy to handle, but his mother and the mage manage to get him through it.

By twelve, Jaskier seems to have complete control over his shifts. Much to his mother's dismay, he prefers to spend time as a dog, because he's able to escape from all the expectations his father has for him. It's easy to shift into his russet colored mutt form and run off into the woods. Everything seems to be going well until one night at dinner when his father announces that he needs to take on more responsibility. He wilts under the attention and waits to see what his punishment will be.

"The hound master is getting up in years, and his sons don't seem to have a brain to share between them. I think it would be a good fit for you. Tomorrow you can report to the kennels and learn how to care for the hunting dogs. Maybe if you're good enough, you can keep one of the next pups for yourself. Every boy should have a dog, don't you think dear?" his father says, turning towards his mother. Jaskier lets out a sigh of relief, because this is honestly the best possible scenario. He's obviously geared towards the job, and it's nothing like the ledgers and reports he'd imagined he'd be stuck with.

"Do we really want him around the hounds all day long?" Jaskier's mother asks, poorly concealed panic in her eyes. His father doesn't bother giving her a glance, though. He just declares the matter settled, and Jaskier is told to report to the stables after breakfast in the morning. He understands his mother's worry, but it's not like spending more time around dogs will make him any odder than he already is.

It doesn't take long for Jaskier to fall into a routine. Geoffrey, the hound master, is friendly and good at teaching him. He quickly figures out the best way to handle the large hunting dogs and preens under all the praise he's given. Even his father thinks he's doing a fine job, and he promises him pick of the next litter. He can't believe he'll have a dog of his own and wonders how it will feel to shift and curl up on his bed with his new friend. He can't speak with the dogs when he's shifted, but they seem to recognize him. He can get little hints of feelings, knows how to figure out what each bark and tail wag means. All in all, it's a fantastic time to be him.

And then one morning he shows up to the kennels and his whole world is flipped on its head.

He's a bit early today, but the dogs are always so excited to see him that it's hard to linger over his morning meal. When Jaskier steps into the kennels, he hears a weird grunt and follows the sound to the back of the building. He stops dead in his tracks, gut churning as he sees the hound master's youngest son William balls deep in one of the breeding bitches. Jaskier's eyes go wide as William looks at him, not even bothering to stop fucking the dog.

"A cunt's a cunt," William finally says, and it's all Jaskier can do to get his feet moving. He mumbles an excuse and scurries away, his mind reeling at what he's just seen. He feels like he should feel ashamed, or feel worried for the dog, but all he feels is desire. His little cock is hard and throbbing in his trousers, and he knows that his life has changed forever. He'd never thought about actually being with one of the dogs that way, but fuck if he doesn't want it more than anything now. He shifts into a dog and scampers into the woods, needing to be alone for a bit.

He feels weird, and it takes him a few moments to realize that his cock is hard, even though he hasn't shifted back. He flops onto his back and manages to catch sight of it, the tiny red cock poking out of its sheath, wet and dribbling onto his fur. The shock of it shifts him back and he's tugging at the laces of his trousers before he even realizes what he's doing.

Jaskier has touched himself before - he dares any young man not to - but it's never felt like this, has never been this frantic. All he can picture is William fucking into the dog and how pleased she seemed. It wasn't the faint aggression of when the male dogs are breeding her. There was no fighting it, no rough claws holding her down as a stud bred her. No, she almost seemed to enjoy it as much as William did.

It doesn't take long for him to shoot off, and Jaskier coats his fingers with his own seed while he imagines what it could feel like to take one of the bitches like that. He collapses back onto the grass, not even bothering to clean up since he knows he'll most likely spend the rest of the morning getting himself off. His cock isn't even fully soft, and there's a fire burning in his gut when he pictures being the one to hold the dog down and sink into her. He would make it just as good as William did. He just knows it. It would be rude not to take care of your partner, even if she is a dog.

Just the thought of fingering one of the dogs open, of sinking his small fingers into one of their wet cunts, is enough to have him hard and throbbing again. Fuck, he knows he can't let this one go. Thankfully he has the perfect excuse to spend as much time in the kennels as he wants. He pumps himself again, sloppily fucking into his own fist, and pictures which one of the dogs he'll start with. By the time he returns home that afternoon, he's a mess and can barely make it to bed before passing out into the best sleep he's ever had.

---

The problem is, once Jaskier starts thinking about fucking one of the hunting dogs, he can't stop. He knows most people his age are starting to kiss each other or even working their way up to fooling around, but he's put off by that. He knows his mother has kept him sheltered, but he's an odd child. No one seems to want to play with him, and his best friends are the dogs and the old hound master. Maybe he'll grow out of it, but all he wants right now is to find a way to make it happen. Melitele knows he can't be as brazen as William is. What would his father think if someone caught him buried in one of the bitches?

Thankfully, it's easy for Jaskier to sneak out of the house at night. He immediately shifts into his dog form and heads towards the kennels. It's been a week since he saw William fucking one of the female dogs, and it's taken this long for him to work himself up to it. If thinking about how amazing it would be feels so good, doing it must be even better. Jaskier sniffs around, making sure no one else is around, and then shifts back to himself. He leans back against the door, heart pounding in his chest, and reaches back to lock it.

The dogs are mostly asleep, but a few of them perk up when he enters. The male and female dogs are kept separate, so Jaskier heads towards the female pen. He's seen how the studs breed, and he's not sure his body could take that kind of roughness. The thought of it stirs something in his gut, though, so who knows what the future might bring? But tonight he has his eyes set on something softer.

"Evening ladies," Jaskier murmurs as he walks into the enclosure. Most stay sleeping, but one of the younger ones wanders over to him and starts pawing at him for pets. The old hound master never lets him name the dogs, but he feels like that will be the first rule he changes when he takes over. "Aren't you a pretty one? I'll call you Beauty," Jaskier tells her before dropping to his knees and running his hands over her soft fur.

Jaskier has thought about this so much, but now that he's here, he's suddenly so nervous. What if Beauty doesn't want him? He doesn't want to hurt her. She's a ball of excitement, trying to crawl into his lap and licking his chin as he laughs and pets her. Deciding it's best to just jump right in, he starts petting lower and lower until his fingers find her opening. She tilts her head at him, but rolls onto her back to show him her belly. And if that isn't an invitation, he doesn't know what is.

A little more sure of himself, Jaskier circles her hole with a finger, his arm trembling as he tries to see what she likes. Beauty is squirming beneath him, and her leg rubs against the front of his pants, and he realizes he's never been so hard in his whole life. He whines and sinks a finger inside of her, eyes widening at how wet she is already. He's heard about this - dirty tales from the older men - but he's never touched something as soft and perfect as a cunt before.

He has to take a second and undo his laces, palming his leaking cock as he works his fingers inside of her. Beauty writhes excitedly, and he's sure she likes this, likes him. He may not know much about any of this, but he swears to make it good for her. "You're so tight, dear," he whispers in awe, not sure how even his small prick will fit inside of her. But instinct guides him, and he adds another finger, pumping them as he stretches her open for him.

Just when he thinks he won't last anymore, Beauty lets out a bark and rolls onto her belly, coming up to stand on all fours. Jaskier stares down at his wet fingers for a moment before bringing them up to his mouth. She tastes salty and bitter, and he decides he loves it. He's heard about adults using their mouths on each other. Maybe he'll try that next time. For now, though, it's quite clear that she is ready for him. He knows a breeding stance when he sees one.

"Such a good girl for me," he tells her as he shoves his trousers down further. He kneels behind her, not entirely sure what he's doing, but all he wants to feel is her tight heat wrapped around his prick. He pumps himself a couple of times before moving closer and seeking her out. He rubs the tip of his cock against her folds, groaning as she bucks back against him. It takes a few tries, but he manages to slip inside of her, nearly blowing his load right then and there.

"Oh fuck," Jaskier moans out, hanging his head as he tries to keep control of himself. Beauty's cunt feels amazing around him, hot and wet and so fucking tight he could cry. No wonder people love this. He gives himself a moment to get used to the feeling and then gives a tentative roll of his hips. She bucks back against him, and he whimpers and grabs her hips tightly, his fingers buried in her fur.

And then it's like he loses control of his own body. All he can do is hang onto Beauty as his hips start moving, his body rocking against her. She feels so fucking good around him, and he knows he isn't going to take long to come. She's panting beneath him, her tongue hanging out as he fucks her. He likes to think she's enjoying this, that he's better than all the studs who had had their way with her. No one loves the dogs as much as Jaskier does. No one gets them like he does.

He moves faster, thrusting harder and harder as he feels his orgasm building in his spine. He bends down and presses his face against her soft fur, crying out as his hips snap one last time and he spills inside of her. He keeps moving, riding it out as he empties himself in her tight heat. Once he's done, he collapses to the side, panting and looking up at her in awe. She leans down and laps at his face, and he slides his tongue against hers in a mockery of a kiss. He sends another shiver through him, and he cock twitches against his stomach.

Jaskier watches as Beauty spins in a circle and then lays down to lick herself clean. The sight of his seed dripping out of her is almost enough to get him going again. But he's too sensitive and he's just lost his virginity to one of his hunting dogs. He knows he's changed for life, but he wouldn't have it any other way. One of the other dogs wanders over and starts sniffing at him, and Jaskier doesn't have it in him to bat her away. He leans up on his elbows and watches as she licks the mess from his soft prick. He sobs silently - too much too soon - and curls a hand over his mouth as he lays there and lets her clean him up.

He wonders how it would feel when he's shifted. Would the dogs like him better like that? Would he be able to feel their pleasure more? He has no idea if Beauty enjoyed herself, but it sure seems like she might have. He will have to try shifting next time, but he's too worn out for the hard shift tonight. His cock stirs under this new dog's tongue, and he grins down at her, cooing as he barks happily at him.

It's going to be a long night.

—

By the time Jaskier is 15, the dogs seem to have accepted him as part of their pack. They love him as both human and dog, and he spends far too many nights curled up happily among them. He's fucked nearly every one of the breeding bitches, and makes sure they get as much pleasure out of it as he does. But one day he sees something that sparks a truly fantastic idea, and he can't stop thinking about it.

The old hound master has decided it's time for Beauty to have a new litter, and he's chosen one of their best studs to father it. Jaskier has named all their dogs at this point, and Champ is certainly one of the largest of the pack. Jaskier helps guide the dogs into their pen, trapping the two together. It doesn't take long before Champ is sniffing at her, the two dogs circling in an almost flirtatious way. Jaskier tries to ignore the way his traitor of a cock is swelling in his trousers and hopes no one notices.

Champ looks so large compared to Beauty, and Jaskier can't help wondering how she feels as he mounts her. He doesn't care about her pleasure at all, just knows he's meant to fuck and breed her. Jaskier's struck with an image of himself in her place, legs spread wide and hips held up while Champ slams into him. He nearly moans and has to cover it up with a cough, his poor heart going wild in his chest as he watches the dogs mate. He already knows what he's doing tonight.

It only takes a little bit of experimenting to figure out that anything he does to his body stays when he switches forms. So Jaskier waits until the rest of the house is asleep and then grabs the bottle of oil he's secreted under a bunch of old notebooks. He spreads out on his back, taking a moment to relax before he hikes a knee up and reaches back to rub at his hole with a slick finger. He whines quietly, not completely used to the odd pressure. He's touched himself before - who hasn't? - but he spends so much time in the kennels that he rarely experiments on his own.

The angle is hard, but Jaskier manages to work two fingers into himself, stretching the best he can. He's hard and leaking against his thigh, and he can't help wondering how much better Champ's cock will feel than his own small fingers. He adds more oil and slides a third finger past his rim, groaning at the delicious burn. He feels like he could go off at any minute, and wonders if he should let himself come once to make sure he lasts longer later. But no, tonight his orgasms are for Champ. He grins and declares himself ready before quickly shifting and sneaking out of his house.

The pack greets him at the door of the kennel, knocking him onto his back as they all swarm around him. He spends a few minutes playing with them, just prancing around and letting everyone sniff him. Then he shifts and searches for Champ. The massive dog follows him as he beckons him into the breeding stall. He has no idea if he'll actually mount him like one of the bitches, but oh how he hopes so. He shuts the door behind them to keep the curious dogs at bay and then spends a few minutes petting and cooing at Champ.

Jaskier isn't sure if it's because he's naked, or if Champ can sense what he's there for, but the dog licks at his mouth and Jaskier opens up, letting their tongues slide together. He moans and lets Champ kiss him, all sloppy and wet. Reaching down, he finds the dog's cock poking out of its sheath, and Jaskier wraps his hand around it. He pumps him slowly as Champ humps his fist and whines against his mouth. Jaskier is so hard he feels lightheaded, and he knows he can't last another minute without being properly filled.

Jaskier rolls onto his hands and knees, looking over his shoulder to see Champ sniffing him curiously. He pats his ass, trying to draw the dog's attention to it, and gets some licks against his fingers for his trouble. Jaskier wants to cry, because he has no clue how to accomplish what he's aiming for. He leans forward on his shoulders and tries spreading himself open, hoping a slicked up hole might entice Champ. The dog noses at him for a moment before coming closer, pressing down on his back with heavy paws as he finally mounts him.

Champ’s claws scratch at his back, and Jaskier realizes he should have worn a shirt for this. He's not about to stop now, though, not when he's so close. He holds himself open as Champ tries to thrust inside of him, his tapered cock brushing over Jaskier's slicked hole. Whining, he reaches back and tries to help out, desperate to get the dog's cock inside of him. Somehow it works, and Jaskier howls out as Champ slams home, not even giving him a moment to adjust before fucking him hard.

Jaskier scrambles to prop himself up better, getting his hands under him as Champ starts to plow into him. He's brutal, just chasing his own pleasure and using Jaskier to find it. It's overwhelming, feeling all that power behind him, and Jaskier lets his head hang down and just braces himself the best he can. The new angle makes Champ's prick brush against something inside of him, and Jaskier lets out a broken moan, his eyes watering at how intense it is. It's like fire is shooting up his spine, and his legs start to tremble as Champ slams into him again and again, ruthlessly fast.

Champ is leaking pre-come in his ass, and Jaskier already feels fuller than he already has. His own cock is hard and wet between his thighs, but he can't move to touch it right now, fears Champ would fuck him into the ground if he did. Champ is panting hard, drool and slobber dripping down Jaskier's back as he slams into him in rough, jerky movements. And then something else pushes at his rim, something far larger, and Jaskier realizes with a cold shiver that he forgot about the knot.

"Fuck," he hisses out as Champ works his knot inside of him. It's impossibly large, but somehow it pops inside and Jaskier sobs as he comes, his ass clenching around Champ as he spills beneath them. Champ howls and stills, and then there's a rush of come flooding his ass. Jaskier's whole body is shaking now, his limbs almost useless, but somehow he manages to hold himself up as Champ grinds against him, making sure they're tied together by his knot.

His arms give out, and Jaskier buries his tear-streaked face in his arms. He feels like he's being split open in the best possible way. Every few moments there's another burst of watery dog come, filling him and marking him as the little bitch that he is. Jaskier lays there and takes it all, loves how it makes him feel to be used and bred like this.

When Champ's knot deflates and he pulls off of him, Jaskier reaches back and shoves three fingers into his ass, moaning as how loose and wet he is. He's absolutely dripping with Champ's seed, and he feels like he'll never be clean again. He fucks himself, his hole fluttering useless around his fingers, and reaches down to fist his cock. It only takes a few quick jerks before he's coming again, mouth opened in a soundless shout as he coats his chest and thighs with it.

And as Champ comes back, sniffing and licking at him, Jaskier knows he is absolutely doing this again. He lays there shaking while Champ laps at their combined spend, cleaning him up like the good boy that he is.

—

Unfortunately, Jaskier grows up and learns that the world outside the kennels isn't so casual about people fucking their dogs. His time at Oxenfurt was spent in the beds of his fellow classmates, and while he enjoys human lovers, he hasn't found that wild abandonment that his dogs back home offered. But one can't very well fuck one of the strays around the city without causing a bit of a commotion. Or at least Jaskier thought he couldn't.

It turns out no one pays any attention to two strays fucking in an alleyway. Once Jaskier realized he could shift and have his pick of any of the mutts in the city, his life improved tenfold. All he had to do was shift outside his dorms and find a willing partner. Some nights he would prepare himself ahead of time and go on the prowl for a dog to breed him like the desperate little bitch he was. Sometimes he would take off after class, shifting as soon as he could find a stray female. He could fuck a dog right in the middle of the street and no one cared. Jaskier got off on being buried inside a wet cunt while people avoided his eyes and rushed past him. Fuck, it was exhilarating.

The best day of his life was when he found out he has a knot in his dog form.

Even now, as Jaskier flits about the continent with Geralt at his side, he still takes time to appreciate his furry friends. It happens less often now that he has a travel companion, but he's always eager to indulge when Geralt leaves him behind on a hunt. This afternoon he made friends with a few stray dogs who had been begging for scraps at the back door of the tavern, and Jaskier knows exactly where he is heading as soon as his performance is done. Geralt most likely won't be back before morning, and no one will notice a few strays fucking outside the stables.

Once he plays the final song, Jaskier bows and collects the coins at his feet. There are cheers for more, but he has an itch that needs scratching and he gracefully bows out. After a brief stop in the kitchens to flirt and charm his way into a handful of beef tips, Jaskier heads out into the alleyway behind the tavern. A few of the dogs run away, but Jaskier moves slowly, sitting on the steps and holding out a piece of meat. One of the older looking dogs - a mass of golden fur - comes over and sniffs at his hand. He offers the meat and smiles down at her as she licks his fingers clean.

He holds out his other hand, offering the last bit of meat. The dog eagerly takes it from him, and Jaskier starts petting her as she laps at his fingers. He can't help but imagine her tongue in other places, but now isn't the time. He needs to be quick and discreet about this. "Aren't you a sweetie? I think I'll call you honey. A sweet name for a sweet girl," Jaskier tells her softly. She puts her paws on his knees and licks at his face, and Jaskier can't help opening his mouth and letting their tongues slide together. It's not a proper kiss, but it's wild and sloppy and has his cock hardening in his trousers. Fuck, he's going to be so good for him.

"Now don't panic on me," Jaskier says, laughing before he shifts into his dog form. Honey barks at him curiously, but he nuzzles her with his snout, and she scents him and calms down. They spin in circles a few times, chasing each other around before he makes his move. He noses beneath her tail, trailing lower until he can lick at her cunt. Honey barks again, but shoves back against his mouth and Jaskier laps at her until she's wet and open for him. By the time he's fully hard - his red cock hanging out of its sheath - Honey has lowered her head and raised her ass up, practically begging to be mounted.

Jaskier sets his paws on her back and lines up, groaning as he rubs his cock against her dripping hole. Fuck, he's missed this. He slowly slides inside of her, giving her a moment to adjust before pulling back and slamming back in. Jaskier prides himself of taking care of all his partners - human or not - and he knows what Honey is looking for is the rough fucking he's so often sought himself. He lets his tongue hang out as he starts to plow into her, his tapered dick hitting just right to make her howl in pleasure.

The stable boy must hear them, and he wanders over before mumbling to himself and rushing away. Jaskier fucks Honey harder, grinning the best he can in this form. A part of him wishes that the boy would stay, would watch him breeding Honey like she so clearly wants. Jaskier can already feel his knot forming, and he knows he won't last long. Honey pushes herself back against him and he thrusts harder, teasing her with his knot as it starts to catch on her rim.

He's quick and brutal as he slams into her, growling as his knot pops inside. Honey howls and clenches down around him, and that's all it takes for Jaskier to throw his head back and spill inside of her. Her tight heat is almost too much, and he rolls his hips, grinding his knot inside of her as he comes for what seems like ages.

"Jaskier?" he hears, the voice breaking through his post-sex haze. He turns his head before he realizes he should ignore it, but Geralt is standing a couple feet away, his head tilted as he studies them. Jaskier tries to act as much like a dog as he can, bending down to sniff at Honey's neck while ignoring Geralt. But then her cunt tightens around him again and he shoots another load inside of her, whimpering as he panics and makes eye contact with Geralt. "It's no use ignoring me. My medallion is humming like crazy, and I can't tell it's you."

Jaskier howls in shame and hides his face, but his knot feels so good inside of Honey's tight body, and he can't help rocking his hips as he comes again. If he were in his normal form, he'd be red from head to toe right now, and he can't bear to look at Geralt again. Maybe they can just forget this whole thing. Fuck, if he weren't locked to Honey by his knot, he'd take off running. As it is, he cowers in shame the best he can while Geralt looks down at them.

"You finish your fun and then meet me in the room. Don't run off on me," Geralt tells him before reaching out to ruffle his fur. Jaskier nips at him, but Geralt just snorts and walks away. What follows is the longest knot of Jaskier's life. His orgasm is pretty much ruined at this point, because all he can think about is the panic and fear that someone knows. He shifts back and spends way too long petting Honey in thanks before heading back inside. He waves at the bartender with a fake smile plastered on his face and drags his feet as he makes his way upstairs and to their room.

"Geralt -" he starts as soon as he opened the door to their shared room, but Geralt interrupts him.

"It's fine."

"What?" Jaskier asked stupidly, because there is no way on earth this is fine. His best friend just found him balls deep in a dog. That is not something you come back from. Only Geralt doesn't seem to think that's an issue, not with the way he smirks at Jaskier and saunters over to him, leaning one hand on the door before dipping his head to whisper in his ear.

"Would have been nice if you told me you were a shifter, but let's move on to the fun part. Tell me how that felt? How much did you get off on fucking that dog? That beast. Do you love it, knowing you're fucking something not human? Witchers are beasts, too. Would that do it for you?" Geralt growls against his neck, and Jaskier shudders and lets out a high-pitched whine. He's hard and leaking already, his cock twitching at Geralt's words.

"No, no! I'm very much on board," Jaskier rushes out, giggling nervously as Geralt picks him up and stomps over to the bed. He tosses Jaskier on top of it before stripping and climbing on top of him. Jaskier groans at the first brush of Geralt's prick against his, even though the layers of his doublet. He arches up and tries to get his trousers off, but everything is all too much and his fingers don't work. Geralt chuckles and takes pity on him, unlacing them and shoving them down past his knees before sinking down on him again.

"Tell me when you started. When did you fuck your first dog, Jaskier?" Geralt asks, his voice rougher than normal. Jaskier shivers and does his best to answer, but his words are stuck. Geralt leans down and nips at his throat, raking his blunt teeth over his sensitive skin, and Jaskier keens and arches up into him.

"Twelve, fuck! I was twelve," Jaskier mumbles as Geralt starts to rock against him. Their cocks slide together, pre-come easing the way, and it's all Jaskier can do to hang on as he's quickly taken apart.

"You ever let one fuck you? Ever taken a knot in that sweet little ass of yours?" Geralt asks, and Jaskier nearly sobs as more pre-come spills out of him. He's so hard he could die, but he forces himself to answer, because Geralt is being so fucking good to him right now.

"Yes," he hisses out, eyes slipping shut as Geralt brings a hand between them and wraps it around both their cocks. He pumps them roughly, his calloused hand sending sparks down his limbs as Jaskier rocks into it. "It's good, so fucking good," he whimpers.

"Bet you look pretty hanging off a knot," Geralt says, and that's it. Jaskier shouts as he comes, spilling over Geralt's hand. He sobs, tucking his face in Geralt's shoulder as he rides it out, his whole body shaking as it pulses through him. Geralt quickly follows, grunting as he comes in hot bursts between them, adding to the growing mess.

"Fuck, Geralt, I can't." Jaskier slurs, his limbs heavy as he tries to get Geralt's hand off his oversensitive cock. He came so good it hurts, and he needs a moment. Geralt just chuckles and grins down at him before rolling onto his side and gathering Jaskier in his arms.

"Two ways we can play this," Geralt mutters. "We can pretend this never happened and I'll let you keep your secret. Or...we could keep having fun together and maybe I could offer you more of what you like, too."

"More?" Jaskier asks, blinking slowly at him. He's so well-fucked that his brain doesn't quite work, but there is no way he's going to turn down any offer Geralt gives him.

"You ever been fucked by a wolf before? I find Axii works wonders," Geralt admits, and an aftershock runs through Jaskier's body, his prick twitching at the thought of it. "Yeah? Want to be taken in the wild like that? Used like the bitch that you are? Wolves are rougher than dogs, even stray ones. But you were born for it, weren't you? Needy little slut like you."

"Fuck! Yes, please, Geralt. I want that. So so much," Jaskier begs, already imagining how massive a wolf's knot would feel inside of him. He'd probably be torn in two, but it would be worth it.

"Good. Then rest for now and we can talk more tomorrow," Geralt says, and it's an order Jaskier finds easy to follow. He's asleep before Geralt drags the blanket over them both.

#jb fic #jb bestiality #jb underage #reblog because I think it might have gotten lost in holiday things lol #and I am a needy bitch

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jaskiersbow · 4 years ago

Note

Do you have anything with the wolf witchers Geralt and Eskel as slaves/prisoners of King Jaskier?

Or something that includes: submission, collared, chains and fucking without consent or even somnophilia?

Sorry, I don't want to be demanding. I just name many of my interests in case they aligned with one (or more) of your works/fics.

Hi there! Unfortunately I don't have anything that really fits these. I do have a somno fic here.

Everything is on Ao3, too. Good luck!

#jb answers

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jaskiersbow · 4 years ago

Text

Dog Shifter Jaskier

In which Jaskier can shift into a dog and also fucks/gets fucked by them. Written for @thewitcherbog's DDmas event.

Explicit. Warnings: bestiality, Underage sex (with dogs), Dirty Talk, Humiliation kink, Knotting, Jaskier fucks female and male dogs. 5,800 words.

Pairings: Jaskier/Female Dog, Jaskier/Male Dog, Geraskier (Jaskier is of age here)

---

And then one morning he shows up to the kennels and his whole world is flipped on its head.

---

It's going to be a long night.

—

The best day of his life was when he found out he has a knot in his dog form.

"Geralt -" he starts as soon as he opened the door to their shared room, but Geralt interrupts him.

"It's fine."

"More?" Jaskier asks, blinking slowly at him. He's so well-fucked that his brain doesn't quite work, but there is no way he's going to turn down any offer Geralt gives him.

"Fuck! Yes, please, Geralt. I want that. So so much," Jaskier begs, already imagining how massive a wolf's knot would feel inside of him. He'd probably be torn in two, but it would be worth it.

"Good. Then rest for now and we can talk more tomorrow," Geralt says, and it's an order Jaskier finds easy to follow. He's asleep before Geralt drags the blanket over them both.

#jb bestiality #jb underage #jb humiliation #jb knotting #jb dirty talk

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jaskiersbow · 4 years ago

Text

Trapped

Written for the DDmas event on @thewitcherbog. Geraskier murder husbands!

Explicit. Warnings: torture, murder, so much blood, biting to injure. Jaskier straight up kills a dude and then they fuck about it. 5,500 words.

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The club is full tonight, and Jaskier is already buzzing with excitement from the extra entertainment they have planned for this evening. He's all done up, eyeliner and shadow to make his eyes seem bigger than normal - a parody of innocence - and he has on skinny jeans and a button down that has been altered to hide his bulk. He refuses to wax his chest, but this otter is in full twink mode tonight. He knows he looks good - and younger than normal - and he knows he'll hook someone tonight.

Geralt is hidden, tucked away from the crowd in a dark corner, but Jaskier can feel his eyes on him at all times. He doesn't have to worry about his own safety, because Geralt is always there, watching as he looks for prey. He scans the crowd while he takes a sip from his drink, making a show of wrapping his lips around the straw. Several candidates check him out, but Jaskier needs to get a feel for them first. He doesn't get off hurting innocent people, but thankfully the world is full of enough darkness that he hasn't ever come up dry while on the hunt.

The first guy that comes up to him is a bust. He's friendly and has kind eyes, and they talk for a bit, but Jaskier gracefully excuses himself and heads onto the dancefloor. He doesn't want kindness tonight. There's a beast growling in his chest, fighting to be unleashed, and he needs to let it out before it consumes him from the inside out. The bass of the song is thumping, pounding along to his pulse, and Jaskier starts dancing, rolling his hips to the beat. He knows what he looks like - young and available - and if this doesn't lure someone in, nothing will.

Someone slides behind him, and Jaskier smirks into the crowd as thick arms wrap around his waist. He might not be the one they take tonight, but it's always nice to have a partner. Geralt refuses to dance, so he'll take what he can get. They move together, bodies rocking as the song changes to something with the same underlying bass. The hands on his hips tighten, like the man is trying to keep him there, and Jaskier thinks they may have a winner.

After a couple songs - and a lot of rough groping - Jaskier turns to face the stranger. Even in the dim lighting of the club, he can see a hunger in his eyes. It's the same desperate look that Jaskier sees in the mirror when he gets too wound up. It takes a predator to spot one, after all. He plasters a soft smile on his face and bats his eyes up at the man. He's big, but nothing Geralt can't handle. His husband is always the most dangerous person in the room, no matter where they are.

The man leers down at him, and Jaskier does his best to look harmless. It works - of course - and the man leans in close so he can be heard over the din of the crowd. His voice is rough when he shouts, "Want to get some air?" against Jaskier's neck. It's all too perfect, and Jaskier doesn't even have to suggest getting out of here. Of course, he won't take the man back to their hotel. Never leave a trail. He nods and takes the man's hand, letting himself be led out of the bar.

The air outside is chilly, and Jaskier shivers as the man leads him towards the parking lot. Awfully ballsy of him, since Jaskier just agreed to get some air, but he plans on killing him anyway, so this just makes things easier. He laughs under his breath and looks over his shoulder to see Geralt following them from a distance. The man mistakes his shiver for desire and wraps an arm around him, pulling Jaskier's body closer. He smiles warmly up at him and lets himself be led to the man's truck. This is all too easy sometimes.

"You live close by?" Jaskier asks softly, and the man grins at him before opening the door to his truck for him. Jaskier wonders how many times he's done this before? Has he gotten good at luring pretty young things into his truck or is this new for him? Either way, Jaskier knows he means him harm, and that knowledge makes what he has planned sit better. He only hurts those inflicted with the same bit of evil as himself.

"Little bit of a drive, just outside of town," The man tells him. He reaches back behind his seat and holds up a can of hard seltzer in triumph. It's already been opened, and Jaskier just knows it's been drugged. There's something in the man's creepy smirk that lets him know he's being kidnapped right now. "No need to worry, though. I brought you one for the road. Should keep you busy while I drive."

Jaskier doesn't let it phase him, though, because this was their plan. He knows he makes excellent bait and trusts Geralt to trail them out of town. If all else fails, he has the GPS tracker in his pocket and the knife tucked in his boot. No, the danger isn't coming from the man next to him tonight, but vibrating inside Jaskier's chest. He pretends to sip the drugged drink, careful not to actually drink anything. He pays close attention to the driver and tips a bit of it down the side of the door when he's not looking. It's not like he'll ever be in this truck again.

Jaskier plays his part well since it's one he's had a couple of years to perfect. He starts acting a bit sluggish, slurs his words slightly as they talk about nothing. The man reaches over and plants a heavy hand on his thigh, and Jaskier just smiles over at him. He doesn't try anything in the truck, just lets the weight of his hand sit on Jaskier's thigh. Occasionally, he'll brush it with his own, making sure he keeps his movements slow and uncoordinated. It's a fun game, and he's here to win.

Eventually they pull onto a street lined with pine trees, and Jaskier knows full well the man has taken him more than "a little bit out of town" but he doesn't care. His fun is better off had in the shadows, and though he's worked in apartment buildings and hotels before, he doesn't like to. Geralt and him have grown, have gotten better at their craft, and he's far from sloppy nowadays. They turn into a long driveway, and he's practically vibrating in his seat with how perfect this is. There's not a neighbor to be seen. He sees a pair of headlights go past them, and knows Geralt is parking down the street before he doubles back on foot.

It's so easy for Jaskier to play up being drugged, to let the man take his weight as he pulls him out of the truck. Jaskier isn't small - not by any means - but he's had years of practice appearing delicate and knows how to use it to his advantage. He mutters slurred nonsense against the man's shoulder, hiding his grin when the man lets out an evil chuckle and pats his head. They bypass the house and head towards a garage that's set a bit away from it. By the time they make it to the door of the building, Jaskier is itching for this to begin. He's sick of waiting, needs to get his hands dirty and his teeth bloody.

The garage turns out to be a wet dream, and Jaskier can barely contain the gasp he lets out when the man flips the light on. Oh, he is a master at picking the evil ones out of the crowd, because this guy is fucked up. The garage is lit with harsh fluorescent lights and has the sterile look of a doctor's office. That is, until you focus on all the tools hanging along the walls. Without giving himself away yet, it's hard to focus, but there are rows and rows of neat lines of knives and other wicked looking things. There are several chains hanging from the ceiling and what looks like a homemade torture table in the corner. It has thick leather straps that look like they would hold someone for days.

Jaskier is hard before he even finishes looking around.

"This isn't your house," he says dumbly, and the man just snorts and manhandles him so they're face to face. Most of Jaskier's weight is still resting on him, and he does his best to look up at him with innocent eyes. Inside though, inside he's buzzing with the need to get into it. There's a crunch of shoes on the gravel outside, but the man doesn't seem to notice. He's probably way too cocky to think anyone would mess with his perfect setup here.

"Not my house, no. More like my playroom and tonight you'll be my pretty little plaything," the man tells him, laughing again as Jaskier blinks slowly up at him. "That's right, you're in for a long night. You're so fucking pretty, though. Maybe I'll keep you for a couple of days."

“Keep me?”

"Oh, you and I are gonna have so much fun. Try not to fight it. You're trapped, boy," the man says, and Jaskier lets him have his moment of triumph. He tilts his head in confusion and acts like he's tugging out of the man's grip, but doesn't bother trying too hard. It's all for show anyway. Geralt is standing on the other side of the door, and Jaskier is more than capable of handling this on his own.

"I hate to argue, but I'm not trapped with you," Jaskier says, letting his voice drop as he stands to his full height. "You see, you're the one who's trapped with me." The man looks so confused that Jaskier can't help giggling at him, the melodic sound a dark contrast to what he has planned. He easily shrugs out of the man's grip and takes a few steps back while the man grasps at him in confusion.

"Now you see here-" the man starts, but Jaskier is done playing around.

"Geralt!" he calls out in a sing-song voice and the door is kicked in, his husband's solid bulk nearly taking up the whole frame. The man looks panicked now, and isn't that how it's supposed to be? Jaskier loves playing like this. Nothing gives him more pleasure than turning the tables on some piece of trash like this. Justice may be dead, and Jaskier might get his kicks hurting people, but he's doing the world a service here.

"What? Who the fuck are you? What are you two doing here?" the man shouts as they begin to corner him. Geralt has a zip-tie in his hands, and Jaskier already knows where he wants the man chained up first. He doesn't look so cocky cowering in fear, and Jaskier has to reach down and adjust himself in his jeans while he watches Geralt overpower the man and lock his hands together.

"Just what were you planning on doing?" Jaskier asks, snorting as the man gawks at him. "I thought so. It's a lovely set-up you have here. I hope you don't mind me having a look around, maybe borrowing a few things. I do so like taking tips from a fellow enthusiast. Geralt, hook him up to the set of chains in the center, will you, love?" Geralt does as asked, his usual silent self. He rarely talks to their targets, just lets Jaskier direct the fun and chimes in when muscle is needed. They're a perfect pair, like two broken puzzle pieces jammed together.

Jaskier makes his way over to the wall where the tools are hung. It's all very neat and orderly, and he appreciates that. Everything is hung on hooks in one of those peg boards you can buy at home improvement stores. He supposes normal men keep boring things on them, but not in this garage. He still has his favorite knife tucked in his boot, but it wouldn't hurt to spice things up a bit. He selects a large buck knife and moves it from palm to palm until he's happy with the weight of it. There's also a set of shiny scalpels all lined up in a row, and he knows he'll be back for those later.

Geralt steps back a little as Jaskier saunters over to where the man is hung by his wrists in the center of the room. There is a drain on the floor beneath him, and Jaskier can't believe what a nice set up he has to play in. Geralt trussed him up nicely, his toes barely touching the ground. It can't be comfortable, which is the point after all. Jaskier trails his fingertips over the flat of the blade and debates where to start.

"You can't just do this!" the man shouts, and Jaskier just shakes his head at him. Gag first, then. He doesn't need a bunch of chitter chatter ruining his night. Yes, he'd love to hear him scream, but he can always remove it later.

"I think you'll find I can," Jaskier tells him before bringing a finger up to shush him. The man tries to bite Jaskier, and he just throws his head back in laughter. "Such a feisty one." He runs the tip of the blade across the man's shirt, not using enough pressure to cut, but wanting to see the fear in his eyes. He doesn't disappoint, and Jaskier soaks it all in before hooking the edge of the blade under the man's hem and slicing up the front of the shirt. He's skilled with a blade and doesn't break skin, just applies enough pressure to tear the fabric.

Once the shirt is split down the middle, Jaskier cuts through the top of the sleeves and catches it before it falls to the floor. He tucks the knife in the back of his jeans and then bunches up the torn shirt to make a proper gag. The man fights him, but he's strong and jams it past his lips while he squirms. It's hard to win when you're hanging from the ceiling like a piece of meat. Jaskier leans in close and ties the make-shift gag behind his head, patting the man on the cheek as he steps back again.

There's so much untouched skin, such a brilliant canvas to work with, and Jaskier isn't sure where to start. He absentmindedly runs the flat of the blade across the man's chest, his pulse picking up as he watches him squirm. Fuck, it's been too long since he's had a night like this. He shivers, cock throbbing in his jeans, and he isn't sure how long he'll last before the need to get off overtakes the need to be violent. He decides he's waffled enough and presses the blade along the man's collar bone, watching as a thin red line appears in its wake.

This is what he lives for, these moments between the chaos of life. His hands have never been steadier as he decorates the man's chest, cross-crossing red lines as he covers him in shallow cuts. He has all night, and he wants to take his time, really appreciate this moment in time. He keeps the pressure light enough so nothing is life threatening and focuses on the way the man shouts into the gag, drool already collecting at the corners of his mouth. He looks stunning and Jaskier feels like a fucking god.

Soon the man has tears in his eyes, and Jaskier can hear his muffled pleas from around the spit-soaked gag. He has a lovely pattern of cuts down his torso, and there's blood staining the hem of his jeans. Jaskier runs the tip of the knife across his abdomen just to watch him shake. He has to reach down and palm himself, already straining in his jeans. Fuck, it's been too long.

He reaches down and undoes the button, hoping to relieve some pressure. Only it doesn't work, because the man just looks so good, so fucking helpless, and Jaskier's cock twitches as he watches the blood run down his chest. Geralt steps closer, his eyes wild as he studies Jaskier. Jaskier gets off on the pain he causes, but Geralt gets off on Jaskier.

"Need my mouth?" Geralt asks, licking his lips as Jaskier turns to face him. He bites back a groan and nods before unzipping his jeans and beckoning Geralt closer. At first he isn't sure what to do with the knife, but then he leans forward and tucks it in the hemline of the man's pants, patting him in thanks. He's not going anywhere.

Geralt looks gorgeous on his knees. Jaskier is forever grateful that they found each other. He shoves his pants and briefs down his own thighs and threads a hand in Geralt's hair before pulling him closer. Geralt teases him, lapping at the head of his cock, flicking his tongue in the slit. He groans as pre-come oozes out, quickly cleaned up by Geralt's talented tongue.

Jaskier's hands are blood-stained and soon Geralt's hair is tinged red. He looks so good like this, and Jaskier knows he won't last long. He groans when Geralt slowly swallows him down, bucking his hips into the wet heat of his mouth. Dragging his gaze away, he stares at his victim, who is sobbing pathetically. Something wild beats in Jaskier's chest, and he pulses against Geralt's tongue.

"Can I fuck your mouth, love?" Jaskier asks, making eye contact with his husband. Geralt moans in agreement, and Jaskier cups his head with both hands, cradling him like the precious thing he is. And then he starts to thrust, burying himself deep in Geralt's throat. He doesn't go for flair, just slams his hips forward as Geralt holds perfectly still for him, lets himself be used.

Geralt frantically works his own pants open, and Jaskier can see him jerk off while Jaskier fucks his face. He whines and the vibrations run through Jaskier dick, making him lose it. He really starts to fuck him, looking down with love and devotion in his eyes as he slams home. Geralt takes it so prettily, eyes wet and drool leaking down his chin.

Jaskier knows the exact moment Geralt comes, watches as his eyes roll back and he spills in his boxers. His hips stutter, and he fucks Geralt's mouth faster, crying out as his orgasm crashes through him. Geralt eagerly sucks down everything he has to give, keening as he milks him dry. Jaskier wraps a hand around himself and rubs the sensitive head of his cock against Geralt's ruddy lips, watching as one last burst dribbles out.

Geralt licks him clean before tucking him back inside his jeans, and Jaskier bends down to drag hip up by the armpits. Geralt is come-drunk and loopy, eyes glazed over as Jaskier crushes their mouths together. The taste of himself is a gift, and he licks it out of Geralt's mouth, grunting as their tongues slide together. When he pulls back, Geralt's cheeks are covered in fresh blood, and he's never looked more gorgeous.

"I love you," he whispers, leaning their foreheads together. They stand there for a long moment, just breathing in each other's exhales, and Jaskier almost forgets about their host for the evening. When they break apart, the man is still a sobbing mess, his feet dragging uselessly against the floor of the garage. Jaskier takes his knife back and tucks it in the back of his jeans. "Let's change venues, dear. Help me get him to the table?"

The man is heavier than he looks, but Geralt is so strong that Jaskier barely has to lift him. Once they have him face down on the table, Jaskier looks at the leather straps, grinning when they turn out to be exactly what he needs. He rolls the man to his stomach so he has a blank canvas and buckles the straps around him. Geralt gives him room to work, ready to step in if needed, but letting Jaskier run the show.

"You know as well as I do that no one will hear you scream. So I think I'll take this off. Don't hold back on my account...I want to hear you," Jaskier says as he bends down in front of the table. He tugs at the gag and works it over the top of the man's head, jumping back just as he tries to bite him. "Still got some fight left in you. Fantastic!"

"I have a lot of cash on hand," the man tells him, and Jaskier just pats his cheek.

"I'm sure you do, and I'll definitely help myself to that later, but that's not why I'm here. Surely such a like-minded fellow knows the endgame here?" Jaskier asks, grin widening when the man whimpers. It's music to his ears, and he can already feel his cock twitching in his jeans again.

Jaskier leaves him for a moment and wanders over to the wall of tools. Those scalpels he saw earlier are calling to him. He takes his time eying them up - it's not like his friend is going anywhere - and picks out one with a tiny blade. It looks to be for precision work, and Jaskier bets the cuts will sting like a bitch. He takes the knife out of the back of his jeans and drops it to the floor. He always finishes up a night with his lucky dagger tucked in his boot, anyway.

"You have such a lovely little layout here," Jaskier praises as he wanders back to the table. "Truly superb. We travel so much that it's not practical to bring much with me, but tonight has been wonderful. Thank you for your hospitality." He giggles as he steps closer and watches the man spit towards him. It lands in front of him, and Jaskier just steps over it as he moves to the table

The man shudders the best he can while he's strapped down, and Jaskier laughs again before trailing his fingertips down his spine. His skin is covered with goosebumps, and Jaskier can almost feel the fear in him. It's better than any drug he's ever tried. Riding the high, Jaskier braces his elbow on the man's lower back and carves a thin line across his shoulder blades.

He was right: the cut is so small he can barely see it at first. It's like the world is moving in slow motion as the blood wells up, droplets beading on the man's skin as he howls at the sting of it. Jaskier wets his lips and makes another cut, his heart pounding and his pulse deafening in his ears. All he knows is the pale white of the man's skin and the ruby red blood dripping out of him.

Time escapes him, and Jaskier gets lost in the feeling of dainty skin beneath his fingers. He takes his time, making a batch of small cuts that covers the entirety of the man's shoulders. He shouts as Jaskier works, begging and sobbing and praying when he finally gives up. Jaskier barely pays him any attention, just letting the sounds wash over him as he focuses on his masterpiece.

After awhile, he steps back and looks at his work. This scalpel will be coming with them. It's a thing of beauty. He checks in with Geralt, who holds up two fingers to let him know they should be leaving in the next two hours. That will give them plenty of time to be gone before anyone notices anything. He'd like to drag this out, but sadly they don't have that kind of time. Not with cleanup to think about.

The table looks sturdy enough, so Jaskier doesn't hesitate before he jumps up, straddling the man. He sits on his upper thighs and drags his nails down the man's back, smirking as more blood runs to the surface. He bends down as he works, dragging the knife over the man's skin again and again. The man barely makes a sound now, is lost in a constant mess of tears and prayers.

Jaskier's hips move before he realizes it, and he starts rubbing himself against the curve of the man's ass. He's not attractive, but that doesn't matter. Jaskier is running high on the power and the sexiness of his work right now. Nothing gets him going quite like this. His hands are stained red now, but his grip on the scalpel is firm. He starts making little stabbing wounds as he ruts against the man.

He gets carried away, too far gone in the haze of bloodlust and adrenaline, and the next thing he knows, his teeth are sinking into the top of the man's shoulder. He bites down hard enough to break skin, the coppery taste of blood rushing into his mouth. He's damn near wild when he pulls back and licks his teeth, looking down at the bite-shaped wound.

"Oh, I shouldn't have done that, should I?" he asks, though he's pretty sure the man has finally passed out from the pain. Still, it won't do to leave his mark on the body. They'll clean up and hopefully leave no traces, but he knows teeth can leave bruises deep under the skin. With a sigh he sets about removing that part of the man's shoulder. It isn't pretty, but he makes it work. He tosses the chunk of flesh to the ground and makes a note to take it with them when they leave. He can toss it on the side of the road a few states over.

"We should finish up if you want to have some fun still," Geralt chimes in, and Jaskier sighs but nods. His husband is always there to pull him back when he goes too far. It's been years since he's bitten anyone. He crawls up the man's body and takes hold of him by the hair, tilting his neck back. He reaches down and snags his dagger from his boot, pressing a quick kiss to the flat of the blade before lowering it. He slits the man's throat with quick precision, holding his body as the life drains out of him.

Only when he drops the lifeless body down to the table does he realize how fucking hard he is. He leans down and presses a soft kiss against the nape of the man's neck and then turns to Geralt. "Are you still ready for me, love?" he asks, letting out a groan when Geralt smiles back and nods sharply.

"Fuck, you're so good to me," Jaskier groans as he climbs off the table. He leaves the knife on the man's back and stomps over to Geralt. His husband is so pliant, so fucking amazing for him, and Jaskier crushes their lips together and tangles his fingers in Geralt's hair. He palms Geralt's ass and pulls their hips together, slowly rocking against him as he licks into his mouth. Geralt whines so beautifully for him, and Jaskier can't help nipping at his lower lip as he pulls back.

"Need you," Geralt begs, and Jaskier laughs - as if he'd deny him anything, especially at this point - and guides him over in front of the table. His victim's lifeless eyes watch as he kneels down to remove Geralt's boots before yanking his pants down and helping him step out of them. Geralt's cock is hard and leaking for him already, and Jaskier can't help leaning in and lapping at the pre-come gathering at the tip. He lets Geralt buck against him, teasing the head of his dick before pulling back and grinning up at him.

"Hands and knees," he grunts out, and Geralt scrambles to comply. He looks so good like this, so ready to be used, and Jaskier's so desperate that he has trouble with the button on his jeans. It probably doesn't help that his fingers are slippery with blood. He finally pops it open and lowers the zipper before shoving his jeans down as far as they'll go. He wraps his fingers around himself, pumping lazily as he takes in the scene before him.

Geralt said he was ready for him, and he really is. The black jewel on the base of the silver plug looks fantastic, and Jaskier taps on it gently just to see Geralt writhe for him. They learned years ago that a little pre-planning goes a long way, and he loves the thought that Geralt has had this in all night long. Grabbing the base, he teases Geralt with it, slowly tugging on the plug and stretching it against his rim. He doesn't remove it yet, just fucks Geralt with the toy, reveling in every broken moan it drags out of him.

He doesn't take pity on Geralt so much as he gets overwhelmed by his own need. Jaskier knows he gets greedy on nights like this, but he knows Geralt loves it. He slides the plug out, tossing it to the side before shoving two fingers deep inside Geralt's fluttering hole. He's so wet and tight and perfect, and Jaskier can't wait any longer, not when he's this keyed up. He spits in his palm and does his best to slick his own cock up, even though Geralt is practically dripping lube. He just wants to make sure this is as good for his husband as it is for him.

As soon as he lines up, Geralt is shoving back against him, whimpering as he looks for Jaskier's cock. He rubs the head against his eager hole, teasing for a moment before slowly sinking inside of him. Geralt is so perfect - so fucking tight - that it takes his breath away. Time moves in slow motion as he buries himself in Geralt's warm body. He's torn between watching his dick breach Geralt and watching the man's face, blood still dripping down the front of him.

And that's the final push he needs. Jaskier lets out an inhuman howl as he starts to fuck Geralt, fingers digging into his hips as he slams into him. Geralt hangs his head and lets himself be used, letting out a string of beautiful moans as Jaskier fucks him. There's no holding back, not when he's been on edge for so long. The taste of blood is heavy on his tongue, and he remembers sinking his teeth into his victim's skin. He's almost feral as he pounds into Geralt, barely able to hang on as his hips thrust and he chases his orgasm.

The small part of his brain that is still functioning reminds him to touch Geralt, and he drapes himself over his back and reaches beneath him. Geralt is hard and leaking, and Jaskier starts to pump him in time with his thrusts. His husband is growling now, almost as far gone as he is, and all he can focus on is the tight heat of his body and the silky feel of his cock in his hand. Their pants fill the garage, echoing as they move together.

And then Geralt comes, shouting as he spills in Jaskier's hand. He keeps jerking him off, works him through it, and then comes with a hiss as Geralt's ass clenches impossibly tight around him. He fucks him through his orgasm, hips stuttering and back bowing as he slams into him until he feels absolutely drained. They collapse to the floor, and Jaskier has enough sanity left to roll them to the side so he doesn't crush Geralt, but it's a close thing. He stays inside of him, rolling his hips until he feels empty and oversensitive.

He doesn't know how long they lay there recovering, but eventually Geralt makes him move. He's always useless after the fact, his thoughts slow as he comes down from the high of everything. That's one of the reasons why they work so well together. Geralt lets him get his kicks and then handles the cleanup. He lays there for a bit, watching Geralt work around him. By the time he's lucid, Geralt has done most of the work.

"Go check the house for anything valuable and I'll finish things up here," Geralt tells him before handing over his now clean dagger. Jaskier darts forward and pecks him on the mouth quickly. Then he tucks his knife away and heads for the main house. The man made promises of cash on hand, and he hopes that's true. They can always use more.

He has full faith that Geralt will finish up in the garage and then set things up for the fire. While Jaskier gets off on murder, Geralt's main deviance is arson. He's perfected fire-starters that give them plenty of time to leave the scene before the evidence goes up in smoke. Jaskier uses the man's keys to let himself into the house and suddenly remembers that he wanted to take the scalpels with him. He shoots Geralt a text and gets a quick already packed them up in return.

He's so in love that it's crazy.

#jb fic #murder husbands #DDmas #jb blood #JB torture #JB murder #JB biting

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jaskiersbow · 4 years ago

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Hello! Can I request some Geraskier - sex slave (I'm happy with either character in either position) maybe with some anal cockwarming to go to sleep? Waking up getting fucked 👀👀👀 Thank you! <3 -Flower Twink 🌼

Here you go, dear! Sequel to the last sex slave fic I put up.

Explicit. Warnings: Somnophilia, Anal cock warming, sex slave, a/b/o, dub con (due to sex slave). 1,300 words.

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When Geralt wakes up, he glances at the window and sees the sky still jet black. He could go back to sleep, but tries to figure out what woke up. With a smile, he realizes Jaskier is whimpering in his sleep and rolling his hips back against Geralt. They'd fallen asleep right after fucking, and the young omega loves Geralt to stay inside him long after he's gone soft. And Geralt has quickly found there's little he'll deny him.

He can't believe he won the gorgeous sex slave in a game of Gwent. His previous owner was an idiot, but Geralt doesn't mind benefitting from his stupidity. He's only had Jaskier for a few months, but it seems like they've always been together. No one has ever catered to Geralt's every need before, has never wanted to make him happy just to see him smile. Part of him hopes it's more than his training, but Geralt will probably never know. All he can do is treat Jaskier the best he can and welcome every bit of love and devotion he's given in return.

Even now, holed up at Kaer Morhen for the winter, he's greedy over Jaskier's time. He can see the looks the others give the pretty slave, and Geralt knows he should share him. But there's this dark pit of possessiveness in the center of his chest that he just can't shake. Jaskier is his and he doesn't need anything more than what Geralt can give him. Geralt decides to craft him a collar soon. There should be enough scrap leather around the keep, and Jaskier would look sinful with Geralt's mark on him.

Geralt sighs and pushes aside his jealousy for the moment. Jaskier is perfectly content to sleep in his arms with his cock inside of him, and Geralt should focus on that instead. He leans down and noses at Jaskier's scent gland, letting his sweet smell calm him. His omega smells like citrus and cinnamon, and Geralt can't get enough of it. He doesn't dare sink his teeth into him this close to the gland, but he presses a soft kiss there as he starts to rock his hips.

Jaskier sighs happily, still soundly asleep. He's still wet and open from before, always so fucking slick and eager to take Geralt's knot. He runs a palm down Jaskier's side, reveling in the smooth skin under his hand. He's soft in ways Geralt never could be, and it's intoxicating. He grips Jaskier's thigh and lifts, giving himself more room to move. He must have really worn Jaskier out earlier, because he doesn't even move, just snores lightly as Geralt moves him.

He tries to keep his thrusts light, but Jaskier is so fucking hot and tight around him that Geralt quickly loses control. He's practically leaking slick as Geralt slams into him. All Geralt knows is the wet heat around his prick and the sweet scent of Jaskier filling the air. Nothing smells better than his omega when he's getting fucked like this. Geralt growls and fucks him harder, unable to hold back.

"Oh!" Jaskier cries out as he starts awake, whining deep in his throat as Geralt just keeps pounding into him. Jaskier reaches back and wraps an arm around his neck, pulling him closer as they move together. "So good to me, even when I'm sleeping," Jaskier murmurs, trailing off in a whine as Geralt thrusts harder. His hips have a mind of their own, and it's all Geralt can do to cling to Jaskier as he fucks him roughly.

But Jaskier was literally made for this, his body created to be taken hard and fast, to be filled and knotted and satisfied. Geralt grunts and rolls them over, shoving Jaskier onto his hands and knees. Jaskier does his best to prop himself up, but it's clear he's still in that hazy spot between sleep and wakefulness and he struggles to hold steady as Geralt plows into his tight body.

Geralt lets him sag, watches as Jaskier turns his face to the side and clenches the pillow tighter. Geralt takes hold of his hips, holding him up as he thrusts harder, his knot already starting to pop. Jaskier is dripping slick, his hole eager and greedy for everything Geralt gives him. He's a mess of whines and pleas, spitting out nonsense as Geralt takes him apart. Fuck, he's gorgeous like this, wet and messy and so so needy.

"Yeah? Want my knot?" Geralt asks as he rolls his hips, teasing Jaskier with his knot against his stretched out rim. Jaskier nods, but Geralt wants to hear him, needs to know how much he wants this, wants him. "Words, Jaskier," he orders, his voice tinged with alpha authority.

"Geralt, you know I do," Jaskier cries out, his voice broken and wrecked. "Fuck, please...I need it love. Need you to knot me, to own me. Fill me so good. Please!" He sounds desperate for it, and Geralt can't help but believe him. Who cares if he was trained for this? His ass is dripping slick and you can't fake that. Geralt digs his fingers into his hips, leaving bruises that he'll kiss gently come morning, but right now he needs to knot him, needs to claim his little bitch.

"Then take it," he growls, near feral as he slams his knot past Jaskier's swollen rim and sinks home. He keeps rocking his hips, fucking him with his knot as he chases his orgasm. "Touch yourself," he manages to spit out, and Jaskier reaches down and wraps his slender fingers around his small cock. He jerks himself in time with Geralt's thrusts, whimpering as he fucks his own fist. Geralt wants to hold out, but he can't, is too lost in how amazing Jaskier's tight heat feels around him.

He comes with a shout, burying his face between Jaskier's shoulder blades as the urge to mark him takes over. He clenches his teeth and keeps fucking Jaskier as he empties inside of him. Jaskier sobs and spills over his own fist, the salt scent of it filling the room. They collapse to the bed, and Geralt barely manages to roll them back onto their sides where this whole thing started. He grinds his hips into Jaskier, another pulse of come shooting out of him.

"That's it, so perfect for me," Geralt whispers, and Jaskier keens and rocks back against him. He looks exhausted, and Geralt knows he'll be asleep before his knot goes down. It takes a lot to keep up with a witcher's stamina. Geralt reaches down and cups Jaskier's cock, grinning when he shivers and whines. He must be so sensitive, but Geralt can't help pumping him a few times, just to feel him clench tighter around his knot.

"Too much," Jaskier whines, but he lets Geralt play with him like the good little slave that he is. Geralt finally gives in and brings his hand up, holding it in front of Jaskier's mouth. His tongue darts out without being asked, and Geralt spills more come inside of him as he watches Jaskier lick his seed off Geralt's hand. He's deliciously obedient, and Geralt really should fine some way to spoil him soon. Once his hand is clean, Geralt tucks it under the pillow and adjusts Jaskier so he's curled up in his arms.

"You can sleep now," Geralt tells him, even as he feels another burst of come spill out. He rolls his hips and moans as Jaskier rocks with him.

"You'll stay inside me?" Jaskier asks like he always does. As if Geralt could deny him anything when he asks so sweetly.

"Of course," Geralt agrees, but Jaskier is already drifting off again. Geralt will wait for his knot to go down, but he won't move again until morning. He has everything he needs right here.

#dead dove do not eat #dead dove #jb sex slave #jb cock warming #jb somnophilia #jb a/b/o #jb fic

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jaskiersbow · 4 years ago

Text

The Dungeon Master

Another fic written for my darling @jaskiertheflowertwink's birthday last week.

Rating: E Pairing: Joey/OC (of no specific gender) CW: RPF, Dom/Sub vibes, under the table blow jobs/cock warming, exhibitionism, public blow jobs, ruined orgasm

There was a thrill of nerves and excitement bubbling under your skin as you watched Joey put together the final touches to his outfit. He was an extravagant Dungeon Master, one of the best you’d ever had… and you’d had him a lot in so many different places and positions.

And fuck you never wanted it to stop.

“Is it even?” Joey asked as he blinked away from the mirror, the blue eyeshadow so dark it was almost black and glittering on his fingers.

His blue eyes were piercing against the black smudges covering his eyelids and smeared onto his cheeks. It was a complete mess, a hot fucking mess, made even worse by the ratty shock of hair that curled just above his chin. Your gaze roamed further down, the midnight blue waistcoat cinching the shape of his billowy white shirt. His jeans were not as tight as he usually preferred but for a very good reason, so you could hardly complain.

You grinned as you plucked the tophat from off the table, cocking your head as you pulled him towards you.

“Not in the slightest,” you replied, brushing your lips against his cheek as the tophat was placed on his head at a tilt.

Joey chuckled, turning his head to capture your lips in a heated kiss, his hands gripping your waist as he pulled you closer. You went willingly, pressing your body flush against his, your hands squeezing his arse. The nerves melted into unadulterated lust as you lost yourself in his lips, tongue, the heat of his breath mingling with yours. His lips never left your skin as he brushed along your cheekbone, teeth nipping at your earlobe, and his accent thickened in a low growl as he spoke.

“Ready, darling?”

“Born ready,” you hummed back as you let your head roll back so he could press a kiss to your neck.

“Under the table then. They’ll be here soon.”

Fuck… his voice.

You knew he could ask anything of you and it would be hard to resist, not when he looked like some kind of dark fae and sounded like sex defined. Still, you couldn’t help but pout at him, smiling as he pulled you in for one last kiss.

It would be a while before you got to enjoy the pleasure of his lips again.

The table was artfully decorated as it always was. The rich velvety tablecloth that would be your cover for evening was draped over the playing area, hanging right down to the floor. At the end of the table stood the DM’s screen and a chest beside the chair on the floor where Joey kept his maps and aids for the players. It was a decadent set up, but Joey was a performer and he enjoyed the show.

Although, it wasn’t the decorations or the costumes or the maps that made him a brilliant DM.

No, it could be a sterile room with just Joey and his players, and the effect would be almost as incredible. The way he could create the most amazing worlds, stories and characters from just his words, playing all the NPCs with so much depth and personality… that even you forgot he was Joey at times.

He was brilliant.

And for some unfathomable reason… he was yours.

Joey would prefer to say you were his, and god… you were so fucking down with that.

“Behave,” he chuckled against your lips, “and kneel for me, darling.”

“Fuck,” you groaned as you pulled back from the kiss, melting against his chest.

It was going to be a long evening.

Dutifully, you crawled under the table. Joey had left a cushion by the DM’s chair in preparation for the night. The effort he had put into making you feel comfortable sent a flood of warmth through you. He could be brutal when you played, but there was always that small touch at the back of your neck, a hand running down your spine, a soft whisper in your ear.

He was safe.

And there was no one else you would rather be with.

There was a scrap of wood on stone as the chair was pushed back. The tablecloth muted the sounds outside your hidden tomb more than you expected, but as you got into position, you felt the scrap of his fingertips in your scalp.

“Good,” he whispered, a low growl that was barely audible.

You shivered under his touch, pressing your cheek against his thigh. This was familiar… comfortable, but you were still alone. Your fingers itched to pull at the zip, to claim the prize that lay beyond. You settled on mouthing at his dick through his trousers, brushing your nose against the fabric and enjoying the guttural groan that tore from his throat as his cock hardened beneath your touch.

“That’s not behaving,” he murmured.

“They’re not here yet.”

“That’s not the point, sweetheart.”

Scoffing, you pressed a kiss to the inside of his thigh and settled in to wait. With his fingers still carding through your hair, it was to just focus on the soft sigh of your breath and the touch of his hands. Any lingering nerves washed out of your body with every brush of his fingers tugging at your hair. You sighed and leant against his leg, enjoying a moment of not existing before your friends turned up.

Part of you wished that you could spend the evening alone together. It was easier on your own… but you wanted this. The idea had been haunting you ever since your first DnD campaign together, Joey’s finger brushing along your thighs under your skirt, slipping beneath your underwear as he continued to describe the scene in front of you, his voice never giving away his actions.

He was a fucking bastard.

“Joey,” you murmured, fighting off the foggy haze of lust in your mind.

You wanted him. His touch between your legs, stroking… teasing…

Fuck.

“I’m here, darling,” he chuckled, a sharper tug at your hair just as the doorbell rang.

You whined as he pushed back from the table, leaving you alone for a few precious moments. It might be easy to be alone with Joey, but truly alone made your thoughts race, especially when you felt as vulnerable as you did now. You thought you’d prepared for this moment… when he’d greet your friends as if you weren’t even in the room, but the reality was colder than your imagination.

From the hallway, you could hear Joey explain to the others that you were sick tonight and that he would be playing your character for the evening when required. That made you grumble a little, you wanted to trust him… and really you did - with the important things.

But Joey was also an evil DM, and you didn’t quite trust your dwarven ranger in his hands. There wasn’t a shadow of a doubt that he’d leave you in a perilous situation for the next session… especially if you didn’t behave.

Soon enough though, everyone was settled around the table. Their legs were more crowding than you’d expected, leaving you to shuffle closer to Joey in order to remain hidden. The heat that coursed through you made it all worth it. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d felt this turned on, head spinning before you’d even started.

“Don’t touch yourself,” he’d growled in your ear earlier that morning when you’d been putting the final touches to the plan. “You’re all mine.”

It had been too easy to agree back then, but now you were regretting it. You ached for touch… for release. Biting your lip, you let out a shaky breath, hands trembling as you gripped at his thighs. The players’ voices filled the room, excitable shouts, and laughter as they got their dice and boxes ready.

“Amethyst again, Joey really?”

“It’s for good luck,” he chuckled.

“Show off.”

“Yeah, well… I’m the DM. I’m allowed to show off,” he said, sounding far too smug as his fingers once again threaded into your hair. “Now… where were we?”

That was your cue, the game was starting… both games. Holding your breath you unzipped his jeans, biting back a moan as you realised he’d gone without his boxers for the evening. It should have been predictable, but, fuck, it didn’t make it any less hot. Joey carried on his recap of the last session without so much as a pause as you pulled his cock from his jeans.

Bastard.

Here you were, under the table and practically falling apart at just the thought of what you were about to do, and he was barely even affected. Joey was supposed to be the one struggling to keep quiet… not you.

The players started to get into character, continuing the story and bantering as they approached the next checkpoint of the story, as Joey guided them through the world, his voice a soothing timbre that kept you floating and safe.

Joey laughed just as you licked a stripe along the underside of his cock.

“I- ah… I’m gonna need a perception check for that,” he stammered with a sharp tug to your hair.

There was the sound of rolling dice clattering above you in their boxes, “12?”

“You look around the room, the darkness surrounds you like a well-worn cloak. The air is cold and biting against your skin. Out the corner of your eye,” he paused, and you took the opportunity to kiss down his length, still teasing, testing… waiting. “No… the smoke in the room keeps shifting around you, the torch casting shadows that swirl and move, confusing… It’s no use. The room keeps its secrets for now, but you are left with a strange sense that there is nothing good beyond the glow of your torch.”

The players all groan. This had been an exploration mission away from your main quest. You’d been hoping for a break from the fighting, but Joey was a cruel DM and found far too much glee in bringing your party to its knees relentlessly.

Well, two could play at that game.

Just as Joey began to discuss the next action, you took the tip of his cock into your mouth, licking at the slit before humming softly, using the cover of the laughter to make the sound.

“Shit,” he hissed.

“Joey?”

“Ah, nothing. I just… remembered something I forgot before. No worries,” he muttered, his voice dropping to a lower register that he usually reserved for the bedroom.

Got him.

“You sure?”

“Yeah,” he laughed, but you could tell there was something off already, which only encouraged you more.

The plan had been to alternate between blowjobs and cockwarming… not letting him cum until later in the night, but this was far more fun. You hadn’t quite realised the power you would hold over him… and how giddy you would feel. Pulling back from his cock, you nuzzled along the length, your nose pressing into the fabric of his jeans as you mouthed at his balls.

“But!” he said loudly, his legs spreading wider under the table. “Umm… my darling isn’t feeling well, so… so I’ll probably want to check on them. Shorter session tonight… If that’s alright?”

There was a murmur of agreement.

“Shorter, but not… too short,” he added with another tug to your hair.

You barely managed to suppress your laughter, pressing your face into his thigh. In retaliation, Joey brushed his foot between your legs, rubbing up along the inside of your thigh, a teasing touch and you couldn’t help but shift to give him better access. Remembering his earlier words, you were sure you would regret it later, but you were already dizzy with lust and if you couldn’t touch yourself then you would at least take all that he could give you.

“Shall we continue?” Joey asked sweetly, too sweetly. That was the tone of voice you really really didn’t trust when he was DMing. You pitied your friends, knowing that Joey was not going to make this easy for them, but you could certainly help as best you could.

Keep him distracted.

Hopefully with a lust-hazed mind, he might feel a little more kind-hearted.

Before you could get back to your task, Joey’s foot rubbed up against you and you had to bite down on your lip to stop from moaning. Heat burned through you, making your head spin and you couldn’t help but press into his touch, letting out a soft sigh as he stroked his fingers through your hair. His hand guided you back to his cock, a gentle touch but still firm. It was clear that Joey was getting impatient, as he once again settled into his role as DM.

The soft growl of his voice above you melted into the background as you took the tip of his cock back into your mouth, sucking gently before relaxing your jaw to take him further. After a couple of shallow bobs you stilled, humming quietly and resting there between his knees whilst he petted your hair. You could go back to teasing him later, but for now you were content to enjoy the weight on your tongue as you let your mind drift, the rattle of dice above you blending with the laughter of friends.

Friends that had no idea that you weren’t tucked up in bed.

There was a shrill shriek of excitement above you, and you cracked an eye open, your fingers gripping into Joey’s thighs to get his attention. He responded with a teasing rub of his foot, sending a ripple of heat prickling across your skin. You had no idea how long you’d been kneeled of the floor for, but it wasn’t nearly long enough for a decent DnD game. It was long enough for your arousal to have slowly built up without you really noticing beyond the surges whenever Joey’s foot moved, or you heard his breath catch in his throat.

You let out a shaky breath as you pulled off his cock, blinking as you tried to reorientate yourself in the room. It was dark under the table, and whilst the thrill of getting caught made this one of your more exciting games… you wanted Joey. The urge to kiss him, to get lost in those gorgeous blue eyes, and run your hands through the soft bristles of his beard whilst he fucked you with a passion and love you’d rarely felt with anyone else.

The clatter of dice pulled you from your thoughts with a start.

“Oh cock!” Joey cursed as one of his dice fell to the floor by your feet, and soon after his head popped under the table cloth, his hand on your cheek. His lips brushed to your ear as he reached for the die. “Are you alright?”

You nodded, turning to capture his lips in a kiss that ended far too soon.

“What are you doing down there, Joey?”

“It’s dark, give me a break, oh wait no… got it!” he called back, pressing his lips to your forehead one last time before scrambling back up to his chair. “Another half hour?”

Half an hour of slow sweet torture before you could finally get your hands on him, more importantly, until you could get his hands on you. Fuck, the miracles he could perform with just his fingers, it was enough to drive anyone to the brink of insanity.

The chattering from the table above you got louder, and the dice rolls got faster. Shouts of incantations and vivid depictions of absurd attacks and deaths filled the room. The battle had commenced… and the noise provided the perfect cover for you to launch an attack of your own. With the memory of his lips on yours lingering in your mind, you settled back between his legs with a new sense of desperation, swallowing his cock down without warning.

Above you, you heard Joey’s accent slip back to his Newcastle lilt as he struggled to keep his composure. He laughed it off but the sound was strained which only served to encourage you. It was easy to bring him to the edge, you were well practiced by now, knowing exactly what he liked and what drove him mad. One hand moved to cup his balls, just as there was a yell from the table.

“Ah cocking bollocks,” Joey cursed, as he came, spilling into your mouth, his thighs clamped on either side of your head. “Shit, umm… maths, right. What, er… what did you roll?”

“Nat twenty!” your friend cried.

“Right, yeah,” Joey mumbled, not sounding at all satisfied with what should have been a mindblowing orgasm. “Describe it for me?”

The game ended soon after that. Joey practically threw your friends from the house, and no sooner had the door slammed shut, then you were hauled from under the table and thrown up against the wall. His lips claimed yours with a low growl.

“You bastard,” he murmured against your lips, biting gently as he pulled away from the kiss. “I was trying to concentrate.”

You smirked, dragging your leg up the back of his as you gripped his arse. “Oops?”

“Oops, fuck,” he groaned. “Worst orgasm ever.”

“Oh, well… you’ll have to let me make it up to you then, won’t you?”

“Oh you’re in for a long night, darling.”

You laughed and pulled him into another kiss, rolling your hips against his as you melted against his chest. The game might have been over, but the evening had only just begun.

#jb fic recs #jb rpf recs #we need more rpf #especially Joey based #lovely read #now please give me the rest of the night with a proper orgasm

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jaskiersbow · 4 years ago

Text

Divine

Here, have some Jaskier/Valdo in which Valdo is the leader of a hippy sex cult and Jaskier loses his virginity to him. Me, writing the softest DD? Oops.

Explicit. Warnings: underage, sex cult, hero worship, mild dub/con. 3,000 words.

---

Jaskier knows he shouldn't feel nervous, but he can't help dragging his feet as he walks to the morning meeting. He feels like he's been preparing his whole life for this moment. To think that just yesterday he was only 15 - a child - and today he's ready to take his pledge and join into the family for real. His parents gifted him with a new outfit for his birthday, and he can't help but think it's not just a gift for him.

He isn't as filled out as some of the older men, but Jaskier knows he looks good. The navy dress pants are well-fitted, hugging his slender hips and the curve of his ass. The slate gray button down has little yellow flowers embroidered along the collar, and he can tell his mother took her time adding the embellishments. He also has a new necklace, a long silver chain with three feather pendants hanging from it; the sign of their Divine Leader.

His mother hooks her arm through his elbow and beams at him as they approach the meeting hall. He fights back his nerves and smiles back at her. All he's ever wanted to do was make her proud, and this is his moment. His heart is racing in his chest as they walk into the building, but the eager greetings and friendly faces of his friends help calm him down. They find their assigned seats and wait for the meeting to begin.

All chatter stops when their Divine Leader walks in. He looks as amazing as ever today with his long hair hanging in loose curls around his shoulders. Jaskier wonders if it's as soft as it looks, wonders if he'll be one of the lucky ones invited to share a night with him now that he's of age. Bright green eyes meet his, and he feels his face heating up as the Divine Leader nods at him.

Jaskier fades out during their morning talks, focusing on the tone of his leader's voice instead of the words. It's nothing he hasn't heard a hundred times, and while he feels the meaning of the words down to his bones, he can't focus today. He shouldn't be so nervous, but it feels like he's on the edge of some great moment in his life and it's making his skin buzz with excitement.

"As some of you may know, today is a very special day," The Divine Leader announces, clasping his hands together in front of him. Jaskier is on the edge of his seat, nearly bouncing with what he knows comes next. "Today our young Jaskier will take the pledge to be by my side for all eternity, to join us in our quest for freedom and enlightenment. It is with open arms that I welcome him into our little flock. Jaskier, will you come join me up front, please?"

Jaskier's dad claps him on the back as he stands, looking at him proudly as he gently shoves him forward. He stumbles a bit, still lost in the heavy gaze of his Divine Leader, but somehow Jaskier makes it up to the front of the room. His teacher had gone over the motions, and he's so thankful for that, because all he can hear is the pounding of his heart. When he reaches the front, he smiles shyly and then drops to his knees, head bent in silent submission.

The ceremony itself is mostly a blur. The second the Divine Leader places his hands on the top of Jaskier's head, his mind goes fuzzy. He knows the words of the pledge by heart - has been repeating them daily for years now - but his tongue feels heavy in his mouth as he recites it. It feels more real now. All of a sudden, people are clapping and Jaskier blinks slowly as he looks up at the man in front of him. He isn't sure what love feels like, but it must be close to this. The Divine Leader is gorgeous, his eyes even brighter this close, the stubble on his jaw more pronounced. Jaskier is still baby-faced and clean-cut in comparison, and he desperately hopes he measures up.

"Welcome to the fold, little one," the Divine Leader says warmly as he reaches out a hand to help him to his feet. He can hear the crowd filtering out of the building behind him, but Jaskier only has eyes for one man at this point. He feels dizzy on his feet, hanging on a breath for the next words. "It would delight me to have your company tonight. Would you like that, Jaskier?"

"Please! Yes, anything," Jaskier rushes out, grinning up at him. The Divine Leader reaches out and brushes his knuckles over Jaskier's cheekbone. His skin tingles in their wake, and he knows tonight will be the best night of his life. Maybe if he's lucky enough, he'll be one of the few invited back. There have been rumors of their leader looking for a spouse, and it's been the center of Jaskier's fantasies for months now. Every time he's spilled in his own hand, it's been with the name Valdo on his lips.

"I was so hopeful you would say that. I know tonight will be a night to remember. Please come to my house after dinner. Let your parents know not to expect you home," the Divine Leader tells him, and Jaskier shivers. He nods, knowing when he's been dismissed. How the fuck is he supposed to get through an entire day knowing what waits him at the end of it?

---

Jaskier tries not to feel nervous as he approaches the Divine Leader - Valdo's - house. Sex is no secret in their community, and he knows the favored ones get to spend night after night with their leader. Hell, both his parents have fucked him, so it's nothing special. Just...he wants it to be special. Their leader loves each and every one of his followers, but Jaskier wants to be the one that finally ties him down, makes him choose a spouse. He has a lot riding on this night and has to take a few deep breaths to settle himself as he walks up the steps to the door.

"Welcome, Jaskier. I'm so glad you decided to join me tonight," Valdo says as he opens the door and ushers him inside. He's pulled into a tight hug, his face pressed against the hard planes of Valdo's chest. Fuck, he's gorgeous and Jaskier feels so out of his element. He just has to put his trust in his leader, which is something he's been doing every day of his young life. It's easy by now.

"I uh, I've been waiting for this...hoping I mean," Jaskier mumbles in response, and Valdo pulls back just far enough so he can smile down at him. It feels like he's done something right, and his chest tightens under his heavy gaze. Fuck, he's so pretty up this close. Jaskier isn't going to survive this night.

"I know, my child. I've seen the way you watch me, felt your eyes on my body. You hold so much love in your young heart, and it pleases me. Would you like to please me more? I won't take things physical if you don't wish to, but I would very much like it if you wanted me," Valdo tells him, and Jaskier is frantically nodding before he can think about it. He's half hard in his jeans already, and he knows this is going to be the best night of his life.

"I do. Please, show me. Teach me. I want to know you fully," Jaskier says, proud of himself for not stumbling over the words. He's rewarded with a hand on his cheek, Valdo's long fingers brushing the curve of his jaw. He leans into the touch, desperate for more.

"Let's retreat to my bedroom, then. I can't wait to take you apart," Valdo says softly before reaching out to take his hand. Jaskier stares down at their interlocked fingers and shivers, letting Valdo pull him towards the back of the house.

The room is dimly lit, candles scattered around and flickering as they enter. The comforting scent of eucalyptus fills the room. The comforter is folded at the end of the bed and what looks like rose petals are strewn about the sheets. Jaskier wants to cry, because it's every bit as perfect as he'd imagined. This was really happening.

Valdo sits on the edge of the bed and gestures for Jaskier to stand between his thighs. He's practically vibrating as he stands there, nervous and excited and so fucking turned on at the same time. Valdo takes his hands in his and looks at him softly before asking, "Have you ever been kissed, little one?"

"No sir. I mean...people have asked me to, but it didn't feel right. I was waiting for my birthday. It's always been you, Divine One," Jaskier says honestly, pleased when Valdo's smile widens.

"Such a gift for me. But I must insist you call me Valdo tonight...and any other time we're alone going forward. It would please me to hear my name on your pretty pink lips," he says, and Jaskier nods again.

And then they're kissing. Valdo's mouth is plush and giving against his, taking charge as he licks into Jaskier's mouth. He shivers and brings his hands up to cling to Valdo's shirt, knuckles going white as he holds on. It feels like he's being devoured whole, and he lets out a little whine as their tongues slide together.

Valdo starts unbuttoning his shirt while they kiss, and Jaskier gets goosebumps where his hands touch his bare skin. His nipples are hard, and he moans into the kiss when Valdo brushes his thumbs across them. He's so hard he might die, his cock full and leaking in his briefs. He can only hope he has some kind of effect on Valdo, that he can make him want him again.

"You're gorgeous," Valdo tells him, and Jaskier feels the words in his bones. Valdo runs his thumb over Jaskier's bottom lip, and his tongue flickers out to taste it before he thinks about it. Valdo smirks at him, his smile turning a bit wicked as he adds, "So responsive for me. Can you finish undressing for me? I want to see all of you."

"Anything for you," Jaskier says, and he means it. That makes Valdo smile wider, and he nods before pulling his shirt over his head. Jaskier undoes the button on his pants before he gets distracted by all that skin. He hesitates for a second but then shoves his pants and briefs down before stepping out of them. He wants to cup himself, but he knows he shouldn't hide from his leader, from Valdo.

"You're perfect. I knew you would be," Valdo tells him softly, and Jaskier's face lights up. His cheeks are flushed under Valdo's heated gaze, and he watches with wide eyes as Valdo undoes his jeans. He raises his hips and works them over his hips, baring himself to Jaskier. His cock looks stunning, thick and long, and Jaskier feels like he's in a dream.

Valdo kicks his pants off and pulls Jaskier close again, kissing him quickly before brushing his bangs out of his eyes. "Would you let me have your mouth? I've spent ages waiting for you to grow up so I could have you. Will you give me this?" he asks, his voice barely more than a whisper.

"Please. Want you so much," Jaskier chokes out, and then Valdo gently pushes him to his knees. He has no clue what he's doing, but his mouth waters as he looks at Valdo's cock. There's a bead of pre-come on the tip, so he leans in and laps at it, moaning when Valdo sucks in a deep breath above him.

Valdo's hand settles in his hair, and it gives Jaskier the courage to go forward. He swirls his tongue around the head of Valdo's prick and finds he likes the salty taste. Valdo spreads his legs wider, and Jaskier wraps his fingers around his dick and sucks the head into his mouth. He tries to keep his teeth out of the way, tries to do what he's heard others talk about. It's hard, because his own cock is throbbing between his legs and this is the best thing that's ever happened to him. It all seems a bit surreal.

He swallows down what he can, but Valdo is so thick that his jaw already feels sore. He won't let him down though and pushes through it. He feels hot and heavy on his tongue, and the weight of it grounds him. He gets too eager and chokes a bit, pulling back to cough and look up at Valdo sheepishly.

"You're doing wonderful, dear," Valdo reassures him. "It's like you were made to be on your knees for me." Jaskier groans, his cock twitching against his thigh. He feels so hot he might burst and sucks down Valdo's cock again to distract himself from his own ache. Valdo murmurs praise and strokes his hair, petting him as he sucks him off.

But then Valdo tugs on his hair, and Jaskier cries out around his cock as he comes untouched. He has to pull off and press his face against Valdo's thigh, sobbing silently as he spills on the floor beneath him. He sits there, panting and ashamed, just knowing he's ruined this already.

He doesn't even realize Valdo is talking to him, and it takes a few moments for the words to sink in. He's not telling him off, not sending him away. Jaskier lets himself be pulled up onto the bed and cradled against Valdo's chest as he focuses on the words. "You're so beautiful for me, so responsive. My pleasure set you off, and there's no shame in that. I love it."

"You won't send me away?" he asks, feeling small.

"Never," Valdo promises. "I might keep you here, you look good in my bed. Can we continue, or do you need to rest?" Jaskier realizes he's sitting in Valdo's lap with his hard length pressed against his thighs, and he shivers. There's no way he's stopping now.

"No, I want more. Want you," Jaskier tells him, and he's given a smile in return. Valdo moves back, leaning against the headboard and setting Jaskier on his thighs again. He reaches over to the bedside table and picks up some lube, and Jaskier shivers at the sight. This is really happening.

"Let me take care of you," Valdo says, and Jaskier nods quickly. He sits up on his knees and watches with wide eyes as Valdo flicks open the cap of the lube and coats his fingers. Then he reaches behind Jaskier, spreading him open to circle his hole with one slick finger. He shivers and wraps his arms around Valdo's shoulders, unable to look at him because this feels so intimate, so real.

The first finger feels odd, but in a good way. He holds his breath until Valdo tells him to relax and breathe. His body opens easier then, letting Valdo slide inside. He tucks his face against Valdo's neck, clinging to him as he's stretched open. One finger soon becomes two, and then he's writhing in Valdo's lap. He's never felt like this, like his whole body is on fire. It's addictive.

"You're ready for me," Valdo tells him after a bit, and Jaskier sits back up and smiles at him. Valdo looks at him like he hung the moon, and he can't help darting forward and kissing him again. Then he watches as Valdo slicks himself up, his long fingers looking amazing as he strokes himself.

They don't break eye contact as Valdo guides himself to Jaskier's entrance. He feels the pressure and slowly lowers himself down. It feels like he's being split in two, and he gasps as the head of Valdo's cock pops past his rim. It's so big, almost too big, but gravity and his body do the work and soon he's fully seated on his dick.

"Fuck," Valdo grunts, biting his own lip, "you're so fucking tight. So perfect for me." His words make Jaskier shiver, barely able to contain the amount of love he has for his leader right now.

And then they're moving, Valdo's big hands holding onto his slim hips as they buck together. He feels amazingly full and holds onto Valdo's shoulders as he fucks up into him. Valdo's thrusts speed up, and he digs his fingers into Jaskier, desperate as he slams him down on his cock.

"Touch yourself. Want to feel you even tighter," Valdo orders, and Jaskier slides a hand down to his dick. He fucks into his fist, keening as Valdo fucks him harder. The angle changes a bit and something inside of him lights up. He cries out and comes, painting his chest with come.

He clenches down around Valdo, his body shaking as he works through his orgasm. Valdo bites down on his shoulder and comes with a groan, spilling inside of him. He feels each hot burst like a brand and his cock twitches between their bodies. He's never felt so right, so used, so much like he has a purpose in life.

When Valdo pulls out, he feels the rush of come tricking down his thighs. Fuck, he's a mess and he loves it. Valdo strokes a hand up and down his back, whispering soothing praise at him as he cleans him up with a towel from the table next to them. He's suddenly exhausted, eyes barely able to stay open.

"So perfect for me," Valdo murmurs as he helps Jaskier roll off of him. He looks up at him, hoping all the love and devotion he has shows in his smile. Valdo bends down and kisses his forehead before pulling the comforter over them both. He pulls Jaskier into his chest and pets the nape of his neck softly. "Sleep now. You were so good, little one. I think I might keep you."

Jaskier drifts off feeling safe and secure.

#jb fic #jb virgin #jb sex cult #jb underage #jb dub con

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jaskiersbow · 4 years ago

Text

A Lover's Curse

This month I’m combining whumptober for @thewitcherbog and kinktober list from @dead-dove-diner. It's week two! (This will be on AO3 in the next few days)

Prompt: Screams that no one can hear/bestiality Pairing: Jaskier/wolves, Geraskier (background) Rating: E Warnings: Dead dove: do not eat, Bestiality, Dub-Con, rough sex, anal, knotting, hurt/no comfort (between Geraskier), overstimulation, outside sex

The curse should have been easy to lift. That was the entire reason why Jaskier hadn’t completely panicked - he would lose his voice until he was fucked by the wolves he was so fond of.

Naturally, both bard and witcher had assumed that Jaskier would just need to be pounded into the earth by his darling White Wolf; hardly a sacrifice. They’d been sleeping together for years and the mage probably hadn’t realised that. So with a quick non-verbal discussion, Jaskier and Geralt had headed back to their camp in blissful ignorance.

The sex had been… not the best, Jaskier missed being able to moan and cry and lavish praises upon his dearest friend, and without that it all felt a bit dry, like they were just going through the motions. Sure, they both came but it was nothing special.

And Jaskier still couldn’t talk.

So they tried again the next morning, this time Jaskier was on top, in case they’d missed something in the mage’s curse. Geralt fell apart so beautifully underneath him, clawing at the bedroll, hair falling into his eyes, blown wide and black with hunger. It was always such a delicious sight, but Jaskier was desperate to regain what had been lost to him- he couldn’t savour it like he so dearly wanted. Geralt came first with Jaskier’s hand wrapped around his cock, rutting into him with a single-minded focus, chasing his own pleasure as soon as he felt Geralt’s arse clench around him.

The silence was haunting.

Tears streaked down Jaskier’s cheeks as he pulled out of the witcher, his mouth gaping as he tried to force out even the smallest sound. He couldn’t even scream, just silent sobs and the breathy sounds of his gasps.

“It didn’t work,” Geralt hummed.

No it bloody well didn’t work, Jaskier wanted to reply.

“We can try again.”

Jaskier swatted Geralt’s bare back to get his attention, and the witcher rolled over to face him. Only then did Jaskier shake his head, cupping Geralt’s cheek and smiling sadly down at his witcher.

“Wolves, plural. I’ll ask Eskel and Lambert to meet up with us and -”

The words were interrupted by Jaskier’s finger placed on Geralt’s lip.

The mage had said wolves - not witchers, and Jaskier’s past was coming back to haunt him. How long had it been since he’d taken a dog’s cock, its knot? Not since Lettenhove, and he’d been determined to bury that behind him, learn to like humans in the same way. The shame had eaten away at him, but as a horny teenager he just hadn’t cared.

He cared now though.

He had something to lose; Geralt, his career, his reputation.

Fuck, Geralt would never look at him again.

“Jask?”

Without bothering to wipe the tears from his eyes, Jaskier leant down to kiss Geralt; a last goodbye.

It was probably better this way. Geralt wasn’t exactly one for words and heartfelt goodbyes, so a bittersweet kiss would mean far more to the witcher. Their lips were chapped, and after days walking the path, the air between them was soured, but it was gentle. Jaskier held Geralt’s face in his, tears splashing down onto Geralt’s pale skin, leaving stains in the dirt that was smeared across his cheeks. A strong hand cupped the nape of Jaskier’s neck, pulling him closer, and he sobbed into the kiss.

“Don’t do this,” Geralt murmured. “Don’t say goodbye.”

Jaskier didn’t answer, he couldn’t.

“We’ll find a way.”

That was true. Jask had found a way- it just didn’t include Geralt.

He didn’t even bother to get dressed as he fled the camp. The twigs and rocks dug into the soles of his feet, and he was sure that he looked like a complete state. The poor Countess would be rolling in her grave if she saw her precious Julian wandering round the forest like a drunken fool; barefoot and caked in mud and cum.

The smell would attract a wolf pack, or so he hoped. Really Geralt would be better at this whole tracking business but this was something Jaskier needed to do alone. Thankfully, it didn’t take long for a curious wolf pack to find him, even more thankfully it wasn’t something more nefarious.

Jaskier swallowed as the hungry gaze of the wolves fell upon him. It took all his self control not to fall to his knees on the spot, the familiar heat of arousal pooling at his core. Gods, he’d missed this. There was really nothing quite like being fucked by a dog, the simple way in which they rutted into him, bred him, used him. No feelings, no complexities… just sex, mindless pleasure.

The wolves growled and Jaskier dipped his head, falling to the floor in a submissive manner. He wasn’t a threat to them and he prayed to all the gods that this wouldn’t be the end of him. Dogs he knew, but wolves were more; more wild, more ferocious… more dangerous.

Fuck, he was in so much trouble.

His cock twitched, already trying to get hard despite his morning romp with Geralt, and he closed his eyes as he took in a shaky breath. The dirt was damp under his fingertips, and all he could hear was the pounding of his own heart and the snuffling breaths of the wolves as they surrounded him. He gasped as he felt the cool wet nose press against his cheeks, swiftly followed by a long tongue probing at his hole. He idly wondered whether the wolf could smell the stale witcher cum from the night before, but those thoughts were thrown from his mind as the long tongue slipped inside him.

Jaskier whined silently, biting down on his lip so hard that he tasted blood. The sounds of the wolf lapping at his hole were obscene; wet slurping noises that went straight to Jaskier’s dick. The wolf’s tongue was coarse, almost painful against his skin, but gods, it was so deep, the tip brushing against his prostate and sending sparks flying across his vision.

And still he couldn’t make a sound.

He wanted to cry, press back against the snout with curses falling off his lips, but all he could do was gasp and pant, nails scratching at the dirt. The wolf worked him open, licking at his hole until there was no trace of the witcher’s cum, and then heavy paws landed on his back.

Jaskier screamed, no sound escaping his lips which was both a blessing and a curse. No one could rescue him… but he really didn’t want them to. The claws of the beast sliced through his skin, the pain only increasing his pleasure and he wanted to howl along with the pack that surrounded him. As it was he just forced his eyes open, staring up at the big grey wolf that was watching him with dark eyes. It was so calm, so majestic, so handsome.

Gods, Jaskier wanted it. Even as the smaller wolf’s cock finally pushed inside him, Jaskier wanted the grey wolf, the alpha. Jaskier couldn’t take his eyes off of the beast as the wolf behind him rutted into him, his hole raw from the coarse tongue and under-stretched and painful, but fuck the burn was addictive.

He’d never admitted it to Geralt but he liked being used, the feel of his hole sloppy and bloody after being fucked to oblivion. He didn’t want to seem like the freak that he was, hiding his darkest self from the witcher, the love of his life.

The wolf behind him howled as its movements became more erratic, its cock hot and pulsing with every thrust, filling Jaskier up with the length. He gasped as he felt the knot teasing at his hole after so many years of denial, already so full but desperate for more.

He needed this. He needed more.

Please, he wanted to beg. Fuck me, knot me, breed me.

But he could only scream silently, tears rolling down his cheeks as he pushed back against the wolf’s knot just as it thrust into him. The wolf came with a howl, rutting its seed into Jaskier’s already full arse, forcing it deeper and deeper inside of him.

Jaskier let out a pitiful whimper, his voice cracking but definitely there. If he hadn’t already been crying from the pain, then the sheer relief that flooded through him at the tiny sound that fell from his lips would have been enough to break him.

He could talk.

Gods, he could sing!

“F-fuck,” he croaked, finally tearing his gaze away from the alpha wolf as he tried to catch his breath. He caught a glimpse of his own cock, red and leaking onto the dirt below.

The wolf snuffled as it adjusted, the knot tugging at Jaskier’s rim as it moved to stand more comfortably. Jaskier just whined, his eyes fluttering shut at the pressure, a sharp stab of pain. He was stretched too far, filled with dog cum and the bulge of its knot, but gods, he never wanted it to end. He knew as soon as it was free, he’d be left feeling empty and wanting.

The curse was broken but Jaskier wasn’t done.

“G-good boy,” he cooed at the wolves around him; the sound of his own voice was the most beautiful thing he had ever heard, even when it was so broken… so wrecked. “My perfect, darling wolves.”

One of the smaller wolves, russet brown with yellow eyes, nudged at Jaskier’s shoulder, licking at the tears that stained his cheeks. Stumbling, Jaskier slung one arm around the wolf’s strong shoulders, digging his fingers into the thick fur, warm and oh so soft. His other wrist strained as it pressed into the ground, struggling to bear his own weight, but it was all so worth it, to feel the wild fur of the wolf beneath his skin as he hung off the knot of its packmate.

At the first sign of the knot going down, the smaller wolf pulled away, ripping from Jaskier with a howl. Cold air flooded through him, leaving him empty, his hole fluttering around the space where the wolf’s cock had been. He whimpered, raising his eyes once more to meet the alpha’s gaze.

“Please,” he gasped, the word like the sweetest wine on his tongue. “Please.”

And though they couldn’t understand him, the wolves knew Jaskier for what he truly was - a bitch.

It didn’t take long for the alpha to take its place, leaving its own fierce marks upon Jaskier’s back. This time it didn’t bother to lap the other wolf’s cum from his hole, and it was far more experienced in claiming its bitch. The thick cock pushed inside him after only a couple of ruts against his arse. Even without the knot, it felt thicker than the previous wolf, longer, fucking all the way into Jaskier’s stomach. He screamed. This time the sound tore from his throat, ringing through the trees like a siren’s call.

It hurt, but holy mother of fuck, it was good. Jaskier keened, his eyes squeezing shut as the alpha wolf used him, bred him, forcing the seed of its pack deeper and deeper into him until there was no doubt that it would take and Jaskier would grow plump with its pups. A silvery wolf, young and barely past puberty barked, spinning around as its leader fucked their prey into the dirt, lapping at the mess of precum that had splashed onto the ground before finding the source.

Jaskier cried again as the wolf licked at his poor neglected cock, and he shivered, looking down at obscene sight. The pup was eager and unskilled, lapping happily as it wagged its tail.

And oh…

With every snap of the wolf’s hips, Jaskier could see its cock bulge against the flat of his stomach.

“Oh- oh fuck!” he whined, bearing back against the wolf as he came, his whole body shaking, burning, free.

But the alpha didn’t care that everything was quickly becoming too much for Jaskier. It wasn’t fucking Jaskier through his orgasm to be kind. It just needed to fuck, to breed, to mate.

He screamed again as the wolf behind him howled, the pack joining it in a chorus that drowned out Jaskier’s cries. Every thrust of the wolf’s cock pushed against his prostate, abused and sensitive, but it still managed to wring pleasure from him, making his toes curl and sobs heave in his chest. The knot was growing, with every snap of its hips, teasing at his hole but never quite pushing inside, too large for even Jaskier’s sloppy quivering mess of a sluthole.

It didn’t stop him from wanting it.

He hadn’t come this far to be denied.

He howled back at the pack as he met the wolf, thrust to thrust, his own cock hanging limply beneath him still dripping, wet with cum and drool. The claws dug deeper into his skin, no doubt leaving marks that would scar once all this was done and dusted, and Jaskier sobbed as still the knot refused to push inside him. The wolf whined, it’s breath hot and heavy on his back…

And finally…

Oh gods, finally, the knot popped into him, pain burning through his bruised and beaten body, and Jaskier let out a contented sigh and his arms gave way. He sank to the floor, the wolves surrounding him, licking at his cheeks, the wounds on his back. He sang weakly to the pack as the alpha bred him well.

He had his voice.

He had his wolves…

The only thing missing was his witcher.

#I love this!#gimme all the wolf fucking #jaskier really gets into it #so did I #jb fic recs

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jaskiersbow · 4 years ago

Text

Free As a Bird

Written with (mostly by) the insanely talented @witcherslittledove

Geralt/Jaskier

Warnings: noncon, omega!jaskier, alpha!geralt, forced mating bite, inappropriate use of axii, public blow job

Jaskier was thrilled to be free for the first time in his life. The young omega had spent so long being told what to do and what was expected of someone in his position, he never thought he would see the day in which he had the opportunity to do what he wanted. But there he was, singing his own songs in a tavern, making his way across the Continent. Looking for… more.

Unfortunately, his first crowd didn’t welcome him quite as well as he would have liked, stale bread being pelted at him as he was booed away. He hadn’t expected much from Posada, really, but the people certainly left something to be desired. His songs were good, dammit! He was well studied, a master of the Seven Liberal Arts, a prestigious graduate of Oxenfurt!

But truly, it shouldn’t have come as a surprise that they didn’t know how to properly appreciate his artistic talents. Sweeping down and grabbing some of the bread now littering the floor, Jaskier sent a wink in the direction of a pretty beta woman who had been eyeing him since he first arrived. She hadn’t thrown anything at him, though she had grimaced while he performed. If he couldn’t find someone more appreciative of his talents, then she would make a fine bed partner for the evening, he supposed. Though, with any luck, he could do better.

Looking around the tavern, Jaskier spotted a man in the corner. The man hadn’t so much as looked at Jaskier during his performance, probably the only person in the place who he could say that about and for Jaskier, that was enough. He craved validation, the folly of artists all over the Continent. It didn’t help that Jaskier was inherently curious, and someone that hadn’t said a single thing about his performance must have an opinion. Jaskier had to know.

Of course, the man’s handsome figure didn’t hurt either.

So, Jaskier strutted over to the silver haired man, an alpha judging by his scent. It was musky in the way that all alpha scents were, and reminded Jaskier of the forests surrounding Lettenhove. Most of all, it was completely intoxicating, and Jaskier could already feel an uncomfortable dampness in his pants. His body was betraying him but Jaskier had practice in denying alphas and resisting his own urges to spread his legs like an omega whore and beg for their knots. He didn’t sleep with alphas. That was his rule, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t admire the view. So, rather brazenly he sauntered up to the alpha, a coy smile on his face.

“I love the way you just sit in the corner and brood,” he purred, cocking his head slightly to bare his neck towards the alpha.

The alpha’s eyes were dark and hungry, and Jaskier preened under his attention. Yes, he didn’t sleep with alphas, but by gods there was nothing better than having the heat of their gaze on him. It was addictive, dangerous and thrilling.

Jaskier decided he was going to have fun with this one.

________

The young omega was a fucking flirt, a bastard, and an idiot all in one tantilizing package. There wasn’t a whiff of fear in his scent and he seemed to enjoy teasing anyone that crossed his path. He’d bared his scent gland at no less than two betas, one omega, and one alpha on his way over to Geralt. The idiot didn’t even seem to realise he was doing it. He’d make a better whore than a bard, and the audience seemed to agree judging by the rotten food he’d been pelted with.

Still, he was very pretty and his scent- fuck. Omegas always smelled amazing, sweet and tempting to any alpha, just ripe for breeding. Even though Geralt was sterile, his instincts still urged him to mate. He was just usually better at controlling those urges. No sensible omega would want to be tied to a witcher, and having company on the path would only slow him down, get in his way. But there was just something about this omega that called to him. A warm, inviting honied chamomile scent, and a faint undertone of lavender. Sweet, floral… omega.

His omega.

Geralt was suddenly gripped by the urge to sink his teeth into that long muscular neck, to claim the bitch before he could get into any more trouble. Someone clearly needed to show the omega how to behave and Geralt was certain none of the other alphas in the room could handle the task. It would need a witcher.

“Sit down,” Geralt ordered, letting his alpha voice weave into the words, and immediately the omega slid into the seat.

The pretty thing bristled; he was young, barely over eighteen and probably not used to the cruelties of the real world. His clothes were brightly coloured and looked expensive, the tools of his trade, but obviously he was an omega from good stock. Geralt had met his type before, they never realised the danger they put themselves in with their frivolous flirting and general disregard for their own safety.

“You don’t need to do that,” the omega spat, reminding Geralt of an angry kitten. “I came over here to talk to you, of my own free will I should add.”

“You flirted with every single person on the way over, little omega. You’re trouble.”

The omega scoffed, rolling his eyes, the insolent bitch. He was lucky that he was such a pretty little thing, otherwise he’d never find a good mate. No one wanted such a bratty omega.

“I am a bard,” the omega’s eyes flitted over to Geralt’s swords that were resting next to him, “witcher. Flirting is part of my trade.”

“Hmm.”

“Sooo…” the omega drawled, tilting his head and flashing Geralt a coy smile, his tongue flicking out between his lips. Geralt’s eyes were drawn to the movement as the omega’s lips began to glisten, begging to be kissed. “No one else hesitated to comment on the quality of my performance... except you. Come on, you must have some review for me, three words or less.”

Geralt quirked his eyebrow at the omega. The bitch seemed to have shaken off his previous anger and was now back to acting like he owned the fucking place. His scent was so sweet, so delicious, carefree and happy, and even from across the table Geralt could smell the omega’s arousal. He wasn’t in heat, but at least one person in the room had caught his attention, and Geralt’s inner alpha snarled at the thought of it being anyone other than him.

His alpha had already claimed this little flower as his own.

“They don’t exist,” Geralt grumbled, too distracted by the omega’s scent to think of anything more coherent.

The omega’s brow furrowed, and he tapped on the table. “What don’t exist?”

“The creatures in your song.”

The omega scoffed. “It’s a story, witcher. It doesn’t have to be real.”

“Hmm.”

The omega raised his eyebrow at Geralt in a clear challenge. “Perhaps I should sing of the Great Butcher of Blaviken,” he paused, his tongue once again flicking out to trace his bottom lip, “...alpha.”

Geralt growled, getting to his feet and scruffing the omega in one swift movement. “Come on.”

“Oi! What? Geralt! Let me go!”

“No,” Geralt snarled. “You’re coming with me, bard. You want monsters?”

“Y-yes?”

“I’ll give you monsters,” Geralt spat and dragged the writhing omega towards the door of the tavern.

He was so enraptured by the omega, pretty and pliant in his hands, that he didn’t notice the poor beta approach them. Geralt almost bit the man’s head off when his fingers caught the bard’s sleeves, pulling them to a halt.

The man had no right to touch his omega.

But Geralt was low on coin and he needed the contract. So he took a deep breath and suppressed the animalistic snarl that wanted to tear from his throat. “What?” he growled.

The beta shrunk back. “A-a job for you?”

________

The trek to the farmlands outside of Posada was not a quiet one. His bratty little omega didn’t know the meaning of silence and, despite Geralt’s display of power, he still wasn’t afraid. If anything, the little slut was more aroused than anything. There was a distinct wet patch on his trousers from all the slick that was leaking from his body, and his face was flushed a deep red. The omega’s irises were blown so large that Geralt could barely see the rings of blue, and yet the omega didn’t even acknowledge his own arousal. He wittered on about monsters, elves, and history, as if they were just two betas going about their day.

“Shut up!” Geralt snarled, the alpha once again leaking into his voice.

The omega’s jaw snapped shut, two blue eyes glaring at Geralt with a burning fire. His jaw clenched and he was clearly trying to fight Geralt’s hold over him, which was just endearing. Geralt found he liked that the omega had a bite. Too often omegas would just roll over at the sight of an alpha witcher, which was all well and good, but it was boring. Geralt needed someone that could keep up with his lifestyle; he didn’t have time for nesting and the soft luxuries that omegas preferred, and he’d decided that this little slut of an omega would do nicely.

“You could have just asked,” the omega mumbled quietly as the alpha voice began to fade already. “Look, Geralt, I’m going to be honest with you.”

“Hmm?”

The omega waved his hand in Geralt’s general direction. “You are very handsome, a prime alpha I’m sure.”

“Get to the point.”

“But I’m simply not interested in being just an omega to you, or anyone really. I am a bard, a poet, a troubadour of the highest degree. I have stories to tell and the whole Continent to see, and if you just stopped all this alpha posturing for two damn minutes, then I think you and I could be great friends,” the omega wittered on, his voice getting louder and bolder with every word.

Friends.

It wasn’t what Geralt wanted, but it would allow him to get close enough to the omega, to be able to sink his teeth into that pretty little neck and claim him. So, he nodded, coaxing the omega into giving him a blinding smile.

“Excellent! So no more of this alpha voice nonsense.” The omega winked, cocking his head, bearing his scent gland in the process. The fucking little slut. “If you let me, witcher, I could change the public’s tune about you. No more Butcher of Blaviken shit, you’d be the- the White Wolf! Or- or something?”

“And what would you get, bard?”

“Fame, fortune, a new best friend?”

Geralt considered it. It would be a good arrangement. Without Blaviken hovering over his head, he might actually be able to afford new clothes. All his coin currently went towards the bare essentials, ingredients, and repairs to his weapons and armour. He barely managed to afford the care that Roach needed. A mutually beneficial relationship. “Fine, bard, you have a deal.”

“Oh ho ho! Brilliant, you won’t regret this, Geralt. I’ll be the best companion a witcher could ever need!” the omega announced with a wide wave of his arms.

Geralt had to grit his teeth as they reached the fields. Despite his previous command, the omega wouldn’t shut up, and it was going to compromise the hunt. Whilst Geralt didn’t think that there was a devil, there had clearly been something taking the grain from the villagers, and he didn’t want his omega getting hurt. Geralt needed to protect him. There was just something about this bard that had triggered all of his alpha instincts, it was peculiar. The bard wasn’t even typically omega: he was broad where omegas were normally dainty; tall, almost as tall as Geralt; and there was a tease of thick, dark chest hair where his collar was left loose.

And yet all Geralt could think was ‘mine’.

The omega asked Geralt what he was hunting. Now wasn’t that a question? Officially, he was hunting the devil of Posada, but he had his eyes on a much sweeter prize. Neither seemed like a good answer so he went for a third option. “Blessed silence.”

The omega ignored Geralt’s pleas for silence, babbling on about nothing as Geralt searched the fields for the supposed devil. He thought about using axii to shut the omega up, but before he could turn to face him, something struck him on the head. Geralt cursed, fingering the small wound of his forehead, eyes frantically scanning the perimeter, and a growl tore from Geralt’s throat as a second cannonball flew through the air and hit his omega. As the omega crumpled to the ground, Geralt spun round in a pirouette, sword already drawn and ready to take blood. Geralt struck quickly, the hilt of his sword meeting skull as he easily knocked the sylvan unconscious. He was so focused on the horned beast that he didn’t notice the elf sneaking around the corn field until it was too late. He barely had a chance to look up before he was following his omega into the darkness of sleep.

_______

The confrontation with Filavandral confirmed what Geralt already knew: his pretty little omega was too much for any human alpha to handle. The bitch was feral, wild and untamed, hissing like an angry kitten whenever the elves got too close to Geralt, and he was starting to think that the omega thought he was some kind of beta, maybe even an Alpha. It was cute. Not many people had tried to protect Geralt before, and he would be damned if he let this pretty little thing fall through his fingers.

The only problem was, the brat of an omega seemed determined to stay unattached, and frivolously unaware of the danger he posed to himself. It was driving Geralt mad. Even now, bleeding and bruised, his omega was strutting down the path without a care in the world, strumming his lute as if nothing had happened.

“Bard,” Geralt growled through gritted teeth as he watched the omega skip along the dirt track, his doublet carelessly undone, stinking of slick and hot arousal.

“Jaskier,” the omega corrected with a tilt of his head, a dazzling smile dancing on his lips as he winked. “If we’re going to be friends then you should at least call me by my name.”

“Come here, Jaskier.”

“Oh, ho, ho! Look at you, big old scary witcher! But thank you,” Jaskier said, all too trusting and warm, “for not doing the whole,” Jaskier trailed off and just waved a hand in Geralt’s face.

Geralt hummed, waiting patiently until Jaskier was closer. There were similarities between axii and the alpha voice, but the main difference was that axii would hold the omega down for longer, imbued with magic as it was. However, it worked better if his target was at close range. Luckily, Jaskier was a fool, and soon he was resting a hand on Geralt's thigh, gazing up at him through his eyelashes without any idea of the danger he’d put himself in.

Not that Geralt would ever hurt him. No, it was for the omega’s own good. He needed protection. He needed Geralt.

Geralt's fingers formed the sign of axii before he could change his mind.

“You will do as I say, omega,” he whispered, his medallion humming from the magic. “You will obey me.”

Jaskier’s eyes glazed over and his jaw went slack. “I will do as you say, alpha,” he slurred back, finally becoming the perfect little omega he was born to be.

It was only meant to be a temporary solution, until Jaskier learned his place, but whenever he awoke from the enchantment, the omega went straight back to brazenly flirting with anything and everything. He still insisted that he wouldn’t fuck an alpha, waxing poetry about betas and omegas that he’d slept with in the past, almost gloating that he would never be owned by an Alpha. Geralt tolerated this behaviour in small doses, enjoying the dedication to their new friendship that the omega had, the blissful ignorance of the time he spent under Geralt’s control.

At first Geralt truly only used axii to protect the bard, keeping him subdued and obedient in towns, and away from fights when they were on the path. Axii put an end to his slutty ways before some weaker alpha tried to take advantage of him, but Geralt only had so much willpower and Jaskier was draining it with every second. Even under the sign, Jaskier would forget to lace his doublet right to the top, revealing dark tufts of chest hair that was more befitting an alpha, and he had an infuriating habit of baring his neck whenever he spoke to Geralt, words slurred and eyes unfocused.

They were in a tavern when Geralt finally reached his breaking point. The sluttly little omega was flushed from his performance and he smelled of lust and the hot slick leaking out of him. The state he was in hadn’t gone unnoticed by the other occupants of the tavern, particularly not to the alphas in the room. It was only logical that Geralt step in and protect his omega from the dangers surrounding him. There was a low rumble of growling from the other alphas as they began to circle the unsuspecting omega, nostrils flared, cocks clearly straining against their trousers - and yet Jaskier seemed completely oblivious, happily trilling as he took his coin from the generous audience. Geralt usually preferred to stay back, keeping to his corner of the room, but there was a fight brewing and he wasn’t willing to sacrifice his room for the night just for Jaskier.

Geralt stood up, snarling at the pathetic human alphas that dared go near his omega. None of them were good enough for Jaskier. No one else was. Only him.

“Back off,” he growled, loud enough for the whole tavern to hear, and the room fell deadly silent.

All except for Jaskier. The omega scoffed, flipping a gold coin in his hand before catching it once more, his tongue flicking out to lick his lips. “Really, Geralt, you’re doing this now?”

“You stink, Jaskier.”

“Rude!”

“When’s your heat due?”

The omega’s cheeks flushed even redder, the sweet scent of his slick only intensifying. It took everything Geralt had not to press him up against the wall and knot him right there in front of everyone, claiming him, mating him, breeding him - but it wasn’t the right time. Not yet.

It didn’t mean that he couldn’t have his fun though.

His fingers moved quickly, tracing the air in the sign of axii, and Jaskier’s eyes clouded over, a serene smile gracing his lips.

“Follow me,” Geralt murmured, turning back to his table in the darkest corner of the room.

Jaskier hummed, his footsteps sluggish behind Geralt as they made their way back through the crowd, Geralt glaring at every alpha or beta that got too close to his precious omega. When they were back at the table, Geralt spun to face his omega, nimble fingers casting axii once more as he took Jaskier further under his control.

“Under the table.”

The omega nodded, dropping so prettily to his hands and knees as he crawled under the benches. Geralt slid back into his seat, heat pooling at his core with every breath that he took, Jaskier’s intoxicating scent making it hard to think about anything except his aching cock and the need for release.

“Good boy,” he hummed as Jaskier settled between his legs. “Now, suck my dick, but be quiet.”

“Be quiet,” Jaskier slurred, long fingers already moving to untie Geralt’s leather trousers, nose nuzzling at Geralt’s cock through his clothes.

Being quiet wouldn’t help much. It was very clear to the rest of the room what Geralt had asked of the bard, and he would enjoy the looks on their faces as he came all over the sweetest smelling omega in the room, but he was looking forward to Jaskier’s pitiful attempts to stay silent. The bard never stopped singing even when he had three fingers up his ass. Geralt had spent many evenings listening, watching, as Jaskier brought himself off, never allowing himself to touch.

Until now.

It was time to put that mouth to good use, the way an omega should. Geralt smirked as he took a long sip of his ale, one hand stroking through Jaskier’s hair, keeping his face close to his cock and muffling the soft moans that were already falling from the omega’s lips. The slut hadn’t even touched him yet and still couldn’t control himself, which was precisely why Geralt needed to use axii to keep him subdued. The idiot would cause all sorts of trouble without an alpha to guide him.

When Jaskier finally pulled Geralt’s cock from his trousers, Geralt felt his eyes flutter shut. He was so fucking hard that even the lightest of touches was blissful. He bit back a moan as Jaskier licked a stripe along the underside of his cock, his fingers digging into Geralt’s thighs. The bard hummed, kissing the tip, lapping at the pre-cum that was already leaking - and the mug in Geralt’s hand shattered.

“Fuck,” he hissed. The omega was so good for him, teasing him, but doing exactly as Geralt had asked without any question and it was making Geralt’s head spin.

Jaskier the bard who had resisted Geralt at every twist and turn, fighting back and hissing like an angry kitten whenever Geralt tried to turn their friendship into something more, was so docile and pretty between his legs. Sucking his cock in the tavern for all to see. The perfect omega. His nails scratched into the wood beneath his fingers as Jaskier’s lips stretched around his cock, enveloping it in a dizzying wet warmth that was sinfully divine. Geralt barely resisted fucking up into his omega’s mouth, making him choke on the thick alpha cock that he’d always denied himself.

“Oi! Witcher!” an idiot alpha called from the edge of his table, “take that somewhere else. This isn’t a whorehouse.”

Geralt grinned, baring his teeth at the poor weak alpha. His grip tightened in Jaskier’s hair and forced him further onto Geralt’s cock, making the poor thing moan loudly, spluttering and gasping for air.

“I’m teaching my omega a lesson. If you have any sense, you’ll leave us be and enjoy the show,” Geralt said as calmly as he could with an omega sucking at his cock.

The alpha blushed, his eyes blown wide and Geralt didn’t miss the way his hands twitched, reaching to palm the front of his trousers. A low purr escaped Geralt’s chest, preening as he saw how many alphas desired what was his, what they could never have. Jaskier was his, and as if he could hear Geralt’s thoughts the omega let out a whine, taking Geralt deeper into his mouth, tongue hot and heavy around Geralt’s cock. Geralt didn’t break eye contact with the other alpha as he finally gave in, hips rolling forward as fucked into his omega’s mouth, making him moan with every thrust. Jaskier’s arousal was thick in the air and he rutted needily against Geralt’s leg.

“Don’t cum,” Geralt growled at his omega, tugging sharply at his hair.

Jaskier blinked up at him, normally vibrant blue eyes dulled and hazy. His lips were stretched so prettily around Geralt’s cock and there was a bulge in the omega’s throat as he took Geralt’s entire length. It would certainly ruin the bard’s vocal cords for at least the next few days - just another way in which Geralt could keep his omega tamed.

“Good boy,” he hummed, letting the waves of pleasure roll over him until he felt a twist in his gut. He yanked at Jaskier’s hair, pulling him off of his cock as he felt the fire burn through him, clouding his vision as he came with a soft groan, white stripes covering his omega’s face.

Gods, it was such a sight. Geralt felt like he could cum again just from seeing his omega painted in his spend, marking him for all to see.

“Go clean up and wait in our room for me. I want another drink,” Geralt instructed, adding a final layer of axii to the command before tucking himself back into his pants.

To Geralt’s delight, Jaskier scurried off, not even remotely embarrassed by the mess on his face and the collar of his doublet. Normally the bard would be kicking up a fuss if anything happened to his precious clothes. Geralt smirked and watched him go, waving down the barmaid to order a replacement mug of ale. His omega could wait. No alpha would go near him whilst he reeked of another alpha, and a witcher to boot, but of course the scent would fade. Jaskier would once again smell of nothing but sweet omega, free and unclaimed; a dangerous thing for an omega.

He was practically begging Geralt to mark him, to mate him.

So, the next time they camped out in the forest together, Geralt asked his pretty little omega to strip for him, wanting to see his potential mate before claiming him. Jaskier didn’t even fight, too weak under Geralt's sign. It didn’t take long and soon the omega stood naked in the middle of the woods, slick dripping down his thighs. He smelled like all of Geralt’s dreams and nightmares mixed together: sweet, alluring, calling to his very soul. Everything that Geralt had been trained to resist but there was no resisting now. No, it had gone too far for that. The alpha growled as he stalked towards his prey- his mate, and this time, he made sure that Jaskier wouldn’t forget his time under the sign.

When the haze left Jaskier’s eyes, when his mind once again became his own, Geralt couldn’t help but chuckle. The omega was so difficult, so strong willed, too strong willed. He was tense despite Geralt’s ministrations, despite the pleasure that no doubt wracked his body as Geralt stroked him. Geralt let more chaos leech through the sign, sending a wave of calm through the omega.

Geralt moved so that his front pressed firmly against Jaskier’s back, a thrill running through the alpha as he felt just how pliant the omega was against him, their bodies molding together easily.

It was rare he felt this in control of a situation that wasn’t a hunt. Human’s prejudice against witchers meant that Geralt had to remain as submissive and nonthreatening as possible while in their presence, but not now. Now, he was in charge and he wouldn’t be denied. He couldn’t be denied.

Despite their situation, despite the power Geralt now held over the young omega, Geralt wasn’t cruel. He wanted the omega to enjoy himself, to show him so much pleasure that next time Jaskier would drop to his knees without the need of axii.

Inhaling deeply, Geralt could smell Jaskier’s slick, his body reacting to the presence of an alpha and Geralt’s spell. Jaskier moaned, thrusting into Geralt’s tight grip and Geralt nuzzled at his neck, rubbing his nose across the omega’s scent gland, spreading his own scent, claiming Jaskier as his.

It took everything in Geralt not to bite down when the omega first cried out, begging to be fucked. Jaskier sounded wrecked already only with a hand wrapped around him, and Geralt couldn’t hold back a guttural growl as he imagined just how sweetly Jaskier would cry out around his cock, around his knot.

Speeding up his movements, Geralt brought Jaskier closer and closer to the edge, purring low and deep in his chest as the omega begged for more, still squirming in Geralt's grip. He kept stroking the omega slowly as he let his other hand slip between his legs, groaning as he felt the slick covering his thighs. Geralt nuzzled into Jaskier's neck, his tongue laving over where a mating bond would go and Jaskier whimpered, trying to pull away from the sensation even as he thrust into Geralt's grip.

"Shhh," he began, letting alpha leak into his voice to calm the struggling omega. "I won't mark you. Not tonight."

“Pl-please,” Jaskier stammered out.

“Hmm… What do you want, omega?”

"Geralt," he whined, as the witcher's fingers pushed inside him. "Alpha, please."

Geralt growled at the plea, at the omega barring his neck for him. He had never before felt this urge to claim, to mate, to mark someone as his before. But this little omega, keening and crying for more, looked like a dream. His omega. Marking him would be so easy and would keep him in line better than even the axii would.

But it could wait. For now he had a dripping wet omega writhing against him in desperation, and it was time to give the sweet thing exactly what he wanted.

Geralt added a third finger, stretching the omega around them. Groaning as he realized just how loose the omega already was. "Hands and knees, omega. Present for me."

He panted and squirmed against Geralt, his body clutching as tightly as it could around Geralt’s fingers, chasing the pleasure.

Geralt could feel his spell fading, his focus having waned, relying more on his alpha voice than the magic.

“Present.”

Jaskier fell to his knees, hissing in pain. Geralt could smell the faint scent of blood as the omega’s knees scraped against the hard ground beneath him. He leaned forward, his hands digging into the dirt and he whined as he arched his back.

"No," Jaskier managed to choke out despite his body's movements. His eyes widened as Geralt’s fingers once again traced the sign for axii, "No, fuck... please."

Geralt smirked as Jaskier submitted despite his protests. The omega might have been strong enough to struggle against the alpha commands, but he couldn’t do anything against axii.

Jaskier slumped, his arms and legs wobbling as he barely managed to hold himself up. Geralt couldn't remember ever seeing someone so tempting but there he was, free for the taking, all Geralt's to do with as he pleased. The alpha fell to his knees behind Jaskier, unlacing his pants with one hand as he rubbed a calming hand up and down Jaskier's backside, his thumb grazing Jaskier's hole.

"You'll be begging me not to stop when you're sitting on my knot." Geralt grunted, sliding his fingers back into Jaskier as he began stroking himself.

"Don't stop, alpha," Jaskier whined pitifully, tears streaming down his face as he looked back at Geralt, "I need more, your cock, your knot, fuck me, alpha... please..."

Geralt felt the last of his self restraint snap and he knew he couldn't wait any longer. Lining his cock up with Jaskier's hole, he pushed inside slowly, moaning at the tight heat stretching around him as the omega cried out. He bottomed out quickly, his knot already beginning to fill. Fuck, it had been so long since he had the chance to knot an omega. He grinded into Jaskier's hole, chasing the sensation before pulling back out and beginning to thrust slowly.

Jaskier keened as Geralt thrust into him. He whined and panted and begged for more with every thrust, and Geralt did everything the omega begged for. He never stopped pounding into him, deeper and harder as the pleasure began to build.

"Knot me, Geralt, alpha... my alpha..." the sweet melodic trill in his voice called to Geralt. "Mark me, claim me, I'm yours, alpha."

Geralt roared as he thrust into Jaskier, grinding into him as he felt his knot expanding. He threaded fingers through Jaskier's hair and pulled the omega up, plastering their bodies together as he felt his knot lock as he began to cum, filling the omega with his seed. The urge to mate, to claim, was overwhelming and he found himself burying his teeth into Jaskier's neck with a growl.

The mating bond snapped into place and Geralt dropped the spell keeping the omega subdued. Jaskier let out a sob as he collapsed onto the ground. Geralt pulled Jaskier so that his back was resting against the alpha’s chest. Geralt buried his face in Jaskier’s hair as he stroked his side, purring happily.

Jaskier felt sick as he came to, tears streaming down his cheeks, a strange pull at the edges of his mind that were so very Geralt. For five years he’d managed to avoid the cruelty of alphas, even surviving his time at Oxenfurt without so much as a few scuffles with the brutes. For five years, he’d managed to maintain his independence, living more as a beta than an omega. For five years, he’d been a deluded fool.

Even Valdo hadn’t forced himself on Jaskier like this, and he’d been so sure the witcher was a good man. Why else would he give his coin to the elves? But no, Jaskier had been so very wrong, a mistake that had cost him his life.

Gods, he should have realised. He should have known the monster slayer was no more than a monster himself.

His stomach lurched and he bit back a wave of nausea with a groan. Despite everything, Geralt’s fingers were rubbing soothing circles into Jaskier’s side, a low purr rumbling in his chest and Jaskier knew the sound should help to soothe him. He had pleased his alpha. He should be happy. He was bonded to a fierce alpha who could protect him from harm. It was every omega’s dream.

But he didn't want this.

He’d never wanted this. Running away to Oxenfurt had been his chance to escape the life his parents had wanted for him: married, mated, bred.

And yet... he'd asked for it, begged even. He couldn't control the tears as he cuddled helplessly against the witcher, his alpha's knot tying them together. He was still trapped. He'd always be trapped now. Bound to the Butcher of Blaviken, a man he'd hoped could be his friend and companion.

The man who’d turned out to be just another monster.

#jb fic recs #holy fuck #great use of axii

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jaskiersbow · 4 years ago

Text

Mate

Written for @fontegagrilledcheese for the @thewitcherbog DD exchange. I hope you enjoy it!

Jaskier/Letho, Explicit, Warnings: non con, extremely dub con, aphrodisiacs, drugged sex, tentacles, mating, breeding.

---

Letho’s vision is clouded when he comes to, but he can see enough to know that he’s not on the beach any longer. He goes to rub his eyes, but his hand won’t move and his arm is sluggish. He blinks and tries to see better, and is finally able to make out the shape of cave walls around him. There’s splashing next to him and he figures that he’s been dragged to one of the small caves by the shore.

More splashing, and it takes all of his effort to turn his head to the side to see what captured him. His fingers twitch, but he still can’t move, so he just lays there and watches a dark form slide out of the water. It speaks something in a dialect he doesn’t recognize and then the walls of the cavern light up, flames coming to life in torches he didn’t notice before.

“Hello,” it says, but the word comes out strangled and harsh. Letho’s eyes widen as he takes in the creature before him. It’s some sort of mer, but instead of fins it has thick tentacles as the bottom half. He tries to count, but they’re all wiggling and moving, and it’s too hard to focus right now. It certainly has more than an octopus, though.

“What are you?” Letho asks, because it doesn’t seem to be attacking him yet.

“Hello,” it repeats, a little smoother this time. Letho rolls his eyes, but the creature moves closer and narrows its eyes at him.

“Sure why not? Hello,” he grumbles, surprised when the thing lights up, its smile more suited to sunshine than this dark cavern.

Now that it’s closer, he can see it seems male. His face is stunning, sharp cheekbones and glowing blue eyes and the plushest lips Letho has ever seen this side of a whorehouse. He swallows and watches as he slithers closer, smiling down at him. He’s beautiful in an eerie sort of way, and Letho swallows thickly under his gaze.

“Jaskier,” he says, pointing to his chest with a hand. Letho tries to focus on the word, but all he can see is the sharp black claws on the fingers of that hand. His skin is mostly pale, but starts to darken at the elbows, scatters of black scales growing thicker before ending in the claws.

“What the fuck is a Jaskier?”

“Jaskier,” he says a little rougher, frowning as he taps his chest harder. Then he reaches out and pokes Letho in the center of his chest. “You?”

“Letho,” he says, because his arms are still heavy with whatever he’s been drugged with, and there isn’t any point in struggling. Hopefully the creature is just curious about men or some bullshit like that and he can talk his way out of this one.

“Letho,” he all but purrs, wiggling ever closer. Letho tries not to flinch, but suddenly there’s cold tentacles curling around him as the creature hovers over him. It’s still smiling, which is a little off, but Letho doesn’t feel like he’s in danger at this point. “Letho,” it murmurs again before dipping down and stroking his face gently.

“Yes, Letho,” he sighs. “Letho can go? Can you put me back?”

“Jaskier...Letho,” he scrunches up his nose - and Letho will deny it’s cute to his dying day - and then grins down at him, a hint of fang peeking out. “Mate. Jaskier...Letho, mate.”

“Oh fuck no,” Letho spits out, laughing nervously as he tries to lift his arms again. Of course it doesn’t work, so he just lays there while the creature beams down at him, those sharp fangs glinting in the dim light of the cavern. He might be going crazy, because as much as he wants to fight this, he hasn’t had a good fuck in ages and the creature is beautiful in a weird way.

“Mate,” Jaskier rasps again, grinning before he slides closer. Jaskier leans down and presses a quick kiss to the side of Letho’s cheek before patting him on the head and pulling back.

And then the tentacles get involved, and Letho forgets what he was so concerned about.

One of them caresses his face before pushing past his lips, the heavy weight of it oddly comforting on his tongue. Before he can fight it, the tentacle starts oozing and his mouth fills with a sickeningly sweet taste. He tries not to swallow, but it’s too thick and too much to handle, and he finds it trickling down his throat while Jaskier pets him soothingly.

Drugged he thinks as his mind starts clouding again. Of course the mer has aphrodisiac slime, because why wouldn’t it? He starts to laugh, choking around the tentacle, and has to swallow down more of the sweet liquid. His prick hardens in his trousers, and he has a brief moment of panic before his mind relaxes and he looks up at Jaskier, eager to continue.

“Mate,” he whispers again, clearly pleased with Letho’s behavior. Letho finds himself wanting to keep that happy look on Jaskier’s face, and he feels something in his chest compelling him to cater to his needs. Fuck, his head is spinning but he’s so turned on he feels like he could pass out.

Jaskier dips down and licks a line up the column of Letho’s throat, moaning as he nips gently at the tanned skin. It’s all Letho can do to keep quiet, but the tentacle in his mouth proves to be a fantastic gag. He groans softly around it, feeling the tentacle pulse out another bit of the sugary substance and drinks it down eagerly.

Without warning, tentacles start wrapping around him, caging in his arms and legs. He wonders how they’re supposed to mate with his clothes on, but he doesn’t stay dressed very long. Jaskier uses his wandering tentacles to shred through his trousers, ripping the fabric apart and exposing Letho’s ass and throbbing prick. The same thing happens to his shirt, and Letho cries out the best he can with the tentacle pushing ever further down his throat, his body tensing as the cool air of the cavern hits him.

But then the tentacle retreats, and Jaskier looks at him with soft eyes as he uses it to brush Letho’s lips gently. It’s ridiculous, but he chases the pressure, leaning up to follow the tentacle with a broken whimper. His head is cloudy, and he knows it’s whatever he just ingested, but fuck if he isn’t on edge already, desperate for whatever this gorgeous creature is going to give him.

Jaskier crawls over him, the mass of tentacles that make up his lower half nearly covering Letho. The ones holding his legs open spread him wider, and he can feel a small tentacle slither past his balls. It circles his hole, dripping slick that it spreads across him. Jaskier leans down and sucks at his collarbone as the tentacle slowly presses inside of him, eased by the slick it’s oozing out.

“Fuck,” Letho whines, the word caught in his throat as the tentacle works him open. It’s a weird pressure, but his whole body is lit up with pleasure, tingles racing down his spine as he’s breached. It’s longer than fingers would be, and he damn near sees stars as it brushes against his prostate and rubs it roughly.

Jaskier rakes his sharp teeth over his chest, lapping at his nipples as he stretches Letho open. The tentacle is tapered, and it’s so thick where it spreads his rim open. He’s gone - just keening as Jaskier slides it in and out of him - and he needs to get fucked properly before he passes out from the pleasure of being held spread-eagle and plundered like this.

Letho makes an embarrassing noise as the tentacle pulls out of him, but suddenly there’s something larger pressing against him. He leans up the best he can and stares at Jaskier’s cock, wetting his lips and wondering what it would feel like to get his mouth around it. The mass of tentacles have parted and a thick tapered prick hangs heavy in the space they created. Jaskier grins at him and uses the hand wrapped around it to nudge at Letho’s eager hole.

“Mate,” Jaskier growls as he sinks in, his cold lips right against Letho’s ear. It feels different than taking a prick, but it’s so fucking thick that his eyes roll back in his head at the burn of being breached. He clenches his fists tighter, wishing he could move, but the tentacles are holding him in place.

All he can do is whimper and moan as Jaskier starts to fuck him hard and deep, relentlessly plowing into him as Letho falls apart.

He tries to buck his hips, but the tentacles are keeping him completely still. Jaskier nips on his neck and clings to him, his claws digging into Letho’s shoulders as he moves. The sharp teeth pull something primal out of him, and Letho is filled with such an overwhelming need to be claimed that he starts to sob with it.

“Bite me,” he growls, not entirely sure if it’s the drugs messing with his mind or his own pathetic desire to be marked forcing the words past his lips. Jaskier grunts against his neck and fucks him harder, his prick reaching places Letho has only dreamed about. He feels impossibly deep, his thick cock stretching Letho wide as his tentacles hold his legs spread open.

He knows he’s ugly crying - big fat tears leaking down his cheeks - but he’s never felt this good before. All he can focus on is the hot burn of Jaskier’s prick inside his slutty hole and the tease of teeth against the column of his neck. He starts babbling, begging for more, pleading for the creature to claim him.

“Mate,” Jaskier hisses out, slamming his hips roughly as he bites into Letho’s neck, his teeth breaking skin. It’s enough to send him over the edge, and he comes with a shout, sobbing wetly as his prick empties between them. Jaskier thrusts a few more times before howling, his voice echoing against the walls of the cavern as he spills inside of Letho.

His pulse is racing, his body dripping sweat and come as he settles down. Jaskier starts cooing at him, his arms wrapping around Letho as they turn over. It’s not until he’s sprawled on Jaskier’s chest that he realizes he’s still being filled. Jaskier laps at the bite he left on his neck, humming happily as he continues to pump his seed into Letho. He can feel his belly bulging and he’s never felt this full.

Fuck, he’s trying to breed him.

Letho groans weakly against Jaskier’s neck, whimpering as he’s flooded with come. His body is still weak, but he’s able to move a little, so he props himself up and stares at Jaskier. Even with the drugs flushing out of his system, the creature is gorgeous. His glowing blue eyes look so hopeful as he runs calming hands over Letho’s scarred back and wraps his tentacles around him.

He should really explain the situation and let him know what a poor choice of mate Letho is, but the bite mark on his neck throbs and he wonders what would happen if he gave into this. He’s pretty sure even mer biology won’t allow him to produce children, but being held isn’t so awful. His eyelids grow heavy and the last thing he hears as he drifts off is Jaskier’s joyful coos.

#jaskier/letho #jb fic #jb non con #jb dub con #jb drugged sex #jb mating #jb creature jaskier #jb tentacles #jb breeding

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jaskiersbow · 4 years ago

Text

Hello I adore you 👀😳🥵

Life's a Bitch

For @jaskiersbow as part of @thewitcherbog RPF exchange! - AO3

Ship: Joey/Henry (with a side of Joey/Kal)

A lockdown fic.... but with more dog fucking.

CW: RPF, Bestiality, Dead Dove: do not eat, masturbation, Joey has a small cock, multiple orgasms, knotting, accidental voyeurism

Lockdown was a bitch.

It wasn’t like Joey was a particularly sociable person, but the one thing really did enjoy was sex. He was no stranger to one night stands, getting far too drunk at the club and falling into bed with whoever took his fancy. Having sex with strangers was easy, especially when he was too drunk to care what they might think about him, about his dick. It wasn’t exactly average, and he’d been laughed at one too many times by people he cared about, so now he had a habit of pushing people away before he could get hurt.

Henry was no exception.

Sweet, kind, loving Henry, who had offered Joey a place to stay when the electrical mains had blown in the flat he shared with Madeleine. Gorgeous, filmstar, sexiest man alive Henry, who just happened to be Joey’s biggest crush.

So, despite the fact he was desperately horny, Joey kept his co-star at a distance. Preferring, instead, to cuddle up to Kal or spend hours locked away in his room composing, or trying to compose at the very least. He really didn’t want to admit how many hours he actually spent reading porn with his fingers up his arse. Honestly, the amount of lube he’d gotten through the last few weeks was just embarrassing.

There were moments when he thought that maybe, just maybe, Henry fancied him back. The soft smiles when they danced around each other in the kitchen in the mornings, the lingering glances across the room when they were watching Netflix in the evenings, or even the rather romantic walks with Kal at dawn.

But he couldn’t risk it, not when he had to spend the next seven odd years working with Henry. If they were lucky anyway, god, he hoped it would be that long. Lauren wouldn’t kill off Jaskier, would she?

Nah…

He was fine. Dandelion was integral to Geralt’s development in the series. Joey just had to have faith that Lauren saw that too.

Of course, there was a niggly feeling at the back of Joey’s head, an anxiety that said this stupid bloody pandemic would never end and he’d never get to perform again. He kept wondering whether he should just give up, get another job; something stable.

He sighed, running both hands through his hair as he collapsed back onto the bed, his guitar abandoned on the floor. Lockdown wasn’t the most inspiring of events, but he had to be productive. It was the only way he was getting through his boredom, that and far too much gin and wine. He smiled at that, Henry had been terrible for encouraging his love of gin and tonic, the pair of them spending most evenings lost at the bottom of the bottle.

Okay, so maybe he wasn’t keeping Henry at as much of a distance as he should have been, but a broken heart would definitely fix his lack of inspiration. There was no better cure for writer’s block than a broken heart. Any artist could tell you that.

Until then Joey supposed he would just continue to be unbearably horny and get through too much lube.

He had nothing better to do.

Groaning, he leaned over to grab the bottle he kept in the drawer, and then hastily unzipped his jeans. It didn’t take long for his cock to get hard, teasing strokes along his length as he fell into the memory of Henry working out that morning, biceps bulging in the dark blue tank top, tanned skin glistening with sweat in the sun. Thick curls fell in front of Henry’s eyes, sticking to his forehead, and he winked -sort of- as he noticed Joey watching from the doorway. Joey wanted to lick every inch of Henry’s skin, lavishing him in kisses and hickies until there was no denying who he belonged to, then he wanted Henry to ruin him; fuck him against whatever surface they could find, strong arms lifting him up against the wall. Joey could ride him until his legs started to shake, Henry thrusting up into him until he couldn’t remember his own name.

God, he wanted it all.

Henry’s lips around his cock, never judging him or complaining, but loving him, loving his cock.

Sparks flew in front of Joey’s vision and he cried out as he came, spilling into his hand. The pleasure crashed over him, leaving him boneless as he fell back onto the bed with a blissful sigh, happy to bask in the haze of his orgasm and forgetting that it was all just a fantasy.

Until the door burst open and Joey was suddenly bombarded with a faceful of fur as Kal bounded into the room. It was mortifying. Joey was still covered in cum and lube, and now he had to try and force Henry’s giant hound onto the floor, but if Kal didn’t want to do something it was incredibly difficult to get him to behave. He was just so fucking heavy.

“Okay, that’s enough now, boy,” Joey mumbled, his face burning hot and he wondered if he could just die there, never having to show his face again.

Kal’s fur was already sticky with the mess of lube and cum, and Joey really didn’t want to have to explain that to Henry.

It was fine. He could pull Kal into the bathroom, nothing a flannel wouldn’t clean off. Henry never needed to know…

“Oh fuck, shit, Kal. No!” Joey stammered as the dog started to lick at his hand, dangerously close to his cock. “No, no, no. No!”

Kal ignored him, continuing to lick up the mess on Joey’s hand, before nuzzling against his cock, and holy shit, it had been so long since someone else had touched him. Despite the fact he’d just cum, Joey felt a whole new wave of arousal flood his body and his cock twitched pathetically, trying to get hard.

“Fuck,” Joey groaned, knowing he should be disgusted but he was just so fucking horny that he was struggling to keep a good grasp on reality.

And Kal really didn’t care that Joey’s cock was small even when hard.

Joey whined and closed his eyes, letting the dog lap messily at his dick. He was already so sensitive from his first orgasm but it felt so fucking good, and as long as he was already there and trapped by Kal, he might as well enjoy it. Every lap of Kal’s tongue sent fireworks through him, and Joey couldn’t help the needy whimpers that escaped his lips, his own hands running up inside his shirt to play with his nipples. It didn’t take long until he was hard again, panting and on the edge of a second orgasm.

“Joey?”

“Oh fucking cock!” Joey cursed and tried, to no avail, to push Kal off him

The door.

Kal had rushed into the room leaving the door wide open behind him.

“I- it’s… shit!” Joey stammered, trying to find an excuse that just didn’t exist.

He was caught. Life as he knew it was over. Henry would turn him into the police and he would never work again, all because he’d been too horny to stop Kal from licking his cock. It wasn’t as if he’d meant to do it. There was no pre-meditation and he hadn’t sought out the dog… but he’d enjoyed it?

“Kal, come here,” Henry’s voice was firm, and unfairly hot given the situation.

Despite his now flagging erection, Joey still wanted to climb the man like a tree. He was weak. He was desperate. He probably needed therapy.

Shit.

“I’m sorry, Joey,” Henry mumbled, sounding… ashamed?

Joey frowned, covering himself with a pillow as he sat up, running a hand through his hair. “Sorry? You just… Kal… Me?”

“I didn’t know he’d- I should have told you to lock the door.”

Henry was blushing, and he really did look apologetic, like he was the fucked up one in this situation. It didn’t make sense. None of it made sense. He should be angry, yelling, phoning the police, not apologising.

“Henry? What exactly are you apologising for?” Joey asked cautiously, chewing at his bottom lip. There was a flutter of hope in his chest that maybe, just maybe, he was the only one.

“Don’t make me say it.”

“Darling, you just caught me getting my cock licked by your dog. I think we’re beyond boundaries now. I- You should hate me?”

“You should hate me. It’s my fault. I- I trained him to- to-”

Joey felt his eyes widening as he processed Henry’s words. Not only was he not disgusted at what he’d witnessed… he’d practically been the reason for it.

“Holy shit.”

“Please don’t tell anyone.”

“Holy shit!” Joey whined, scrambling off the bed to get closer to his crush who had just somehow got impossibly hotter.

“Joey, please.”

“I liked it.”

“What?”

“Kal, I- I liked it, and- umm, well… I like you too,” Joey admitted with a bashful smile, “and you did interrupt so… you could always join in?”

Henry’s face flew through a million different expressions until he seemed to finally understand what Joey was saying. A dangerous smile fell into place and they crashed together in a heated kiss, hands tearing at each other’s clothes, their shared shame fueling the passion until it was scorching every cell in their bodies. Teeth clashed, noses bumped, breaths intermingled, the taste of coffee dancing on Joey’s tongue.

And when Henry’s hand wrapped around Joey cock, he felt like he had died and gone to heaven. He waited for the comments to come, a raised eyebrow or something, anything… but Henry didn’t seem to care that his hand dwarfed Joey’s cock considerably. All his fears had been for nought. He whined and just kissed Henry with even more fervour.

“Fuck, Henry,” he moaned as Henry’s fingers stroked the length of his cock.

The bastard just chuckled, pulling back to press their foreheads together. “Ever taken a knot?”

“W-what? No?”

“Do you want to?” Henry asked, his fingers moving to tease Joey’s rim, the sensation making Joey keen.

“I- fuck, yes. Jesus Christ! You’re trying to kill me....”

“Get on the bed,” Henry instructed, then whistled at the dog who had been sitting rather patiently by the doorway.

Joey did as he was told, pulling off the last of his clothes before crawling back onto the bed, eagerly awaiting whatever new delights that Henry had in store. Smirking, he watched as Henry stripped down, looking like a fucking god, and Christ, the size of his cock… Joey might never walk again.

But that wasn’t what really caught his attention. No, Henry had Kal by the scruff of his neck and was pulling him up onto the bed to join them. It didn’t take Kal long to understand what his owner was asking of him, and he happily let Henry guide him, his own long pink cock unsheathed.

“Fuck,” Joey breathed as he stared, transfixed as everything he knew about himself was suddenly turned upside down.

He wanted this… badly. He hadn’t just enjoyed the mindless lapping at his cock because he was horny. Fuck, no, it was more than that. He wanted it. The thought of Kal fucking him made his cock ache and he was sure he’d never been quite so aroused in all his life.

“Good?” Henry asked, tilting his head.

“Uh huh. Yup, very…”

“Good,” Henry murmured before capturing Joey’s lips in another kiss.

There was a click of the lube bottle, and he hissed as Henry’s finger pushed inside him. “More,” he whined, “I can take more. I- already…”

Henry growled, and in the next thrust, he was two fingers deep inside Joey, his lips moving to attack Joey’s neck. Teeth grazed against Joey’s skin, fire burning in his lungs as he tried to catch his breath, another hand wrapped around his cock.

“I- I, fuck!”

“God, you’re perfect.” Henry’s words caught in Joey’s neck, his collarbone, his chest. “You fit so beautifully in my hand.”

Joey keened as Henry’s thumb ran along the head of his cock, the words tingling over his skin. “Please, Henry.”

“Shh, I’ve got you.”

Another finger slid inside him, the stretch a delicious burn that soon gave way to pleasure as Henry attentively opened him up, murmuring praise with every thrust of his fingers. His deep rich voice the bassline to the melody of Joey’s gasps and moans that filled the room.

“There you go, good boy, come on Kal. He’s ready for you,” Henry finally said.

“Oh, oh cock!” Joey panted, biting against his own hand to try and stop himself from cumming.

They were doing this.

Fucking mother of god, they were really doing this.

Henry’s strong arms scooped him off the bed, flipping him with ease and guiding him onto all fours. He whined, fingers gripping at the already filthy sheets, head dropped forward so he could see his own cock red and leaking onto the bed. Kal’s nose was cold against his skin, but Henry didn’t let him sniff for too long.

“Up boy, come on,” Henry coaxed.

The weight of the dog almost had Joey collapsing back down onto the bed. Pain seared down his spine as the claws dug into his skin, but fuck he wanted more. He needed more, everything that he could get. Joey could do little more than close his eyes and hold on as Kal rutted against him, frantic and desperate until finally, oh god, finally, his cock pushed inside.

It felt strange, different to any other cock Joey had taken before, reminding Joey of just how filthy this was, forbidden, disgusting and yet so fucking good. Kal fucked like a man possessed, desperate, ruthless, uncaring, and Joey felt tears prick in his eyes. He needed to cum, already so exhausted and oversensitive, but yet he felt like he might explode if he didn’t cum again. He vaguely heard his own voice babbling, pleading, begging, Henry's voice a constant low growl in his ear, stroking and pulling at his hair.

He felt so full, and it was only getting worse with every thrust until he finally felt the pressure of Kal’s knot teasing at his hole.

Fuck.

Henry hadn’t been kidding.

He whined, hand desperately reaching out until felt Henry’s fingers lace with his own.

“So fucking, full,” he gasped.

“You’re doing so well, Joey, almost there.”

“Fuck!” he cried as the knot finally pushed inside him, the dog cumming harder and longer than any human. With just a single touch to his cock, Joey’s own orgasm burst through him, spilling over Henry’s hand as he struggled to stay upright, the energy draining from him.

“That’s it, well done,” Henry murmured and Joey wasn’t sure if he was talking to Joey or to Kal.

Kal continued to rut against him, working the cum deeper and deeper, leaving Joey to whimper pitifully as he hung off the dog’s knot, unable to move. By the time the knot finally released him, Joey was a mess, whining against Henry’s chest, covered in cum; Kal’s, his own, Henry’s. He felt thoroughly used and fucked out, dozing quite contently in Henry’s arms.

So maybe lockdown wasn’t quite so bad after all.

#joey/kal #joey/henry #dead dove do not eat #kal fucks #i love this so much #my eyes damn near bugged out of my head #Joey's small cock is love #jb bestiality rec #jb recs #jb rpf recs

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jaskiersbow · 4 years ago

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I've Been Doing Just Fine

Written for @jaskiertheflowertwink for the @thewitcherbog RPF exchange.

Joey/Henry, Explicit, Warnings: cock cages, semi-public sex, prostate milking.

---

Joey is absolutely, positively going to lose his mind. This dinner is taking way too long, and he’s been riled up since they left the house. Henry has been playing it up, smirking and toying with the small key that’s hanging around his neck all night. It’s maddening, how such a tiny thing can get him this worked up.

Or, well he would be worked up if not for the cage currently holding him in. The waitress hands over a dessert menu, and Joey swears under his breath as Henry takes it with a smile. He’d been hoping to skip dessert and get home as soon as they could. Hell, he’s barely tasted anything. Such a waste of the thick steak he’d ordered. He’d mourn for it if he weren’t dealing with bigger problems.

“I’m feeling a bit too full for sweets, yeah?” Joey suggests, but Henry just smiles at him sweetly.

“I think I’d like a cup of coffee. We should let things settle before we head out,” Henry tells him, chuckling as he traces the silver chain holding the small key.

“Oh, I’m settled alright,” Joey grumbles, squirming in his seat. That just makes Henry laugh again, and he signals the waitress and orders his coffee and a piece of cake to share.

Joey is going to kill him. He really is. Only, fuck, if the way he takes charge of their play isn’t the hottest thing he’s ever seen. So he suffers through teasing small talk and waves off Henry’s offer of cake. It’s the longest dinner he’s had in his entire life, and he barely lasts through watching Henry pay their check.

As soon as everything is taken care of, Joey jumps out of his seat and snatches Henry by the wrist, leading him towards the exit. “Patience is a virtue,” Henry murmurs, leaning close as he’s dragged out of the restaurant.

“One I’ve neglected to learn, sadly,” Joey replies, giggling as he rushes through the parking ramp. Where the fuck had Henry parked? He stops to look around, and Henry just sighs and pulls him towards his car.

“You get dumb when you’re horny,” he teases before shoving Joey against the side of the car.

He’s kissed before he can retort, and ends up clinging to Henry as he licks past his lips. Henry kisses like he acts, all energy and this wild force behind it, and Joey's knees grow weaker by the second. He groans into the kiss, tilting his head for a better angle as he sucks on Henry’s tongue.

“Fuck, get me home,” he begs, looking at Henry through half-lidded eyes.

“Why? It’s plenty dark here?” Henry asks smirking as he leans in to nip at Joey’s earlobe. “Besides, we both know you have a thing for danger. Turn around.”

“Oh shit,” Joey whispers, spinning around and planting his palms on the side of the car before he can overthink it. Henry’s right, there’s plenty of shadows in here and they parked far enough away from the other cars that no one should see them. His blood is boiling in his veins as Henry works his fly open and shoves his pants and briefs down his thighs.

“Always so eager for me,” Henry praises him, pressing a soft kiss to the nape of his neck.

And then there’s a slicked finger pressing against his hole, circling him before it slips inside. He bites back a groan, his poor caged cock desperately trying to get hard even though he knows it’s impossible. He leans his head against the cool metal of the car, panting as Henry quickly works him open. Fuck, his fingers are so thick they should be illegal.

He’s a mess by the time Henry deems him ready; just panting and whimpering as Henry teases his prostate and nips at his shoulder. If he weren’t caged, he would be hard and leaking, but instead there’s this intense heat building up. His whole body is lit up with it, his thighs trembling with desperation as Henry lines up and presses inside.

“Fuck,” he drawls out, whining as Henry fills him so perfectly. His prick is a gift from the gods, and Joey can hardly handle it on a good day, let alone when he’s locked up like this. His soft little cock is throbbing pathetically, full of need but nothing to do with it. It’s all he can do to prop himself up against the car door and let Henry fuck him.

Henry doesn’t waste time, probably because they’re in public for fuck’s sake, and he just starts slamming into him. He manages to hit Joey’s prostate with each roll of his hips, making him whimper and plead to be unlocked. But Henry is a complete bastard and ignores him, just holds his hips still and thrusts harder.

“Not sure you’ve earned it yet,” Henry all but growls into his ear, and Joey whines again. His pace is ruthless, but his cock is perfect and Joey’s slowly going mad. Between the cool metal of his cage and the hot slide of Henry inside of him, he’s too far gone to respond. All he can do is scratch at the door frame, looking for purchase as he’s fucked stupid.

Henry sucks a dark mark on his neck, claiming him, as he comes in thick bursts inside of him. Joey sobs silently, his thighs trembling as he’s filled up so deliciously. Henry doesn’t give him a rest, fucks him through his orgasm, grinding into him until he stills with a long sigh.

“Please,” Joey begs, but it falls on deaf ears.

“When we get home,” Henry promises as he presses a trail of gentle kisses against Joey’s neck. “I’ll let you out when we get home, but...I can give you something now. You’ve been so good for me.”

“Yes, anything,” Joey mumbles, whimpering as Henry slides out. He doesn’t give his seed time to trickle out, just roughly shoves two fingers back inside of Joey, making him cry out.

“Shh,” Henry whispers, “We don’t want to get caught.” Joey nods, not quite sure what he’s agreeing to, his moans muffled when Henry clamps a hand over his mouth.

And then all he can focus on is the feeling of Henry’s fingers in his ass. He’s so wet - just dripping come - and his hole flutters around his fingers as he fucks him. He cries out, the sound swallowed up in Henry’s palm, as Henry presses his prostate and rubs him. If the car weren’t in front of him, Joey would have fallen to his knees by now. It’s too much and not enough at the same time. His cock can’t get hard while it’s caged, but there’s lightning flashing through his veins from Henry’s fingers.

It doesn’t take long, just a few more hard presses, and Henry’s fingers are relentless as he forces an orgasm out of him. He shoots weakly, his poor neglected prick still soft as he coats his cage and the car door in front of him. Joey thinks he’s crying for real now, his eyes feel wet and hot, and he can’t even bring himself to care. All he knows is the burn of Henry’s fingers milking him dry.

“What do we say?” Henry growls, his voice pulling him out of his own head.

“Thank you,” Joey whimpers, gasping for breath. Henry hums happily and starts to clean them both up the best he can. Joey loses time as he’s tucked into his pants and settled into the passenger seat. He hopes the long car ride back home will prepare him for the rest of the night, but with Henry around, there’s no knowing what’s in store for him.

#jb fic #jb rpf #jb joey x henry #jb cock cages #jb semi public sex

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jaskiersbow · 4 years ago

Text

Entirely to Blame

(moving fic over. Sorry for the spam!)

Explicit. Warnings: public sex, humiliation, orgasm denial. Vesemir/Jaskier

Anonymous asked: Okay. Here I am. I'm doing this on the go so bear with me. What about Vesemir/Jaskier as the pairing. No daddy kink (it's not my thing today, maybe some other day again, sorry). But (public) Humiliation with orgasm denial would be lovely. The rest is yours to decide. Have fun :) - 🐭

Jaskier knows he is entirely to blame for his current situation.

Vesemir had been ready to leave town once he collected on his contract, but the alderman had invited them to stay for the festival. Jaskier had pouted and pleaded and begged until Vesemir gave in. The witcher hated staying in town longer than absolutely necessary, but Jaskier had been charmed by the idea of live music and free-flowing wine. How utterly stupid his past self had been.

So he’s stuck now, perched on Vesemir’s lap like some kind of prize, while they watch the villagers dance around the biggest bonfire he’d ever seen. He supposes he should be thankful that they’re near the back of the celebration, but he feels ridiculously exposed anyway. The table barely covers Vesemir’s hands as he undoes the laces on Jaskier’s trousers.

“What, not so eager now?” Vesemir chuckles against the nape of his neck. He shoves a hand down the bard’s pants, wrapping calloused fingers around his half-hard cock. Jaskier squirms in his lap, eyes darting around, trying to make sure no one is watching this.

“Don’t worry, no one sees you,” Vesemir tells him as he starts pumping his cock, working him to full hardness. He’s already leaking, knows his smalls will be an absolutely mess after this is over, but he lives for it. “They have no idea what a slut you are, no clue how fucking wet your fat little prick is for me,” Vesemir whispers against his ear, and Jaskier has to bite his lip to keep from moaning. He wiggles in Vesemir’s lap, grinding down against his strong thighs.

“Please,” Jaskier sighs. He fights to keep his eyes open as Vesemir slowly pumps him, his own pre-come slicking the way.

“Should we put on a show? Maybe I should bend you over this table and take you right here. Show everyone what a filthy little thing you are. Is that what you want?” He nips at Jaskier’s earlobe before scraping his teeth along his pulse point. Jaskier shivers and shakes his head. This isn’t what he wanted when he’d suggested the festival earlier.

“We should go,” he mumbles weakly and Vesemir just laughs at him. He works a hand under Jaskier’s chemise, rough fingers running over his smooth skin until they find his nipple. Pinching, he draws a muffled groan from deep in Jaskier’s chest. He laughs and does it again, making Jaskier arch his back and bite his lip harder to stay quiet.

“Didn’t want to go earlier, did you? I figured you wanted to put on a performance, make nice with the locals,” he chuckles, voice low and deep as he pulls Jaskier free from his pants. It’s too much; impossible to miss him spread across Vesemir’s lap like this. If anyone wandered back here, they’d see him, open and exposed. He keens as Vesemir thumbs the head of his cock before bringing his thumb up and holding it expectedly in front of Jaskier’s mouth. He sucks it past his lips, moaning at the salty taste of his own pre-come. “So good for me. Put yourself together.”

And that’s the only warning Jaskier gets before Vesemir shoves him off his lap and stands up, grinning as he starts to walk away. Jaskier leans his palms on the top of the table and sucks in a harsh breath before frantically tucking himself away. He doesn’t even lace himself up, just pulls his chemise down and lets it hang to cover up the situation he’s found himself in. He scurries after the witcher, hopefully on his way to a less public venue.

His dreams of a bed are dashed when he catches up to Vesemir and the older man just pushes him into an alleyway. “Knees,” he barks out before working his own pants down around his thick thighs. Jaskier falls to the dirt without question and stares up longingly at Vesemir. The other man is smiling down at him and runs a rough thumb across his lips before shoving it inside and forcing his mouth open. He guides his cock past Jaskier’s lips, sighing as he sinks in.

Jaskier swirls his tongue around the fat head of Vesemir’s prick, ready to use the skills they both know he has, but Vesemir just grunts and cups the back of his head instead. Jaskier stills and opens his mouth as wide as he can. Vesemir meets his eyes and then starts thrusting, fucking his face with a rough pace. He puts his hands on his own thighs, because he hasn’t been told he can touch; knows this is just about Vesemir taking what he needs. Jaskier relaxes his jaw the best he can and lets himself be used, reveling in the thought of becoming the perfect cocksleeve.

Vesemir grunts as he pumps into him, his fingers wound tightly in Jaskier’s hair as he rocks his hips. Jaskier can’t help choking a bit, fights to stay as still as possible and just lets Vesemir use him as he pleases. He’s so hard he could cry, but he knows this isn’t about him. It’s about being as perfect as he can be. He struggles to keep his eyes open, but knows Vesemir loves looking down at him when he’s got tears in his eyes, so he holds eye contact as he’s brutally fucked.

It’s over all too soon, Vesemir hissing as he floods Jaskier’s mouth with bitter seed. Jaskier swallows what he can, but it dribbles out the corners of his mouth and trails down his neck. Vesemir thrusts through his orgasm, spurt after spurt of hot come exploding on Jaskier’s tongue. He pats Jaskier’s head when he’s done, praise shining in his eyes as he mumbles, “Good boy.”

Jaskier preens at the words, sitting up straighter and smiling up at him. Vesemir runs his fingers through the mess on his neck before feeding him his fingers, and Jaskier eagerly laps it up. They clean him up this way and then Jaskier falls forward, letting his forehead rest on Vesemir’s strong thigh. He’s achingly hard, but there’s a calming hand petting his head, fingers running through his soft strands and lightly scratching his scalp.

“Now we’re going to go back to the bonfire, and I’m going to have another drink. And if you can continue to be a good boy for me, I might let you come when we make it back to camp tonight. What do you say to that?” Vesemir asks him, tugging on his hair to force him to look up again.

“Yes, Sir,” Jaskier chokes out, his voice absolutely wrecked. He adds a soft, “thank you,” and Vesemir smiles down at him again. Then he’s tugged back to his feet, Vesemir pulling him into a quick embrace before leading him back to the party.

It’s going to be a long fucking night.

#jb fic #jb public sex #jb humiliation #jb orgasm denial

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jaskiersbow · 4 years ago

Text

Taken Care Of

(yep, moving more over)

Explicit, Warnings: feeding kink, chubby Jaskier, trans!Jaskier. Geraskier

Anonymous asked: So excited for you!!! If this doesn't tickle your fancy no worries, but I'm just thinking about trans Jaskier getting nice and fattened up by Geralt who majorly gets off on feeding, providing for, TAKING CARE OF his adorable chubby boyfriend. Maybe some of that delightful mixture of praise kink and humiliation kink in there 🖤🖤 @darkbard

Thank you for such a lovely prompt! This is not exactly what you asked for, but it’s what wanted to come out. Hopefully it still works for you!

cw: I use cock/cunt for trans Jaskier

“Two ducks? What’s the occasion?” Jaskier asks as Geralt walks back into their campsite, carrying his prizes. He looks almost sheepish, ducking his head before sitting down and dressing the birds.

“Easy prey and I just thought you might like a bigger meal tonight. No real reason,” he explains, avoiding Jaskier’s eyes for some reason. Whatever the circumstances, it seems they’re in for a little feast, so Jaskier digs through their packs to see what spices he might have to offer. In doing so, he uncovers a loaf of bread he didn’t remember packing. Shrugging, he pulls it out and starts helping Geralt get the ducks ready to be roasted.

Once the food is ready, Geralt gestures for Jaskier to sit by his side. Instead of handing over a portion like normal, he picks a piece of meat from the roast and holds it up to Jaskier’s mouth. “Tell me how this tastes,” he says, voice a little harsher than usual. Jaskier leans in and takes the offered food, lapping at Geralt’s fingers as he sucks it into his mouth. The spices did wonders, and the flavors burst across his tongue and he chews, never breaking eye contact. Geralt swallows loudly and hurries to get him another bite of the juicy meat.

They don’t talk, but it feels like something has changed. They eat in silence, Geralt continuing to hand over small bites at a time. Halfway through the meal, Jaskier realizes with a shock that he’s turned on, his whole body lit up from the simple act of taking food from Geralt’s rough hands.

And if they fuck a little bit wilder that night, it’s nobody’s business but their own.

---

Jaskier finishes his encore and takes a deep bow, sweeping up the coins that lay at his feet. He’s smiling the whole way back to Geralt’s table in the back corner. It’s been a good couple of nights, and he’s hopped up on the energy of the crowd. As soon as he slides into the seat across from Geralt, a bowl of stew and a hunk of bread are shoved across the table at him.

“We ate earlier,” Jaskier says, tilting his head in question.

“Performing is hard work. Eat up,” Geralt tells him quickly. He is a bit hungry now that he thinks about it, so he digs in and tries to ignore the weight of Geralt’s gaze on him.

---

They’re back in the room for the night, getting ready for bed, and Jaskier frowns down at his chest. He runs his hands down his body, cheeks heating up as he realizes just how heavy he seems to have gotten. His belly sticks out over the tops of his trousers and he frowns, poking it and watching it jiggle. Sure, he’s been eating a bit more lately - seems like Geralt is always hunting better or pushing an extra plate his way - but he hadn’t quite realized how much his body had changed. Fuck.

“What’s wrong?” Geralt asks, stepping behind him.

“Why didn’t you tell me how fat I’ve gotten?” Jaskier asks, fighting to keep his voice from cracking. But then Geralt is right there, toned chest pressed against his flabby body, and he lets out a harsh sob before slapping his hand over his mouth.

“You look good.”

“For Melitele’s sake, I’m growing tits again!” Jaskier spits out harshly. He cups his chest, fingers pressing against the faded scars under his nipples, and digs his fingers into his soft flesh. It’s embarrassing to say the least.

“You look well fed,” Geralt mumbles against his jaw. “I like you like this. You look taken care of, provided for. Loved.”

“Oh,” he sighs, suddenly putting it all together.

“I’ll stop if you want me to, but just let me savor you like this tonight?” Geralt asks almost shyly. Jaskier can’t do anything except nod, because he does feel cared for, even if it’s come at the expense of his body.

“Show me how much you want me?” he whispers.

And that’s all it takes to get Geralt moving. He’s suddenly lifted up, limbs flailing and giggling as Geralt tosses him onto the bed and hurries out of his clothes. Jaskier’s hands fly to the laces on his trousers, but Geralt growls out a deep, “let me,” and his hands falter, dropping to the bedsheets. Geralt’s rough, tugging the fabric down his legs and then sitting back on his heels and just staring at him.

“So soft,” Geralt growls before laying down between Jaskier’s legs. He runs a finger through his folds and adds, “Even fatter here,” before dipping down and flicking his tongue across Jaskier’s cock. He’s so swollen already, his whole body hot and humming with energy as Geralt laps at him. Geralt sucks his cock between his lips and he cries out, hands flying up to tangle in his long hair. Jaskier holds him there, grinding his hips up as he sucks at his cock. He’s so wet it’s obscene, absolutely soaked with it as Geralt works him over.

Geralt slides a finger through his wetness and backs up slightly, looking at him questioningly. “Ok tonight?” he asks, once again proving he’s the best partner Jaskier’s ever had. Jaskier thinks for a moment before nodding.

“Yeah, front is good tonight,” he pants out, rocking his hips when Geralt slips a finger inside. He whines and clenches down on Geralt’s finger, thighs trembling already. But he doesn’t want to come like this, wants Geralt inside him, so he tugs at his hair until he pulls back. “Want you to fuck me,” he grunts. Geralt looks at him like a man possessed, his eyes dark and mouth red and wet with Jaskier’s slick.

“You’re not too heavy to ride me,” Geralt tells him before flipping them and settling Jaskier atop his thighs. Jaskier leans his hands on his chest and looks down at him, wondering how this chiseled man can want him this chubby and soft. But then Geralt is looking back at him with a crazed look in his eye, and he feels ridiculously powerful and wanted. His cock throbs with need and he shivers with it.

He reaches back and wraps his fingers around Geralt’s prick before guiding it into his dripping cunt. He hasn’t been opened up at all and the burn as he sinks down feels absolutely divine. He moans as he’s stretched out around Geralt’s fat cock, feels every inch of it as he slowly slides down. He stays there for a moment once he’s fully seated, just enjoying the feeling of being so full.

But then Geralt’s hands are on his hips, fingers digging into his soft flesh, and he whines and starts riding him in earnest. Geralt looks like he’s coming undone beneath him, watching him in awe as he rolls his hips. Calloused fingers run up his sides, cupping each role lovingly before stopping at his chest. Jaskier groans as Geralt runs his fingers through his chest hair, tracing his scars before moving up to palm his budding chest. The embarrassment doesn’t come this time, just another wave of pleasure as he grinds down harder, chasing his orgasm.

Geralt plays with his tits, pinching his nipples relentlessly. His rhythm falters, legs starting to go weak as he gets closer to his peak. Geralt must sense it, because he slides his hands down to his hips and steadies him, holding Jaskier up as he fucks into him. Jaskier whines, chewing at his lip and reaches down to frantically work his fingers over his own cock.

It doesn’t take long for his vision to go spotty as his orgasm crashes through him. He goes taut, back arching as he clenches down around Geralt. He collapses on Geralt’s chest, strength finally giving out. Geralt just grunts and keeps fucking him, hips stuttering as he plows into him. Jaskier whimpers and lets himself be used, sighing happily when Geralt hisses out his name and empties inside of him.

“I guess I don’t mind being taken care of,” Jaskier laughs out against Geralt’s chest.

#jb fic #jb feeding kink #jb chubby jaskier #jb trans jaskier #jb weight gain

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