Hello everyone and welcome to a exclusively DD content account.
Right now I’m obsessing over The Witcher, being my new hyperfixation.
Ships I enjoy reading/writing:
- Geraskier, my absolutely favourite.
- Witchersexual Jaskier (Jaskier with any of the wolves or with all of them together)
- Lambden (Lambert/Aiden)
- Lambskel (Lambert/Eskel)
- Geraskel (Geralt/Eskel)
- Vesemir (with anyone, I just want that man balls deep into someone and being happy)
- Ciri with the Wolves
Ships I would try to write:
- Jaskier/Valdo
- Letho with anybody
- Ciri with others
What should you expect from this account?
- Underage
- Monsterfuckery
- Bestiality
- Non-con
- Dub-con
- Con-non-con
What you wouldn’t find here:
- Scat
-Torture
- Necrophilia
Prompts / AMA:
- Yes, you can talk to me, ask me anything and even request prompts if you want, you already have the list with my DO’s and DON’Ts.
You can find me on Ao3 too as Ephialtia_Nightmares.
CW: VIOLENCE, BLOOD, MINOR CHARACTER DEATH, WEREVOLVES, SWEET GERASKIER, DOMESTIC BLISS, UNDERAGE SEX
Ao3
One year ago, approximately.
White Orchard Park is the closest thing to a forest nowadays in Redania. Geralt prefers the Blue Mountains, where he was raised and where he learnt how to be a wolf, with plenty of games and boars and deers to hunt, and acres and acres to run and dig and play with his brothers.
But alas, Geralt is also a human and Vesemir teached them to find a balance in their lives. There's no Wolf without the Human, and there's no Human without the Wolf, not for them. So as a human, Geralt found a job in Redania as a forest ranger in White Orchard Park.
It was a full moon night, of fucking course, the cloudless, starred sky was so calm and quiet.
Geralt dreaded the silence. Bad omen. A forest is never so quiet, not even during night. Owls should be hunting, for a start, and being already Spring, they should be calling for a partner.
Stray cats always walked around the park as if they were the owners. They didn't even flinch at Geralt's beast form, they knew that the half-man half-wolf being wasn't a threat against them. But there weren't cats that night.
Fuck, even Eskel and Lambert were silent, no roughhouse, no wrestling.
Something was off.
And finally, it snaps.
A low, inexperienced growl - a threat.
Laughs that suddenly turn into silent.
Geralt starts running but he already knows it's too late.
In his run, he hears the wet sound of flesh being ripped, soon he'll be able to smell blood.
And finally, a howl. Full of sorrow, confused and agonising, but a howl after all, and he feels compelled to answer it with one of his own.
He doesn't, though.
Before he can get to the place where he knows he'll find the corpses, something bumps into him.
He's as big as a tower in his beast form, a full grown up werewolf covered in white fur, and the poor creature that is now flushed heavily against him has nothing to do, Geralt catches it and wraps his arms around it, forcing the creature to stay.
Another male werewolf, young, a pup. Geralt can smell the confusion and the fear in the poor beast that is too small in comparison to himself. It smells like brand new magic, his first transformation, then.
"It's ok," Geralt growls. The smell of fear is overwhelming. "You're safe."
He's not, though. A new pup without a pack is an easy bait for werewolf hunters, or worse, mages.
"They… they…" The pup grunts. Talking in their beast form is painful, it takes a lot of time and focus to formulate simple words. The pup sobs, squirming in Geralt's arms. "Hurts."
Geralt does what feels right, and scents the pup. They're not pack, but Geralt wants to show the pup that he's safe with him, that he knows that it hurts, he remembers his first transformation too.
The pup's hindbrain is doing his work, and he relaxes as Geralt scents him.
"Stay close."
Geralt orders, and follows the trail of blood and the magic scent that surrounds the pup.
Three corpses. Humans, males, reeking of alcohol and drugs. Geralt grimaces.
There are clothes ripped a few feet apart from the dead bodies, smelling like the pup but not magic, and traces of the men that are now lying dead on the ground.
Geralt frowns.
He can imagine too well what happened, what triggered the pup's transformation.
The pup whines behind him, and in an instant he starts running following the clothes trail. Geralt follows him to see him kneeling on the ground and picking a metalized, bright something… oh, a guitar case?
The pup takes the guitar case and growls sadly. He looks at Geralt with bright eyes, Geralt can't say their colour.
Geralt knows there is work to do.
While Geralt took care of the corpses, the pup was always in earshot, the need to run and burn the new, strong magic too powerful to allow him to stay still.
Later that night, Geralt ran along the pup, guiding him through the deepest areas of the park, far away from civilization so they could actually be wolves.
They ran and played until the sun rose and the pup's transformation back into his human started.
Geralt hates the screams of pain and wants to comfort the pup, but he knows this is temporary, only the first four or five transformations hurt like hell, but later… Later it's simply the sweetest pain, and the pup will love it just as much as Geralt does, he's sure of it.
Never pleasant the first time, the pup - in the form of a healthy, gangly and very naked teenage boy - fell on his knees. Panting and whining softly, his flushed body glistened with sweat under the first rays of sun. He looked at Geralt once before fainting.
Geralt would never forget the strange feeling that rushed over his body when he lifted the boy from the ground and took him to his den. The boy's skin was fever hot and his fresh sweat clung into Geralt's fur, mixing their scents properly for the first time. The boy was weightless in Geralt's arms.
He carried him to his den.
Since that first night, the pup stayed with Geralt.
-
The pup was called Julian Alfred Pankratz. He hated that name, he said. He wanted to be called Jaskier instead, Geralt just hummed. It suited him.
Jaskier's birthday was in a few days, his transformation was the best gift he could ever have asked for, he informed Geralt. A perfect fourteen birthday gift.
Geralt listened to him talking about his life. The boy didn't smell like fear at any moment, but after listening to his story, it seemed that living with a perfect stranger was better than coming back to his old life.
When Jaskier started talking about what triggered his transformation, Geralt's hands turned into fists and he had to suppress several growls.
"I remember coming to the park at night, I needed to get out of the house after catching my dear father balls deep into the maid," Jaskier told Geralt while devouring his burger with fries. Too much mustard and pickles for Geralt's taste, but the boy was still more human than wolf. "I mean, it wasn't the first time I saw them, but it was the first time they saw me, so I panicked."
"And you ran away just like that?" Geralt asked. "What about your mother?"
"My mother spends all her time with her yoga coach, barely notices me, so I thought that the time had come for me to leave the nest."
Geralt grunted. Jaskier seemed ok with all of this, not giving any sign of hurt. Geralt knew too well how it was to have distant parents.
"And then those guys crowded me, and started pulling and ripping my clothes off. I'm just thankful that they didn't turn their attention to my guitar, it's the only thing I have."
Geralt ached to reach into Jaskier and pat his shoulder or whatever, anything to show him his sympathy.
"Did they… Did they manage to…?" Geralt doesn't know how to ask, and a part of him hates that those men are already dead, because he would kill them again happily.
"I… I transformed then… I… I killed them…" Jaskier's voice trembled then, eyes flooding with tears.
And that was it.
Geralt closed the distance between them and hugged Jaskier.
"I know, I know," Geralt tried to comfort the sobbing boy. "They attacked you, that triggered your first transformation."
"They're dead because of me!" Jaskier cried, fat tears running down his flushed cheeks.
They're dead because they wanted to rape you, they fucking deserve it, Geralt thought. He didn't say it out loud.
"They… they were bad people, Jaskier," he said instead, almost the same thing, but he had then a lapful of Jaskier, clinging onto him. "And nobody can control their first transformation, but you can learn to control the next one.”
"Would you teach me? To control my transformations? I learn fast!" Jaskier was still crying, looking at Geralt with hope.
Geralt nodded before he could think better about it. Jaskier's eyes, he realised, were of the brightest baby blue, reddened of crying and puffy, but still stunning.
"Thank you, Geralt! Thank you! I promise I'll be the best werewolf ever!"
In the next days that followed that one, Geralt made a lot of choices that would change his life as a lone wolf forever.
The most important one, he decided to keep Jaskier.
-
Now.
“Geraaaaalt.”
Geralt doesn’t even need to look to know that his young mate is already pouting. Jaskier has been plucking his guitar for a few hours now, a nice melody that made Geralt think about a distant time, when the woods were bast and wild and there was magic in the air.
“Geralt, I’m bored,” Jaskier declares. “Do you think we can find some nice mushrooms to roast? It’s been raining…”
Geralt grunts. Jaskier is still too used to human food, he prefers to cook the venison and games that they hunt, and for fuck’s sake, the boy likes vegetables and mushrooms and spices…
Geralt stands up on his four legs and walks towards Jaskier, his pup puts aside his guitar and scratches Geralt behind his ears, and… it’s so comfortable.
He has always preferred his wolf form, with thick, white fur covering his strong body; he’s faster like this, his senses are far more delicate, and he feels everything more intensely. The food tastes better, the ground trembles under his paws, the woods where they have their den live around him.
And his gorgeous mate loves this form of his, he can smell it in Jaskier’s scent, the pure love and awe that he exudes when Geralt is in wolf form.
It’s not strange. Geralt loves Jaskier’s wolf form too, his soft, shiny brown fur, the same bright, blue eyes full of life and wonder.
And yet, moments like this are uncommon. They usually spend the time together in the same form, both of them human, or both of them as wolves. During moon night, they adopt the werewolf form, of course. But this, one of them being still in human form while the other keeps his wolf form…
Geralt rests his head in his mate’s lap, nuzzling his soft belly playfully.
“Geralt! Your head is so heavy!” Jaskier giggles, but instead of pushing him away he decides to start petting him and tangling his slender fingers in Geralt’s fur.
Jaskier strokes his muzzle, his head, behind his ears again, making Geralt growl in pleasure, Jaskier’s hands are so warm and tender.
“You silly wolf, do you like this?” Jaskier asks, his fingers now in Geralt’s neck and shoulders. He grunts and nuzzles Jaskier again, the touch of his mate feels exquisite, and Geralt wants more, needs more.
Geralt noses at Jaskier’s belly, making his pup giggle and squirm. Geralt hates that Jaskier wears clothes in their den, even if he’s cold in his human form, Geralt can provide the warmth he needs just laying with him. So he keeps nuzzling his mate until his snout finds a way under Jaskier’s loose shirt.
His skin is warm and soft and vulnerable and his scent… Moon, Geralt wants to lick him, to taste him.
And he can.
And he does.
“Geralt!” Jaskier chuckles, feeling Geralt’s long, coarse and wet tongue against his tummy, lapping at his navel. “It tickles!”
Jaskier doesn’t shove Geralt, he simply lays flat over the couch and lets Geralt sniff and lick at him as he pleases. Geralt takes Jaskier’s shirt between his teeth and tugs it, groaning, making his point clear.
“Wait, wait, you beast, you’ll rip my shirt!” Jaskier laughs and strips off his shirt quickly, throwing it aside, far from Geralt’s fangs.
Beautiful mate, Geralt thinks, grateful of his luck. Jaskier’s chest is now bare except for the soft hair that is growing in his sternum and pecs. His pup is growing so fast, soon enough he’ll be a handsome young man, a strong and fiery wolf, and Geralt’s heart clenches at the thought of it. He still can’t believe that Jaskier is all his, and his alone.
Geralt spends a second thinking about changing his form and to kiss Jaskier, but he’s easily distracted by his pup’s flat nipples and the urge to lick at them.
Jaskier’s scent peaks spicier and Geralt can feel it at the back of his mouth, making him slobber over his boy’s chest. Jaskier clings to him, his fingers digging into his white fur and caressing him slowly while panting softly. Enjoying Geralt’s tongue in his hardening nipples.
“G-Geralt… I…” Jaskier’s voice sounds wrecked already. Oh, his wonderful, insatiable pup, wanting Geralt in any of his forms. Geralt growls. He knows how to please his mate.
Geralt’s muzzle wanders down again, his tongue darting here and there to feel the boy shivering under his ministrations, until he reaches Jaskier’s groin and noses it with interest, making Jaskier gasp.
“Geralt!”
Geralt doesn’t stop. Jaskier is hard under those trousers and boxers he favoured, and Geralt wants to savour him. He wonders about forbidding clothes in their den, too drunk on his lust for Jaskier, he should be able to reach for his mate without having to remove all that fabric.
“Want me to be all naked for you, Wolf?” Jaskier asks, giggling, but Geralt eyes snaps up to look at him, tongue lolling out and drooling. “If that’s what my mate wants…”
Geralt could purr.
Jaskier squirms and wiggle out of his trousers and boxers and spread out his legs on the couch. His hard cock is already leaking over his belly, and he teases himself with his fingertips.
“Is my mate happy now?” He asks, his speech slurred faintly in his lust. “Want me to transform into a wolf too? I know you prefer it when we have the same form.”
Usually, yes. But today… Today Geralt wants to feel his young lover like this, wants to take him like this. He thinks he can understand why Jaskier wanted him in his werewolf form during their first time together. It’s just thrilling, the differences between them, the impossibility of it all.
Geralt shakes his head, slowly, looking for some sign of distress in his mate’s beautiful, young face. Jaskier simply looks at him with love and awe and lust.
“How do you want me, Wolf?” Jaskier asks, his breath hitching in anticipation, and fuck, Geralt’s inner wolf howls and he can’t but claim again what is already his.
-
Jaskier is enthralled, but he always is when it is about Geralt.
His mate.
Fuck, how sexy does that sound? He never had thought about belonging to someone, but everytime Geralt calls him his, his little cock hardens so quickly he feels dizzy and he needs to crawl into Geralt’s lap to kiss him silly and beg the man to have him again.
It’s not like Geralt needs to be begged, Jaskier knows that his mate would never deny him anything.
And now, Jaskier is naked and spreaded in front of the huge white wolf he loves, waiting to be taken.
His cock keeps leaking precum and he takes himself in hand, teasing his wolf. Jaskier is used to being with Geralt in this form, he adores the graceful white wolf just as much as his other forms, but… But like this, everything is so different.
Geralt’s breath is hotter against his bare, pale skin, so close to his cock that the boy moans and another dollop of precum appears at the tip.
The wolf whines softly and licks his muzzle, his tail wagging just so, his golden gaze silently asking for permission.
“Come on, Wolf, I’m yours already,” Jaskier says, baring his neck so Geralt can see the claim he made during their first time together.
The wolf growls and launches himself to start licking Jaskier’s cock and tight balls and the boy mewls in delight.
Geralt’s tongue is so different like this, scorching hot and coarse and incredibly wet, Jaskier can feel the wolf slobbering all over him… Oh it’s so great, Jaskier should have proposed this so much earlier.
It’s indescribable this feeling, Geralt’s sloppy, long tongue lapping and licking at Jaskier in his most intimate parts, like grooming but oh so much better. Jaskier can only moan and whine and tilt his hips and spread his legs wider, fuck, whatever his mate wants.
Jaskier is panting and sweating already, and he needs… He needs…
Present. Present to your mate, ask to be bred.
Oh, what a beautiful idea his hindbrain supplies for him. Jaskier whines, his body reacting to his wolf’s attention and his own hindbrain, and he squirms under Geralt.
The wolf growls, and should be so threatening, Jaskier knows, if he were a simple human… and oh, his cock twitches at the idea. Maybe for another day. But it’s not threatening, it’s not different from when they’re in their human forms and Geralt grunts if Jaskier leaves their bed. Geralt is ridiculously adorable in his need to be close to his mate, and Jaskier loves him even more for it.
“Wolf, my wolf, my mate…” Jaskier pants, caressing Geralt’s snout and head. “Let me…”
Geralt stops his ministrations and looks at Jaskier, wide eyed. Jaskier wiggles his way down the couch until he kneels on the floor and, with a last kiss to his wolf, he turns around and lets his chest and head rest on the couch. His hips are up, his legs spreaded, and he reaches back with his hands and grabs his cheeks, presenting for Geralt in what he hopes in a way that will please his mate.
He has his answer not a second later. Geralt howls, making Jaskier shiver, and then his tongue is lapping at his hole with intent. Jaskier moans when that wide tongue dips inside him not a moment after, Geralt’s paws clicking restlessly in the floor, he can feel his mate’s desperation to mount him.
Jaskier pants and smiles to himself. His mate is pleased with his posture. He wants to brace himself on the couch, but he doesn’t dare to let go of his butt, keeping it open and nice for Geralt so he can eat him out for as long as he wants.
“Geralt… Oh, Wolf… G’ralt!” Jaskier slurs mesmerised by the pleasure, drooling shamelessly.
His own cock is heavy between his legs and Geralt ignores it in favour of opening his tailhole with his tongue, so really, Jaskier can’t complain, he can wait even if his cock aches. It’s just as good to feel himself this wet, Geralt’s drool dripping from his hole down to his balls and his inner thighs.
“Geralt, please, please,” he pleads, eyes half lidded in lust. He wants more, he wants to be bred, he wants Geralt to claim him again.
He wonders if he will get used to this with time, this need to feel his wolf inside him. He hopes not.
Geralt, who feels just as desperate as Jaskier, whines and leaves Jaskier’s tailhole and fucking finally, he mounts him.
His fur is silky soft against Jaskier’s skin, his snout finds Jaskier’s soft spot behind his ear and nuzzles it softly. What if he’s slobbering all over Jaskier’s shoulder and neck, lapping at the mark that bonds them together, Jaskier loves every second of it.
Fuck, he begs for more.
He can feel Geralt’s hesitation above him.
Strong mate, kind mate, perfect mate. His hindbrain yells, and fuck, Jaskier couldn’t agree more, Geralt it is perfect and is his.
Geralt’s tapered, burning hot wolf dick presses against Jaskier’s thigh twice, tentative and questioning, scared of hurting him, Jaskier knows, and the boy smiles fondly. Geralt will never stop being this sweet and careful with him, not even when Jaskier is presenting and begging to be filled with his seed. His heart clenches behind his ribs.
Jaskier releases his cheeks in favour of holding Geralt’s dick and the wolf growls in pleasure when his slender fingers wrap around his length and guide him to his well licked and opened tailhole.
The boy knows that, even if they have a fair amount of control over themselves when in wolf form, the moment Geralt’s wolf cock seathes inside him, Geralt will be almost unable to control his instinct to mount and breed him senseless. Jaskier shivers at the thought but it’s not fear.
He'd be lying if he says that he never thought about being ravished just like this. He would feel ashamed of wanting a wolf's cock if he were a simple human… Or maybe not.
Jaskier's breath wavers for a moment, his hand steadily guiding Geralt’s huge, blood-hot dick until it presses over his tailhole, clenching around nothing in need.
Geralt howls, pushing his hips forward and burying himself fully inside Jaskier. The boy yells at being breached so well, the burn of the stretch just this side of too much, and he can’t help but to clench around his wolf’s cock, making him whine.
“Fuck!” He screams. “Fuck, Geralt, my wolf, my impressive mate, you fill me so well, oh Geralt, I can feel you in my throat, fuck.”
Geralt whines, and Jaskier can’t help but laugh a bit hysterically, he really feels full and needy, his skin too tight for his body, he needs his mate to start moving and giving him what he wants.
That must snap something in Geralt, because he growls and starts moving his hips, and Jaskier sighs happily, feeling his mate losing control.
Geralt’s front legs clamp strongly Jaskier’s hips as he starts pounding him in earnest in a fast, maddening pace, and Jaskier wails.
It feels so different and so familiar, he realises through the white pleasure fog that is drowning his mind. Geralt’s weight and speed are the same, but the pressure of his cock feels more intense. Jaskier is smaller like this, tighter around Geralt’s, and fuck, Geralt’s cock fills him so well, sliding against his walls and…
Jaskier screams when the pointy tip of Geralt’s cock hits that sweet spot that always makes him shiver. Geralt has an impressive aim, even like this, and he has a single minded determination to never fail when it’s about Jaskier’s prostate.
Jaskier doesn’t realise he’s crying until he feels Geralt’s snout nuzzling him and licking his tears away, the wolf making apologetic sounds even if he keeps burying himself balls deep into the boy at a punishing pace.
Jaskier can feel Geralt’s precum sliding out his tailhole and slicking his thighs, and he cries, desperately wishing he could keep all that Geralt gives him inside his body.
It’s too much, the pressure, the depth that Geralt’s reaches in this form, and Jaskier is losing himself in his pleasure, he doesn’t even realise he’s so close to his orgasm until it hits him suddenly, triggered by the swell of his mate’s knot pushing against his rim.
Jaskier hears his wolf howling just before the blinding bliss knocks him.
-
Jaskier wakes up, he doesn’t know where he is or why his knees and back hurt, but he knows that he feels wonderfully full, and there’s a comforting weight and soft warmth covering his body, and a wet snout nuzzling his face.
“Hnng,” it’s the only sound that escapes his lips. The white wolf above him licks him in what can only mean relief, and Jaskier smiles.
“I’m fine,” he says, voice rough. “I promise I’m fine, more than, I’m perfect, my love.”
He can feel Geralt’s tail wagging low, but more important, he can feel Geralt’s cock twitching inside him, pumping him full of seed. His wolf is still cumming inside him, tying them together with his swollen knot.
“My mate, my wolf,” Jaskier praises, full of love. “You feel so good like this, you’re so good to me.”
Geralt whines and his cock jumps, making Jaskier gasp, his own dick twitching in interest, ignoring the fact that he’s already spent and chubbing again.
Jaskier turns his head and kisses Geralt’s snout, immediately licking his wolf’s lolling tongue with his own. Geralt reacts so wonderfully to Jaskier’s praise and soft kisses, the boy always looking for new ways to melt his mate.
“You’re still cumming inside me, my love?” He asks, and Geralt snarls, flushing his bodies together as an affirmation.
Jaskier moans, and one of his hands reaches Geralt to keep him close while the other wanders south to grab his cock.
“Keep breeding me, my wolf,” he pleads, stroking himself until he’s fully hard again. “Let me enjoy you like this one more time, let me feel you…”
Jaskier’s keep talking sweet nonsense to Geralt, praising him and begging to be bred like this more often while he jerks himself and his wolf whines and groans above him.
It’s pure bliss, Jaskier couldn’t ask for something better.
-
Later, thoroughly sated and happy, a boy with a basket and a white wolf by his side leave the house with the intention to find some mushrooms for dinner.
#yes!!!!!! its not that sam’s contributions shouldn’t be appreciated #but frodo bore like impossible psychological torment and despair #and yet clowns still act like this because #he does actually crack and struggle under the stress #and he doesn’t have some aragorn style battle scene #but GO OFF i guess
“Frodo deserved all honour because he spent every drop of his power of will and body, and that was just sufficient to bring him to the destined point, and no further. Few others, possibly no others of his time, would have got so far.” –J. R. R. Tolkien, Letter 192
Let’s be real, at least half the reason people refuse to see Frodo as the “real hero” of the story is because he actively chooses non-violence and mercy.
I remember some YouTube commenter writing “Frodo is so overrated, he never even kills anyone” and if that doesn’t win the award for Most Impressive Failure to Get the Point, I’m not sure what does.
They are two halves of a single hero. (No, this is not a joke about being hobbit-sized.)
Frodo is the one who has to bear the mental torture and hardship of the Ring–but without Sam, he couldn’t have. Who is there to offer a joke, a smile, a hug, an unjudging ear, an extra bite of bread when Frodo looks peaky and ill, a doubled-up bedroll when it’s too cold for a small hobbit used to a good hole with a warm fire? Frodo would have failed long before he reached Mount Doom without Sam to cheer him on.
Likewise: Sam could never have made the journey alone. He doesn’t have Frodo’s mental strength. But he’s a gardener: his job is to make things grow, to nurture them and make them flourish. Who is there to give him a purpose as he travels across a land so big, so far, hoping to save his home?
Separate the pair of them, and neither would have made it. Frodo needed the shelter of Sam’s heart in order to find his way–and Sam needed a leader.
It’s literally love and friendship and camaraderie that save Middle Earth. Neither could be the chosen one alone.
Summary: Emhyr and Ciri have fled together to the coast to live together in peace. Emhyr is extremely possessive.
Word count: 1k
Warnings: Incest, but everything is consensual
This is a modern au in which Ciri is still of Elder blood and Emhyr still wants to make his book canon dream happen of being the one to sire the new ruler of the world by impregnating Ciri (go read it up, it’s an actual plot point in the books). In this fic they are both just very much into it.
Read it on Ao3
A soft summer breeze was blowing over the coast. Emyhr and Ciri were walking hand in hand along the beach. They had recently moved here, to escape their family and friends.
Burning down all bridges and blocking any form of contact had been the only way for them to feel safe. No one would understand their relationship, and all they wanted was to be happy.
So they had moved far away to this little coastal town in the middle of nowhere. Here no one knew that they were father and daughter. And most importantly, no one would care that Ciri was carrying Emhyr’s child.
CW: WEREWOLVES, UNDERAGE, JASKIER IS FIFTEEN AND A WEREWOLF, GERALT IS AN ADULT MAN AND A WEREWOLF, Sex with monster.
Jaskier is a young pup and Geralt is shocked to realise that he's pretty much in love with him, panicking when his hindbrain starts calling Jaskier "mate".
Read it on Ao3
______________________
Geralt lets himself be licked, groomed, by Jaskier. The pup is better at that now that a year has passed, his coarse tongue lapping Geralt's muzzle and forehead and neck.
Geralt is falling asleep, lulled by Jaskier's hums, that boy is singing even in his wolf form, but Geralt can't be annoyed by that. He finds it so lovely. How absurd.
He bares his neck unconsciously, he barely registers that he's doing that; Jaskier's scent is so mixed with his by now, it's pleasant and makes Geralt's chest puff with pride and joy.
Geralt doesn't think about that too much. He loves it when he transforms into a wolf and just lets his hindbrain take the reins. His hindbrain knows better, and it's not worried about work or money, or about social etiquette, he can simply be.
And it's even easier now to be himself in their den, with Jaskier's sweet scent surrounding him, his mate's scent a balm for Geralt's soul…
Wait, what?
Geralt's eyes snap open suddenly, just to see the younger wolf still grooming him so lovingly, his blue eyes half lidded in focus and his tail wiggling happily when he notices Geralt looking at him, but he doesn't stop in his task.
Mate. Geralt's hindbrain sings again. My mate, good mate, beautiful mate.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Geralt tries to keep still but he's already panicking. Jaskier is not his mate, is not his at all.
But it should be, his hindbrain adds, Geralt is feeling delirious already.
Jaskier's snout furrows and looks at him, his scent turning bitter with concern.
Fuck wolf form. Fuck traitorous hindbrain, giving him ideas.
Jaskier nuzzles Geralt tenderly, scenting him, just as Geralt himself showed him, trying to calm the white wolf. "It's like a hug!" Jaskier had said back then, and Geralt had smiled at the pup, he was a smart boy, fast student.
Good mate, caring mate, mine.
Geralt suddenly stands on his four legs, as big and long as he is, startling Jaskier and making him whimper. Sad blue eyes look at him, hurt.
Dammit.
If his damn hindbrain catches Jaskier's scent now, probably hurt and sad and confused, Geralt would never be able to leave the boy alone in his need to reassure him, he'd ask him to be his mate, and… only the Moon knows what else.
Jaskier decides that moment to transform himself into the gorgeous boy he is in his human form. Geralt is retreating slowly, but a very naked Jaskier is now kneeling in the bed they usually share.
"What happens, Geralt?" Jaskier asks softly. "Did I do something wrong?"
Jaskier's scent is turning bitter with concern, when he should smell like joy and safety. Geralt tries not to stare at the boy's naked form, he tries really hard.
Geralt should leave now, but his hindbrain is yelling at him to comfort Jaskier, to reassure him, to show him what a good mate Geralt is for him, if Jaskier wanted him. If Jaskier lets him prove it.
"Geralt?"
Jaskier is still waiting for an answer, and honestly, Geralt could transform himself back into a human too and talk to the boy… Or send him with Lambert and Aiden, where the boy will be safe, because honestly, Geralt's resolve to be a good man is fading and the need to surrender and be a wolf and claim the boy for himself is rising to levels he is not sure he can control anymore.
In his internal battle between the man he thought he was and the wolf he wants to be, Geralt gives a painful, small whine. Jaskier is on his foot immediately and wrapping two slender arms around Geralt's furry neck.
"Are you hurt, Geralt?" Jaskier asks, so concerned it hurts. "Please tell me how to help you, tell me what to do."
Sweet, sweet kid.
Jaskier is fifteen, Geralt knows that, Jaskier is just a kid and he should be playing with his friends and chasing girls his age and to explore his body with them.
But Jaskier is also a werewolf. Who else would understand Jaskier out there? Who else would hunt with him? Who else would provide for Jaskier as Geralt does? Who else would kill for Jaskier to protect him?
Nobody.
Jaskier is already part of Geralt's pack. They all accepted the pup, after that first night Geralt found him in the park after his first transformation. Jaskier is his to cherish and protect. To make him his mate it's only the next natural step, it was only a matter of time.
"Geralt, please."
Fuck.
Maybe it’s sooner than Geralt would have imagined, but… How can he deny his boy, his pup, his mate.
Geralt nuzzles Jaskier and the boy bares his neck for him; such a lovely, sweet pup, offering himself to Geralt so willingly and battering his eyelashes.
Jaskier's scent turns spicier. It's happening more often than not lately, everytime Geralt is closer to him, grooming him, every time they wrestle and play… Jaskier's arousal scent smells heavenly, and it’s driving Geralt mad with desire.
Geralt just assumed that it was just Jaskier's puberty, the awakening of his sex drive. But, what if…? What if Jaskier wants Geralt too?
Geralt takes a step back and Jaskier lets him go, looking at him carefully.
Geralt decides then that Jaskier deserves better than to be claimed by a mindless animal. He transforms back into a human too. Naked as well, Geralt looks at Jaskier, both of them kneeling on the floor.
The older man is painfully aware of his now entirely hard cock, aware too of the fact that Jaskier can smell his own arousal when the boy chases the scent and his eyes wander down Geralt's body…
"Jaskier…" Geralt's voice is huskier, he's unsure about what to say, he just knows that he doesn't want to claim Jaskier by force.
It seems that that was never the problem.
Jaskier launches himself towards Geralt and digs his small nose into Geralt's scent gland, sighing happily, his hands tangling in Geralt's white hair, tugging slightly. Geralt grunts and his arms wrap possessively around Jaskier, feeling the boy's warmth, his pale skin tingling wherever Jaskier is flushed tight against him.
"Oh Geralt," Jaskier moans, running his nose along Geralt's neck, his naked body giving up to his own arousal, Geralt can feel his hardening teen prick against his plain belly and the spicy scent of arousal surrounding him. “You’ve been acting so weird lately, I thought you were tired of me being here all the time!”
Geralt grunts, distressed by the idea of pushing Jaskier away, and holds him tighter against his body to make his point clear.
“And then now you wanted to leave while we were grooming and I… I…” Jaskier’s aroused scent is slightly mixing with the acrid scent of worry and sadness. That can’t be.
Geralt takes Jaskier’s face in his broad hands and looks at those impossible blue eyes. The boy is so small compared to him, slender and thinner even if it’s all hard muscle behind his soft, freckled skin.
“Jaskier, I…” Geralt swallows, looking for the right words. “I would never, never, leave you, not unless you asked me to.”
Jaskier whines and clings to Geralt, trying to shake his head, but Geralt is still holding him softly, caressing Jaskier’s cheeks with his thumbs.
“I’ve been acting weird because…”
Because I want you. Because you should be mine.
Mine to protect, mine to love, mine to claim. My mate.
Jaskier’s blue gaze is piercing him, his soft hands resting on his shoulders, playing with loose strands of his silvery hair.
“Jaskier, I want you,” Geralt says at last and Jaskier’s eyes widen, his lips twitching just so, wanting to smile. “My… I can’t stop calling you my mate in my head and I… You’re so young…”
“Geralt, I want you too!” Jaskier exclaims, breathing fast. “I want to be your mate, I’ve wanted to be since I learned what that means! And I’m not a kid, Geralt, I’m a wolf now!”
Jaskier is… frowning, trying to make his point, trying to convince Geralt to do something he aches to do. His boy is really a confident, stubborn wolf, indeed.
Geralt growls; one thing is to dream, to hope, that someday Jaskier could want him as his mate, and to have Jaskier limp and pliant under him, baring his neck in a silent but obvious invitation for him.
But to hear it for real, this soon, without preamble, without any kind of courtship… Just Jaskier, trusting and joyful and bright Jaskier, just offering himself to Geralt. It’s much more than Geralt can stand.
Geralt closes the distance between them and kisses his boy, his little wolf, hungrily, passionately, biting his lips and making the boy moan and whimper and gasp.
Jaskier kisses him back without finesse or manners at all, trying to follow Geralt’s lead, not knowing at all what he’s doing but that’s ok. Geralt’s wolf is howling inside him, knowing that Jaskier is only his, knowing that Geralt is claiming Jaskier’s first kiss, and that he’s about to claim Jaskier’s first everything.
He wants to ruin him for everyone else, fuck, he wants to prove Jaskier that he’ll never need another man - or wolf - to sate him, to satisfy him. Geralt wants Jaskier to beg him to stay and never leave, he wants Jaskier to smell happy and safe around him, like it has been during this last year.
“Jaskier, pup, are you sure…?” Geralt breaks the kiss to ask one more time. He doesn’t want a simple - but wild - fuck with Jaskier; he needs to know… He needs to know Jaskier wants to be claimed. “If I start now I won’t be able to stop until I claim you, I… Fuck, Jaskier, I want you so much, I want to make you my mate and to have you, but wolves…”
“Wolves mate for life,” Jaskier finishes, solemnly, whining and squirming against Geralt’s hot body. “I know, and it’s what I want, Geralt, I want to be yours and I want you to be mine as well, I can be greedy too, please, Geralt... please.”
Jaskier is smiling at him, Jaskier is asking him to claim him, and he smells so good, arousal and love and lust just for Geralt.
Geralt feels his blood boiling inside his veins, he’s drunk on Jaskier’s scent, and his focus is now only centered in his pup.
Make my mate squirm and moan and wail in pleasure, his hindbrain orders him, and fuck, he’s going to follow happily that command.
With a deep growl, Geralt pushes Jaskier until the boy is lying on his back and kisses him again, his chest still rumbling in a low purr. Jaskier reacts so well to him, opening his legs and welcoming Geralt’s bulk between his thighs.
Jaskier’s cock is not small for a fifteen years old, so promising, but it can’t be compared to Geralt’s grown-up length, and the man can’t stop thinking about how it’s going to feel to be buried deep inside his pup’s tight and warm tailhole.
His boy is making the most delicious sounds, shy moans that turn into proper ones when Geralt starts licking his neck and pressing his sharpened fangs into the vulnerable skin.
“Geralt, Geralt… please,” Jaskier begs, but Geralt doubts Jaskier knows what he wants. His pup has never been with another person, but oh, Geralt will let him explore and try everything he wants, with him.
Geralt starts mouthing Jaskier’s pecs, where his boy is starting to grow soft, light brown hair, and nuzzles against the warm skin, feeling the boy trembling under him. Geralt’s hands roam all over Jaskier’s sides, soothing him, grabbing his firm thighs. Jaskier is already dripping precum and the smell of it it’s enough to blind Geralt’s mind.
Fuck, he needs to taste it.
Geralt leaves a trail of kisses and sweet bites all down Jaskier’s torso until he can reach his throbbing, dripping cock. Ignoring his own ache, Geralt buries his nose in Jaskier’s brown nestle of hair between his legs; his spicy scent is stronger and headier there, and Geralt growls, biting and leaving a red mark on the inside of Jaskier’s thigh.
The boy moans sweetly and tugs at his white hair strong enough for Geralt to notice.
Fierce mate, Geralt thinks, and his inner wolf sings.
Geralt licks Jaskier’s hard, reddened cock, maddenly slow, from the base until the head, chasing the fat drops of precum with his tongue, and his pup whines and bucks his hips, asking for more. Geralt repeats the movement a few times, drunk in Jaskier’s scent and sounds, until he decides to wrap his lips around Jaskier’s teen length and, by the Moon, Jaskier screams in pleasure and spills in his mouth, without time to warn Geralt.
Not like Geralt mind it. His mouth is full of Jaskier’s taste and he swallows even the last drop; he made his mate feel good with his own mouth, what can be better than that?
Geralt looks at Jaskier, he can feel the hunger tugging at him as it never has done before, never with this need. He wonders if it’s going to be always like this with Jaskier, he hopes the answer is yes.
Jaskier is still panting under him, his breath is ragged and Geralt can feel his heartbeat hammering under his shivering ribs. Jaskier is so beautiful, so precious to him, pale skin glistening with sweat and big blue eyes looking at him. In them, Geralt finds the same hunger he’s feeling, and growls.
“Geralt…” Jaskier’s purrs, tugging at Geralt’s hair and making him growl even louder. “More, please, I want…”
“What, tell me, what do my mate want?” Geralt asks, kissing possessively every inch of Jaskier’s body he can reach.
Jaskier's breath hitches at hearing the word mate, his small body shivering under Geralt's hands.
“Take me,” Jaskier breathes, his eyes bright after his first orgasm. “Please, Geralt, make me yours.”
Geralt bares his fangs, now too long for a human, in a threatening smile that makes Jaskier whine in anticipation.
He picks Jaskier from the ground, the boy gasping so adorably, and carries him to their bedroom, laying him down in the big bed and making him lay sideways, almost on his stomach, pushing his right thigh up so he can eat him whole. Jaskier looks at him through his eyelashes for a moment before Geralt dips in and starts lapping at his tight, small tailhole.
Oh, the wail that Jaskier lets out when Geralt tongue’s digs inside him is sublime, and Geralt commits it to his memory, and promises to himself that he’ll make Jaskier wail like that again and again.
“Hng, G-Geralt…” Jaskier slurs, blue gaze unfocused. “Ah, Geralt… M-mate…”
Geralt wants to purr at the word.
“Fuck, Jaskier, I…” Geralt is lost, he can’t even think, so he playfully bites Jaskier’s plush arse cheek, making his pup squeak, and goes back in to devour him.
Jaskier’s hands are gripping the sheets so hard that his knuckles are white, moaning loud and unashamed. Good, his gorgeous mate has the most beautiful voice, and this singing is, no doubt, Geralt’s favourite until now. Jaskier pushes back to Geralt’s mouth, asking for more without words when Geralt laps at his rim instead of fucking it with his tongue. Greedy mate, Geralt thinks fondly and smiles to himself, not believing his good luck.
Jaskier’s scent is intensifying, his arousal mixing with the one of the magic that allows them to transform, he’s losing control over his body.
Geralt kisses his way up, nipping Jaskier's back and nape before they’re at eye level again, both laying on the bed. Geralt kisses Jaskier in the corner of his mouth, his pup’s body is feverish, the boy whimpers, chasing Geralt’s lips.
“Sh, Jaskier, my mate, it’s ok, I’m here,” he purrs. “Don’t be nervous, if you trigger the transformation now, it can hurt you, you need to relax, I’m not going to hurt you.”
“I’m… not nervous,” Jaskier sobs, eyes flooding with tears.
Geralt’s heart clenches. If he hurted Jaskier, if he’s pressing his pup into this, he’ll never forgive himself.
“Jaskier, mate, my mate, we can stop…”
“No!” Jaskier yells and turns around in Geralt’s arms until they’re face to face. “Geralt, I… I want you, it’s just that…”
Geralt blinks at him, confused, his neglected prick achingly hard and surprised at himself about the fact that he would stop everything for Jaskier, he would fight against everyone for Jaskier. And Jaskier is crying and he wants to rip apart whoever or whatever is making his pup, his mate, sad. He’s not panicking.
“Geralt I… I wanted to ask you something but…” Jaskier trails off, his voice low when he speaks again, nothing but a whisper. “I want your knot.”
Geralt’s blood freezes for an instant and just as suddenly it starts running hotter as ever through his veins, making him feel dizzy.
“Jaskier…”
“I’m not that small!” Jaskier replies before Geralt can even say a word. “I can take it, Geralt, I want to take your knot, and I…”
Geralt leans in to shut up Jaskier with a hungry kiss. By the Moon, this pup is going to be the death of him, and what a bliss it is.
Their tongues sliding together in a sloppy, passionate kiss that has zero finesse, Geralt drinking Jaskier’s moans and whines, while Geralt’s right hand wanders down Jaskier’s body until he finds Jaskier’s wet and loose pucker, letting his finger catch on his finger but not pressing in, not yet.
“You can’t just say things like that, pup,” Geralt chides, flushing Jaskier’s body against him possessively. “You don’t know what you do to me, do you? Asking me to claim you, asking me to knot you…”
“Geralt…”
“Is that why you were nervous? Because you were afraid of my reaction to the knotting thing?”
Jaskier nods, hiding his beautiful face in Geralt’s chest and panting hard every time Geralt presses his index finger against his rim.
“I don’t want to hurt you, Jaskier, and I need to be in werewolf form to knot you…”
“I-I know but…” Jaskier bits his lip. “Can we try? Please?”
“Fuck, Jaskier, I can’t say no to you,” Geralt sighs, and pushes his whole finger into Jaskier in a fluid motion, chasing the surprised moan that escapes his pup’s mouth.
“I’m going to prepare you well so you can take my knot, do you want to transform too?”
Jaskier shakes his head, smiling sheepishly, and Geralt curses. His pup is really a gift from the Moon.
Geralt fucks Jaskier with his fingers carefuly and thoroughly, curling them at the right spot and making his boy spill untouched between their bodies. The smell of their combined scents and Jaskier’s cum and their sweat is driving Geralt crazy with want. Geralt adds the little finger just for luck, wishing it’s enough for his boy, who is whining and panting and fuck, his cock is not even softening after his second orgasm.
Geralt takes a step back, leaving Jaskier alone in the bed for an agonising moment, his mate groaning in displeasure. And looking at the boy naked and spent in the enormous bed, he let his body transform into a werewolf.
It’s still painful, but it’s also pleasurable, feeling his bones and flesh changing inside him, reorganising themselves, growing. His scarred skin is covered with white, soft fur. His face elongated in the form of a snout, his whole skull changing. Limbs too long and far too stronger than before. Pointy ears at the top of his head, and a new waggling, furry tail to match.
To transform into this in front of someone is always terrifying and, since Jaskier is his mate-to-be, is a new level of intimacy for them.
They’re not in the wild, hunting or roughousing or wrestling. They’re in the den, Jaskier sprawled in front of him like the most delightful of the fests, naked and hard and leaking and his hole so wet and open, waiting for him.
And he’s looking at Geralt with awe and adoration in his blue eyes.
“Geralt…” He whispers his name and sounds like he’s worshipping him. Geralt wants to believe that he’s worthy of Jaskier’s worship, and he wants to worship his pup back. “Geralt, darling, my mate, come with me…”
Jaskier kneels in the bed to receive Geralt, his hands immediately tangling in white fur and pressing his face to Geralt’s chest, scenting them. Geralt is afraid to move, resting his broader hands in Jaskier’s brown hair, extremely careful with his claws, not wanting to push or to hurt his beloved pup.
“You’re so magnificent, Geralt, I love you so much, I always loved you, I can’t wait to be yours, to smell like you…” Jaskier babbles, caressing Geralt’s body, hands lowering until they reach Geralt’s sheath and strokes it softly.
Geralt growls and purrs and squirms. His young lover’s hands feel softer and they’re even smaller in comparison in this form, and he’s already hard inside his sheath, Jaskier only needs to coax it a bit to get what he wants.
He braces himself when he feels his cock free of the sheath, and grunts when he hears Jaskier’s gasps of surprise. He knows his cock in this form is so different, veiny red and hotter than a human, tapered and swelling in the base, a wolf’s cock.
While Jaskier’s slender fingers wrap around his prick and he lets out a small growl of pleasure, he wonders if Jaskier has toyed with himself in this form, too. He imagines his pup jerking off in the wild, knotting his own fist and howling in the throes of his orgasm.
He’s sure Jaskier has done it, for the way he’s stroking him, confident and sure and gentle and lovingly, playing Geralt as he plays his guitar.
What Geralt doesn’t expect, though, is to feel Jaskier’s wet lips wrapping around the tapered head of his cock.
Geralt grunts and his hips buck forward instinctually, spraying watery precum into Jaskier’s mouth.
He takes a step back and kneels in the floor to face Jaskier, looking for signs of displeasure or discomfort in his pup, but Jaskier is chuckling and his tongue is darting out of his mouth, licking the drops of Geralt’s precum off his lips.
Geralt takes Jaskier's face carefully in his hands, and the boy leans in to kiss Geralt’s snout, smiling at him openly.
“Did you like that?” Jaskier asks, already feeling very smug with himself. Geralt snorts but nods, and laps at Jaskier’s face and lips, the boy opening his mouth willingly for him. He chases his own taste in Jaskier’s tongue and skin, just to spray more precum all over them, making Jaskier giggle again.
Jaskier kisses his muzzle one more time and turns around, laying on his hands and knees, presenting himself to Geralt, his teen cock hanging hard and leaking between his thighs. His tailhole is blinking, gaping after having Geralt’s four fingers stretching it.
A low, deep growl leaves his chest at the beautiful sight, and laps one more time at his pup, savouring his tight balls and gaping hole, wetting him just a bit more.
Geralt’s clawed hands span Jaskier’s slim waist as he positions himself, his throbbing cock kissing Jaskier’s hole at last.
The contact makes Jaskier gasp and Geralt soothes him, nuzzling his nape lovingly before pressing in.
Jaskier whines at being breached, and Geralt spares a thought about fucking Jaskier in his human form to opening him before doing it in his actual form, but Jaskier wanted this and Geralt is unable to stop himself now, so Jaskier has to take what it’s given to him.
And he does, so wonderfully. Geralt growls and purrs in his ear to let him know how good he is for Geralt, to let him know what a gorgeous and wonderful mate he is, soothing him the best he can in this form, and feeling reassured when Jaskier grabs a fistful of white fur at Geralt’s waist, urging him, asking him for more.
Oh beautiful, greedy mate.
Geralt howls when he’s finally buried deep inside Jaskier, his tight and warm little hole stretched impossibly wide to accommodate him, clenching around him. It’s so good, it’s too much, it’s not enough.
Jaskier is panting but he’s not wailing, he’s not blind with pleasure, and that simply can’t be. Geralt pushes out and rearranges the angle a bit, so when he pushes in again…
“Ah! G-Geralt! Fuck! Again! Do that again!” Jaskier cries.
There it is, Geralt smiles, and aims again his thrust, and again, working Jaskier’s sweet spot and growling in tune with his wails and moans and pleads for more.
Jaskier is clenching around him and spasming, he’s so close to his orgasm, singing the most beautiful song because of Geralt.
Geralt howls one more time, feeling his knot swelling and catching at Jaskier’s abused, puffy rim, oh he’s so close…
Jaskier moans silently and stutters his name one last time and clenches hard around Geralt’s dick, and that’s it.
Geralt pushes in, forcing his knot into Jaskier’s body and digs his sharpened fangs until he breaks Jaskier’s soft skin, jaws clasping around his shoulder.
Jaskier yells and cums all over the bed; the coppery smell of blood mixing in the air with their combined scents and the smell of sex and sweat. It’s perfect.
Geralt feels himself cum inside Jaskier, spurt after spurt of watery cum, his knot tying them together for a while.
His pup is sobbing, shivering under his furry bulk, and Geralt unclasps his jaws and licks over the fresh bite. Jaskier grunts, but his hand reaches back and caresses Geralt’s muzzle fondly.
Geralt whines apologetically, lapping and licking the wound and Jaskier’s face, cleaning his tears away.
Jaskier chuckles tiredly.
“Geralt, my mate, my love, my wolf…” Jaskier babbles into the pillow, sweet praises that make Geralt’s cock spurt again, his knot still firmly inside Jaskier, his mate at last.
Geralt growls in answer, moving them so they’re lying on their side, his arms holding Jaskier and flushing them together, and starts grooming Jaskier lovingly.
Geralt sighs, feeling Jaskier’s small hand stroking absentmindedly the fur of his arms and drifting to sleep in the safety of their den.
Perfect mate, his hindbrain whispers, satisfied. Perfect mate to keep and cherish and love. Mine.
They had Daisy since she was a pup. He grew up with her by his side, training her and feeding her and loving her every day of her life.
She was his best friend.
When he was fourteen, he broke, just once, and he promised himself he'd never do it again. Not after the way she yelped at the push of his fingers inside her. He hurt his best friend. An animal that trusted him.
And the worst fucking part about it all was that despite how fucking guilty he felt for hurting her, he still beat off to the memory of just how fucking hot and tight her cunt was around his fingers up until this fucking day.
But now.
Fucking hell, he's pretty sure this is going to be his new go to fantasy.
Waking up to a hot body in his bed. Having his cock rubbing through the thick fur coating every inch of this dog, tagging it with his scent.
Its heaven.
Its hell.
And Jaskier is fucking weak.
“Melitele forgive me,” he begs , and shuffles up right behind the dog.
“The medieval warrior, realizing the consequences of his impulsive act, immediately approached the owner of the drone and offered to pay for the damage.
The owner of the drone was so impressed by the brilliant attack that he suggested organizing a competition for bringing down “dragons” with short spears next year.
Drone owners have another year to develop a unique “dragon-like” design for their flying machines.” (x)
I am 100% cooler with this knowing that the spear-thrower realized “oops maybe I shouldn’t have done that” and tried to make it right, and that the guy who the drone belonged to was cool with it
Hello everyone and welcome to Dove’s realm!
I’m Ephialtia but you can call me Dove, and I’m very excited to see you here!
I just configured my tumblr so you can ask me anything and suggest prompts!
If you’re curious about what I’m writing right now:
- Fake Priest Geralt/novice Jaskier: my main, multichapter fic that is killing me. Geralt is a P.I. sent to investigate why young boys are disappearing and dying in a Eternal Flame School. There he will meet young, sweet Jaskier. (underage, violence and blood, slight torture - not between Geralt/Jaskier)
- Jaskier’s good boys series: follow the developing relationship between Geralt, Jaskier and Brutus. (underage, bestiality)
- Werewolf: apocalypse. Based in the same name rpg “Werewolf: the apocalypse”. Jaskier triggers his first transformation into a werewolf and of fucking course, he bumps into the one and only White Wolf (but Jaskier has no idea what that means). Geralt decides to keep the pup and teach him everything he knows about how to be a wolf and how to survive, everything is fine until Geralt’s hindbrain starts chanting *mate, mate, mate* every time he sees Jaskier. (Mild underage - Jaskier is 16-17 -, monsterfucking, bestiality, wolf ettiquette).
Those are my current WIPs!
