>Yet another Dead Dove Do Not Eat blog into The Witcher<>.
<>English not my first language<>
<>Can not promise to do any prompt, but you're welcome to send them !<>
<>18+ only obviously<>
You can call me Monn, I’m a being of around twenty years old.
You will find on this blog hard kink writing, mainly dub-con with underage content.
I’m mainly in the witcher for now, but I don’t exclude other content in the futur, especially original writing. I will write any ships, but my faves for the moment are Jaskier/Geralt, Jaskier/Witchers and Ciri/Geralt, Ciri/anyone.
As said, my first language is not english, so there probably will be weird turn of phrase here and there. Hope it’s at least comprehensible.
Asks welcome :) and prompts too, even if I don’t promise to do them, because I don’t write that much and tends to fixate on a idea for a few days before never touching it ever again.
My kink list is here
I will try to tag main tw, tell me if you want anything tagged. Tags are Monn “tw”, and my writings will be tagged as “Monn writes”
You know that I said I had some prompts in the way for the end of Kinktober ?
Well we’re November 7th... So, uh, guess they will be up later since they’re still not ready. My excuse is that that I didn’t even have the time to touch my computer for the last two weeks.
Today’s prompt just went off ! It’s here, and it’s a fill for Public Use. It’s obviously Ciri in the main role, with Jaskier serving as narrator.
It’s one my biggest fantasies (with pregnancy, which is in the fic too), so I had a lot of fun with it ! I’m still not wholy satisfied with the flow, but I don’t have the writing skills to make it better.
Geralt taken a contract to exterminate a monster nest, since it's their mating season he uses Ciri as bait, letting the monsters fuck he so he will have an easier job killing them after their power spent.
combined this prompt with this one:
because they just fit :D didn't hit all of both of them, but
monsterfucking, noncon/dubcon, bondage, gangbang, mild humiliation, some pain
Ciri doesn’t like Geralt’s plan.
But unfortunately, it doesn’t matter if she likes it; it’s the only viable option they’ve got. And besides, if she wants to be a Witcher, she’s going to have to learn how to suck it up and deal; she’s no longer a princess. She doesn’t get to make all of the decisions.
– – – – –
“You’ll stay nearby, right?” Ciri asks, a variation on the same question she’s been asking over and over since last night, when Geralt explained how they were going to do this.
To Geralt’s credit, he doesn’t give any visible or audible signs of frustration, though she knows he must be frustrated with her. “I will,” he answers, like he has for every other iteration of her question. “You won’t be able to see me, because if I’m that close they won’t come out. But I’ll be able to see you, I promise.”
Ciri hums and sighs and tries to relax where Geralt is – well, trussing her up like a pig for slaughter, really.
It’s a gruesome comparison, but not terribly far off.
“And this…. The position, that’s necessary?” she clarifies, tone doubtful, even as she offers her wrists for Geralt to tie as well. She’s on her knees, belly supported by a log Geralt dragged out into the clearing they’re in, thighs spread for balance and lashed to the log. Her wrists, once they’re tied together, are pulled forward and staked into the ground, so she’s not actually able to move more than wriggling slightly from side to side, and her knees are taking most of her weight.
“Yes,” Geralt says, though he doesn’t elaborate this time.
Ciri bites her lip against more questions. She’s been enough of a bother; time to practice sucking it up and dealing, she figures.
– – – – –
It doesn’t take long for Geralt to finish preparing, after he’s done tying her up, and then he marches off.
She ignores her instincts screaming at her to beg him to stay, because she knows that he won’t and that he can’t. Instead, she tries to count her breathing, something he taught her how to do not long after he found her; she won’t be able to meditate, not like this – she can’t properly relax her body, as high-strung as she is, never mind the fact that she’s literally tied into position – but she can make an effort to calm herself all the same.
For the most part, it works. The concentrated breathing slows her heart, and as a result her stomach stops rolling anxiously with every sound.
“I can’t see him, but he can see me,” she mutters to herself, squeezing her eyes shut. Geralt won’t let her get hurt, she’s certain of it.
Besides, she’s just supposed to be a lure. It’s breeding season, which means that getting a bunch of nekkers out of their cave for anything less than a good fuck is nigh impossible – unless you’re one of the unlucky villagers who stumbled past and became dinner, of course.
She’s meant to look like easy prey, and that’ll bring out the leaders first, the hunters and warriors next, and after they’re killed, it’ll be easy to raid the cave for the rest.
She keeps repeating it to herself, the plan that Geralt laid out, and continues counting her breaths.
– – – – –
It takes nearly twenty minutes, but after Geralt’s gone and his scent trail has faded a bit, the first nekker wanders out of the cave. She can just see the entrance of it, slightly too far to her side to be in her line of sight properly; but her peripheral vision has always been very good.
It’s one of the shamans, she thinks, and when it wanders closer, she’s proved right by its strange headdress and large walking stick. It circles her – for a certain definition, at least, keeping quite a large distance, but clearly inspecting her all the same.
She shudders, goosebumps flaring up along her arms, the hair on her neck standing to attention, but she doesn’t move otherwise, and doesn’t make a sound.
The nekker stops again near the entrance of the cave and makes an odd, chattering sound, almost like a cat watching birds. Some kind of call, because suddenly there are two more nekkers coming out of the cave, not shamans like the first, but clearly important – one is wearing a human jawbone on a necklace, which is vaguely terrifying, but Ciri knows enough about monsters by now to know that it’s a status symbol.
Like her grandmother’s emeralds, just...a lot more grim.
All three of them circle her this time, and she bites her lip near bloody to keep herself still and quiet, watching them until she can’t see them any longer, and counting the seconds until they circle back into her view. After nearly fifteen minutes, though, they seem satisfied with what they find – whatever it is – and start coming closer.
She holds her breath until she can’t any longer, watching until they’re close enough that she can see entirely too much, and then squeezing her eyes shut and trying to breathe slowly.
The shaman is the one to reach her first, and it makes another chattering noise, the same but also different from the one before. Its hand settles on her shoulder first, thin and startlingly hot; she can feel the edges of its claws, razor-sharp, as they trail from her shoulder to her lower back.
One of the others – she can’t see which one – shuffles up to her backside, its hand landing on her ass, and she can’t help the way she startles at the touch. The shaman makes a noise, low and almost rumbling – like...almost like a purr.
Soothing. It’s trying to soothe her.
So distracted by that realization – she knew nekkers were significantly more sapient than most of their ogroid cousins, but she never expected to be soothed by one – she almost doesn’t notice the one at her back shredding her breeches and smallclothes with those razor-sharp claws.
Almost.
“W-wait, what – ” she mumbles, trying to turn back and see what’s happening. She can’t, though; with her arms lashed straight in front of her, she hasn’t got the range of motion.
It doesn’t take long to figure out what the nekker is doing, though.
“I – wait – ”
She doesn’t know why she’s trying to talk to them, she knows they don’t understand common, but still, the words tumble out of her mouth as the nekker behind her shuffles closer, its scaly skin rough and smooth in turns against her thighs. “Don’t – no – Geralt!”
There’s no response, and before she can find the breath to yell again, the nekker is grasping at her waist, claws prickling and raising blood where they nick, and shoving its cock inside her.
“Ah!” She tries to struggle, to no avail, whimpering when the friction burns, the stretch aching immediately, but the only response her noises get is that same rumbling noise from the shaman.
The nekker behind her – inside her – moves quickly, grunting as its cock makes odd, obscene noises as it slides in and out of her. Once the initial pain has faded, it’s mostly just an odd sensation, being filled and then emptied again and again.
She...doesn’t hate it.
But then again, she does.
“Geralt!” she tries again, shoulders twisting as she tries to yank at the stake keeping her arms stretched. She has no success, and even if she had, she knows she wouldn’t be able to get away from the monsters.
Nekkers are fast.
And apparently, they fuck the same way they move.
“Ah, ah, ah, ah!”
Each thrust from the nekker pushes her hard against the log at her belly, knocking the air out of her with each thud against it, and she can barely catch her breath in between; she’s dizzy and confused, heat pooling in her belly against her wishes, and the nekker just. Keeps. Going.
She hears the shaman chatter again, and then there’s a sharp-tipped hand in her hair, dragging her head up. It’s not the shaman, but the third – which makes the jawbone-wearing one the one fucking her right now. This one has its own decorations, a chain of teeth dangling from one ear, a few feathers from the other, and old, dented coins around its waist.
All of this is noticeable, of course, and she does notice it, but it’s all significantly overshadowed by the sight of the thing’s cock, hard and twitching, right in front of her face.
One of those is inside me, she thinks, just before the nekker gets its other hand around her jaw to force her mouth open and that cock is inside her, too.
She chokes, but the nekker just makes a low sound, a sort of growl that skips with its breath, and she’s forced further down on its cock. It tastes vile, but it is – unfortunately – not the worst thing she’s tasted lately, and if she just breathes through her mouth when she can, it’s easier to ignore.
It doesn’t take long for the two nekkers to find a rhythm, shoving her back and forth between them like some kind of toy, grunting and growling. The shaman continues to chatter and purr as it watches, but Ciri isn’t focusing much attention on it; she’s mostly distracted by trying to breathe.
And also the orgasm she can feel building in the base of her spine, entirely against her wishes and better judgement.
The shaman chatters again, louder this time, and Ciri tries to see what its making such a ruckus about, but the nekker at her head holds her fast, fucking her throat quicker as it clearly nears its completion. Her eyes roll back on a particularly hard gag, and both the nekkers fucking her make low, excited sounds. It happens again, and again, the two of them clearly enjoying the way she spasms and shudders around their cocks with each gag.
She’s horrified to find that she likes it, too.
Finally, with one last hard thrust, deep enough that her belly aches with the pressure, the one at her back comes. It’s hot enough to feel, filling her in a way that’s deeply wrong at the same time it’s fucking good, and she’s suddenly coming, too, her yelping muffled by the nekker still fucking into her throat.
She expects, once they’ve come, that they’ll leave her, and Geralt will appear to behead them.
She’s very, very wrong.
The one behind her slips away just as the one in her mouth finally spills, the cum bitter and sticky-thick on the back of her tongue. She swallows it before she can help herself, because it was swallow or choke, and she can feel it all the way down, burning like the tiny sips of White Gull Geralt has allowed her.
But then there’s more hands on her – nekker hands, sharp claws and too-hot, scaly skin, and she realizes all too late what’s going to happen to her.
Somewhere behind her, she can hear the shaman chattering excitedly, and then there’s another cock shoving into her cunt, one in her mouth again right after, and she can’t focus on that anymore.
These two move faster, somehow, fucking rougher, and she’s whining with each breath, spasming with each thrust into her throat that makes her gag, each thrust against her womb that aches and makes her thighs tremble. Her vision is spinning and her clit is throbbing and she comes again, just like that, being mercilessly spitroasted between two monsters, hearing the way they rumble excitedly when she clenches down.
After that, she loses track. She knows she comes several more times, unable to stop herself, the friction and nastiness of it too much even if she knows she should hate it. She thinks at one point there’s more than one cock in her cunt, too; knows that at least once two of them manage to shove the heads of their cocks into her mouth at once, stretching her jaw wide, the corners of her lips splitting with the strain.
But eventually, they’re gone.
For a certain definition, at least. When she’s able to lift her head of her own volition – she hadn’t realized how much the nekkers were holding of her weight until they let her go – she sees them lounging around in the clearing, some still touching themselves even as they’re covered in come. Hers and theirs.
“G-Geralt,” she calls, weak, voice nearly gone from the abuse to her throat.
This time, he shows, a glint of shined leather armor at the edge of the clearing, and she lets herself droop back down on the log instead of watching the ensuing slaughter.
– – – – –
By the time Geralt’s done with the nekkers, Ciri’s half asleep.
Not fully, though. When he walks up to her, boots crunching on dried grass and some brittle bird bones one of the nekkers must have been wearing, she blinks rapidly and struggles to look up at him.
He takes a deep breath, nostrils flaring.
“You liked that,” he says. His voice is entirely neutral, his expression the same. Giving nothing away.
“Geralt,” she whines, entirely unsure what she’s whining for. For him to ignore that? For him to untie her?
He tilts his head, looking down at her almost inquisitively for a moment before he crouches, bringing them closer to level.
“You did like it,” he insists, and then there’s a hand on her jaw. He feels almost cold compared to the incredible heat of the nekkers, but all the same, she leans into the touch, finding herself almost desperate for it for some reason she can’t name. “Didn’t you?”
She whines, turning her face into his palm to hide.
I’ve got prompts ready for the next three days ! i’ve never wrote so much, seriously.
A few other are in progress, and a few others are in progress. Between four or five who might be posted on Day D, and then there’s a lot of prompts from the first half of october which I will do.
I totally wanted to participate in kinktober with the prompts created by Dead-dove-dinner, except I won’t have access to my computer until mid-october. Wich means no publishing, and no writing, and considering I have maybe six prompts half-written....
So I will probably write a few prompts and post them later in the month.
Hey, it's that time again! Kinktober is coming and soon so will all our faves.
This here is the Kinktober list for the Dead Dove Witcher server with both 'vanilla' kinks and 'dead dove' kinks for each day!
The list is free to use and we welcome any and all participants even if theyre not part of the server! All we ask is that you reblog to spread the word and please tag your finished works as "Dead Dove Kinktober 2021" so we can read and reblog, or share your finished works with us by adding them to the collection!
Geralt takes Ciri when she's born, and they raise her in KM, just the way she should be. She'll never be a witcher, but a toy, a beloved pet, and a nice warm set of holes for them all. Potions to loosen her, straighten her guts so they can bury themselves in her, make her able to hold her breath longer. All she's ever known is Witcher Cock. Its all she ever wants. And perhaps, when she's older, they'll rent out her cunt in a public square to breed more toys.
So the prompt got a little long for my standard, so I put it on AO3. Hope it pleases you !
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
May I request a fic where Geralt is hired to be young Ciri’s caregiver while her parents are out of town? He teaches her what big girls do with their bodies, and how much big boys love to play with them as well.
Tw : Underage (age not precised, but very young), grooming (I think. In reality it's probably a longer process, but that's a porn fic, so... just to be sure.), and non-con due to the age of Ciri obviously
he baby-sitter smiles at her. He's pretty, but also weird, with his white hair and his nice smile. Ciri knows that white hair means very old people, even more so than Grandma, but this man doesn't seem this old. No matter, she knows he will like her, because every adult to tells her that she's pretty and a nice girl, and she likes it a lot when they say that.
But this morning, when she came to his room, he scolded her and told her she was a bad girl for entering whithout knocking first. She hadn't taken heed of it, and climbed in his bed to have a morning hug before breakfast. She did it all the time with Grandma and Eist, so no problem usually, except when she jumps in and lifts the blankets, Geralt is nude and his pee-pee is all up.
"Why is it like that, mister Geralt ?" she asks, observing it. She has already seen a boy's pee-pee, but it has never looked that. « Does it hurt ? »
Geralt swallows. « Don't worry Ciri, I was just doing adult things. Something little girls don't have to know. » He moves up, untungling himself from the blankets
"I'm a big girl now! » she whines. She is! Even Grandma says so! « So I have the right to know!" If she was standing, she would have stamped her foot, but she was already in the bed.
Geralt kinda panicked, alright. He could see the little girl tearing up, and was kind of afraid of having to deal with a tantrum. And yes, he was picturing the night before, when he had helped bathing her, but he no intention to ever do anything. But well, she is practically begging in his lap, right ? No harm done if she is asking for it...
"Well, it's a special thing big girls and big boys do to make them happy... You want to try ?"
She nods eagerly, so he takes her hand and put it on his cock. He moans. To feel, to see her so little hand arount it...
"There, you wrap around it, and you drag your hand to the base, and then to the tp, and you do it again."
She does so, her hand still engulfed by his own. She's so little she can barely take it all, and by the time she reach the tip, he's on verge of cumming. He doesn't stop, but he closes his eyes, the sight too tempting for him to last. He can't reign in his moans, and her hand clench sometimes, trying to get a good grip. He could... He can. "Ciri, open your mouth, put it just above my penis, and say my name. And close your eyes, also". He opens his own, and the sight is too much, he speed up once and then cum beautifully on her face. She's startled, and jerks away, but not before some come went everywhere. Some in her tongue, and he can see her swallow, and grimace. Gods, how he wants to fuck her angel's face... For now, he takes his phone, and snaps a picture of her with her big doe eyes, cum in her hair, on her cheeks. Her hand is still on his cock. He doesn't resist this huge, and takes his dirty hand, takes her face in them, and goes to lick the cum on her face before sweeping the rest of his cum on his hand and kissing, exploring her small mouth, licking her tongue and forcing her to swallow every thing. When he backs away, she looks a little upset.
"Geralt ! It's disgusting !"
Shes pouting, and Geralt resist the need to it all again.
"Well, sugar, it's what big girls do to please big boys. Do you want to know what big boys do to big girls."
She pouts some more, and nods her agreement.
"You need to disrobe, and then we will touch your kitty, just like we touched my pee-pee, alright."
She looks hesitant at that. Her grand-parents probably warned her against strange adult who wanted to touch her cunt, but he can work around that.
"You're a big girl, now, remember ? And did touching my pee-pee hurt you or me ? I looked very happy, no ?”
When she looks more sure of herself, he takes her nightgown off, and lay her down on the bed. He fits himself between her legs, and and guide her own hand. With his other hand, he parts her labia, unveiling her cunt. It's obviously hairless, and still completly dry. Well, he can work on that. For the first few minutes, he leads her hand to touch her parts, naming each one with the dirtier words he knows, and reveals in her breathless voice repeating them. She gasps when she touch her clit, and full on sobs the name when drags his whole palm against it. Then, he licks across it, and she spams around her head, her legs closing automatically around him. It took longs minutes for her to cum, and by the time she does, she can even talk anymore or lift her arms, twitching against him and wordless noise coming to his ear. He thrust his tongue as far as he can, and can finally feel some other wetness other than his own spit, and works her open a little longuer before suckling her clit. She cums there, shouting and sobbing. He doesn't stop suckling, and then he does it again, adding his fingers this time. She cums a second time, barely making any sound this time, when he can fit three of his fingers inside her. Her cunt throbs and clench around them, and himself, painfully hard for all this time, cum across her cunt, mixing his semen with her juices. Despite his jaw hurting, he licks them too, and she cums once again without even twitching. Finally satisfied with his work, he raises himself up.
She's out cold, laying unconscious under him. He takes another picture, mad at himself for not having taken a video. Now, he just have to decide if he will wait to fuck her, or takes advantage of her obliviousness...
Anyway I guess that’s my normal, publishing a few stories and then disapearing into the night for at least a few months. And also that my best one are the one I write in a few hours, because I’m pretty satisfied of my writing on this one.
Onto the fic !
Ciri centric, with the wolves, Triss and Yennefer. Tw are underage, dubious consent, forced chastity (yes it’s a porn fic), mention of fisting, and pseudo-incest I guess.
After the disaster with Pavetta, Calanthe decides to not take any risks with her sole heir. So at ten years old, Cirilla is put in a chastity belt. It's magic, the only bit Calanthe consents to use, and cover only the front, and does not require to be remove before her wedding night. The two only keys able to open it are with Calanthe and with Mousesack.
Ciri grows accustomed to it, does not even remember it until she's around thirteen and a tingling sensation makes way into her groin when she looks at some pretty people. Some nights, she grinds all night long against her pillow for some relief, not to avail. But she doesn't question it, and anyway her marriage had been discussed with various hypothetical husbands since she was six, so it shouldn't be long before she learns about this new sensation.
But.
Cintra falls.
And both keys are lost, and Ciri still doesn't know what's this device on her crotch, and when the peril seems so far, the tingling feeling comes back with revenge. She's alone with four hot men, who does not mind a bit working without a shirt around her, and sometimes she seems wet down there. But she does not ask Geralt what it is, too timid on this subject.
It finally changes when she bathes with them. Even if she's been there for a few months, it's the first time they do, the witcher respecting her intimacy, but bahts have always been convivial in Kaer Morhen, and Ciri has asked to share one with them, sad to be left off from her new family.
And the witchers, with their sensible noses, knows what is happening with her. They catch the horny scent she produces, stronger and wetter when they're shirtless. And they're curious and eager to see how far she's willing to go, and the bath is an ideal time to put that in action.
And they're surprised when she disrobes, and instead of white pubes they see metal glistening on her cunt.
Ciri ends up lying on Eskel’s thighs, learning that this thing is not really normal, with Geralt and Lambert between her legs trying to pry it off. Vesemir left to consult a few volumes. Ciri doesn't really listens to the two witchers caressing her cunt, too overwhelmed by the feelings and Eskel's red cock poking unto her cheek. So she nearly misses Lambert saying « whatever, she still got two holes » and is unceremoniously flipped off on her belly, Lambert's thumb already breaching her back entrance. She does not have time to gasps before Eskel gorges her with his prick, instructing her how to suck. They all fuck her multiple times, thanks to witcher stamina, but she's not able to cum even when they lick and pinch her nipples. She's left unsatisfied, on the verge of cumming for hours but unable to reach the greatest ecstasy.
Until Triss comes to the fortress, when she's not training for combat, the witcher teaches her how to please a man, making her gag on cocks and clench up around them. Ciri begs for it, wanting unknowingly to reach bliss but still left so frustrated after each day. Sadly, Triss is not able to take off her chastity belt, but she can teach her how to please a woman, how to lick and finger and suck to find this so wanted ecstasy. She gets potions to thighten her hole, left loose after so much fun sessions. She learns to like the taste of pain and hardness, Triss liking it rough and even more so by jealousy, fucking her with a polished wood harness her hand tied in Ciri's hair and pulling harshly.
Then she's trusted to Yennefer's care. She learns how to play games, fucking on the back of unicorns, in front of brainwashed people, underwater, with troll's cock, wine bottles, and fists. She lends her ass to whole villages who doesn’t even remember it. She does it on altars, on kings’ thrones, in taverns, in dungons, with elves, dwarves and emperors alike.
And then finally, with Yennefer and Triss combined forces, her belt comes off. She learns how to cum, and she can’t stop fiddling with her cunt, begging for someone to fill her up until she’s despondent, and even after that, utterly addicted to cock and pussy before even losing her virginity.
oh my *god* your blog-- I've been dying for a dddne blog with a pregnancy/lactation kink. Would you write (adult, but whatever) Ciri, taken in by Geralt, who wants to give his wife Yennefer a baby, although they're both sterile? They don't care who the father is, so they inspect, train, and whore her out until she's pregnant, feeding her hormones so she produces plenty of milk for their baby, and both enjoy her body once it's round and swollen.
"I think it's the sweetest gift you ever gave me,” Yennefers purrs into his ear. Her fingers are wrapped around his cock, loosely stroking him, while she's embracing him by his side. They're not really focused on their pleasure, savoring in the beautiful view of Ciri getting fucked into next week. She had been at it for a few hours, now, and would continue for a few hours still. She was already kind out of it, and had been barely two hours in, when a man had taken a little too long in the throat. After assessing she was okay, things had gone on. If Yen felt generous, she might give her something to awakenen some more, but for the moment Yennefer was mostly feeling luscious and decadent. And well, Ciri didn't had to be aware of everything to enjoy and to procreate.
"You might wait the final product before saying that" chuckles Geralt, before breaking into a moan when Yennefer twisted her fingers around the head.
"Have you seen her ? Whatever she does it will be absolutely perfect, if only because they will be ours."
Geralt joins his fingers to hers, and put his other hand on her flat stomach. He smiles, and they lock eyes.
"They will be ours."
There's a weak cry coming from Ciri. She's upright, supported and fucked by three men at once. Two have claimed her pussy, and one satisfy himself with her asshole. It's a remarquable feat of cooperation for a wild orgy, but the men seems intent of wrecking the woman. Her arms are draped around the neck of one man, but it would be too generous to say she's clinging in him, it's more likely that they're here to not hinder them. Her head rolls on the shoulders of another man, drooling with a look of exctasy on her face. She tenses up, nealry convulsing in the men's arms, and Geralt can sense the smell of her orgasm. It's slightly acidic version of her own smell, soil and sunflowers, and he can also smell Yennefer's juice, an delicious aroma to his nose. Yennefer smirks.
"She loves it. She's in paradise here."
"Can see that," he mumbles, snuggling and peppering kisses into her throat "Told you fertility potions were not necessary. The process can take a week for all we care, we're not in a hurry."
"Hm, I waited for years for this moment, a week more is nothing compared to it . Now, what about whe think about our pleasure ? She doesn't need us much for now." She climbs onto his laps, slowly lowering herself on his gorged member, and the rest is long hours of indistinct of bliss.
–
"Melitele, look at her. She's more cum than flesh !"
It's not untrue, by the look of Ciri. She has been unconscious for the last couple of hours, men still using her rag body. After they all departed, she was left in a puddle of cum and other body fluids, her eyes staring unseeingly in the void. Cum covers her everywhere, leaking from her mouth and her other holes. So many men had cummed inside her that her belly is inflated, and when Yennefer squash it slightly with her foot, cum flows from her pussy much like a waterfall.
"Well, we let them do that. I thougt about plugging her, but her pussy is ruined."
"Yeah, you could fit your whole arm here without a problem. I think I saw four men taking her here at once, that cannot have helped. Anyway, we will be at that for the whole week, is it really important to fix it ?"
"If she's too loose, nobody will want to fuck her, Yen."
She sighs. "Well, I'm certainly not cleaning all that. Take her, she will need more than one bath."
Geralt takes Ciri on his shoulders, getting cum everywhere. Ciri's belly is pressing against it, and a fresh leak of seed trails down his body.
"We will need one bath as well." Yennefers snorts. She draw her hand in the air, and soon they're crossing the portal, leaving the room in a desastrous state.
–
Ciri comes to herself when they're bathing her. She's lying on top of Geralt, who plays with her hair, while Yennefer leans on his shoulder.
She moans, and turns her head. She's lightheaded, and her whole body hurts, but her spirits reeks of contentment.
"How did it go ?” she asks, her voice weak from misuse.
Yennefer caress her belly. Ciri can see it's slightly bumped, but knows that it's no baby. Well, except if she has been unconscious for four months, but she feel an uncomfortable plug in her cunt, so it's more probably seed, left to take.
"Well, it didn't take yet, but none of us can tell for sure for the next two weeks, so it looks we can continue the festivities until then."
"You're still up for that ?" asks Geralt. His voice is as gravely as ever, and she can feel his eyes buning a hole in her hairline. She sighs in contentment, and shifts a little on his lap, trying to find a position which doesn't hurt her. It's impossible, but she likes feeling him getting slowly hard under her.
"Well if you get a spell against hurt it would be much appreciated, but I don't know for you, but it was the best night of my life, so I'm still definitely in. But now I just want to sleep."
With all her shuffling, the plug move slightly in her pussy, bruising her already sensitive walls. On one hand, she want to remove it, but just the thought of moving it, and touching her quim, not mentionning cleaning the cum stuffed inside, is unbearable.
"Yeah, no more action for us for the moment."
She can hear the smile in Yen's voice, but can't reply anything, her limbs too slow and her eyes closing depsite her best wishes.
–
It takes twenty days for Geralt to smell her pregnancy. Yennefer takes a sample of her pee, and with some experiment, she confirms that Ciri is indeed fertilized.
In those three wild weeks, she has experimented maybe the most focused fucking ever. Countless men had took her, most of the time let loose amongst a sea of them, sometimes suspended at a convenient height, or other positions. Suspended, or secured to a stock, was gentler on her body, but less intense since only one could fuck her from behind, so she much preferred being used like a ragdoll, where four men could fuck her cunt at once. She would have loved to experience more, but well, it was difficult to fit more around her. Maybe she could talk about Yennefer about experiencing with dildos ?
The feeling of being used just like a fleshlight, no consideration about her state, while still being kept safe by Yen and Geralt, was the best feeling of the world. She was so tired that she couldn't do anything else for days, beside eating and sleeping. It didn't stop Geralt and Yennefer for having their fun, be it in each other or with her body. Once, Yennefer had awaken her before they cleaned and healed her, to find herself stuck on Geralt's two arms. One had been bruising her guts, and the other was all but fuckpunching her cervix. She could feel his fingers moving inside her, her pussy parting to make way for his massive forearm and she had came so hard she had blackout, squirting on Geralt's face, all for the eyes of Yennefer who was masturbating in front of the spectacle.
One day, even with all the care of Yennefer, her cunt had hurt too much to do anything, but they still didn't want to lose a day. So, after deliberation, they had folded her so her knees would be beneath her armpits, and her wrist tied to her ankles so she was presenting her cunt and asshole to the world. The position would have hurt, but thanks to Yennefer constant attention, she wasn't more sore than usual. Then, they had stuck a large funnel in her pussy, to receive the seed of masturbating men in front of her. Yennefer had helped in that too. When one man presented himself, she would make him live his most wished fantasy. It resulted in a very agreeable ending for all invented. Even Ciri wasn't left alone, showered under the affections of Geralt, who switched between licking and pinching her sensitive nipples, and toying with her tender clit. It was not the best of those days, but it was the most tender one, weirdly.
-
8 months into her pegnancy, Ciri is a picture of debauchery. It's not helped by the fact that if she could she would spent her time fucking, sure, but it's not Yen nor Geralt's fault that her body is so tempting.
Her breasts had fillen in, thanks to the potions Yen made to be make sure her milk would be the best, and the sight if them boucing when she rode Geralt would fill fantasies of countless men. Then, her belly started showing, and Ciri started to glow. She was positively radiant.
And horny. Very horny.
And who were they to deny her when she was offering the best thing of their life ?
So it was very rare for Ciri to not be filled by someone, be it Geralt, or a toy. Altough Geralt didn't penetrate her much, prefering to spend his time stuck to her overfilled tits. He would kneels besides her, careful with her belly, and would pinch the nipples, slowly drawing milk from them before he would engulf them in his mouth. Yennefer did that too, sometimes, but did not have Geralt's patience to suck them dry, as Geralt did. He could spend hours suckling, twirlinghis tongue around the buds. Thankfully for Ciri, Yennefer had laced some aphrodisiacs into her food, and her whole body was way more sensitive than usual. It only took a few mintues of Geralt playingwith her breasts for her to cum. Mindful of her pregnant state, they couldn't vary positions a lot and Yennefer had never been so thankfull for her magic. It was truly a sight, Ciri lost to pleasure, worked by a few toys of choice magicked to fuck her over and over, sending her over the edge to a record number of orgasms.
The girl is wasted on witchering, and if Yennefer didn't know that she truly loved doing it, she would insist that she was made for being pregnant. She has the body of a goddess, and would never fail to find some followers, ready to worship her and to impregnate her, leaving her in a fertilized state all the time.
Yennefer knows that the next few months, and years if she's honest, will be harder than ever, but she doesn't mind to do it with Geralt. And, if Ciri agrees to, she wouldn't mind do that once again....
How about a young Jaskier seduced out into the woods by the pan pipe playing of a horny satyr that's looking to deep dick a young virgin??? Bonus points if Jaskier agrees to the trust to in-part learn a song/learn to play the god Pan's pipe (spoiler the Pipe is his penis not a musical instrument) enjoy!! Welcome to the fun
Here’s your prompt anon ! Once again it took soooo long, but well it’s finally there !
Jaskier truly have the worse ideas. Well, if he was to rebuke, he would petulantly say that it wasn't his idea. Like everything bad in his life, it was Valdo's fault.
There were a rumor going around campus that there were a god in the forest. A god very interested in virgins. Kinda like unicorns, but reverse. It left alone any others persons. It picked Jakskier's curiosity, at first, but not to the point of going to see.
There were plenty enough to see in Oxenfurt, no need to get lost in a muddy forest. And then, Valdo Marx, the Prick of the Academy, had insinuated than only virgins where afraid of going to the forest alone, and, that himself had crossed it without so much a trouble. While looking Jaskier directly into the eyes.
So obviously, Jaskier couldn't let that go, and loudly announced to his friends that he fancied a stroll in aforementionned forest. Some of his friends had whistled, impressioned, and one had patted him on his back
--
Which was how he found himself in the forest, at dusk. Until his death bed he would swear that he wasn't afraid at all, no, that he absolutely didn't nearly piss himself when a squirrel made some branch moves above his head. No, he didn't.
Still trudging along the path, he started to hear a strange melody. Forgoing the trail, he tried to follow the source of the music, going deeper and deeper into the forest.
« Are you lost, boy? » a voice boomed, somwhere on his right.
He turned, and there there was a satyr. A man on top, with gigantic horn on his head, and some sort of goat-like's bottom. Most obvious, though, was his cock, standing proud and glistening. It was long, longer than any he had ever seen, even inpublic baths, and slightly curved. A nest of curls was shielding the biggest pairs of ballsack he could imagine. Stunned, Jaskier could only gapes at the man, who shuckled.
« Cat got your tongue ? »
Jaskier managed to squeak a no, but he was unsure if the satyr could hear him. The creature smiled, a sardonic smile which spelled trouble for Jaskier.
« I'm the god of music, Pan. You're lost in my forests, child. Have anything to say for your defense ? » he asked lowly.
« No, sir. »
The man harrumphed, jumped to his feet and approached Jaskier.
« I- I heard a strange music, that's all, » stammered Jaskier, trying to slow down his hammering heart. The man lifted his instrument, clutched into his hand. Jaskier nodded jerkily. « You're interested in learning pipe, boy ? »
A strange glint appeared into his eyes. Jaskier hesitated, but it was a god. How could say no to learning an instrument from a god ? So he nodded.
« And what do you offer ? I don't work for free, after all. »
« What may you want ? I don't have a lot to offer. »
The man licked his lip, and pat his cock. Jaskier's eyes fell onto it.
« Oh. »
« Yes, oh, » said the god with a big smile, showing many teeths, « You're untouched, aren't you ? I've got the eyes for this sort of things. »
Jaskier went beet red, but nodded. Learning how to play an instrument from a God was worth so much more than his virginity. »
« So we have an agreement, boy ? Your virginity against learning my pipe ? »
Jaskier nodded, no trusting his voice right now.
« Well, what are you waiting for ? On all fours, and take off your clothes if you do not wish to go back home in your birth suit ! »
--
Jaskier cummed for the first time when Pan fingered him. The god started with one fingers, slowly entering him, covered in some slick substance. Jaskier gladly prefered not to know where it came from. The god switched to two fingers, and brushed something in Jaskier which made him gasp. It wasn't pleasure like when he stroke himself, alone in his room, but it soon build to be even better. A warm feeling settled in his stomach, and after a few minutes of Pan stroking the thing, he grew weak i the knees and cum splatted the soil. Jaskier keened, and fell to his shoulders, his arms giving in.
Behind him, the god laughed, and his cock slid along the crack of his ass a few times, before catching into his holes. Jaskier was pushed into the dirt, one hand on his shoulder, his cheek shoved
into the ground with small and painful rocks digging into his skin.
Pan wasn't particulary slow, instead shoving his lenght in one powerful thrust. Jaskier, still sensible from his orgasm, could only moan in half-pain half-pleasure, and the god groaned.
« Knew it you would be so tight, boy, virgins always are. »
He started to make small thrusts, grinding deep into Jaskier, against the small bundle of nerves, making Jaskier gasps each time. A hand sneaked on his cock, stroking him on the same rythm of the pounding. One thrust, one stroke. Another thurst, one stroke.
Jaskier cummed once again after long minutes filled by short pants and dirty words gasped behind him, send over the edge by one sharp smack on his prostate. With the tightening of his ass, thrusting him is harder but so much more pleasurable for Pan, making orgasm pretty quick after him.
His dick sliped out, cum splasing on the ground and Jaskier falling onto it, boneless and senseless from pleasure.
« Now, now, we're far from being finished ! »
Jaskier blinked slugglishly, a still hard cock appearing in front of his eyes. After stuggling to raise to his knees, he tried to put it in his mouth, but the sheer size of it proved it to be quite difficult.
« Lick it if it doesn't fit, don't worry, » Pan chuckled. Jaskier licked, from the tip to the root, sucking the balls into his mouth, one at a time. The god moaned, and it only encouraged Jaskier further. He stroke the shaft with both his hands, still sucking on the balls. He moved on licking patterns on the member, swirling his tongue against the skin and swallowing the tip. The god struck a hand in his hair, forcing his mouth to part for the cock. He still couldn't get very far, but the god forced his head to move, and Jaskier let himself be manhandled, still working his tongue every where he could. Pan didn't let him breathe, and even if he could take some breath with his nose, Jaskier ended light-headed quickly, and Pan finallly cumming was litteraly a god-sent gift. Cum flooded his mouth, and he strangled himself tryng to not swallow any.
« When will you teach me your instrument ? » he asked after long minutes trying to catch his breath.
Pan laughed, a high-spirited joyful thing, and he had a smile in his voice as he said :
« But I just taught you how to blow my pipe, little piper ! I simply didn't specify which one. You're lucky, it's a fine instrument if I ever saw one.»
At that, he sauntered away, his cock swinging between his legs, disapearing quickly from Jaskier's view and leaving him utterly speechless.
He met a music's god and didn't even have anything to show off beside cum leaking from his ass and some still drying on his chin.
CW: a/b/o, freeuse, public sex, sex on the bus, fairly dubious consent, omega!Jaskier, Jaskier/who knows
It's a nice spring morning and Jaskier is on his way to school.
After long minutes of waiting, Jaskier’s bus arrives at the bus stop. He rises from his seat, wincing a little at the speed, picks up his satchel and steps into the omega's part of the bus.
He sweeps his eyes over the seats. All of them are already taken, except for one - which Jaskier is supposed to leave free for the pregnant omega he was waiting with. He steps aside to let her sit, giving her a polite smile around his gag as she lowers herself on the dildo protruding from the seat, even though he wishes he could have had the seat instead.
As soon as the doors close, there are several hands pawing at him. Jaskier heaves a resigned sigh.
He's the only free omega for a bus full of alphas, of course they're all fighting over who will get to have him. The fight is made even more desperate by the fact that he's wearing his ball gag and he has his identification plug in his ass, leaving only one of his holes free for their use.
The alphas squabble for a bit, and then there's a deep, dangerous growl, and the alphas all retreat except for one.
The alpha pushes up Jaskier's skirt to reveal his pussy. He opens his zipper, pulls out his cock with a rustle of fabric. Jaskier tightens his grip on the pole and braces against it as the alpha's cock breaches him.
It's not that he hates commuting, Jaskier thinks to himself as the alpha starts fucking him, it's just that he'd be more comfortable sat on one of the few special seats for omegas - he likes how he can feel the movements of the vehicle in his cunt, likes it when the dildo vibrates with the thrum of the bus when they're waiting at a stop light. Being used by alphas just means a lot of inconvenient clean-up.
There's nothing he can do - he wears his gag, and his plug, like good omegas are supposed to, and only his alpha can remove those, but his cunt is free game every time he's in public unless he finds an adequate seat for himself. The only thing that would guarantee him sitting priviledge is getting pregnant, and Jaskier doesn't have a mate yet so that's out of the question.
Jaskier knows omegas that actually hate sitting down in public transport and always stay standing, offering themselves up. They think that one day, an alpha will see what a good hole they are and decide to bond them. Jaskier doesn't believe that his public service will earn him a mate.
The alpha fucks him hard and fast, his thrusts jostling Jaskier's whole body. His thick cock reaches so deep in him it makes Jaskier whine and whimper softly behind his gag.
He can feel the eyes of the whole bus on him, omegas and betas and alphas alike watching as he gets fucked. He knows the other alphas are impatiently waiting for this one to finish, hoping that they could have a go with him too - and he also knows he'll ruin their morning when he gets off at the next stop.
The alpha's thrust quicken, and then he lets out a grunt and Jaskier feels his warm seed fill him. He reaches behind himself, wrapping a hand around the alpha's knot and squeezes it, milking it to help it go down.
By the time he's done and the alpha pulls away, Jaskier's thighs are streaked with come, his hand soaked in it. There's more dripping out of his pussy still.
Another alpha moves forward to use him, but the bus starts slowing down, the speakers announcing Jaskier's stop. Jaskier rearranges his skirt and gets out the moment the doors open. He can't be late to class.
Here's a thought that's currently stuck in my head: Modern AU. Jaskiers car breaks down in the middle of nowhere while there's a snow storm coming. He decides to go on by foot and comes to the home of Geralt and his family (Vesemir as the head of their family). They let Jaskier stay on the condition that he will do whatever they want. Due to the storm Jaskier has no choice but to accept. So he basically become free use? And in the end they might just decide to keep Jaskier? -🐭
Woohoo ! I finally finished something ! Sorry for the wait (.... two months ? lol) and thank your for the welcome hug!
“My house, my rules” says the old man, Vesemir, as he presented himself. Which is, fair, since Jaskier had all but begged to be let in just the time to let the storm pass. He doesn't think it needed to be say, but not every guests he had had been respectful so he understands the warning.
When he started his journey, he did not except a cold wave to cross the country along side him. Or the snow storm. Which blocked him him pretty fast, leaving him alone, cold, and without any possiblities to reach anyone by phone.
He was preparing himself to become news headline one week later, when they would find his frozen corpse, when a pick-up thundered on the road. It had skittered to a stop, a man with white hair asking if there were a problem.
Wich there obviously were.
So that's how he finds himself in a little wood cabin, lost in the snowy forests, accidentaly interrupting a family winter retreat.
The family isn't big, with only four men. Four burly men.
Jaskier could salivate just at the sight of one of them. He won't do anything, because he's a unwanted guest for a vague time period, and he doesn't want to cause any embarrassment to any of his hosts. So like a good little guest, he thanks them for the meal, help them clean the dishes, and after some light hearted discussion, retreats to his assigned room. He didn't plan to fall asleep immediatly, but after a few minutes on his phone, he finds his eyelids dropping against his own will, so he put his phone to charge and goes to sleep.
--
There's noise behind him. He is moved, hands touching him, disrobing him, restraining him. He buckles into the touch, moans when fingers find his nipples, flicking them. One big hand reached to his cock, keeping a light touch to harden him and smearing pre everywhere. There were fingers at his mouth, begging him to open which he did gladly, tonguing at them, coating them in saliva, gagging.
There were a mouth on his cock, engulfing him.
With a startle, he wakes up to find that it was in fact not a dream, that there were handsome men with a lot of hands in his bed. He might have believed it was a delicious dream, except for the fact that he was strapped to the bed, his legs kept apart while his hands are tied together to the headboard.In one instant he is more awake than he's ever been, ready to shout to ask for help, even if he knows than nobody will hear him.
But before he can make a sound, a huge hand slaps on his mouth. “Nobody will save you if you scream, but it's very annoying for us and so we’re most likely to hurt if you do it. Choose wisely, boy, because the roads are not planned to clear before spring.” It's Vesemir, the old patriarch who spoke. Last evening, he seemed a tired old man, nice, but he seems more forceful right now.
And springs is weeks away.
“Will you be good, boy ?”
Jaskier nods, terrified. He hope the man lied, that he will not be stuck here for so long, or at least that he will find a way to escape, but he won't find it tied to a bed.
“Great. Now suck, because it's all the lube you will get.”
The man shifts and take away his hand, only to replace it with his cock. Without his hands, Jaskier has trouble to guide it. It knocks into his teeth and he gets his cock slapped in retribution. The pain makes him open his mouth, finally allowing the cock to enter ; he tries to drool as much as he can, swirl his tongue as far as he can go, but it's no long before the cock retreat and he's left staring at the ceilling, trying to stop his chattering teeth from betraying his terror. With the tremor coursing his body, it was probably no use.
There's a dry finger at his entrance, and he clenched automatically. Another slap to his cock, and another voice booms, “Relax, little bird, it's easier that way”. He tries to obey, and the fingers finally slips in.
He had other partners, it's far from the first time he's been penetrated, but still it's one of the most painful one.
The finger is gone far too quickly for his taste, and a blunt head press into him. He winces, trying to calm his breath and to relax his backside. It works, somehow, and he doesn't tear anything.
Cum floods him, and the dick retreat, only to be replace by another. There's one tapping on his lips, and he obediently opens them. Turns out he values his life.
It's a long time for him, all for men cumming four times during the night. To his own shame, his own shaft harden, it can only takes so much prostate petting before it rises to the challenge.
When he's emppty of anyone, one hand wrap arount it, and he manages to cum with a strangled cry, but it's most pitiful orgasm he ever achieved. He blacks out ater it.
--
He wakes up an undetermined amount of time later, to finf that he had been cleaned, ad that a cloth obscures his mouth. He gulps, dread claiming his stomach.
Vesemir appears at the door.
“So, my estimed guest, with my boys we reached an agreement. The snow has settled, and this particular area is closed for the winter. Which, if you want to stay with us, would last for around two more months. Obviously we won't let you stay there for free. The only work you will need is to help us around the kitchen, and to let open access to your holes just like that. Or you could tempt your luck outside. Don't recomend it, though. So, what do you choose, little bird ?”
But what choice does he really have ?
Maybe... He was attracted to them, at first. Maybe he could forget about last night, about being forced, and focus on that thought.
Maybe he could be alright.
--
“You think we broke him ?”
It's a legit question. They had a bit of fun with their toy last week, a prolongated kind of fun, which had seemed to shook him to the core. While it has been so much fun to edge him for hours, then putting a vibrating dildo up his butt, making him cum countless time without time-out, the man had barely spoke since then. He has a glazed look in his eyes, staring in the void when not fucked, and they found him more than once with his cock in his hands when leave him alone.
He is still a skillful toy, sucking cock like a professional and tightening his holes just at the right times, but he is still changed. For now, he tends to be more liberal with his pleasured moans.
“Maybe. Don't know if he will survive if we release him, now.”
Lambert and Geralt exchanges a smirk. No word is needed. They both know that they will do all their possible to break their toy in order to keep him.
