Just another h*rny Witcher blog. Don't do fanfiction or prompt fills, just long rambles with lots of unnecessary worldingbuilding/details. Would love to hear your rambles too! Please let me know if there are any additional tags you'd like me to use.
Have a pretty heavy preference towards bottom Jaskier but enjoy bottom Geralt if done right. More into dom Geralt but also usually dom Jaskier if he’s still the bottom. Like any gender x any gender, though naturally this blog will be mostly m/m. Down with both creating and receiving trans content. While we’re on the topic of bodies, I’m also here for sex characteristics you rarely or never find in actual humans, like two dicks, fully formed penis AND vagina, or any of that ABO shit.
I’ve only watched the Netflix show but enjoy Eskel and Lambert content, though I’m hesitant to create my own ideas with those characters. As a rule of thumb I’m comfortable with Vesemir being a character but not with him being included in any sexual situations. Neutral on sexual content including Yennefer or Ciri.
Kink List:
!!!! Please read the entire list if you want to check my opinion on a particular kink, because a lot of very closely related kinks will have different ratings, to the point I’ve felt the need to fucking star the worst offenders.
Light Nope (may interact with but would be despite it including this):
Pissing on self/other, mpreg buttpreg (in contrast to vaginal pregnancy. Implied buttpreg is neutral or love though), daddy kink, age play, emetophilia, feederism, lactation, tickling, semi-public sex where high risk of getting caught (if consensual. If non or dub, like)
Neutral: handjobs, BJs/cunnilingus, frottage, pegging, anything to do with testicles, cum eating, felching, bukkake, sex with 3+ participants, shibari, gags, asphyxiation, puppy or pony play, mind control, crying, feminization, cuckolding, impotence, small dick/micro-penis, pain*, spanking/impact, piercing (as a verb or noun), marking/branding, blood, physical abuse, milking, forced orgasm, orgasm denial/desperation to orgasm, chastity, cock cages, castration, virginity kink, innocence play, clothing-based kinks, exhibitionism**, weight-related kinks, praise kink***, body worship, pregnancy, body horror
Love: leashes, double penetration (same hole or different), large insertion, knotting, fisting, enemas, piss enemas, inflation, oviposition, object penetration, beast-penetrating-person, dubcon, noncon, consensual nonconsent, mutual nonconsent, extreme underage, (pseudo) incest, self-cest, **forced exhibitionism (inc. public sex, livestreaming, or recording), free use, stuck-in-wall, sexual slavery, ***patronizing/belittling praise, micro/macro, animalistic behavior, ruts/heats, ABO, plugging in liquids/solids, genital exposure (legs spread wide and/or pull apart lips/cheeks to expose hole), cum dripping out of holes, speculum-usage, gaping (anal, vaginal or urethral), rosebud/prolapse
Gore/vore: Like most kinds of non-sexual gore, occasionally enjoy sexual gore, including snuff, but for the most part avoid it or only tolerate it. Not into sexual consumption of human flesh but I do like uhh, whatever the name is for when a person’s been swallowed whole and they’re alive in the other’s stomach. Vaguely aware there are additional kinds of vore out there but very much not looking to expand my understanding.
List of all tags I use under the cut. Again, just ask me if there are any additional tags you’d like me to use. Let me know if I forgot a tag in the list or on a post.
#nonion post
#nonion reply
#nonion rb [only used if not adding content to the post via the comment section. Reviews or any other type of comment that’s not of interest to anyone besides the OP do not count as “content”]
#nonion underage cw
#nonion extreme underage cw [~12 yo and younger. Anything extremely underage will also include the general underage tag]
My personal rule for sexswaps is that you can’t give the female version big tiddies unless the male canonly has a bit of tiddy in the form of muscle and/or fat. Can’t have above-average breast size in one sex unless they’re above average in the other, okay? This prevents every female design having anime tiddies, and also means afab!Geralt is valid to have massive honkers. Geralt uses them to smother Jaskier when they want some peace and quiet. Jaskier has no complaints about this system.
Hey! I’m trying to find a specific prompt but I can’t remember which author filled it. It was about catboy Jaskier and human Geralt. Was this by any chance you?
Hello! Terribly sorry for the delayed response. 😅
As for the fic you’re looking for, can you give me more info about this fic, though? I filled out a prompt for a catboy!Jaskier, but it featured a witcher!Geralt.
(Tagging @afterhoursfic @witchertrashbag @fiendmate for some assistance as well, hehe 😃 )
Horny thoughts? Monster Geralt. Maybe he’s a werewolf or a leshen, anything like that. Just fucking the hell out of 16yo Jaskier who was sacrificed to him, getting him all swollen with cum, breeding him up. (Also I have another idea which you’ll hopefully like, I’ll send it in a bit, sorry for the spam >.<)- 🐼
hnnnn, a leshen, fuck.
geralt is the ancient spirit of the forest and the village has been giving him sacrifices ever since people first settled here. they give him fruit and vegetables, grain, meat, sometimes even necklaces of glass beads, precious stones, delicate gold chains, hoping to buy his mercy and protection with their offerings. Geralt doesn’t really have much use for a lot of these things, but he sees their intent behind it, giving him something they could have kept for themselves to show him their respect - and he’s willing to let them hunt unharmed in his woods and even swears to himself to protect the village from outside harm.
it works out well - until there comes a rough year, rougher than any other. For the first time ever, the villagers don’t have anything to spare for their forest spirit, all of them half-starved and desperate. their crops have died and they would need to hunt in the forest to survive the winter - hunt much more than they have ever taken from Geralt, and with nothing to give him in return, only the promise of a big offering the next year - if their misfortune won’t return.
geralt doesn’t really have the concept of a long time debt, and he really isn’t too keen on letting the villagers bleed his forest dry -
the council decides to sacrifice a person to Geralt.
they won’t sacrifice an elder, not wanting the spirit to feel slighted - they pick from those still full of life, at the height of their strength or at least coming into it. Julian - or, Jaskier, as he prefers to be called - draws the short straw.
they dress him up in the nicest clothes they can put together, paint his eyes with ashes for they don’t have kohl and pinch his cheeks and lips until they redden. Then, they tie his hands behind his back and lead him to where they usually leave their gifts for geralt. they tie Jaskier to a tree, so he doesn’t run, sing a prayer and leave him alone, trembling with fear.
Jaskier’s heart hammers against his ribcage, the sound terribly loud in the silence of the forest. he expects to be killed, to be ripped apart and devoured, and he weeps, mourning the life he won’t ever get to live.
he nearly jumps out of his skin when geralt appears. he finds there is no need for the rope, because he’s paralyzed with fear.
the leshen is huge, at least twice as tall as Jaskier. it’s body seems to be wooden; its hands end in long, sharp claws. it wears a bit of leather, secured around its waist with frayed rope. on its head, a deer’s skull with a very ipressive set of antlers sits, white with age, and beneath it, hidden in shadow what seems to be the leshen’s face. it’s a thing crudely carved into rough bark, but it looks somewhat human - except for those yellow glowing eyes, slitted like a cat’s.
geralt knows why this boy is here - he’s a sacrifice. the villagers probably think he’ll be devoured - and judging by the overwhelming smell of fear coming from the boy, he must be thinking the same - but that’s not what geralt wants him for.
“don’t be afraid, little one,” geralt says, and to jaskier it sounds little like the creak of old wood. “I won’t eat you.” he reaches for the rope that ties him to the tree and cuts it with his claws, leaving jaskier free to run, showing his good will.
jaskier is hesitant, though. “and what will you do with me?”
geralt gently grasps him in his hands, careful not to scratch him with his talons, and brings him closer to his face, looking him over. he nods to himself when he finds the boy satisfactory. “i will mate you,” he explains. “i will breed you, and you will carry my children, little one.”
jaskier squawks and struggles in geralt’s grip, even though it’s futile. “what - but - i’m a boy! not a girl!“
“doesn’t matter,” geralt assures him. “all members of your species are able to carry my children.”
jaskier swallows, and stays quiet. Geralt carries him to his lair, the small cave that’s the closest thing he has to a home - or, more like a warehouse, since his home is the entire forest, and this is just where he keeps all the gifts he gets - but he knows that he has to offer a fixed place of comfort to his mate, since the little one has to be kept warm and safe to be healthy and he has to be healthy to carry geralt’s children.
there are warm furs strewn on the ground, and he lays the human on them. the boy struggles to sit up, his hands still bound behind his back - geralt forgot about those. he turns the boy to lie on his side and cuts the rope with his claw, careful not to hurt the human’s delicate hands.
“thank you,” the boy whispers as he rubs the rope marks on his wrists. he still smells afraid, but not as much as before.
“would you like something to eat?” geralt asks.
the boy’s eyes go wide with surprise - though, to geralt, it seems to be a good kind of surprise. “oh, yes please,” he breathes. “I’m starving.”
geralt searches for something a human might be able to eat - he finds dried meat and fruit, nuts, honey - and presents the feast to the boy. the human scarfs it down, the food gone in a moment, and only when he’s licking his fingers clean, he seems to remeber - “uh, thank you. for that.”
geralt gives him the closest he gets to a smile.
“um, my name is Jaskier - i mean, Julian, but - but i do prefer Jaskier - “
“buttercup,” geralt says. “it suits you, little one. pretty and bright and delicate, but there’s more to it than meets the eye. i’m geralt.”
jaskier flushes a pretty shade of pink. “thank you, geralt.” there’s only the faintest trace of fear in his scent, now. he’s quiet, obviously fighting with himself to ask a question - geralt waits, patient, until jaskier finds his voice and asks in a small voice, “will it... hurt, when you mate me?”
“yes,” geralt admits, “but only a little. i will make an effort to minimize your pain, and to bring you as much pleasure as i can.”
something intrigued, excited blooms in jaskier’s scent. “and when I carry your children? will that hurt?”
“It won’t hurt any more than it hurts human women that carry human men’s children,” geralt says, “and i will bring you remedies for any pain or sickness you might experience. so no, you won’t be hurting.”
jaskier gives him a shy smile. “are we going to start now?”
“we can wait a little, if you want to take some time to acclimatize,” geralt allows, “but i would like you to be bred up before the first frost. we’d have to wait ‘til the spring otherwise - “
“I have no idea why that sounded as hot as it did,” jaskier mutters, and then he tells geralt, “we can start now.”
geralt’s claws make quick work of jaskier’s clothes. the boy frowns at this, but geralt knows he’ll have no use for clothes during his stay with geralt, since the spirit will keep him naked to be always easily accesible, wrapped only in furs to stay warm. the boy is skin and bone, obviously he wasn’t exaggerating when he told him he’s starving - he proobably hasn’t had a full belly in a long time, always half-hungry so that everyone would get at least something to eat -
“with me, you will never be hungry again,” geralt promises. “I’ll keep you well-fed, little one, i’ll take care of you.”
“thank you,” jaskier says. “that sounds nice.”
geralt touches him carefully, keeping his claws light on his pale skin, so they only lightly scratch and don’t cut - jaskier wriggles under these touches, his flush spreading from his face down to his chest, his nipples hardning, his cock plumping up -
“you need to prepare yourself,” geralt tells him, giving him a vial of linseed oil that the villagers gave him time ago. “i can’t do it, i’d hurt you.”
jaskier takes the vial and slicks up his fingers. he doesn’t hesitate much - he teases himself open, and then slips in the first finger. He sighs.
“have you done this before?” geralt asks.
“a few times,” jaskier agrees, fucking himself with one finger. “alone... and with friends.”
geralt is glad that his mate has a little experience with these things. it always goes better when one knows what to expect. jaskier adds a second finger, scissoring them, allowing geralt a glimpse inside -
geralt tugs at the rope keeping his leather covering in place until it comes undone and the leather falls to the ground.
Jaskier lets out a surprised gasp.
geralt’s cock is big, but it has a distinctly human shape - the only thing off about it is that it’s green. with his free hand, jaskier reaches out to touch it. he runs his fingers over it, gives it a little squeeze - it doesn’t feel entirely like human flesh, jaskier suspects it might be plant matter, but it has a head with a slit that drips transluescent, sticky fluid and a foreskin that can be moved back and forth, and beneath it hangs a pair of balls, just as green as the dick, so it is close enough -
jaskier gets to his third finger, and then, after another look spared to geralt’s massive length, he ads a fourth, stretching himself as far as he’ll go.
they line up geralt’s green cock with jaskier’s gaping hole. geralt presses in, slowly, letting jaskier adjust. Jaskier relaxes and lets geralt into his body, inch by inch, until he finally feels the rough bark of geralt’s thighs brush against his ass.
geralt gives and experimental thrust, and when the only thing it does is to wring a moan of pleasure out of jaskier, he decides it’s safe to go on. they quickly find a rhythm, geralt pounding jaskier’s ass and jaskier moving his hips to meet his movements. jaskier whines and wails as he’s fucked, chanting geralt’s name as if it is his own personal prayer - and perhaps it is - until geralt spills inside him.
Jaskier is about to complain about not being granted an orgasm as well, but then geralt pulls out, flips him on his belly and fucks right back into him, picking up right where he left off. jaskier sneaks his hand between his legs and strokes himself in time with geralt’s thrusts - the next time the forest spirit comes, jaskier does as well.
that’s when he notices -
his belly is definitely more pronounced than it was before.
geralt starts fucking him again, hard and fast, hammering away at jaskier’s insides, and jaskier decides not to thing about his stomach just yet and stroke his dick back to hardness -
but the next time geralt comes into him, he can see the bulge getting bigger and it clicks - he’s so full of geralt’s cum that he’s swelling with it. “fuck,” he cries, “fuck, geralt - “
“yes, little one?”
“I’m stuffed so full i look pregnant already!” jaskier exclaims.
geralt hums, curious, and rolls his mate back on his back. he looks over jaskier’s belly, traces the shape of it with his claw.
“Little one,” he chuckles, “you are nowhere near being ‘full’.”
jaskier looks down at the considerable bulge of his stomach. Nowhere near... he shivers, but it’s not a bad shiver. “Oh, shit,” he moans, “fuck, go on, come on, get me full - “
hey welcome! for a prompt, geralt/jaskier, edging and overstimulation? Geralt tying jaskier up (willing or unwilling, you choose) and edging him for hours, until he’s begging to come, near crying with it, and then when geralt finally lets him come, he *doesn’t stop*, and now jaskier’s crying for an entirely different reason. (Bonus if you want: jaskier goes into subdrop afterwards? Maybe geralt realizes and comforts him through it, or maybe he doesn’t ;)) -stuffthatbard
oof this is...so good. good enough that i doubt i did it any amount of justice, but i did try! no subdrop in this, not because it was not an INCREDIBLE idea, but because i ran out of steam and wanted to finish it up. maybe i will revisit in the future!
cw: dub-con, unnegotiated kink, some light humiliation, edging, overstimulation
-----
The door opened, and Geralt was there once more, seeming as cold and remote as a mountain’s peak. Jaskier whined. Geralt said nothing. Only strode forward, and Jaskier strained against his bindings, as though to roll away; the ropes held, as did the knots. They were of a Witcher’s making. He’d never had any hope of escape.
“I can’t go on, Geralt,” Jaskier said. “Please. I promise you, I can’t.”
Geralt ignored him. He came to sit at the edge of the bed where Jaskier lay, trussed up as he was with his ankles bound by his shoulders, his wrists behind his back. The position left his arse and his cock vulnerable, on display; and for hours Geralt had come and gone, toying with him as he pleased. His hole was well-stretched, now, having been worked open on thick fingers; the rim red and leaking spit and oil into the hay-stuffed mattress. His cock was aching from abuse, from being denied release. He felt as though he’d soon lose his mind.
Geralt wrapped his dry hand around Jaskier’s cock.
“No, don’t,” he cried.
Geralt squeezed him. His touch was kept light, as though he were holding Jaskier’s hand. Jaskier’s cock had wilted during Geralt’s most recent absence, but now, under his renewed attentions, it sprang back to half-hardness. The pain was terrible. As was the rush of pleasure. It came fast enough that Jaskier was momentarily made dizzy by it, his head floating in some lovely, strange place above his shoulders. The flicker of the lamplight seemed brighter, there. The air seemed more clean. He was allowed only a moment to simmer in that fine heat, in the pleasant clench of pelvic muscle that precluded coming.
Geralt abruptly let go of him and slapped his open palm across Jaskier’s cock. Jaskier squealed. The pain juddered through him, a shock that set all his nerves alight and exploded behind his eyelids; and he bucked, tried once more to heave himself off of the bed, his thighs shaking as leaves did during storm-winds. Geralt slapped him once more. Jaskier warbled like a songbird, forced himself to settle.
“Jaskier,” Geralt said, “be good for me.”
“I am, Geralt, please. I have been.” He sniffled. He was crying again, fresh tears dripping down his flushed cheeks. He could endure no more. He braced himself against the unpleasant squirm of humiliation in his guts; begged, as he had been reduced to it: “Please, let me come.”
“Do you think you deserve to?”
“No, but I - I do want to. It hurts so much.”
Geralt hmed, and grasped him. Held him now in a firmer grip, enough so that when he stroked Jaskier root to tip, his callouses scraped his raw skin. His cockhead was wet and blood-red, stark against the white of Geralt’s fist.
“You leak like a woman,” Geralt said. His strokes sped up. Jaskier struggled to keep his hips from moving, tried to steady his pathetic heart. “I’ve done my best to teach you patience, but you’re a poor student.”
Geralt’s wrist twisted. Jaskier jerked upward, into the tight tunnel of Geralt’s fist. He felt his balls draw up, a pressure build at the base of his cock; a thin wash precome spurted out of him, dripping down over Geralt’s fingers, and he was so close, so close. The end was so near. He would come across Geralt’s thick knuckles.
“Jaskier,” Geralt said, chastising. The grip that had held him was gone, and his cock was left to bob between his legs, red and leaking. The room’s cool air like a strike to his overworked flesh. “Jaskier, pay attention.”
“I am paying attention, you absolute bastard,” he bit out. Then, after a moment, “sorry, I’m sorry.”
Geralt chuckled.
Once his erection was no longer throbbing, Geralt curled his hand loosely around him once more. He tugged at him cruelly. When Jaskier blinked away the sheen of tears that clouded his vision he saw that Geralt was not even looking at him. His gaze had shifted, away from the bed, away from Jaskier’s heaving body. The hand around him stopped being anything but painful. How could his suffering not even be worth Geralt’s regard?
He was close. So close. If Geralt would only continue to stroke him just a moment longer. He shuddered, felt his cock throb; and it was so much like the pulse of coming that he was certain he had finally reached the end, that Geralt had allowed him to reach his peak.
Geralt’s hand pulled away.
Jaskier nearly screamed with the pain and the frustration of it, having been so near the precipice and having been torn away from it, having again been denied. His body lurched forward, searching blindly for stimulation. He would do anything for it. He ground his feet against the mattress, grasping at it with his toes, as though he could find relief somewhere in the hay mound.
“Fuck, please,” he said. He was on fire. Rocking himself through a full-body ache. “Please, please. Let me come, let me come.”
Geralt swung his eyes back to Jaskier. His sharp eyes raked over him, every quivering, red inch.
“You’re sure?”
“Yes! Yes, please, Geralt, please.”
Geralt smiled. Jaskier could see the sharp points of his teeth.
“Alright.”
-----
He screamed against Geralt’s palm. His face was so wet with his crying, his eyes so clouded, that he could see nothing. It was like the blindfold, almost. Another way of rendering him in some way insensate.
Geralt pumped his fist along Jaskier’s soft cock. His orgasm had finally been wrung from him; he’d come messily, painfully, a swell of come that dribbled out of him and over Geralt’s fingers. A wave that had crested, but Geralt, greedy for his distress, kept pulling.
Geralt refused to stop touching him. Refused to stop wringing him, though he’d long ago become dry, The pain was excruciating. Entirely unlike any other pain. The color and sound had drained from the world, as surely as his orgasm had been drained from his cock, until his focus was narrowed down to that single point of agony, the nesting ache that had overtaken the entirety of his cock and arse and all the space between his thighs.
His body curved in, hunched over itself, strained desperately against the rope. He felt mindless, ruined; between screaming, he begged, but all entreaties for mercy were uniformly spurned. Geralt only pulled at him harder, his golden eyes glittering, cruelly, in the dying light.
“This is what you wanted,” Geralt told him. “Isn’t it, Jaskier?”
Hmm, How about.. Jaskier being used (willingly) as part of a deal for a bunch of werewolves to leave an area, Gangbanged by the whole pack, being pumped full by knot after knot. All the while Geralt is there, praising and fucking his mouth, and when they're all done, he fucks Jaskier's loose hole, trying to get all the come out with just his cock before spending the rest of the night fucking the bard.
Thanks for the prompt, Red! Had a bit of trouble starting this one, but once it got going, whoo boy it went some places. I deviated a bit with the Geralt/Jaskier stuff, hope that’s alright. Hope you enjoy!
~
Jaskier wasn’t sure what to expect when he accompanied Geralt to the middle of the woods to negotiate with a werewolf pack, but he wasn’t expecting to take an active role.
And he definitely wasn’t expecting to be standing naked in the middle of the clearing, about to be pounded by literal monster cocks. Apparently the wolves could smell the spend still dripping out of him from when he and Geralt had fucked earlier that day, and wanted to try out the White Wolf’s bitch for themselves.
Not the weirdest way he’s ever been propositioned, to be honest.
He’d jumped at the chance, unrepentant slut that he was, but standing there with the wolf-men surrounding him, staring at him as if they weren’t sure whether to fuck him or eat him, he was starting to get a bit nervous. But Geralt was there, Geralt wouldn’t let anything bad happen to him. Jaskier steeled himself and nodded, signaling it was time to start.
The leader (did they really call him the alpha? How cliche) got first dibs, manhandling him onto his knees, ass in the air. Geralt had slicked him up real good with oil just a few minutes ago, but any prep seemed insignificant with the giant cock he’d got a glimpse of prodding at his hole. It had to be the size of his forearm, bigger than anything he’d ever taken before. Not tensing up at the prospect of that spearing him open was nigh on impossible.
Of course the werewolf didn’t bother waiting for him to calm. The moment his giant cock began pressing in, it was almost too much. The bard’s nerves lit up with pain and pleasure, mingling and causing him to gasp and writhe, trying to escape the inexorable stretch. It was futile, the clawed hands on his hips preventing anything but the tiniest of movements, but he couldn’t stop the instinctive reaction. It felt like he was getting torn in two, every movement blissful agony. And it just seemed to go on, and on, and on.
By the time he felt coarse hair brush up against the backs of his thighs, he was panting like he’d been running for hours, fighting to relax his muscles enough so that the bliss of being penetrated overrode the pain of the stretch. He only had a moment to wonder if his poor little asshole had torn before the cock was retreating again, taking his organs along with it.
That’s what it felt like, at least. Like he was being hollowed out, the lack of ample slick meaning that he could feel the friction against the walls of his channel. He whined at the emptiness left behind, before the cock began thrusting in once more and beginning the process anew.
With each thrust, it became easier, his insides parting more quickly, more eagerly yielding to the monster inside of him, and soon he was getting properly pounded, moaning like a bitch in heat. On each thrust, the cockhead would scrape against his sweetspot, making him go cross-eyed in pleasure, hips bucking against the hold, this time trying to get more. He was acting like a filthy slut and he knew it, getting reamed like it was his life that depended on it.
The thrusts became erratic, and he knew the alpha was close to coming. But what he hadn’t expected was the already huge dick to begin to expand at the base, becoming more and more difficult to take. When the wolf thrust in one last time, he could feel the bump expand one last time, stretching his hole out to impossible widths as it spilled inside, pumping Jaskier full of cum. As he sagged forward, he felt the tug against his hole, too wide for the tight muscle to take. Holy shit, he was knotted! Like a proper bitch in heat. The idea made his dick twitch, but he’d had his fair share of gangbangs. If he came this early on, he’d be passed out from overstimulation long before it finished.
Instead he worked on catching his breath, putting his hand on his lower belly to feel the little bulge that had formed there from the cock and cum. Feeling like he’d been bred good and proper, he settled in, figuring it would take a few minutes at least before the wolf’s knot would go down and the next one could take over.
But the creature inside of him apparently had other ideas.
Suddenly he was being tilted upright, the wolf shifting so he was perched in its lap. He opened his eyes, confused, only to be brought face-to-face (or would it be head-to-head? face-to-head?) with another giant wolf dick.
Oh Melitele, they were planning on fucking his throat.
Geralt appeared at his side. “If you don’t want this, just say. We only agreed to your ass.”
Jaskier, touched, considered. If Geralt hadn’t told him it was his choice, he would’ve said fuck no and started yelling, but knowing it was his decision…
“No, it’s alright. As long as they back off when I start pushing I’m willing to give it a shot.”
And then the largest cock he’d ever seen was thrusting into his mouth.
He could barely get the tip in without gagging, but he was nothing if not determined, licking all around it and relaxing his throat, trying to take even an inch more, while his hands worked the rest of its considerable girth. He was so focused on his task that he didn’t even notice the knot in his ass going down until it was being pulled out of him, and he was maneuvered onto his hands and knees so the next cock could line up and thrust in while he still worked the one in his mouth.
The slide was significantly easier this time around, the copious amounts of werewolf spend slicking the way, and soon he was getting bounced between the two, choking on the one in his mouth as it battered the delicate back of his throat while the one in his ass battered his delicate insides.
He had no idea how long it had been when the cock in his mouth was pulled out and he was sprayed with cum, mouth hanging open to catch as much as possible. It tasted vile, but still he licked up every drop, desperate for it. Another wolf took the first’s place, and he got back to work, the cock in his hole never ceasing its constant pounding.
After that he lost track of time. He was a ragdoll, being moved for the wolves’ pleasure with no regard for his needs. He came at one point with a high-pitched moan, but he only barely noticed, just more cum spattered across his skin, the wolves not even pausing. He got knotted over and over, filling him up more each time, making him swell like he had caught, like he was carrying their pups. If he’d had the ability to talk, too delirious from pleasure to say a word even when his mouth wasn’t full of monster dick, he’d be egging them on, telling them to fuck their pups into him, he looked so pretty full of their cum, he’d look even prettier full of their children. Jaskier had never had a breeding kink before, but now he thought that this may have awakened something in him.
When the final knot went down and pulled out, leaving him emptier than he’d ever felt before, he collapsed into Geralt’s waiting arms. He was spent, sated, and covered in cum inside and out, too exhausted to so much as lift a finger, but when he looked into his lover’s hungry eyes, he knew he wasn’t done yet.
His witcher praised him, telling him how well he took it, how beautiful he looked, how proud he was of him as he laid him out on his back and spread his thighs.
“Melitele, Jaskier,” he groaned as he got a good look at the bard’s ruined hole for the first time, loose and red and continuously leaking monster spend. “You’re so loose I bet I could shove my fist up you and you wouldn’t even notice.” He pushed his cock inside and laughed. “I can barely feel you around my cock. So loose, Jask. You’ll have to have a cock up you at all times from now on, just so your insides don’t fall out. And look at this cum belly.” he slapped at it, “Wonder if you’ll get stretch marks, like a pregnant woman.” Jaskier moaned at that, feebly trying to spread his thighs wider. “You like that? Being a breeding bitch for a bunch of monsters? Whore.” He said it lovingly, but also like he meant it.
Geralt grabbed his cock, and he tried to buck, but only managed to squirm a little. “Saw you come at least three times, but looks like your slutty cock still wants to be played with.” The witcher jacked him roughly, making sparks dance over his eyes, until he was coming, tightening down around the thick cock inside him. Geralt moaned and thrust harder, coming in only a couple more strokes, filling him with even more spend.
Geralt collapsed next to him, both panting. In a bit, they’d have to move, to find a river and clean all the cum off them, get Jaskier a drink to replace all the fluids he lost, figure out what to do about his gaping hole, but in that moment they just lay there revelling in the best sex either of them had ever had.
Yeah, they were definitely gonna have to do that again sometime.
I’ve got this idea stuck in my head of Jaskier being able to feel anything Geralt feels. Maybe only in a sexual way, since the pain from him getting injured during hunts would give it away, but whatever. Doesn’t matter why, a spell or something, but however it happens, Jaskier doesn’t know. But the thing is Jaskier feels the touch way more intensely than Geralt does, because Witcher durability or stamina or whatever, so Geralt just idly stroking his cock with no real intent behind it has J twitching and moaning, almost to the point of spilling in his trousers.
Geralt notices and decides to have some fun with it. Cue Geralt jerking off while Jaskier comes over and over, overstimulated and desperate, having no idea what’s going on but biting down on his fist so as not to wake the man he thinks is sleeping next to him, oblivious to the eyes watching him. Or Geralt stroking himself discreetly throughout the day, watching the bard’s eyes glaze over in constant pleasure as he twitches and squirms, too embarrassed to admit there’s something wrong. Maybe Geralt doesn’t let him come, keeping him right at the edge, too cockdumb to do more than moan. Or maybe he makes him come all over himself, over and over, giving him just enough reprieve that he doesn’t actually pass out, but the front of his trousers are ruined. Geralt pretends not to notice, ignoring Jaskier’s feeble protests and making him walk through a town with a visible stain, humiliation making the experience all the worse.
Eventually Jaskier comes to him, almost crying from oversensitivity and humiliation, confessing what’s been happening. Geralt offers to solve the problem, and Jaskier is too relieved to question him when he brings out a cock cage. Of course the cock cage doesn’t help, it only makes it worse, but Geralt insists that it is helping, so he stops questioning it. At this point Geralt has him constantly aroused, unable to think about anything but his poor neglected cock. Geralt isn’t much for things up his ass, but a little discomfort is worth watching the bard squirm at the new sensation, trying to pull away from and fuck back onto a finger that’s not there in turns. Even with the cockcage, when Geralt found his prostate he came instantly, cum dribbling pathetically around the bars, unable to even twitch. The constant arousal acts almost like axii, Geralt turning him into an obedient little whore. By the time Geralt fucks him, he’s too far gone to notice that the thrusts match exactly with the feeling around his forgotten cock.
So this was never supposed to see the light of day and long as hell besides, but this blog needs more content, so! Some Witcher noncon A/B/O goodness.
Jaskier hadn’t planned to spend the winter at Kaer Morhen. It just happened.
A cold snap hit earlier than anyone was expecting, leaving Geralt no choice to start the path up to the keep or be stranded. Luckily, they’d already been at the base of the mountain when it hit, but unluckily, Jaskier didn’t have the supplies or coin to make it to Oxenfurt or find somewhere else to hunker down for the season.
When Geralt grunted out the offer to join the Witchers in their home, Jaskier was ecstatic. As such, he didn’t think before jumping on the offer with the excitement of a child on a sweet.
He didn’t stop to consider any… consequences of accepting.
“No, no, no…” Jaskier rooted around in the pouch he kept his emergency backup suppressants in as if that would make them magically appear, suddenly remembering using the last emergency dosage during a particularly long stint in the wilderness this past summer. He cursed himself for forgetting that he always stocked up in his favorite apothecary in Oxenfurt since the kind woman there never asked questions, and he had a habit of going too long between doing so just so he could avoid the disapproving gazes and scathing tongues of Omega healers.
Finally, he gave up on finding the clearly not present herbs and began to pace.
“Okay Jaskier, you’re smart, you can figure this out, you’re just trapped in a building with three Alphas, none of which know you’re an Omega, without any way of stopping a heat which means it’ll start any day now. Fuck!” He pulled at his hair in stress, before taking a deep breath.
“Okay, it’s okay. It’s just Geralt and his brothers. The most honorable Alpha you’ve ever met and his family. No reason to fear them. Right?” Jaskier relaxed, sure that the Alphas wouldn’t take advantage.
Reading your kink list, I feel like your kinks vibe pretty much with mine. So hoping that feeling is correct how about this prompt: I read a fic whenre J became feral after G came inside him while still under the influence of a potion. But what if there was a different consequence? Imagine if the potion made it so J's now addicted to G's cum and thus also to his cock. They have to buy a plug to make J even able to function as normal.
Here ya go! One cum addicted Bard! 2200+ words, give or take. also, GIMME THAT FIC!
Stuff the bard is a fave of mine!!
**
Geralt crashed through the brush, skin pale and veins black. “Jaskier… Help…”
It was far from the first time they’d fucked to get Geralt down off a potion high, but Jaskier knew this would be different. Geralt was amazingly rough, in a good way, on one potion, let alone the three he’d said he’d have to take to deal with a small coven of bruxae. He’d never taken more than one at a time before
Black colored blood dripped from several cuts and bites, many of which were healing quickly, quicker than usual, while muscles bulged even bigger under the armor, forcing the armor to creak
“Geralt…” Jaskier knew the drill. They’d been fucking for a long time now, and burning off potions just as long. He’d already prepped himself, keeping himself well stretched and lubed throughout the night, not sure when Geralt would return. Jaskier hit his knees, presenting his ass to the feral Witcher.
Geralt managed to shove his leathers down enough to free his cock, dripping with need and covered in black veins, before he reached Jaskier. He sunk to his knees and thrust in, trusting that Jaskier would have prepped himself well. The bard had, as he sunk all the way to the hilt in one harsh thrust.
Jaskier moaned, long and loud, at the feeling and gripped the bedrolls in preparation for the harsh fuck to come.
He wasn’t disappointed.
Geralt began to fuck like a man possessed, chasing only his pleasure, not even making a move towards Jaskier’s cock. Jaskier didn’t mind, the Witcher’s cock was more than big enough to beat against his prostate in any position.
Geralt thrust in, over and over, growling low and nipping at Jaskier’s back and neck, more like an animal than a man. Jaskier moaned and when he could catch half a breath, praised his lover, “Fuck, Geralt… gods… so good… More… I want more…”
The words had the right effect, as Geralt slammed in and froze, cock pulsing deep inside. Jaskier moaned at the heat then again as a new feeling spread, like a warm wave all over his body. His head swam, the world tilting slightly and he felt just… so damn good. He barely noticed his own cock spurting on to the ragged old shirt he’d put down to protect the bedrolls.
Geralt began to move again, and Jaskier groaned, pressing back against him. He didn’t care that he was sensitive, he wanted Geralt to come again. He wanted that rush of full body pleasure, that swirly feeling.
It didn’t take long for Geralt to come again, the potions always gave him even more stamina than usual. They fucked, all through the night, and Geralt finally exhausted himself just as the dawn birds began to sing.
They slept until noon, recovering and Jaskier woke to wet thighs and a sore ass. He felt good though. He rolled over, checking on Geralt. The Witcher was out of his armor, but still grimy and covered in… ick.
Jaskier stood with a soft groan, feeling cum start to drip down his thighs. Geralt had pumped him full. He loved it. He grabbed the cooking pot and made his way to the little stream nearby fetching water to help scrub Geralt clean. Hot water worked best once the ichor dried. They weren’t far from a town and Jaskier would buy a bath there, but it helped to try to scrub the worst off first.
Geralt stirred as he wiped him off, and sleepy golden eyes met his. Jaskier leaned down to kiss his beloved Witcher and was promptly pulled across Geralt’s lap. Geralt’s hot, hard cock pressed against Jaskier’s bare, still dripping, ass, and he suddenly, desperately wanted it inside him.
He moved before the thought about it, sinking down on the hard shaft and pulling a moan from both of them. “Geralt… Come in me again.” Geralt smirked and let Jaskier bounce furiously on his cock, until he couldn’t stand it any longer and rolled them over, pounding into the bard furiously until he spilled again, adding to the mess.
Jaskier sighed blissfully at the feeling, warmth in his belly, spreading through him.
**
It took them a day to get to the town, one big enough to have a small inn and after haggling with the innkeeper, who grumpily agreed to allow them the room, they called for a bath.
Jaskier went first, not nearly as dirty as Geralt, and scrubbed clean, inside and out. Geralt “helped” with the latter part. He toweled off with threadbare towels and flopped face down onto the bed. He was more than ready for a nap.
Geralt was nearly done with his own scrubbing when Jaskier started to fidget. It felt like ants under his skin and he felt so COLD. It was summer, he couldn’t be cold. His hole ached, clenching down around nothing and he felt empty inside...so empty. It was all he could focus on. A whine built in his throat and he clamped down on it, even as his legs spread of their own accord. He reached a hand back, pressing two fingers to his aching, empty hole to try to soothe the desperate need, but it didn’t help, only made it worse.
The scent of distress had Geralt turning in the bath, seeing Jaskier with two, no… three fingers in his ass, even as Geralt heard him start to whimper. “Jaskier?”
“Geralt, it hurts! I’m...its not enough… I’m empty and it hurts.” Jaskier sobbed, tears filling his eyes. The empty feeling was spreading, moving from his hole towards his chest. “Geralt!”
Geralt clambered from the bath, heedless of the water dripping everywhere and moved to the bard’s side. Distress and need, tinged with desperation rolled off the man on the bed, who spread his legs wider, displaying his reddened and stretched hole.
“Geralt, get in me, please.” Jaskier pulled his hand out of his ass, leaving the hole gaping slightly, and reached for Geralt’s half-hard cock. His cock rose in response to the bard’s touch, just like it always had, and the need and desperation smell overwhelmed the distress.
Geralt grabbed the oil from the bedside table, the first thing they unpacked at any inn, and quickly slicked himself up, sliding two fingers into Jaskier to get him ready. Jaskier pushed back insistently and Geralt took the wordless plea to heart.
He corked and tossed the bottle back to the table and pulled Jaskier to his knees, pressing in. There was no resistance and he had to actively hold Jaskier to keep him from impaling himself. The distress scent vanished, as did the desperation, leaving only need and desire. The shifting scents were met with Jaskier reaching back, swatting at Geralt’s hip. “Move! Fuck me, Geralt, fill me up.”
Geralt did so, fucking the bard thoroughly until he came. The change was immediate.
Jaskier relaxed all over, a blissed expression sweeping across his face. Jaskier didn’t come from being fucked alone, but moaned happily as Geralt stripped the hard cock until the bard’s come spilled over his fingers.
Geralt pulled out, and returned with a wet cloth, cleaning the leaking come from Jaskier’s hole before curling up with him to nap until dinner. He tossed the damp rag aside on the table.
**
Geralt woke to Jaskier riding his cock, the scent of desperation all over him again. “Come… Geralt, want your come… your cock… please…” Geralt came quickly, practically before he was fully awake, Jaskier clearly having been at it for a while.
Instantly the bard relaxed, like a puppet with his strings cut and Geralt frowned, even as he cuddled the bard close, still lodged on his cock. His mind was whirring and he didn’t sleep much that night.
They left town the following morning, and it was only a few hours down the trail before Jaskier was shaking and sweating again, begging for cock and come. After the third stop the fuck the bard, not truly a hardship, but time-consuming, Geralt reached for a cloth to clean him and paused. Every time the bard was cleaned, he got twitchy within a few hours, begging to be filled up again.
Instead of cleaning the bard up, Geralt took a bit of cloth and wedged it between Jaskier’s cheeks keeping the come that leaked out contained, at least partially.
It works, for the most part, and while Geralt loathes doubling up on Roach, it’s faster, and he thanks the gods they’re not far from a large town with a rather peculiar witch who made all sorts of useful items.
They arrive in two days, Jaskier needing to be fucked twice a day as they traveled. Geralt had tested his theory, cleaning Jaskier up well inside and leaving him on Roach. It had taken four hours before the shaking and shivering had started, and within half an hour after that, the begging. Geralt let it go on for another half hour but stopped when the bard started crying, clenching his stomach and pain suffused his scent. The smell of pain eased the instant Geralt entered the bard, and vanished completely when Geralt came, coating the inner walls of his lover.
Geralt led Roach around the village to the witch’s hut and knocked on the ramshackle door. A middle-aged woman answered the door with a shout that cut off mid-sentence. “What ya–Geralt!” The woman flickered and a much younger woman stood in her place. “It’s been a while, come in! Come in! Who’s this?” She waved them in, leading them past a closed door into a much nicer, more spacious room. One that wasn’t visible from outside the small shack. He knew most of the building wasn’t.
“Ingred, this is Jaskier. Jaskier, Ingred. We have a bit of a problem.” He briefly described the problem, Jaskier’s sudden near dependence on Geralt’s come and his reaction when deprived of it. Jaskier blushed throughout the explanation and Geralt was very glad he’d discussed it on the way.
“Hmm… Let me look him over.” She moved to the bard, hands glowing, and ran them from head to toe. “Ah… This is interesting. He’s addicted, actually fully addicted to your come, and likely your cock as well. You said the pain eases as soon as you enter him?” Geralt nodded. “Well, I can’t remove the addiction, whatever caused it is firmly in his system.”
She looked at Jaskier. “We could send you through a detox, but I’m not sure if that would even work. I’ve never seen this before. It could work, it could not, or it could kill you.”
“Keeping the come in seems to help,” Jaskier said, shifting slightly. “But cloth sucks.”
“It does…” She hummed to herself. “Come with me.” She led them to another door, this one painted red, and inside was one of the largest collections of sex tools Jaskier had ever seen. They followed Ingred through the room to a small table filled with a variety of oddly shaped objects.
“These are plugs, they can keep Geralt’s come inside you, all day. I can spell them to be comfortable, and flexible, so you can move as you would normally.” Jaskier blushed and Geralt wrapped an arm around him. She continued. “You’d need a… hmm… dose… every day. At least one. No more pain though.”
Jaskier blushed more, ducking his head and looking away.
“Jaskier,” Geralt said, pressing his forehead to his lover’s. “I don’t want you hurting. Please…”
He was cut off when Jaskier looked at him, eyes blown wide, and boldly took the Witcher’s hand, pressing it to his cock, which was fully hard. “I am definitely not opposed. I suppose this means I winter with you in Kaer Morhen now?”
“Or I stay in Oxenfurt.”
“Ugh, no. Kaer Morhen. Valdo drives me crazy in the winters and I can’t get away from the ass.” He looked at Ingred. “So… how do we fit them?”
**
Hours later, they left the shack, Ingred waving goodbye to them. A small sack of gold had been handed over, but Ingred took part of her payment in watching Jaskier learn to take the slim plugs, along with Geralt fucking load after load into him. They’d offered to bed her, but she’d politely refused, telling them her memories would work quite well for a long time. She told them to come back next time they were in the area and she’d make a few custom pieces.
Jaskier walked along, pain-free and feeling light as a feather. His belly was just slightly rounded from all the come inside him and the plug kept it well settled. It was comfortable, flexible, and he could wear it all day, or night, without hurting himself.
That night, when they camped, Jaskier stripped down and settled over Geralt’s bare lap, right over his cock. “You know the other spell Ingred put on this?” Jaskier reached behind him and pulled the plug out then slid himself onto Geralt’s cock. “It lubes me up too.”
“Dose me up, Wolf.” And Geralt did. Multiple times.
Starting a new med that I hoped would improve my ability to initiate and focus on tasks, inc blog-related stuff, but instead I’ve just been really fucking tired, so like...sorry but also it ain’t my fault ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
On a happier note, hello to all the new kink blogs!
Am I constantly thinking about Jaskier desperately trying to get off by rubbing onto Geralt's thick thigh? Yes, yes I am.
Anywhere and anytime. At camp, Geralt's trying to cook but Jaskier's such a horny bean that Geralt just sticks out his legs for Jaskier to hump himself to completion on.
Sharing a bath and Jaskier just sits on his thigh and begins to rub feverishly. That bath ain't gonna be clean for long.
Geralt's trying to sleep but Jaskier is wide awake and ready to fuck that thigh to oblivion again. Geralt just pushes it hard against the bard's crotch.
What's that? Jaskier's horny again even though Geralt's standing talking to someone? That won't stop the bard from trying to subtly rub against the Witcher.
Just want Jaskier to be a desperate bard and Geralt just casually loving to see it
All the takes on the Jaskier magical saddle dildo scenario are amazing, but has anyone consider knotting dildos? After it swells up Jaskier doesn’t even have the ability to “ride” it anymore; he just has to sit there for hours and hours as the knot puts constant pressure on his prostate and the entire toy jerks and shifts inside him. And if he’s also tied up, he’s not even able to influence the experience by altering the horse’s pace.
He doesn’t come as often this way but still ends up just as, if not more, stuffed than he does with the usual dildo, since, in classic knotting fashion, each of his orgasms triggers an incredibly long ejaculation from the dildo. And then don’t forget that every drop is kept inside by the fat knot! The knot will naturally inflate as part of the first orgasm, but it won’t deflate until the magic button/spell/whatever is used, and Geralt is the one in control of it (whether Jaskier can actually “safeword” the knot down on his own if he has to is up to you.) Geralt will only deflate it when they’ve stopped for the night, and even then he expects an exhausted Jaskier to put on a good show of futilely squirming and tugging on the knot for several minutes before he’ll give the command.
What do you think about Geralt purchasing Jaskier a horse, with a specially crafted saddle? That has a massive cock on it. (Google dildo saddle) removable if needed Jaskier likes riding naked, cock free and leaking, bouncing on a wide fake (magical) cock. Esp if people look. Sometimes he asks Geralt to tie him up like a captive. Chains connecting his bouncing cock to his nipples. Geralt has a matching sheath so it feels like he's fucking Jaskier. Sometimes it's on jaskier so he fucks himself
Anon you have opened my eyes to this wonderful concept.
Geralt saves for ages to get the money to stop Jaskier complaining about walking all the time and eventually he has enough to buy a nice young gelding, a bit of a temper that will need to be trained out but he hopes its something Jaskier won't mind when the horse's attitude has him bouncing around in the saddle.
He first shows Jaskier the horse, and he predictably jumps around in excitement and then he shows Jaskier the saddle and the nice thick cock he had especially made for it, and he seems even more enamoured with that than the horse.
That night Jaskier practises riding the saddle where it is on the ground, and Geralt watches him try to angle his thrusts so he can rub his cock on the saddle, and as Jaskier comes for the second, Geralt smirks where he's fitting a hole in the ass of Jaskiers pants so he can ride his horse without letting other people know too much.
That first day they don't get far, Jaskier is too obsessed fucking himself on the cock that he confuses his horse half the time and ends up off the road or putting it into a canter or gallop, and whilst he likes hearing Jaskier moan like a two crown whore as he gets fucked by the cock he also doesn't want him getting injured cause he's got his eyes closed as he rides. The other problem is that Jaskier doesn't like how restricted he feels. Whilst theres the thrill of being fucked without people knowing, it completely ruins his pants as his dick constantly spurts pre and as he comes over and over throughout the day.
So the next day given how they're pretty far out of the way, he lets Jaskier ride his horse naked, now he can actually see Jaskier roll his hips and grind back onto the saddle, trying to push it even deeper into him as he coaxes the horse into a trot for a couple of minutes, before he comes with a loud moan over the saddle which turns into a broad grin as he then challenges Geralt to a race.
What he didn't tell Jaskier was the magic at play with the toy, one that mirrored his own toy built into his saddle and that he was currently working his own cock into. Whenever Jaskier clenched around the cock, he would be able to feel it in his sheath, and whenever his cock twitched, whenever he came, Jaskier would be able to feel it two, and he could tell the bard felt a change when he'd pushed into his own toy, no doubt being stretched even wider, the toy was sizeable of course, but his cock was just a bit thicker, reached that bit deeper, and the glazed look Jaskier gave him told him he knew.
They did race, they didn't push their horses to run fast, just to offer enough stimulation and it gave Geralt the chance to lean forward and properly fuck into the sheath, until eventually he lost it when Jaskier clenched around the toyridiculously tight.
The surprised gasp and then inhumane moan from Jaskier as he came after, followed by the sight of come leaking out of his hole around the cock told him Jaskier hadn't expected that bit, and hearing Jaskier swear as he tried to work the cock deeper, had him getting harder again and he responded with a thrust of his cock that made Jaskier shiver.
It only gets more depraved, Jaskier addicted to getting fucked and Geralts obsessed with the mere sight of it as he fucks the sheath relentlessly for days until they end up walking through town, Jaskier naked and his cock red and hard in front of him as he slowly ground down against the cock meant they reached the height of debauchery.
Then there were the chains. Some times Jaskier wanted to be bound, to be helpless to whatever pace Geralt set for the day and especially the small gold chain that wrapped around his cock and led up to where his nipples were currently held in clamps. Even with a trot, the bounce of his cock would pull on the chain and his nipples, leaving him flushed as his nipples were abused throughout the day and a number of orgasms being worked out of him just from their sensitivity.
They also both get off far too much with Jaskier fucking the sheath whilst also being fucked by the cock, and it's a whole different experience watchinf Jaskier as he comes in himself and practically jolts with, almost spurring himself to a quick sexond orgasm from the feel
I know that wolves are very popular in the witcher community, but i’ve always prefered dogs for some reason.
I like that with dogs, even bestiality can be somewhat soft. While fucking wolves, there is usually a lot of fear about one’s life (which is delicious, don’t get me wrong), but with a dog, most of those worries fade away.
Dogs are friendly and easy to come across. I also like the “trying to keep it secret in front of others” angle, since the dog can go to sniff furiously at the character’s crotch or hump their leg, but those are just things that dogs sometimes do, and the dogfucker has to keep a straight face and not get hard as that good boy tries to mount them in front of their whole family.
Ooh how about something with tentacles gets Jaskier in the woods and there's oviposition? Geralt rescues him and possibly there's a bit about Jaskier having to expel the eggs much to his embarrassment, if you're into that part. ❤️
ooh I love! it’s here on ao3, or read below:
When Jaskier had begged to be let along on Geralt’s latest hunt, he didn’t understand Geralt’s smirk, at the time. He was too busy rejoicing over finally being allowed close enough to actually see the action, instead of being relegated to the sidelines, eventually having to resort to Geralt’s one-word answers about the fight afterwards.
Now, though, suspended ten feet in the air, his doublet and trousers lying in a heap on the forest floor, he understood why Geralt had let him so close, and why he looked so damn smug now.
“Geralt, don’t just stand there! Do something!” he whined, wriggling in the tentacles’ unyielding-yet-gentle grip. Every movement only made them squeeze tighter where they were locked around his wrists and ankles, and he tried not to think about how that thought made him go all squirmy inside.
“It’s harmless, Jaskier. It just needs to breed, and then it’ll let you go.”
“Breed? Geralt!” He would’ve kept shouting, except at that moment, a tentacle wormed its way into his mouth, effectively gagging him. His lips closed around the foreign intrusion, sucking instinctively, and the tentacle pulsed in pleasure. He shivered at the sensation.
“Just relax, Jaskier. It’ll be over before you know it.”
Despite everything, Geralt’s steady, matter-of-fact words did have a calming effect on him. The tentacle monster—Jaskier still wasn’t sure what it was, but it certainly had plenty of appendages—stroked him lightly, encouraging him to relax further. It felt kind of nice, actually; if he closed his eyes, he could almost imagine it to be the touch of a lover, drifting softly across his skin, lower and lower until it reached—
He squeaked as he felt a tentacle prodding at his hole, slick yet insistent. He tried to move away, but could get absolutely no leverage while in the tentacle monster’s embrace. The tip edged inside, just barely, the way eased by whatever slick substance covered the tentacles. Jaskier’s toes curled at the sensation.
His prick, already at half mast, leaked drops of precome onto the forest floor. He hated that he was enjoying this, but it just felt so good, the tentacle at his mouth slowly pumping in and out as the one at his ass did the same, working its way in inch by inch.
“Good, Jaskier. Fuck, you look so good like this, so open and needy,” a voice below him growled, and Jaskier started at the reminder that Geralt was there, watching the entire scene play out. He whimpered, more precome leaking from his cock as the tentacle in his ass brushed over his prostate.
Then, just as he was nearing the edge, the tentacle retreated, leaving him empty and wanting. He whined around the tentacle in his mouth, desperate for something—to come, to be filled up, he didn’t know, he just knew he needed it now.
Geralt chuckled, sounding far too satisfied. But Jaskier stopped caring once the tentacle returned, though this time it was thicker, less tapered. It pushed its way inside, Jaskier moaning as he was once more filled up. It was almost too much, stretching him almost to his limit, leaving him right on the edge. He just needed a bit more, another brush against his prostate, or a hand on his cock, anything.
And then the tentacle was expanding, stretching his hole farther than he even knew it could go, and he screamed around the tentacle in his mouth—though whether it was from pleasure or pain, he didn’t know. Everything was all mixed up in his head, and he just—needed to—
The tentacle pulsed, growing larger again, and Jaskier screamed as he came untouched, spine arching as much as it could and toes curling. He came, and came, and yet the tentacle monster didn’t stop, and with horror Jaskier realized it didn’t plan to. He tried to spit the tentacle out, tried to beg Geralt for help, but couldn’t, could only writhe as the tentacle spread him wider.
And then it was pulsing in his ass, and Jaskier felt something moving along it, something large and round that was being deposited inside him. An egg.
It traveled along the length of the tentacle, shoving past his rim and settling around his prostate, and Jaskier jerked at the sensation, overstimulated. He thought that was it, that it was over, but then he realized that it was happening again, another egg being shoved inside of him, knocking against the first, and gods, he was so full.
He was crying, he realized, tears streaking down his face at the barrage of sensations. It was too much, and he was either going to come again or die from it all. As a third egg settled inside of him, he was sure it would be the latter, until another tentacle wrapped itself around his cock and stroked, warm and wet, and he screamed again, voice cracking, as he came for the second time.
He was left panting and limp in the tentacle monster’s grip as he came down from his high, and then it was lowering him to the ground, and Geralt was there, catching him lest he collapse face-first on the ground. Every single muscle in his body hurt, overtaxed, and he was uncomfortably full.
“That’s it. You did good, Jaskier. Just one more thing left,” Geralt soothed, easing him down to lie back on the ground. He waited as Jaskier caught his breath, running a gloved hand along his stomach, and Jaskier realized with a jolt that he was round with the eggs, an obscene bulge in his stomach like he was pregnant. He moaned.
“It’s alright, Jaskier, just relax for me and push,” Geralt coached him, one hand remaining on his stomach while the other searched between his legs for his gaping asshole.
“Push, Jaskier,” Geralt instructed, and Jaskier, face burning, did his best. The eggs shifted inside of him, and he shuddered at the sensation, ass clenching around where Geralt’s fingers were holding him open. “Keep going.”
Jaskier wanted to die of embarrassment, the way Geralt simultaneously looked so unperturbed and clinical about the entire affair warring with the hunger Jaskier could see in his eyes. He blushed even hotter, pushing harder with a small moan, and Geralt helped him out by pressing down on his stomach.
One egg popped out, followed by a rush of slick that had Jaskier covering his face with shaking hands.
“No need to be embarrassed, Jaskier. You’re doing so good,” Geralt praised, and fuck if that didn’t make his dick give a little interested twitch. Because nothing escaped his witcher, Geralt clearly noticed, and raised an eyebrow. “You like that? Like me telling you that you make such a good breeding bitch?”
Jaskier's breath hitched, his dick rising valiantly despite his exhaustion.
“Come on, Jaskier. Only two more,” Geralt coaxed, running his hand along Jaskier stomach, pressing gently against the bulge. Jaskier moaned as they shifted again, coming to rest directly against his prostate. “Push,” Geralt instructed, and Jaskier did, and then another egg was sliding out of him, his rim burning with sensation.
His cock was fully hard now, and Geralt took it in his gloved hand, the leather cool against his overheated flesh. He started to stroke, gently at first, and the picking up speed, and Jaskier writhed, caught between bucking up into it and pulling away from the onslaught.
“This will make the last one easier. Just one more,” Geralt said, pushing down on Jaskier stomach again, driving the last egg out, and with a small cry Jaskier pushed it out and came simultaneously, completely dry.
He wilted back against the ground, completely spent, covered in slime and come and mud and not even caring.
He lay there as Geralt fiddled around with the eggs—when he gathered the strength to lift his head, he saw that Geralt was carefully wrapping them and placing them inside his pack. “They’ll sell well,” Geralt explained, when he saw Jaskier watching him. “Especially now that they’ve been lain inside a willing host.”
Jaskier dropped his head back down on the ground with a thud. “Don’t say things like that,” he rasped.
“Why? Does it make you want to get hard again? Think you could come a fourth time?” Geralt asked, stalking over and cruelly pawing at Jaskier's spent prick. Jaskier could do nothing more than whine, not even having the strength to flinch away. Geralt chuckled. “An experiment for another day, maybe.”
Jaskier gulped, already dreading—or was it anticipating?—that day. For now, though, he was content to flop about as Geralt gathered his errant limbs up, lifting him like one might an overtired child. Jaskier let his head loll back against Geralt’s broad chest, already drifting off to sleep.
“Sleep, Jaskier,” Geralt rumbled. “You did well.”
That was the last thing Jaskier was aware of, and he fell asleep trusting Geralt to get him back to the inn and cleaned up, and then tucked into bed.
Good setup I don't see used frequently enough: person fucked so full they can't walk, let alone put on clothes, so they try to crawl away still naked. But they're so slow they barely get anywhere before they're grabbed and fucked right then and there.
Universe where the betas who make up the vast majority of the population are trying to breed alphas and omegas out of the gene pool. When Jaskier presents as an omega, he loses all value in the eyes of his parents and is nothing but an embarrassment to be put up with. He has heats that are frequent and intense to the point even betas notice his scent, ntm all the noises he’s making. Eventually his parents solve the problem while still preventing him from breeding by getting him a huge dog 1/2
(mb wolfdog?) that’s been trained to fuck omegas. Jaskier is not ok w this but can only resist Geralt’s advances until his next heat hits. He still hates having sex w him but over time increasingly gives in, esp as he becomes more physically aggressive & Jaskier discovers that not only will nobody help him, even if Geralt mounts him in the hall, garden, etc, but they will punish him if his screams & cries get too loud. Eventually he’s just Geralt’s personal bitch to fuck wherever and whenever2/2
This is so good. The world building!! Jaskier just bursts out crying the moment he presents, knowing fully well what it means. Maybe he tries to hide it at first, managing just barely to star cooped up in his room for the first time, but it comes out sooner rather than later. They shun him, locks him up whenever his heat approaches, which is often, and wishes to keep him away from the public. He is free to walk the halls and leave the keep when his heat is over, but the respect is gone, his status reduced to nothing but an animal.
At some stage Jaskier ends up seeking out someone to fuck him through his heat, barely lucid as he begs a servant to help him. This lands him a harsh punishment for his audacity for thinking any beta would have such low self-respect to breed him. He is locked up for the rest of his heat as well as until his next one passes. By that stage his parents have found a solution, presenting Jaskier with a huge dog, reminding him of a wolf with it’s size, and tells him that it will be helping him with his heats.
Jaskier yelps as he watches the dog approach him, the knowledge of his parents purchasing a beast trained and breed to fuck him just so his genes don’t spread making him tear up. He push it off him as it sniffs at him, crying silently in a corner so the dog can’t pounce at him without him being prepared. It doesn’t stop Geralt, him constantly pushing the omega’s legs apart with his muzzle and sniffing at his crotch until Jaskier squeezes his thighs together strong enough to make the dog whine and back off again. It continues for weeks on end, Jaskier always followed around by the beast wherever he goes. It has no boundaries, trying to mount him in the halls and at the dinner table like he would let it. The more times passes, the more aggressive Geralt becomes.
Eventually his heat hits again and Jaskier knows he is fighting a battle he is bound to lose. It takes barely an hour before he has stripped himself and lies face down into the mattress, whining at the way Geralt’s tongue enters him and laps up hus slick. The dog is bred to take care of omegas, producing pheromones much like an alpha’s and tricking them into a deep heat. Jaskier is barely lucid as he is finally mounted and fucked, sobbing with just how intense everything is and comes over and over with barely any refractory period. He hangs off the dog’s knot and cries as he is pumped full of its come, his heat sated for the time being as he tries to catch his breath.
The rest of his heats are the same, Jaskier struggling for all but an hour before he is forced into a deep heat by the beast, panting and begging for it to fill him up with pups he will never bear. Wherever his heat hits doesn’t matter, Geralt pushing him to the ground without issue and knotting him no matter who sees. It ends up with the dog needing more even as Jaskier is out of his heat, taking him forcefully and triggering pre- and post-heat behaviour just to fuck his litter inside the omega. Jaskier hates it, crying and struggling every time, but slowly grows to accept it, his brain fucked out of him and making him crave it nonetheless. Eventually he is just the dof’s bitch, never sated and always open and sloppy for Geralt to sink inside. If the dog wants to fuck for the better part of 24 hours, Jaskier has to just take it and let his mind break on that thick knot.
