Vesemir(dom)/Jaskier(Sun), pup/wolf honorifics, dumification? im curious what'd you'd write (love you vesemir fics and drabbles)
Thank you for your ask <3 [prompt list] Tags: sort of pet play? humping/dumbification/mention of breeding an inanimate object. --
He was waiting patiently. Jaskier had been sent to Vesemir’s bedroom, with a click of the older man’s fingers, a few stern words, and a point in the direction of his room. Lambert had been sitting too close to Vesemir for Jaskier’s comfort. The older man was his wolf, no one else’s as far as he was concerned. That wasn’t true of course, but once the bard’s collar was on, all intelligent thought went out the window – that’s the way he liked it.
Jaskier made sure to take off all of his clothes, then knelt on the little pile of blankets at the foot of Vesemir’s bed. The bard’s cock was sore, and leaking already, the younger man totally unaware that there could be repercussions for his actions. He didn’t touch himself of course, he never did. That was Wolf’s job – only he knew how to do it, and if Vesemir didn’t, Jaskier would helplessly try and get Vesemir’s attention until he understood what he needed.
Thoughts were for Wolf. Jaskier simply sat on his knees, lightly swaying, waiting for Vesemir to give him attention instead of anyone else in the keep.
When the door cracked open, the bard’s eyes darted to the door, and he grinned as Vesemir walked towards him even though the older man didn’t grin back. Jaskier whimpered as his chin was lifted by Vesemir’s thumb and forefinger.
“Tell me, Pup, do you think that was an appropriate little display down there? Snarling at Lambert like that when all he did was speak to me?”
Jaskier knitted his brow before he replied. There was no thought before he spoke, he simply said any words that came into his mind. If he needed to be scolded for them, that was alright, as long as he didn’t have to think.
“You’re mine. My wolf. Not Geralt’s, not Eskel’s, not Lambert’s. Mine.” It was petulant. Jaskier felt Vesemir put a finger inside the metal loop at the front of his collar. “Lambert got too close, Wolf.”
The older man pulled on the collar as he brought his face down to meet Jaskier’s, making sure the bard could hear him clearly.
“It seems my training is going to waste; I certainly didn’t train you to speak to me like that.” Vesemir tutted, keeping hold of the collar. “You’re mine, little pup, and just because you get to sleep in my room doesn’t mean you can snarl at my boys when you don’t get enough attention.”
Jaskier’s cock pulsed as Vesemir spoke to him, and the bard rolled his hips forward, searching for contact without hearing the words being said to him. He didn’t try and control it; he didn’t have to.
Vesemir looked down, acknowledging it for the first time since he’d entered the room.
“Ahhhh, I understand.” Vesemir let go of Jaskier’s collar, and the bard reached forward to grab onto his arms, trying to steady himself before he fell over. The witcher simply helped the bard sit back on his knees comfortably, and made a hand gesture to tell him to sit nice. Hand gestures were almost always used when Jaskier was like this – they were much easier to understand than words.
Vesemir opened his large cupboard doors, and pulled out an apparatus that immediately made the bard whine. Strings of pre-cum began to coat the blankets, and Jaskier stayed exactly where he was – he knew from previous experience that if he moved from that spot, the apparatus would be taken away.
The soft, bench like item was a couple of feet from the ground, high enough that the bard could comfortably lie across it without hurting his legs. It was rounded, firm, with soft, removable fabrics that were warm on the bard’s skin and seemingly could be cleaned – though Jaskier didn’t need to think about that. He simply waited for it to be brought out, and once he was done with it, the apparatus was simply out of his mind, so he was sure Vesemir must deal with it after that. The most important part of the strange furniture was the hole near the end. If Jaskier’s mind was clear, he’d simply call it a breeding bench, but when his head was empty, awaiting Vesemir’s orders, all he knew was that it was something his Wolf let him fuck to clear his desperate need to cum and help his poor behaviour.
The witcher pulled a chair to one end of it and sat down, staring at Jaskier with each movement. He unlaced his trousers, and took himself in his hand, before making another hand gesture, signalling that Jaskier could move over to the bench.
Jaskier almost tripped over himself, jumping for the apparatus and mounting it, only working on instincts. Vesemir leaned back on the chair, half smiling, watching as his pup humped the material, confused as to why it wasn’t working yet.
“Wolf?” Jaskier looked at his witcher, sincerely unable to comprehend why it didn’t feel right yet. He frantically rubbed his cock against the surface, whining at the feeling of the material on his skin. Vesemir continued to work his own cock in his hand, slowly, without taking his eyes from the younger man. Once it was clear Jaskier wasn’t able to do this on his own, Vesemir stood up and walked behind him. He took the bard’s hips in his hands, and lined him up with the hole on the bench. Once he was lined up, he reached around, and guided his cock into the hole.
The feeling was instintanious as Jaskier began to fuck into it like his life depended on it. He knew he was allowed to take what he needed as fast as he liked – because a pup like him couldn’t comprehend anything else, could he? No. Jaskier simply chased the feeling.
Vesemir walked back to his seat, only this time, he leaned forward, taking Jaskier’s face in one hand and getting himself off with the other.
“That feel good, Pup? That’s what you needed, isn’t it? That’s all you ever need. Your body doesn’t know anything else.”
Jaskier pressed his face against the bench, letting his mouth drop open and caring not for the noises or the drool that left his mouth. All he could feel were his Wolf’s hands, carding through his hair, pulling every so often while he spoke to him. It was interesting how once he was seated in the bench, humping the hole that was made just for him, that the words of his dominant bounced off his brain like he spoke a different language that he couldn’t understand.
“W… wolf…” “Shhh Pup,” Vesemir continued to scritch at Jaskier’s head “no talking now, I know you find it hard to do two things at once. You just focus on how good you feel.”
Jaskier opened his mouth wider, begging for something but he wasn’t quite sure what.
“Soon Pup, no thinking now.”
Jaskier’s pace started to quicken, and his eyebrows scrunched up. His head was empty enough that he just continued fucking into the bench, something in his body trying so hard to breed the inanimate object underneath him, but no thoughts to realise it wouldn’t work. Eventually, his hips stuttered as he gripped onto the apparatus, whimpering and mewling as he let the bench milk his cock.
“Good Pup, there we are, every drop now.” Jaskier didn’t notice the wavering in his Wolf’s voice as he finally collapsed onto the bench, blissed out and exhausted.
The bard lay across the bench, letting his breathing slow down naturally, and soon he felt the weight of a hand on his back. Securing him, holding him, grounding him. Jaskier wasn’t sure why, but he opened his mouth that bit wider, and eventually, his mouth was coated in his Wolf’s cum. His ears were ringing. He tried his best to swallow as much as he could, but there simply was too much thought for that, and he knew Vesemir would be happy that he tried his best.
He could hear Vesemir after this, showering him with praise, and kisses, and cleaning him up. Jaskier simply lay there, allowing his Wolf to move him around and show him what to do.
Eventually, he was clean, and pulled into the bed with Vesemir, cuddled close to the older man’s chest.
“You feel better now, Pup? No more snarling at my boys?”
Jaskier grinned, coming out of his submissive haziness, ready to be cheeky once more. He lifted his leg over the witcher, and nuzzled into his neck.
“Lambert did it on purpose, Wolf. I was merely trying to protect my territory.” Jaskier pouted, feeling a bit braver now that he had at least a few braincells back. “Hmmmm. If you promise to stop your snarling, I’ll maybe have a word.” Vesemir pressed a kiss into his hair, then pulled him close. Jaskier considered this a win.
