witcherhdkinks

[witcherhdkinks]

Cockslut!Jaskier getting bred by his Witchers during a visit to Kaer Morhen 😳 Maybe with dp if you don’t mind writing that and praise and aftercare?

Anon, thank you so much for sending this prompt! The moment I read it I was hooked. But hoo, boy. This got way out of hand. This is clocking in at almost 4k and it’s honestly the filthiest thing I’ve ever written. 🙈

Additional tags: spit roasting, double penetration, breeding kink, overstimulation

The rest is gonna be under the cut ‘cos, um, it gets really filthy. I hope you enjoy!

~*~

Being romantically involved with Geralt brings a lot of benefits in Jaskier’s humble opinion. The list is fairly short and it goes like this:

1 He’s horny all the fucking time. And Geralt, thanks to his Witcher mutations, has a lot of stamina. It helps that his dear While Wolf is just as horny, if not hornier, as Jaskier.

2 He loves cock. He loves the feel of a thick, veiny dick in his mouth, loves the taste of precome and cum, enjoys tonguing the slit and sucking the balls. Jaskier especially loves it when Geralt grips the back of his head with both hands and uses him to his pleasure, that long, thick length reaching places no other has.

3 He and Geralt are not only lovers, they’re also best friends, which means they have a profound understanding of one another. Meaning that they trust each other and respect each other’s boundaries and limits. And lastly;

4 He trusts Geralt to take care of him. Whether it’s a night of roughly fucking Jaskier through the mattress to fight off the effects of the potions he took, or whether it’s hours of slow lovemaking that makes Jaskier sob with overstimulation -- Geralt is always attentive to Jaskier’s needs after every session.

Which is why Jaskier isn’t surprised that when they arrive at Kaer Morhen for the winter - the third consecutive winter he’s spending with Geralt - his dear witcher broaches the topic of sharing him with his brothers.

~

“You can say no, they’ll understand,” Geralt tells him on their first night at the keep.

Jaskier smiles sweetly at him and cranes his neck to kiss Geralt’s cheek.

Silly witcher, as if Jaskier would pass up the opportunity to take not one, not even two, but three Witcher cocks. All fucking winter. It’s basically heaven on earth!

“I can, but I don’t want to,” he replies, voice rough from choking on his witcher’s dick earlier. Geralt’s eyes darken when Jaskier smirks at him. “Really, darling. The more the merrier, right?”

“Are you really sure?”

“Yes, Geralt.”

“It’s not going to be like how we fuck, Jas.”

Jaskier arches a brow, intrigued at Geralt’s slightly sheepish expression.

“If they fuck as well as you do, and I’m sure that they do, then I don’t see a problem.”

Geralt shakes his head. “Not that. When I said I’ll be sharing you with them, it means that the three of us will be fucking you. Together. We will ruin you, Jas.”

Jaskier blinks at him, his calmness belying the sudden pounding in his chest.

“Well, that’s the point of sharing, isn’t it? In fact, I can’t fucking wait to have your brothers’ cocks in me. I bet they’re just as gifted as you, if you get my drift.” Then he winks at Geralt with a salacious grin.

Geralt returns it with an unimpressed look. Then Jaskier yelps in surprise when he’s suddenly rolled onto his stomach, huge witcher hands grasping his cheeks and pulling them apart to expose Jaskier’s puffy, come-soaked hole. Jaskier makes the prettiest noises when Geralt proceeds to eat him out for the next thirty minutes.

~

Okay, so maybe Jaskier got a bit overconfident.

He meant it when he said that he couldn’t wait to get a taste of their cocks, Jaskier basically salivating at the image of him on his knees and servicing the other witchers. A shiver of pleasure runs down his spine at the thought of having his throat abused all winter long. So it’s no surprise when he was proven right that Eskel and Lambert were just as well-endowed as Geralt.

Still, nothing prepared him for the night Geralt, Eskel, and Lambert took him apart and pieced him back together.

Jaskier the Bard walked so that Jaskier the Witchers’ Whore could run.

~

As a way of ‘breaking him in’, Eskel and Lambert spend the next few days getting acquainted with Jaskier in the biblical sense.

It starts with Lambert cornering Jaskier in the halls one afternoon. He drags Jaskier into an alcove where he proceeds to test his cocksucking skills. The witcher grabs his hair in a bruising grip, one hand pressed to the wall in front of him, moving his hips languidly so as to see how far Jaskier can take him. The bard rises to the challenge. To Lambert’s utter shock, Jaskier manages to take his whole length, nose buried in the short, wiry curls on his pelvis.

Jaskier wraps his hands around his cloth-covered ass and starts bobbing his head enthusiastically. He licks a stripe down Lambert’s veiny cock, sucking his balls into his mouth before kissing his way up the length. Jaskier then takes just the tip into his mouth and sucks it, cheeks hollowing as he tongues the slit, milking the precome and moaning at the bitter taste.

Lambert lets out a loud groan and murmurs, “Fuck, fuck, how are you — fuck, just like that — so fucking good.”

Jaskier’s eyes roll back into his head when he feels the head of Lambert’s thick cock hit the back of his throat. Lambert curses up a streak and moans fuck, Geralt was right, your mouth is made for sucking cock and you take me so well, baby, you feel so fucking good. It’s Jaskier’s turn to moan, throat vibrating as Lambert tilts his head further back, grip tightening a fraction as he thrusts one, two, three, four times before he shoots thick ropes of cum down Jaskier’s abused throat.

“I’m gonna fucking breed you next time,” Lambert growls as he continues to come.

Jaskier feels his own breeches dampen, coming untouched at that proclamation, and he closes his eyes in bliss when he finally gets a taste of the brash witcher’s cum. He looks up at Lambert, teary-eyed and glazed, and makes a show of swallowing every single drop of his spend, tongue poking out to lick a drop he missed. Lambert curses and then pulls Jaskier up to his feet, only to shove him against the wall and kiss him breathless.

~

Jaskier is in the library dusting the shelves and rearranging the scholarly books to Vesemir’s preference when Eskel finds him. The quiet and kind witcher quietly shuts and locks the door behind him before striding towards Jaskier, who’s unbeknownst to the witcher’s presence until he feels strong hands grip his waist and bend him over the empty shelf.

“My brothers sing their praise of your mouth,” Eskel rumbles in Jaskier’s ear. Scarred, sweaty hands trail up the bard’s flanks before moving down to unlace his breeches and shove it down past hairy, creamy thighs. Eskel mutters a curse under his breath when he takes in Jaskier’s plump ass, still bearing the marks and bruises that Geralt left him last night. “But I want another hole of yours.”

“Please, please, fuck,” Jaskier moans, cock already swelling as he arches his back and shoves his hips to grind against Eskel’s hardened length. “Anything, you can do anything to me, just — please, fuck. Want your cock so bad.”

Eskel chuckles before he grips Jaskier’s hair and pulls back to lick and bite bruises on his throat. He nips at an earlobe, Jaskier’s surprised yelp turning into a moan when Eskel whispers in his ear. “Hmm, you’re such a slut for cock, aren’t you, pretty boy? Want me to fuck your throat raw? Want me to fuck your perfect little hole, breed you like the bitch you are?”

Jaskier’s moans echo in the spacious room, beads of precome leaking from the tip of his aching cock . “Yes yes yes! Fuck, I want everything you want to give me,” he sobs brokenly. “Please, Eskel, let me be your good boy.”

“Fuck.”

It’s a bit of blur after that. Eskel pushes Jaskier’s back so he’s bent at a ninety-degree angle on the shelf, his naked ass in full display. Eskel nudges Jaskier’s legs to spread wider before he pulls his cheeks apart.

“Fuck, you’re still wet.”

Jaskier’s hole is still loose from Geralt's cock earlier that day, the rim slightly puffy and moist. Eskel doesn’t hesitate to insert two fingers in his hole, and he sucks in a breath when the bard takes them easily. He starts to pump his fingers in and out of Jaskier, drawing out moans and pleas for more, more, more. So Eskel does, pulling out briefly to spit on his fingers and going back in with a third digit. His cock is throbbing, tight against his braies as Eskel leans forward and starts licking at the rim, groaning when he can taste Geralt’s cum. Jaskier’s thighs tremble as he sobs in his arms. Then all of a sudden, he makes a high keening noise and comes untouched when Eskel points his tongue and starts fucking into his loose hole, along with the three fingers brushing against his prostate.

Eskel finally gives in and pulls his fingers out. He fumbles to unlace his pants, quickly shoving them down past his thighs before he grasps Jaskier’s hip with one hand while the other guides his cock to the winking hole. A groan punches out of his chest when the tip of his cock moves past the ring of muscle, and he keeps pushing until he bottoms out. Jaskier whimpering and begging for Eskel to fuck him, please is a beautiful accompaniment.

He sets a fast pace, relentlessly ramming his cock into Jaskier, and his aim remains true if the bard’s sounds of pleasure is anything to go by. He’s so fucking tight after all the fucking Geralt’s done to him, and Eskel thinks he and his brothers are going to have so much fun with Jaskier. They’re going to ruin him and he’s going to be theirs.

Theirs for the taking anytime, anywhere. Whenever they fucking please.

He comes several minutes later with a loud groan, and his chest swells with pride when he hears Jaskier cry out and come untouched again. When he pulls out, Eskel turns Jaskier around and lifts him up, only to shove the bard against the shelf and kiss him breathless.

~

And just like that, Jaskier’s patience is rewarded.

It’s a week later. A week of quick blowjobs and desperate fucking. And one particular memory of Lambert ambushing Jaskier in the stables and fucking him against an empty stall.

Tonight, they’re in Geralt’s room and Jaskier is on his back in front of the blazing fire, legs spread obscenely wide and pulled up to his chest as Geralt grips the back of his knees and continues to drive his cock into Jaskier’s stretched hole in a punishing pace. The furs underneath him are already soaked with their combined spend, Geralt having cum once and Jaskier twice already. Jaskier has one hand wrapped around Lambert’s cock, the raven-haired witcher thrusting against his hand and toying with Jaskier’s nipples. Eskel is on his other side, one hand stroking Jaskier’s cock while the other strokes his sweaty hair, cooing and murmuring praises.

“You’re doing so well. You’re such a good boy, Jas.”

“You’re our good boy, aren’t you?” Lambert adds. At Jaskier’s nod, he pushes two fingers in his mouth. And Jaskier, who wants to continue being a good boy, starts sucking at Lambert’s fingers, tongue swirling around and between the digits and hollowing his cheeks like he’s sucking cock. “Fuck. You even take my fingers so well. Do you want my cock, baby?”

Jaskier moans a yes around his fingers.

He wants more, wants everything.

Above him, Geralt’s pace starts to falter. It takes another dozen thrusts before he grunts and comes inside Jaskier. Jaskier whines when he feels Geralt’s cum shoot deep inside him, thick ropes painting his insides, and the thought of getting knocked up (a filthy fantasy Jaskier recently started indulging, thanks to them) makes him moan louder.

“My turn,” Lambert announces the moment Geralt’s still half-hard cock slips out. Jaskier whimpers at the loss of fingers in his mouth, and he hears Lambert chuckle. “Don’t worry, baby. You can suck my cock later. Right now, I’m gonna breed you.”

“Fuck.” Jaskier sobs. Please.

He gets the sensation of having his body moved, and before he knows it, Jaskier is on his hands and knees. His head is shoved back, and he dutifully opens his mouth to accept Eskel’s thick length. Jaskier looks up at the witcher from underneath his lashes, cornflower blue eyes teary as he makes a show of sucking the blunt head, pulling out to tongue the slit and swallow the precome that drips from the tip.

“Oh, fuck.” Eskel’s mouth is hanging open. The scars on his handsome face look soft against the firelight, amber eyes wide in wonder and lust as Jaskier slowly takes his entire length in one go. “Fuck, your fucking mouth.”

“Told you,” Geralt quips smugly.

When Jaskier feels the blunt head hit the back of his throat, he breathes through his nose for a moment before slowly pulling away. He lifts one hand and taps Eskel’s hand, still gripping his hair. The witcher must’ve understood his meaning because he takes his other hand to grasp Jaskier’s jaw and sets a steady rhythm of fucking into Jaskier’s mouth.

Behind him, Lambert’s calloused hand tightly grasps Jaskier’s hip, the blunt head of his thick, veiny cock slowly sliding into Jaskier. He hears a deep rumble come from Lambert’s chest, and Jaskier sighs dreamily at the heavenly sensation of another enormous cock making a home in him. Lambert doesn’t wait for Jaskier to adjust to his girth, slowly pulling out until the tip remains, and then roughly thrusting back in. Jaskier’s cock twitches in interest once more, and it doesn’t take long until he’s hard and aching again.

“Oh, fuuuck,” Lambert gasps, tone blissful. “Hands down, the best hole I ever had— fuck, baby, you feel so good.”

Jaskier briefly abandons Eskel’s leaking prick to beg, “Harder! C’mon, fucking breed me, please. Wanna have your pups.”

Jaskier feels smug satisfaction when he hears all three of them groan and curse. To his left, Geralt leaves a wet trail of kisses across Jaskier’s back, hands wandering from his throat, chest, and sides until one hand moves to his ass to slap one cheek. Jaskier sucks in a breath, choking on Eskel’s cock when he feels a blunt finger tracing his swollen rim. Jaskier whimpers when he feels Geralt’s finger pushes into his fluttering hole, his heart in his throat when Geralt starts to shallowly thrust his finger in and out, the stretch burning and bordering on painful. But the discomfort eases, slowly paving the way for pleasure once more.

Jaskier has never felt more alive than in this moment, and he finds himself craving for more.

“Such a greedy hole,” Geralt comments, voice like gravel and dripping with want as he forces another finger inside him. “Bet you can take another. Would you like that, Jas? Hm? Would you like another cock in you?”

Jaskier’s eyes widened. He tries to nod around a mouthful of Eskel’s gorgeous cock, but settles for humming his approval. The vibration in his throat makes Eskel curse a long streak, hips twitching before he shoots his load down his throat, Jaskier happily swallowing every single drop. Still half-hard (honestly, bless Witcher stamina), Eskel pulls out of his reddened mouth, which allows Jaskier to turn to Geralt.

“Want it,” he gasps out, eyes bright and desperate and wanting. “Please, Geralt. Y-you and Lambert. Want you two s-splitting me open and f-filling my hole with cum— fuck, please.”

“Fuck, fuckfuckfuck,” Geralt says before he gently pulls his fingers out. Jaskier whines at the loss, and he nearly sobs when Lambert stops thrusting too, the witcher pulling out with a curse.

Jaskier can hear himself begging. Begging for his witchers to fill him again because he feels so fucking empty, and why is he empty? Hasn’t he been a good boy? He doesn’t realize that his head is pillowed in his arms, gentle hands running through his hair and sweaty while another set of hands holds his hips up so Jaskier doesn’t topple over. After several moments, he can make out Eskel’s soothing voice telling Jaskier that he is a good boy, that he’ll have to be patient because his reward is going to take a bit more time but it’ll be worth it.

Through lidded eyes, Jaskier is barely aware of his limbs being moved accordingly. He purrs when he feels lips pepper kisses on his face, neck, and shoulders. Three sets of huge, sword-calloused hands roam over Jaskier’s body, stroking and pinching before they lift him up. One of them spreads his knees wider than normal to accommodate the brawny figure lying beneath him. Jaskier’s purrs turn into a blissful moan when he feels a cock - Lambert’s, his mind supplies - nudge against his gaping hole before sliding back inside him.

Finally.

“Mmhm, welcome home,” Jaskier purrs, smiling dopily at Lambert who snorts and starts shallowly thrusting up into him. Eskel and Geralt choke on their laughter, but Jaskier ignores it because everything’s okay now; he no longer feels empty.

Lambert’s pace remains slow and steady for the next few minutes, but before Jaskier can start complaining, he feels slick fingers tracing his swollen rim. Jaskier hisses at the burn of having two thick fingers glide in alongside Lambert’s cock, the long digits scissoring him further. It takes several minutes before Geralt adds another finger, and it’s a testament to Geralt’s patience and attentiveness that Jaskier doesn’t feel pain at having his hole stretched wider to prepare him for another cock.

“Fuck, Jas, you take Lambert’s cock and my fingers so well,” Geralt purrs, chest rumbling. Jaskier moans, loving the feeling of his fingers spreading inside him. “You’re going to look so fucking beautiful taking our cocks, too.”

“He’s born for us to fuck and breed,” Eskel adds from where he’s on his knees in front of Jaskier. He’s hard again, one hand gripping the base of his cock as he rubs his length and balls across Jaskier’s face.

“Hhng,” Jaskier moans, tongue lolling out to lick Eskel’s balls. Then he arches his back and rolls his hips. “I’m - fuck - I’m ready. Please please please, want your cock now!”

Thankfully, Geralt deems him prepared as well, gently pulling his fingers out of Jaskier with a loud squelch. Jaskier doesn’t have to wait long, though. He can sense Geralt get into position behind him while Lambert stops moving. A hand grips one cheek and Jaskier waits with bated breath as the slick blunt head of Geralt’s cock painstakingly breaches his hole. The stretch burns and it lasts longer this time, but Jaskier grits his teeth and breathes heavily through his nose as inch by inch, he takes Geralt’s enormous cock until he’s buried to the hilt.

There’s a long moment of silence.

“Holy fuck,” Lambert chokes out, and Jaskier looks down to meet lust-filled amber eyes staring up at him in amazement. “Jaskier. Jas— fuck, baby.”

“Gorgeous,” Eskel breathes out from above.

“Ours,” Geralt growls from behind.

“Yours,” Jaskier agrees with a wanton moan. He rolls his hips, and the trio who are connected hiss in unison until Jaskier demands, “Move.”

Lambert’s hands take hold of his hips and Geralt pulls his cheeks apart. Then they start to move. It takes a few thrusts before they build a steady rhythm, Lambert pushing in as Geralt pulls back, and so on. Jaskier’s thighs tremble as they start to pound harder into him, the burning stretch already a distant memory as Jaskier pants on Eskel’s cock. His insides feel full, stretching to accommodate two thick cocks plowing into him like a fucktoy.

Jaskier chances a glance down and can’t help but gasp at the bulge he sees on his belly. Lambert adjusts his position then, bracing his feet on the fur-covered ground before he shifts his hips. The new angle brushes Jaskier’s prostate, and his cock twitches against his abs, precome dripping on Lambert’s belly. Behind him, Geralt’s grunts deepen as he also changes his angle to hit that little bundle of nerves.

It’s all so much and it’s becoming too much. Jaskier feels like he’s about to burst, and yet.

He wants more.

It takes a few attempts but eventually Jaskier manages to take the head of Eskel’s cock into his mouth, the witcher squawking in surprise. Jaskier hums before he hollows his cheeks and sucks, moving his head to swallow the rest of Eskel’s length. Like before, Eskel grips his head and snaps his hips into Jaskier’s tight, hot mouth.

“Fucking insatiable,” Eskel growls. “You’re gonna be so full of our come, pretty boy. Gonna feed you and breed you every single day. Gonna smell like us so that no one in this Continent will think you’re not ours.”

“By the time the snow melts, prepping you won’t be a problem ‘cos your hole’s gonna be so loose,” Lambert adds in between grunts.

It’s Geralt’s turn to growl, the rhythm they established long gone as his hips piston in and out of Jaskier’s gaping hole.

“He’ll be with me on the Path,” he pants, hairy chest heaving and glistening with sweat. “Gonna make sure our whore stays open for business.”

Jaskier takes his mouth off Eskel to let out a loud, broken moan, shouting, “Yes!”

Then his body convulses, breaths shallow as he clenches down on Lambert and Geralt’s cocks. His vision whitens out and he comes so hard he passes out.

When Jaskier regains consciousness, it’s to the sounds of skin slapping on abused skin and three horny witchers grunting as they chase their release. He distinguishes Eskel’s breath hitch before he groans out loud and Jaskier feels something warm splatter across his back. Lambert follows with a choked gasp, hips stilling as he paints Jaskier’s inner walls with his cum. And Geralt - wonderful, competitive, possessive Geralt - tightens his hold on Jaskier’s spread cheeks, nails digging into the meat of his reddened ass. He ruts into him once, twice, thrice and then howls before he pulls Jaskier flushed against him. Jaskier can feel thick ropes of cum join Lambert’s, their combined spend filling up his insides more.

It’s like there’s cotton in his ears and mouth, the rest of the world muffled as Jaskier’s eyes roll back into his head, saliva dribbling from the corner of his mouth when it dawns on him how fucking full he feels. And he loves it.

He loves it so much that he finds himself craving for this to happen again. And again, and again.

Jaskier must’ve passed out once more because the next time he opens his eyes, he’s no longer in front of the fire. He’s curled up on his side, head pillowed on a broad, scarred chest while two pairs of hands wipe him clean of the sweat and cum. Jaskier moans, hips twitching when he feels someone gently run a warm, wet cloth between his cheeks. His ass feels sore and numb at the same time, and it’s plain to see that it’ll at least be a few days before Jaskier can request for a repeat performance.

“Such a good boy,” Eskel rumbles. “Our perfect boy.”

“No way you’re getting rid of us now,” Lambert says next. Jaskier feels a hand on his nape, followed by slightly chapped lips kissing a trail from his shoulder to his neck already littered with lovebites. “You belong to us, baby.”

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he hears Geralt murmur beneath him. Ah, so it’s Geralt he’s draped over. “And you did everything so perfectly. We’re so proud of you, Jas.”

Jaskier purrs and settles comfortably on Geralt’s chest. He closes his eyes and lets himself be pampered by them. After all, he’s their good boy.

It’s only a matter of counting down the days until Jaskier can feel whole again, being fed and stuffed full of his witchers’ cock and cum.

~*~

A/N: Sooo I hope this was okay. 🙈 

As for the length, it’s my first time filling out prompts so if there’s anything you don’t wanna read or want to read more of, please feel free to send me a message ‘cos I really do want to improve! 😀 I’ll also likely cross-post on AO3, but that’s gonna be at a later date. 

Thank you for reading! 

#LITERALLY the most fun Witcher sexual jask fic #im so obsessed with this omg #dee.....im horny :(

[witcherhdkinks]

guys i feel absolutely awful about how yall cant even read my old fics, im truly so sorry for not realizing this before, I'm trying to see if i can find a way to get them back to repost or I'll just have to rewrite them all again, either way i apologize for it immensely and I'll try to fix it up!

I can not thank any of you enough for being as patient as you are,

- t

#t talks #im........so sad #im literally so sad i should've kept backups but i didnt and im so suehshdhshdhdhdh #ILL FIGURE IT OUT im so sorry everyone

[witcherhdkinks]

go send them some prompts!! they're new and im already excited for their content!!

- t

dreamer here

Check out my Kinks List and Ships List. :)

#HEY EVERYBODY go check out another new member of ur small yet growing group! #WELCOME DREAMER!! Hope u have fun here!!!

[witcherhdkinks]

Do you think you and ache could please repost asks from your old blogs here? The readmores don't go anywhere anymore :// thank you!!!

OH!! i wasnt aware that that was happening!! I'll Absolutely look into it and fix it im truly so sorry!!!

- t

#t talks #lets see if i can fix it im so worried now

[witcherhdkinks]

Just a sucker for Jaskier being agonisingly desperate for wolf cock while simultaneously being embarrassed he wants it so much. The sight alone gets him horny even if he just sees an inn's large dog because it's so close to a wolf, so close to what he craves and when he entices a wolf to pleasure him, it's all he could ever want again.

listen babes, this somehow edged into 2k words, truly will someone stop me?? anyway I was thrilled to finally write wolf porn of my own lmao. the first part has underage jaskier so you can skip til the second *** to avoid it.

***

It's not exactly what noble boys do, is it?

They don't wander the forest aimlessly for hours while their even-nobler fathers host a very important feast for very important people.

Julian, as it happens, isn't a fan of very important people.

It's not difficult to sneak away from the maids meant to babysit him--mostly because he's not a baby to be sat, he's a strapping young lad at four-and-ten, and they can all sod off, frankly.

The woods are blessedly quiet, save for the rustle of leaves in the spring breeze. Julian comes to a small, sun-bathed meadow, plush with newly-sprung flowers, and breathes in its wonderful fragrance. It's the easiest choice he's ever faced, to collapse in the centre of it, the grass warm underneath him and the sun scorching above him. Julian shuts his eyes and lets himself relax, just this once.

He wakes--because he did fall asleep, how could he not, in this bliss?--and his vision is bleached-white. He can't tell how much time has passed, only that his neck aches from sleeping on the ground, and there's a warm, moist gust of wind on his cheek that smells remarkably unpleasant.

A wet nose nudges the underside of his jaw, and Julian freezes.

He allows himself a fleeting look at the creature--a strikingly big dog, isn't it, just a dog, with yellow eyes and paws the size of Julian's own hands.

So, yes, perhaps--perhaps it is a wolf.

A huge, magnificent beast of a wolf that's currently slobbering all over Julian's collar. Its tongue is rough and tickles the delicate skin of Julian's neck.

Dread makes his throat close up momentarily when the wolf snaps its head up, nose twitching, sniffing intently. Gods, could there be more of them approaching? A--a pack?

The wolf moves away, and Julian's heart rattles in his chest when he thinks it'll let him go. As soon as the beast leaves he'll make a break for it, sprint as fast as his legs will carry him, and he'll never go into the woods alone again, and--

He's near paralysed when the wolf merely moves down his body to nudge insistently at his (staggeringly, surprisingly) hard cock.

It's because he'd dreamt of nice things, pleasant things, filthy things. Or it's--the adrenaline, maybe.

A wretched thought flashes through his mind, of what that rough tongue would feel like on his--

"Fuck, ow, ow," he hisses through clenched teeth when the wolf closes its jaws gently around the bulge in his trousers. Its teeth don't pierce the fabric, but the pin-points of pressure still make him shiver. In fear, he reminds himself.

He's absolutely startled when he catches a glimpse of the wolf's cock. A wave of heat floods his face. It's so fucking big. Julian's never seen anything with a cock that big, pink and throbbing and flared at the base. Gods. His mouth waters, though he isn't sure why. The wolf releases his teeth from around his cock in favour of licking at it through the trousers, soaking them wholly.

It's--the beast won't leave until he gives it what it wants, right? So if--if Julian unbuttons his trousers with shaking hands and pulls the sodden fabric away--if he shimmies his smallclothes down his hips and lets his cock spring proudly out of them--

Well, that's just for survival.

He has to bite down on the side of his fist when its tongue drags harshly over his cockhead, again and again. It doesn't venture any lower, stays fixed only on the leaking tip, and Julian is so horribly dizzy with pleasure his eyes cross. He keeps still, awfully still, even as his release shudders through his entire body, more intense than he ever managed on his own. The wolf keeps licking at his spent cock, cleaning his seed off until he's sobbing soundlessly.

He's in a haze, pleasure-drunk and fascinated, is all. So that's why--why he reaches out to touch the wolf's cock.

It's so fucking big.

The beast whimpers, and Julian--well, it's been awfully kind to him, hasn't it? Didn't make to bite him, or growl at him, or tear him to pieces. Just got him off. Liked the way he smelled. And Julian is a well-mannered young man, isn't he? He was raised right. So maybe that's why he climbs onto his knees and shoves his trousers down eagerly. Maybe that's why he lets the wolf mount him, thrust to completion between his thighs. Maybe it's why he wishes he could let it enter him, and fuck him, and knot him--because he's nice, and the wolf deserves it.

The tip of its cock bumps against Julian's full balls and if he comes again with the wolf pushing its knot between his legs, well.

It's the adrenaline.

***

"I love your dog."

It's a beautiful creature, big and muscular, its fur a striking shiny black. He scratches behind its ear, down its sides, until it collapses and rolls over to show him its belly. He scratches there, too, eyes fixed on the dog's heavy balls for a moment before he collects himself.

"He's not for sale," the inkeeper scoffs, though he seems amused at the sight of the bard in his finest brocade crouching in the dirt, petting a dog.

"Oh, no, I'm not looking to buy." The man's turned away with a hum, and Jaskier can't help it if his hand slips lower, pets over the dog's sheath. Such a big dog, it probably-- "Just an admirer."

His prick strains uncomfortably against his ornate trousers when he catches the glimpse of a pink cockhead peeking out of its sheath.

Later, when he gets plowed by a faceless man in this nameless town, he whines around a mouthful of pillowcase, flushing with shame even as he doesn't think about a fat knot stretching him so much better than the man ever could.

***

Jaskier likes big cocks, as any self-respecting man should.

The problem is, he's never found a cock big enough to soothe the empty ache he feels.

He's found a few brimming with potential, but there was always something lacking.

(A knot the size of his fist that he could squirm on, maybe.)

Geralt's wolf medalion holds a lot of promise. Geralt's golden, canine eyes even more so.

Geralt's enormous fucking cock resting soft and heavy against his thigh in the bath is so promising, in fact, that Jaskier nearly throws himself into the murky water, clothes and all.

But he doesn't want to ruin this somewhat comfortable companionship that they have, so he keeps his hands firmly to himself.

(And anyway, maybe, somewhere deep within him, Jaskier thought certain parts of the witcher other than his eyes would be wolf-like.)

When Geralt leaves him in camp and goes off to slay some beast prowling the woods, Jaskier is fine with it. They'd done this so many times, it makes no difference.

Geralt said he'll be back before dawn.

There's a whole lot of time until dawn, and Jaskier's grown awfully bored of the sound of his lute.

And he just can't help but find the mystery of what lurks in the forest exceptionally erotic. Nothing to do with the distant howl of a lone wolf that carries through the valley.

The night is warm enough that he can strip completely bare before he starts working his fingers into himself. His shoulder begins to ache quickly, and the angle isn't ideal, but on his knees, chest-down is the only position that he can get off in anymore. He tries not to dwell on that.

His neck is twisted uncomfortably. Uncomfortably, but perfectly to see a pair of golden, glittering eyes watching him from the trees' edge. He thinks it's Geralt, for a horrible moment, Geralt's come back from the hunt early, Geralt's caught him desperately trying to fuck himself to death.

He thinks it's Geralt, until a pale, lumbering shape trots out into the camp.

It's the biggest wolf Jaskier's ever seen. He didn't think they even grew this fucking big.

Ultimately, it isn't his fault, that he comes on the spot, looking the wolf over.

It's the adrenaline.

Jaskier pulls his fingers out and pillows his head on his forearms, though he remains on his knees, eyes fixed on the wolf as it circles the camp's parameter. He's panting, his cock throbbing dully from trying to get hard too soon.

The wolf turns its head slowly towards Jaskier.

He nearly squeals when it approaches him, the soft thud of its big paws strangely comforting.

It's even bigger up close, tall and thick and so powerful, so dangerous, Jaskier couldn't will his erection away if he tried.

He holds his breath as it sniffs at his stretched-out hole--hopes to the gods the oil's fragrance doesn't offend it--until he feels its cool nose pressing against him.

"Fuck."

Jaskier trembles all over, thrums with excitement and mortification, until the wolf's paws come to frame his head and there's soft fur brushing his back.

Gods.

Fuck.

He--

He wishes he could've got a good look at its cock, its knot, but even without that he knows it's fucking massive when it presses between his cheeks, drags against his hole--

It mounts him easily.

Like it was meant to.

Jaskier reaches back to guide it into him with a shaky hand.

Gods, its glorious cock is so big, so thick and hot and everything Jaskier's ever dreamed of, stretches him so good it's a miracle that he doesn't spend as it thrusts all the way in.

He nearly screams when it begins pounding him with every bit of animalistic fervour that it rightfully should, fucking him just right, just the way he needs, raw pleasure edged with a dull pain of being so utterly full for the first time in his life. Its pace grows only more hurried, more brutal, until Jaskier can't keep back the punched-out moans that hang in the still night air. His own cock swings achingly hard between his legs, but he pays it little mind, focused solely on the swell of the wolf's knot that drags in and out of him, bigger on each frantic thrust.

The beast doesn't need encouragement, wouldn't know the difference either way, but Jaskier can't hold his tongue.

"Yeah, yeah, good boy, give me all of that beautiful fucking knot, make me scream on it, fuck, that's it, that's--"

Every few seconds he thinks it can't possibly grow any bigger, it can't, it'll tear him apart, but then it does grow bigger, steals his breath away as much as the clamp of sharp teeth at the back of his neck.

He does scream, when the beast forces all of its knot into him on a final thrust, when he feels it pulse and--and--

His wolf whimpers as it fills him with fire-hot seed, grinds its knot in him until Jaskier comes so hard his eyes roll back and he shudders all over, clawing at the dirt at his sides.

Everything is hazy, pleasure-soft and amazing. His eyes can't stay open, can't focus when the wolf just keeps rutting into him, the knot tugging at his rim deliciously.

He doesn't notice the three pairs of glowing eyes boring into him from the treeline.

Not until they come out, scowling at what is undoubtedly their alpha. They crowd all around him, smaller than the one still buried inside of him, though not by much. Jaskier reaches out with desperate hands when one of the wolves rolls onto its back in front of him.

It's just good manners that he'd grab at its exposed cock, squeeze its heavy balls, gods, is this a dream?

When the knot inside of him softens it is immediately replaced with another, and then another and another until all the wolves had their turn in his sloppy hole, and by that time the alpha is ready to go again.

He's delirious when they're finally done with him, his cock aching dully, drained completely after all the times he'd come, but the last push of a swollen knot into him, even as he's loose and pliant, causes his prick to throb and spend dry.

His knees and thighs had gone numb, frozen in this position for long, blissful hours. Dawn is creeping slowly onto the night's sky, and only its light allows him to see his witcher standing propped against a tree, hard cock in hand, the front of his black armour splattered with pearly white.

Jaskier clenches around the knot buried in him and holds Geralt's gaze.

#i am... literally so in love with this this is so fun #LOVE ur writing op i am.....Horny for it #t reblogs

[witcherhdkinks]

In case you can’t get to the page!

Hellooo

It’s theacheinside/ache here! You can find my kink list Here and feel free to send in some prompts! Geraskier preferred today! <3

[witcherhdkinks]

Hellooo

It’s theacheinside/ache here! You can find my kink list Here and feel free to send in some prompts! Geraskier preferred today! <3

#ache #ache posts

[witcherhdkinks]

HEY EVERYBODY!

I'm still busy with uni work, and im still working on old prompts but i have news!

since theacheinside's blog was terminated, me and him have been talking on other social media apps and we decided that it'd be fun if he could come back and write again! and so, him and i will be sharing this blog!

My posts will be tagged with a 't answers' or have a '- t' by the end of them while Ache's posts will have 'ache answers' or '- ache' at the end of them!

Most of you already remember his work and writing and I'm so very excited to see him (sorta) come back!!

Send in a couple of prompts if yall want! They're open for and Ready To Be Answered!

- t

#t talks #SEND HIM PROMPTS YALL hes so fun

[witcherhdkinks]

hi everybody! ive deleted my old blog and made this new one with a safer email! hopefully tumblr doesn't target me as much and i can continue being gross!!

Send in ur asks!! though pls remember it will still take me some time to get to them!

#t talks

[witcherhdkinks]

JSHSHS okay,,,,modern verse Geralt being a bodyguard for rich boy Jask, J has A Pretty big crush on G and G can tell with how the teen behaves around him, but Geralt is mostly straight and J is quick to pick up on it and starts to dress more feminine, starts to wear makeup and cute skirts and walk all wobbly in heels and it gets G going how far the boy is willing to go to get his attention, G eventually does fuck his ward, most likely on the nights that J's parents are out on a business trip

Uh,,, hope you like it; Geralt certainly did lmao

——

Geralt isn't even surprirsesd with the lingering looks the boy gives him when he first starts looking after him. He's probably been the only person in his life to show he cares, even if he is paid to do so. The boy nearly even kisses him once on his fourteeneth birthday, far too young to drink, but Geralt's being paid to keep the kid safe, no point in hindering him when it's just the two of them and his parents' liquor.

Why can't I kiss you?

Geralt could've come up with a million reasons, that he's underage, that he's being paid to take care of him, but settles on I'm straight.

The kid'd probably deserved the alcohol, deserted and rejected on his birthday.

He's nearing sixteen now, growing into those lanky limbs, hair a floppish brown that covers his eyes on the usual. He plays the lute, asking for opinions now and then, leaning far too close into Geralt's space for it to be considered unintentional as he sings. A kid with a crush, it's silly, every other kid has crushes, hell he remembers having the hots for Vesemir when he was younger—

"Did you like it?" Jaskier's voice is oddly soft, pitched just higher in tone (not that it's too deep already, he's still in the midst of puberty) that it makes Geralt do a double take.

He grunts, Jaskier's smile grows and he goes back to his singing; that's the end of that.

Mh, only it isn't. 

Jaskier's barefoot as he walks down the stairs the next day, nearly being swallowed by the baby blue sweater he's donned in, a pink clip in his hair to keep his hair out of his face and not much else on. Geralt doesn't bring it up but— Melitele, is that mascara in the boy's lashes?

He looks... pretty. Not that he doesn't on the usual, either, just... it's a bit different. Probably a phase. Even if it isn't, Geralt doesn't care much. He shrugs and plates their dinner, ignoring Jaskier's gloss-covered lips as they draw into a pout.

He forgets about it— it's nearly a week later that the boy bounds into (one of the) the living room, pleated peach skirt swishing about his thighs, an off-the-shoulder sweater ((?) Geralt knows fuck all about clothes) top barely covering the hair that's begun to grow on his chest. The boy sits far too close to Geralt, curls up into his chest as they watch tv, shaved legs tucked underneath him.

They both retire to bed without much more conversation (on his part, at least, Jaskier doesn't shut up) but Geralt can't stop thinking of the way his soft had tickled his face and how the skirt had ridden up just a bit too much.

The next morning, Geralt hears rather ominious clicks as he flips pancakes. He watches, on guard as Jaskier wobbles down the stairs in heels, lips stained pink and plumped (dick-sucking lips, his mind oh-so-helpfully provides), eyes touched with hints of yellow. He's wearing a blue dress today, a plunged neckline showing off his barely-muscled chest, legs looking ever so long in his heels as the skirt of the dress brushes against milky thighs.

And Geralt, damn him, thinks he's entirely too adorable, the boy's lips parted in concentration, eyes trained on the pristine wooden stairs in front of him; even if he is worried that the boy'll fall and smack his head, his cock twitches, just at the idea of how much Jaskier's trying for him.

"Pancakes?" Geralt asks, turning back to the stove to hide his goddamned semi as Jaskier hops up onto the breakfast bar behind him, legs parted just barely so he can see the satin-blue underwear. It's not even fucking intentional; Jaskier's got balls, and they need to breathe, but the innocence and nonchahlance only serves to edge Geralt on further. 

"Yes, please! And uhm—" he hears he boy swear under his breath, "—honey, if we've got any—" and he sounds so fucking meek, voice raised in pitch and—

Fuck him. Geralt turns, having half a mind to turn off the stove as he presses his lips against the boy's, a surprised whimper escaping the boy's lips as he freezes. 

"Didn't think I'd get this far," Jask mumbles between when he finally snaps out of his shock, smooth legs wrapping around Geralt's waist.

He pushes Jaskier to lay down on the counter, nipping at soft thighs as he rucks the boy's dress up to pool around his waist, kissing up untouched skin before he hook his fingers onto the edges of Jaskier's panties.

"Is this for me?" Jaskier moans like he's fucking dying, the boy's hips snapping with aborted thrusts. He whimpers a yes and Geralt's gone. 

He works the satin down, feeling hairless legs, shaven for him, his pretty little present, all wrapped up. The boy's legs are thrown over his shoulders, face buried in Jaskier's ass as fingers tangle into his hair.

"I'm going to fuck you, little doll." He blows on Jaskier's asshole, the tight thing twitching with Geralt's spit cooling on his hole. "Is that what you've wanted? Why you've tried so hard to seduce me? You want a man nearly three times your age to fucking wreck you?"

Jaskier sobs, a plethora of yes, please, since I saw you, fuck, want you, please, please, please. Geralt's hand diggs into his asscheek and exposes his hole to chill air before he spanks it. Jaskier jerks forward, legs pressed together with a little yelp.

"Be a good boy, you look so good for me, Jas, fuck—" he swats at the boy's asshole twice more, watching the thing twitch and flutter before giving it a gentle kiss. 

Blue eyes follow him as he reaches for the green bottle by the stove, stare up at him as he coats his fingers with the olive oil, "Nervous?"

Jaskier shakes his head before hesitating, the cutest blush rising to his cheeks.

"Never been fucked before—" he startles as Geralt rubs the pad of his slick fingers against his hole.

"Relax for me, Jas." He tugs one of the boy's legs onto his shoulder, pressing a kiss to the boy's shin as he prods, presses in with just the tip of his finger.

It takes a little while longer and much more oil to finally get three fingers into the boy, Geralt working them in and out slowly, the kid writhing underneath him— "Never been fingered before either?" The boy only flushes before he slams his head back on the countetop, his cock twitching as Geralt rubs against his prostate. Jaskier whines when Geralt squeezes at his cock's base. "Not yet, little longer, boy. Push back against me." 

The kid's hole is tight around him, velvet insides squeezing his slicked cock as he pushes in and fuck, Geralt's not going to last long. Luckily, the boy's just as close— "Gonna move now," he mumbles, trailing his hand up the side of Jaskier's chest, pinching his nipple through the dress; the boy's hips buck in turn as he pulls back halfway before thrusting in. His pace it too harsh, too fast, snapping his hips to drive his cock into the boy, but if he's willing to put this much effort into looking nice for him, he can take a hard fuck for him, too. 

"Is this what you wanted, Jaskier? For me to fuck your cute asshole? Going so far to look so pretty for me?" He leans forward, pressing their lips together much too brutally, more teeth and tongue than much else from Jaskier's inexperience and Geralt's impatience. Jask pulls away, breathless with punched out moans and fuck, fuck, he's so close, his hole tensing around Geralt's dick— he wraps a hand around the boy's cock, barely gives it two pumps before he's spilling over Gerat's hand, head thrown back, lips parted in a silent moan as he shakes with orgasm.

Geralt thrusts into the wet heat, Jaskier whining with oversensitivity when he spills inside him, his breath harsh as he rests his forehead agains the boy's chest. He looks up at him, the boy's face still flushed red as he leans down to press a single kiss to Geralt's lips.

"Gods, took you long enough, could've broken my ankles trying to get you to fuck me." Geralt huffs out a laugh and tells the boy to go get cleaned up.

When Jaskier comes downstairs again, he's dressed in a halter top and navy shorts, and it's all Geralt can do to keep himself from taking him again.

#t reblogs old blog

[witcherhdkinks]

hola....i come (HAH) bearing Horse Prompt, Jaskier's family is extremely well known horse race family, and one day they buy a breeder horse, a white haired shire horse with anger problems that ends up taking a shine to Jaskier who had been forced to take part in the family business and hes Bored by it as a 16 year old who Obviously has better stuff to do, but he starts getting Interested when he sees how breeding horses are kept and groomed and how their uhh cock shafts are kept cleaned (1/2)

he starts getting way too interested in the horse, probably doesn't help that the shire only really lets Jask groom him and touch him, so the entire job of keeping him clean and healthy and fed goes to Jaskier, who ends up taking every opportunity he can to get to see and maybe even suck and lick his horses cock, getting fucked by it the second he knows hes opened himself up enough, all of which the shire is more than happy to oblige too considering he likes the prissy human a lot (2/2)

+++++

This is one of @witcherhkinks prompts that they sent before they made their blog!!

I'm going with 'Jask's family raises racehorses generally, and has Geralt the shire Exclusively for making money studding him,' since shires are draft horses.  Also modern!AU!

Extraneous warnings outside of the prompt-obvious: discussion of cock all-the-way-through, recording/livestreaming bestiality

+++++

Jaskier couldn't care less about horses until he turned sixteen.  He's popular and precocious, with all that entails: in and out of trouble constantly, having already seen several firsts most people don't get until later.  First time drinking, first time getting high, first kiss, first time fucking.  He's particularly precocious at the last one, moving from breathless fumbling in the dark to seeking new highs and new thrills. 

The constant insistence from his father that he 'do something useful with his life, become a proper equestrian instead of a junior frat boy,' finally bears fruit in the summer after his sophomore year of high school.  They're 'diversifying' their assets, his father had said: he'd made a massive (a number in the millions, that makes Jaskier choke to hear it) investment on an astonishingly pedigreed draft horse, and Jaskier is to be in charge of its care and enrichment until he goes back to school.

Geralt the shire is over two thousands pounds of broad muscle, hooves the size of dinner plates feathered by the long fur of his fetlocks.  He's a cool white that dapples gray down his legs; so big and wide that it's hard to think of him as the same species as some of their arabians.

What strikes Jaskier most of all, to his own surprise and discomfort, is its sack.  Many of their thoroughbreds aren't gelded, and Jaskier's lived on a property with a stable long enough to have personally verified the truth of the saying 'hung like a horse' long before now, but Geralt's are... more than proportionate to the already monolithic animal.

He wonders what its cock looks like, and then wonders why he had that thought.

Its current handler, giving them a rundown before the horse is handed off for good, is talking about what a standoffish, non-tactile creature it tends to be when it walks up to Jaskier, absolutely dwarfing him, and proceeds to investigate thoroughly.  He's grown up around horses, indoctrinated from an early age, but he's never been in close quarters with anything this huge and living before, and it takes him out of his element.

A soft, velvety nose nudges the side of its face, before the mouth beneath it nips inquisitively at the ends of his hair.  Both motions are incredibly gentle, which is not only good but necessary, coming from an animal more than ten times his weight. 

"That's really good, actually-" the handler comments, watching as Jaskier is sniffed and prodded, his shirt nibbled, "-more than I've gotten out of him in the three years I've been tending him.  He's perfectly trained, he's just got an attitude most of the time."

Jaskier raises a hand, flat with his fingers together so he doesn't lose one, for Geralt to sniff.  It does, huge nostrils flaring.  The stallion has amber eyes, a color he's never even heard of on a horse before.

They spend the next six hours together, walking Jaskier through the basics of what he'll need to know.  He's taught what a properly shoed hoof looks like and the dangers of an improperly shoed one, that the angle of Geralt's 'ankles' should be a straight line or damn near with his hooves if the farrier's done their job.  He learns what behaviors are normal and which are alarming, how to take extra precautions leading around an unsnipped horse this big, and finally, how to clean out Geralt's sheath after studding.

Jaskier makes an exaggerated retching when it's brought up to cover for how utterly not disgusted he is.  It's such a perfect, beautiful creature; it makes sense, he tells himself, wanting to know if it's beautiful all over.  He's shaking with adrenaline as he dips his hands and a very soft rag in warm, soapy water, pulling his expression into a deliberate grimace as his fingers slip into the stallion's hot, damp sheath.  He cleans very, very thoroughly, determined to do a good job, and when the man teaching him has to turn around to take a call he presses the slightest bit deeper.  He can feel the flat end of its prick, stroking it gently with three fingers, the middle one catching on its urethra.

When he's told to pull its cock out, just a bit, to finish and rinse, Jaskier doesn't hesitate.

His father actually sends him a text later, saying the old handler had been very impressed with his focus and dedication.  Jaskier ignores it, unable to entertain any sort of interaction with his dad while he fists his cock to bestiality porn alone in his room.

Jaskier makes a new Instagram to chronicle his attempts at horse-wrangling, and because Geralt's a beautiful animal and he wants to show him off.  He originally obscures his face and adopts a nickname because he's scared of his friends from school finding him enjoying babysitting a huge sweaty smelly horse. 

He grows too proud of his horsie's pretty parts and prowess in bed to keep it to himself, after a few months.

He continues hiding behind a false name and obscuring his face, once summer is over and all his peers already know he happily has custody of Geralt's care, because he's scared his friends from school will find him letting his horsie spitroast his entire body with its perfect meaty cock.

+++++INSTA+++++

🤍🐎💘Ponyboy💘🐎🤍

horse-lover // northern realms // beast is best 💖

i'm 'buttercup', and i create content with my boyfriend, 'wolf'!  wolf's a 7 year old white shire stallion with a lot of love to give 😉

there'll also be general stuff i'm into and non-intimate bits of our life together!  he's a big sweet baby when he's not being nippy.  Subscribestar is P0nyboy if you want exclusive content/backlog videos/to make requests!

please stop asking if i rent wolf out to stud!  he doesn't like to drop for strangers and i'm not going to coax him into it.

backup is p0nyb0y if this acct gets deleted!

+++++

"This," Jaskier says gleefully, prick chubbing up in his pants at the words, "-is my boyfriend!"

He has a snapchat, an instagram, and a subscribestar for his horse-fucking content, and is making a killing on it, frankly.  There are more people who get off to horses than he'd ever imagined, and Geralt's the most gorgeous horse there isL strong and proud with a strapping human broodmare, no funnily-proportioned miniature pony humping uncomfortably at an amateur's ass.

Instagram is the account he's most likely to have banned, when enough people not expecting what they find stumble upon and report him, but it's also the only one that supports livestreaming from his phone.  He does a video every week introducing his new followers to Geralt— 'Wolf'— and playing with him a little, just enough to hopefully get them invested in his monetized content.

He's in Geralt's stall late on a Sunday for this one, no cars in the lot as he walks around the back of the shire.  "Just for transparency reasons, do not ever stand behind a horse you don't know well, and try to avoid it even then.  Wolf likes what I do under his tail, so he's docile about it, but you're just as likely to get flicked with a tail as kicked, in general."

He gets about five minutes of good footage, petting sensuously down Geralt's muscular body before sweeping his tail aside to get a good shot of his nuts.  "They're as full as they look.  And hot—"

A noise from the front of the barn. 

Jaskier calls out, mock-pleasant, standing stock still.  It's Triss who calls back cheerily, telling him she'll be out of his hair soon: she knows it's past visiting hours, but her dressage horse Moritz misstepped a week back, and needed his hock wrapped and iced twice a day.  Moritz's stall is up at the front, across from the cross-ties, while Geralt's is in the middle.  They should be fine.

Jaskier shouts small talk at her, because he genuinely likes her and so he'll know when she's left— asking after her last show, and the new trainer she's boarding with over in Redania.  Geralt's raised his tail a bit, excited by the attention to his sack, swishing it periodically and obscuring the camera.  Jaskier grabs a handful of one, heavy and overflowing, and rolls it gently while he continues to talk to Triss for several more minutes.  There's no doubt in his mind that Geralt must've begun dropping cock by now, and his heart races at the thought that she might need to walk farther in, might see Jaskier playing with his big pretty horsie.

He's a little disappointed when she leaves, but mostly relieved.  "That was close.  You guys like the first person view on Wolf's balls?"

He can't grab the two handfuls he wants to while recording with his phone, but he leans in to press his cheek against the one he's not hefting, kissing it teasingly while he reads and responds to the comment feed.  This is where the filter comes in— up to this point the video had been faceless, and now that he's in frame a cute, animated 'pony mask/ears' obscures the upper half of his face.

"He's seven— it says in my bio!  I've only had him for a year, but we were fast friends."  He turns and drags his tongue up the seam of Geralt's sack in emphasis, laughing when its tail raises even higher and flicks over his head before going back to his feed.  "No, he's the first and only horse I've been with— not really any sense in downgrading, and I wouldn't want him to get sulky.  Typical temperamental stallion, you know."

Jaskier's hand abandons Geralt's balls to rub in front of them, smoothing his hand over the stretch of skin between his testicles and his sheath opening, heart thudding in his ears when it makes Geralt snort and stamp a front hoof.

"Think I've been teasing him for too long.  I normally save this sort of stuff for the paywall, but I didn't actually bring my real camera— you guys wanna see me suck him?"

It's a lightning fast blur of 'yes' down his comment feed, interspersed with suggestions on how he go about it.  "You guys are awfully interested in my boyfriend's dick.  Lucky I'm not the jealous type."

Vindicating his suspicions, Geralt's already half out when Jaskier walks around his withers to kneel under him, on the foam-pillow he brought for the purpose.  It's big for a horse cock, even on a massive horse, and Jaskier scratches at the side of his belly to make it extend the rest of the way.  The longer he rubs the more it twitches, going from drooping nearly to the ground under it's own weight to flexing straight forward, parallel to its stomach.  "My horny boy; he tried to kick his stall door down at a show barn once, have I ever told that story?  I waited until the barn aisle was empty and tucked my pants down under my ass to show him the nice little gape he gave me in the horse trailer.  We ended up having to pay for the broken boards and lock-denting."

When Geralt's fully, proudly erect, Jaskier reaches up to tug it down to his face.  It's incredibly giving and malleable, despite it's hardness, making it a wonderfully easy task to grab and maneuver it wherever he wants.

Batting his big blue eyes through the eyeholes 'pony mask' filter, Jask licks the head of Geralt's cock, its urethra big enough for him to push his tongue into.  He smiles at the camera as he tonguefucks it, horse precum drooling into his mouth and down his chin.  Geralt brays above him, prancing so his cock briefly slips out of Jask's grasp.  The teen turns the camera so his viewers can watch his horsie's dick swing, flesh a beautiful mottled pink and black, reaching farther back with his camera light on to get an undershot of Geralt's huge balls bouncing.

He reaches up to rub the very back of the shire's belly again, at the base of his shaft, making its cock twitch and jump.  "It's okay, boy.  Sorry everybody, he really likes kisses!"

Jaskier pauses for a minute, rubbing his cheek against Geralt's medial ring while he reads the continuously scrolling comments: 'kiss him some more,' 'play with his nuts,' 'let him come down your throat like a good boyfriend,' 'what the fuck is this you sick freak,' 'take its cock or die trying.'

"Oh, he'd never hurt me!  He's wonderfully gentle when he's up my ass, aren't you baby?"

Jask grabs Geralt's shaft again, at that, holding his phone at a wide angle so the spreading of its flare is visible, cumhole swelling up and twitching as it does.  It’s more malleable than any human cock Jaskier's ever played with, with a little bit of fussing and stretching of his jaw, Jask manages to squish Geralt's spongy, half-formed flare into his mouth in it's entirety.  He moans and bucks at the fullness, pressing visibly out against his cheeks.

He wants to get footage of him swallowing down Geralt's cock before it's fully erect next time he does a subscribestar video: milking it with his throat each time he swallows until it flares all the way down in his stomach, trapping it there to pump gooey, tasty horsecum directly into his belly while he chokes and struggles for air.  He keens just thinking about it, the vibrations making his good boy thrust so hard Jask chokes and thrashes, both of them cumming.  He can't swallow fast enough, making it leak copiously out his nose and down his face, struggling to stay conscious until it goes down enough to pop out.

He clumsily brings the video into a closeup to lick his stallion's cock clean of its spend, moaning exaggeratedly as he makes sure to get a shot of his own ruined pants.

He pans back out to a normal shot when Geralt's cock is clean, following it with his mouth as it retracts back into his body and making out wetly with his sheath when it disappears inside.  The pinto ears on his pony domino mask filter wiggle when he pulls back to look at the camera again, tugging his shirt up to show the little distention of his torso.  He uses his hand to wipe the cum dripping from his nose down his face, meticulously licking it clean.  "That's a hundred thousand dollars' worth of seed in my stomach, believe it or not." 

He stands, walking around to Geralt's face, heart melting when the horse lips at his jaw and ears and hair, craning his massive neck down to nudge his forehead softly into Jaskier's chest until he reaches around to scratch the underside of his chin.  "I have expensive taste, don't I boy?  Got your poor handler hooked on pony cum?"

Geralt snorts, and Jaskier kisses his head.

"If you liked what you saw be sure to check out my paid channel!  It has lots more like this, and in my other hole.  If I reach 5,000 subscribers in the next month I've promised to harness myself to Wolf's belly and let his cock go all the way through until he's done with me.  I've measured; if I hang myself far enough back on him, he'll flare outside my mouth!"

With a kissyface that makes his pony ears wiggle again he ends the video, sliding his phone into his back pocket to wrap both arms around his horse's face.  "I know you're going to like that.  Maybe we'll do it in the indoor arena, if I can get the key from dad to lock it; you can trot around with me under there, slide me back and forth on your shaft."

Geralt nickers enthusiastically.

"Me too baby.  We can do it even if I don't reach the milestone, just keep it for ourselves; what do you think about that?"

Geralt nickers again.  It's a yes, as far as Jaskier is concerned.

+++++

A/N: "hey what did you do this week fiend"

"i co-created a 'jaskier livestreams bestiality porn with literal horse geralt' au, what about you?"

Anyway put me out of my misery :)

#t reblogs old blog

[witcherhdkinks]

HEY GUYS THIS STILL STANDS, i will still be working on old prompts ive gotten on my old blog first but!!! Feel free to send me stuff on my new blog!!

hey guys!! I closed my asks for a few days because im lowkey swamped with uni work so i wanna finish that and work on the prompts i already have!! ill open my ask box up when in about a week? hopefully by then ill be done with both my uni work AND my current prompts!!

#t reblogs old blog #THATS THE LAST OF IT THANK GOD

[witcherhdkinks]

JSHSHD I LOVED UR RESPONSE TO MY PROMPT..a bit of a followup, J starting to really believe that his cock is useless and all hes good for is being Geralt's cocksleeve/cumrag, just really leaning into making G feel good, waking him up by sucking his cock, begging for G to fuck his pussy, please fill him he wants to be so full of Geralt it Hurts, and G Absolutely LOVES it, loves how his boy is leaning into what he really is, just a living toy for G to use however he wants - @witcherhkinks

JSHSHD I LOVED UR RESPONSE TO MY PROMPT..a bit of a followup, J starting to really believe that his cock is useless and all hes good for is being Geralt's cocksleeve/cumrag, just really leaning into making G feel good, waking him up by sucking his cock, begging for G to fuck his pussy, please fill him he wants to be so full of Geralt it Hurts, and G Absolutely LOVES it, loves how his boy is leaning into what he really is, just a living toy for G to use however he wants - @witcherhkinks

Yesss!! Jaskier gets to that point where he doesn't even want to touch his cock anymore because he's so addicted to pleasing Geralt. Geralt makes him feel sooo much better than his own hand ever did, and he certainly doesn't have anyone else to compare him to. He knows his little clitty (because it's definitely not a cock, Geralt said so!) is only there to look pretty and make a mess, it definitely is never gonna get touched. Why would anyone ever touch such a useless thing?

Wakes Geralt up by doing his very best to deepthroat Daddy even though Geralt's cock is so big that it bruises his throat and even taking half of it makes him gag and tear up. He makes such a mess, drooling and crying all over it, especially when Geralt wakes up and just shoves his head down and holds Jaskier there as he chokes so he can fill his stupid little slut boy up with cum.

Jaskier who's still not satisfied even as he's coughing up cum and its coming out of his nose, crawling on his hands and knees to show off his hole, cherry red and so fucked out it gapes. Tells Daddy how his pussy aches soo much and he needs to be filled up with Daddy's giant man cock right now pleased. Needs Geralt to bruise him up inside because it's all he's good for. Jaskier who pulls his ass cheeks open just so Geralt can get a better look and calls himself a filthy desperate whore, face buried in the dirt.

Geralt slapping his ass until it's a pretty bright red, flicking his little balls and over his sloppy boypussy and just loving how desperate and reactive Jaskier is, whining and moaning even though it hurts so much.

"Daddy's horny little bitch, aren't you? Not satisfied unless you're filled up with cock. Nothing more than a stupid cumrag, are you, baby?" He asks Jaskier and all Jaskier can do is moan and do his very best to nod as Geralt fucks him hard and deep, faster than any normal man could go. Swears he can feel Geralt's cock lodged up under his ribs, carving him open. Geralt never goes easy on him, and Jaskier can't help but love it, constantly begs for more.

"Yes Daddy, Daddy please, need your cock! Fill me up, Daddy, m'nothing more than your bitch, please, please, need your cum-" He begs, pain lancing through his whole body with every thrust, enough to make him feel nauseous and yet desperate and oh-so-horny.

He never cums until Geralt fills him and even then its an afterthought, Jaskier more concerned with the way Geralt's cum feels like it's burning him inside, thick and hot as tar. It's rare that he can walk afterwards, but that's okay, Geralt can throw him over Roach, leaking like a hole filled bucket. No use throwing away his toy when it's still so eager to be used.

-

@witcherhkinks I had sooo much fun writing this, poor cock dumb Jaskier who just desperately wants to be used is definitely one of my favourite things to write. Daddy makes sure his boy is thoroughly fucked just the way he deserves.

#t reblogs old blog

[witcherhdkinks]

Jaskier has a huge thing for humiliation. he loves it when Geralt mocks him, makes fun of him, makes him feel inferior. It gets him off like nothing else.

god i love this so much,

Adding onto this with Jaskier having a smaller cock, having to hide himself and wanting to feel humiliation and shame at someone calling him useless, calling him a pretty hole to be fucked and used and left and nothing more,

But he never actually tries out this kink, atleast, until he meets Geralt.

Geralt, who never hesitates to call him pathetic, to mock him, to call him useless and a stupid little bard, all of which ending up collected and used by Jaskier's spank bank later,

Jaskier so badly wants Geralt to "accidentally" see his tiny cock, make fun of him and especially bend him over to rape him, just take his pleasure with no care for Jaskier's, call Jaskier a good little fuckmeat, he should just be used as a fleshlight with how pathetic he is, how hes only good for getting fucked and nothing more,

He comes so hard everytime he imagines that, never believing it'll happen but always keeping up hope,

And his hoping pays off, when one day, after Jaskier and Geralt have to run away from a town because Jaskier ended up getting off the Baron's young daughter, Geralt is so pissed and Jaskier is honestly worried about being left here but then Geralt opens his mouth and snarls out,

"How the fuck can you even please women with you're tiny fucking cock"

Jaskier feels so much blood travel down to his cock, but the second the words fully rain into him, he flushes with more from shame than anything else,

"I don't need my cock to please women, Geralt, I'm a bard of many talents"

Geralt just growls, they're already in a denser part of the forest, Jaskier thinks they're supposed to set up camp but before he can say anything to change the subject away from his cock, Geralt grabs onto his arm, tight enough to bruise,

"many talents, huh, you're only 'talent' is how fucking pathetic you are"

Jaskier feels himself grow warm but he tries to pull back his arm but to no avail,

"now Geral--"

"shut the fuck up, bard, you wanna fuck so badly? you wanna show off your talents? sleeping around like a bitch in heat, maybe you just need to be fucked once and proper"

Jaskier swallows down a lump in his throat, he can feel his cock leaking and Geralt can definitely tell how hot his words are making Jaskier feel,

"G-Geralt, please"

"im going to have my fun with you, Bard, keep you as my plush cock warming, what'd you say? want me to fuck you and show you your place?"

Geralt doesn't wait for Jaskier's answer before he turns him around and pushes him to the rough ground, ripping off his clothes from the seams, leaving his clothes torn and his back and ass in view,

Geralt growls, using one hand to keep Jaskier pushed to the ground as he uses his other to finger at Jaskier's hole dry,

"I don't even have to use oil for your sloppy cunt, huh? already loose and fucked out by every single person on the goddamn continent, you're such a fucking whore, Jask"

Jaskier can't even stop himself from pushing back on Geralt's fingers, cant stop himself from yelling out "stop!" And "please, no" even if all he wants is to bed for more, he knows Geralt can tell just how hot he finds all of this, he knows Geralt can tell that Jaskier wants to be just a cumrag for him, a thing to be filled up and used and called pathetic,

Geralt has his fun fucking his pretty bard, making him squeal and keeping him wet and open

#t reblogs old blog

[witcherhdkinks]

Oh shit. Okay, so. Witchers DEFINITELY have breeding kinks. Like, no question. So, Jaskier gets stolen away when he’s underage (8?9?) by Geralt when dad stiffs him on a contract. Men can’t be bred, not normally, but Witchers have mutation after all, so hand wavy magic and VOILA. Jaskier is breedable. Does this count as transformation because you can change that lol. ANYWAYS. Humiliation kink on the Path, Jaskier gets used by Geralt all damn day. Like, cockwarmer while riding Roach. (A)

(B) Jaskier is young, but he’s not stupid. He knows this is awful and not what should be happening and he’s freaking out. Maybe Geralt uses Axii to loosen him up and keep him loose, but his brain is going noooo??? So he tries to run one night, and doesn’t get far. Geralt decides that he’s going to ‘marry’ them together and breed him over and over again. They need a new generation of Witchers, after al. Just. General forced pregnancy, humiliation, etc. no blood tho?Maybe all the Witchers do this?

uhm im really sorry, I do believe I tried to fit everything in this and I hope you enjoy 4k words of this ajashihsa

Being given his fees in things other than coin was rare for Geralt; usually, he didn’t even get coin properly what with the ‘Butcher’ being his new title and people being extremely hesitant to hire him, lest he kills them.

But this was a fucking joke.

“You’re fucking joking,” Geralt growls, which makes the Viscount in front of him flinch, the noble is quick to cover it up.

Geralt can still smell the stink of fear on the man.

“I am very much not, Witcher”, The Viscount’s Redanian accent makes him sound even haughtier with how fucking posh he is, it’s pissing Geralt off but the Viscount is either ignoring his growing anger or just plain stupid, “I am not paying you 250 more crowns, there was only one monster we asked you to slay and thus you will only get paid for one monster.”

“Would you have preferred if I had let the other live? Maybe the Nekker could’ve destroyed some of your town’s farmlands, fucked your livestock, and had its fun considering I apparently wasn’t supposed to kill it”

The Viscount’s clear disgust at his use of words doesn’t even surprise him, plus, as depressing as it is, he knows there is literally no use of him arguing. He isn’t going to get paid unless he kills someone in the Viscount’s court and he really doesn’t want any more blood on his already gut covered sword.

Geralt’s just about to say something, something threatening, maybe use his ‘Butcher’ title to get paid in a final attempt before giving up and leaving but he stops short, turning his head slightly to the left to let his eyes fall onto a young boy hiding behind a pillar.

He’s got really pretty blue eyes, Geralt thinks.

The boy’s young, Geralt can’t completely tell how young but he’s very small, with brown hair that looks too soft; he’s slightly chubbier too, taken care of all his life.

He smells really fucking good, sweet. He smells excited too, nervous but excited. The boy notices that Geralt is looking at him and quickly hides behind a pillar, still smelling excited but now less nervous? Geralt shakes his head, turning back to the Viscount glaring at him which he just grunts at. Walking over to the table that is next to the Noble’s seat and picking up the pouch there, not even saying a word before he turns walks out of the Viscount of Lettenhove’s home with his skimmed down payment.

It isn’t until after hours that Geralt makes his way back to the manor. Hiding in the shadows and moving quickly, following a faint yet prominent sweet scent to the west part of the manor, looking up at the windows and closing his eyes to take a few deep breaths.

Second floor, fourth window.

Geralt opens his eyes and quickly uses the momentum of his jump to grab onto the brick wall, digging his fingers in the bricks of the wall to push himself up, it doesn’t take him long to get to the window that belongs to the boy, he saw earlier.

The Witcher quietly pushes at the already slightly open window and climbs in, flexing his fingers to release some of the pressure before making his way to the boy’s bedside.

He looks angelic, short brown hair, which is soft to touch, which Geralt now knows as fact and not just a thought, and pink lips wrapped around the boy’s thumb.

Geralt lets himself smile as he leans forward to press his face slightly into the child’s exposed neck, breathing him in and relaxing at the sweet, fruity scent. The boy shuffling in his sleep at Geralt’s weight, mumbling incoherently around his thumb, and Geralt just knows that this boy will be perfect.

He’s already a perfect payment for killing this shit town’s monster.

The Witcher moves back, standing up and walking around the boy’s room, looking for a bag or satchel to pack some of the boy’s clothes in. He doesn’t want the kid to walk around in his nightclothes while on the road, he won’t really need doublets but two shirts and some pants are perfect. He thinks perhaps he should pack a coat, but the boy is still going to grow so he’s going to need to pay for a new coat later anyway.

Geralt packs everything he deems important, along with a pair of shoes, in a satchel he found under the small noble’s bed. He’s just about to pick the child up when he sees a small notebook, peeking out from under the boy’s pillow; Geralt quirks an eyebrow at it, picking it up slowly and putting it in the satchel, he’ll examine it later, might be good to have a comfort item around.

After securing the child’s, now, travel bag, Geralt goes to pick the boy up. Trying not to jostle the boy so much, he has the child lean his head in Geralt’s neck, wrapping his arm under the boy’s ass to hold him up as he throws the travel bag over his shoulder.

He stops moving when he feels the boy shuffle in his arms, he wraps his other arm around the child’s torso, keeping his hand steady on his back, rubbing it softly as the child shoves his face in Geralt’s check and proceeds to wrap his arms around Geralt’s throat all while asleep.

The Witcher feels so proud of himself; he really did pick the most perfect kid, Geralt can’t wait to train him.

Getting out of the manor without waking up his boy is truly a matter and half; he decides to just throw the travel bag into some bushes and try to jump down the window he came up from without jostling the child in his arms too much.

The plan succeeds only because he has to Axii the child to remain asleep, remain relaxed and limp in Geralt’s arms as he takes him back to town in order to get to Roach. He keeps the kid’s travel bag on his shoulder and the noble covered by his arms, peacefully dozing.

He gets to town in a matter of minutes, walking fast enough until he gets to the inn where he was staying at, walking over to where he left Roach in the stables along with all his stuff in her packs next to her.

The innkeeper wouldn’t let him sleep indoors, but that doesn’t piss him off as much as it usually would considering he has the sweetest little boy in his arms right now.

He places the boy on a hay pile in front of the stable that Roach is in, quickly saddling his mare up and attaching the boys' travel bag with his own before picking the child up and placing him on Roach, having him lean forward so his head is resting against Roach’s mane as Geralt climbs on behind the boy. He pulls the boy back, trapping him between his legs and wrapping one arm around the boy’s chest while using the other to take Roach’s reigns and have them finally leave town.

Geralt lifts the veil of Axii the when they’re far enough out of town to not have to worry about being chased and caught, the boy stirring as he’s blearily waking up.

“Hm? Wha’?”

Geralt hears the boy and just rubs his hands over his chest, petting him like he would a pup,

“Good morning, kid”  

The boy jumps, almost falling off the horse if Geralt didn’t have as good reflexes as he does, the Witcher growls in annoyance trapping the boy on the saddle, his back pressed to Geralt’s front with this hand that is almost the size of the boy’s torso,

“Don’t move too much, kid,” Geralt tries to keep his voice low, wanting to not immediately have to Axii the child again.

“P-please, Mister,” The boy sounds close to tears; it shouldn’t sound as perfect as it does to Geralt.

“My names Geralt, sweet thing, tell me your name,”

The kid hesitates, turning his head to look back at Geralt, letting out a small gasp when the Witcher smiles to show off his sharp teeth to the boy; the kid keeps staring at Geralt’s mouth, though now he smells of interest and not just the pungent scent of fear.

“Julian, sir”  

Julian, huh. It’s a sweet name but Geralt doesn’t like it as much attaches him too much to the noble status that isn’t the kids anymore.

“Do you want me to call you Julian? You’re going to be staying with me now, you can choose whatever name you want,” Geralt’s, again, keeping his voice level; he’ll only start to get rough when the boy starts to misbehave.

Julian is quiet for a few moments, Geralt thinks it might’ve been the ‘you’re staying with me’ comment but he doesn’t say more, it’s true that the kid’s staying with him now.

“If you don’t pick a name by the time we set camp for the night, I’ll pick a new one for you, got it, Julian?”

He doesn’t hear anything from the kid, but before he could growl out about if the kid heard him, he gets a small barely-there nod, which is enough for Geralt for now. Hopefully, the kid can name himself properly.

They set up for camp after a couple of more hours of riding, Julian doesn’t really say much but he definitely is interested in everything around him, the scent of fear on the boy not really leaving but dissipating enough to not be burning at Geralt’s nose. It’s almost as if the kid really doesn’t care that he’s been taken away from his home, which is worrying Geralt about what kind of home life Julian had before.

He doesn’t have to guess for long since the second they, well mostly Geralt, Julian just sits on a log and plays with a stick, gets done with the camp and a fire and dinner, Julian speaks up.

“Can I be named Jaskier, sir?” The kid, Jaskier now, sounds so small, nervous energy and nervous scent all clouding up Geralt’s senses.

Geralt makes a show of thinking about it, looking at the boy and thinking of Buttercups, wondering what made the boy choose such a flowery name but, it fits.

“Jaskier it is,” Jaskier’s eyes seem to light up at that, he’s still holding onto the rabbit bone he just ate the meat off of,

“How old are you, Jaskier,” Geralt really wants to know if he can start training the boy right now or if he has to wait a year or so in order for the boy to be old enough to take cock.

“I’m 9 winters, sir; I’ll turn 10 winters when the leaves start to fall, before the first snowfall this year,”

That’s about 4 months away; this all seems almost too perfect. Witcher wives are always trained to breed starting at when they’re old enough to take cock, and 10 winters is just perfect.

“That’s good, Jaskier, now, would you like to tell me something about yourself, or would you like to sleep?”

Geralt could tell that that was the right thing to say and he was proven right when the young boy’s eyes widened and he starts talking about how he had never ridden a horse before waking up on one today.

He talked and talked before he tired himself out and fell asleep with his head on Geralt’s thigh, Geralt just petting Jaskier’s hair before taking him to fit comfortably in Geralt’s bedroll. They’ll have to get a separate bedroll for the boy when he’s older but since he’s so small right now, and since he’s going to remain small for a good couple of years hopefully, Geralt isn’t too worried. He’s happy to lay the child next to him, wrapping his arms around the boy and taking in Jaskier’s sweet scent as he falls asleep.

He’s going to need to start getting the boy used to touch.

Which he does,

During the coming weeks, Geralt pulls the boy on his lap every chance he gets, Jaskier being embarrassed by it during the first few times but getting used to it when Geralt tells him that this is just something that he’s going to have to do, keep Geralt’s lap warm and comfortable so he might as well enjoy it.

Geralt also gets Jaskier used to being naked around him. Bathing the child himself and telling Jaskier to let Geralt do it for him when the boy gets squirmy.

“Good little wives let their daddy’s clean them up, Jaskier”

“B-but,” Jaskier’s voice trembles, as he’s covering his little boy cock with his hands while inside the tub, “My nanny said that boy’s aren’t supposed to touch their thingies, that it’s bad”

“Is your nanny here right now, Jaskier? Do you care more about what she says than daddy?”

That gets the boy’s attention; makes the boy let go of his small cock and shake his head, “No! I care about daddy more, please don’t be mad”

That’s something that Geralt had learned early on, the kid has some severe issues with his parental figures apparently not caring as much about him. Geralt had assumed to at least hear about how he kidnapped the Viscount’s kid but it was almost as if the parents didn’t even notice that Jaskier was missing. It was shitty, worked for Geralt though. Made it easier for him to put himself in the position of Jaskier’s father and be as touchy and loving as he wanted with the boy, never raising his voice but being stern whenever Jaskier misbehaved by getting too dirty playing around with some kids in the town they’re staying at, which is technically what lead them here so Geralt isn’t really complaining.

Geralt smiles at his boy, remembering when Jaskier first accidentally called him daddy just a few days after they started traveling together. Geralt was only really pleased, picking the boy up to kiss and blow raspberries on the boy's stomach, licking at his navel and up to his nipples to hear Jaskier’s bright giggles turn into small gasps as he got all squirmy and asked to be let down.

Geralt always would, he could smell the scent of little boy arousal but knew he’d have to wait until the boy’s 10th winter, which was now only a month and a half away, to really have the boy take his cock. Till then, Geralt is happy to touch and let his boy start to associate daddy’s touch with feeling arousal, feeling good.

That’s exactly why he wants to bathe his boy like this, he wants to touch Jaskier’s little prick and maybe even be able to touch around his hole. Jaskier is still squirmy when Geralt starts to clean at his thighs and cock, rubbing his hand at the boy’s small balls and smiling when Jaskier gasps, getting hard and twitchy at Geralt’s touches.

“Daddy!” Jaskier lets out a high scream when he comes, the first orgasm in his life apparently and it’s by Geralt’s hand while he’s methodically cleaning him up. Geralt shifts his weight on his legs, trying to get a better position for his trapped cock.

“Good boy, see how good that felt?” Geralt cleans his hands in the tub, wiping them on his shirt and finally adjusting his cock with his hands, wanting so badly to jerk it off on Jaskier’s pretty face, have him lick up his cum, but he relents, pressing a soft kiss to Jaskier’s wet hair and pulling the boy up and out of the tub to stand on his trembling legs, drying him off and handing him his clothes to put on.

Geralt thinks that it’ll only go up from there, only get better but Jaskier starts to withdraw after that. His boy starts to shrink away from Geralt’s touch and keep himself as clean as possible to avoid having baths and Geralt is sick of it, he doesn’t try to force the boy open, though. Knowing that when they get to Kaer Morhen and when he has Vesemir place Jaskier through the Mating Trials it’ll be different and so he tries not to be too mad at the boy.

That is until he comes back one night from a hunt and sees Jaskier missing from their room. He turns back when he sees the empty room, slamming the door closed and seething. Geralt has to will himself to calm down enough to track Jaskier’s scent, which he finds isn’t that far away.

He closes his eyes and scents the air, finding that the boy’s scent is out near the horses and so he makes his way there, thinking that Jaskier must have a good explanation for not being in their room.

He finds the boy, hiding behind the stables, his travel bag in hand. Jaskier’s eyes widen when he sees Geralt standing right in front of where he’s crouched down near the edge, hiding in the shadows. It seems like the boy forgot about Geralt’s witcher senses, or had at least hoped against them, but Geralt’s done being nice, he pulls the boy up by his hair and then throws him over his shoulder, taking Jaskier kicking and screaming back to their room in the inn.

Nobody at the tavern under the inn can even look at them, keeping their eyes down to try and not aggravate the already pissed off Witcher. Geralt takes his boy back to their room, throwing him on the bed, grabbing his travel bag and dumping the contents of it inside his own clothes bag, throwing the boy’s travel bag into the small hearth in the corner of the room.

Jaskier is quiet, he’s got tears in his eyes but his hiccups are quiet, trying not to make a noise and make Geralt angrier at him. Though, as sweet as the boy looks and as bad as Geralt almost feels for making the boy cry, Jaskier did try to run away.

“Where were you planning on going?” Geralt takes off his gloves, then his armor, waiting for Jaskier to answer him, growling at the boy when he doesn’t respond fast enough,

“I-“The boy starts, voice trembling and rough, “Some of the boys that I was playing with said it wasn’t normal that you touch my thing, you said it was normal but they, they told me that only b-bad men touch little boys there”

Geralt sighs, he knew he shouldn’t have let Jaskier play with random kids; he’s a child who doesn’t know any better so of course, he’s going to end up talking about shit.

“You aren’t a little boy anymore, Jaskier,” Geralt pulls his shirt out of his pants as he makes his way to the bed, Jaskier flinching a bit when Geralt sits down next to him, pulling Jaskier to his lap, spreading the boys legs over Geralt’s thigh. “I did explain that you’re now a Witcher Wife, you’re not a little boy”

Jaskier sniffles, looking down as he says, “I’m sorry, daddy, I just thought th-“

“Well, baby, you thought wrong, now daddy’s got to punish you for trying to run away.”

Jaskier, still looking down, nods his tiny head as Geralt picks him up and places him on his back, kissing his wet cheeks and mouth, licking into Jaskier’s mouth as his boy gasps and lays there, letting Geralt do what he wants.

The boy is trained enough but he just seems to forget his place sometimes, that’s alright though, Geralt will punish him quickly and they can go back to making their way to Kaer Morhen early as to celebrate Jaskier’s name day and have the boy go through the Mating Trails.

Geralt takes off Jaskier’s pants swiftly, telling the boy to pull off his shirt, and spreading Jaskier’s legs to get between them, not letting the boy hide at all. Cooing at how pretty his boy’s small cock is, pink and the head barely being seen from in the foreskin, Geralt leans forward and presses a quick kiss to Jaskier’s little cock before moving back and flicking his dick with his finger.

Jaskier immediately flinches, letting out a loud yelp, moving back into the bed and scrambling around, as Geralt flicks his small cute cock a few more times. Jaskier is crying, hiccupping and heaving by the time Geralt deems the punishment enough, his boy’s cock all twitchy. Geralt kisses Jaskier’s wet cheeks, then his jaw, then his mouth, all very soft and chaste.

Moving down the boy’s body to softly place a kiss to the boy’s cock, as a say that the punishment is over, “You’ll be a good little wife for me, won’t you, Jaskier?”

Jaskier just hiccups, nodding along as an answer to Geralt’s question, all feverish and pulling at Geralt’s shirt with his small hands to get Geralt to kiss him again.

Geralt doesn’t budge, “Use your words, baby, take a deep breath and use your words”

“N-no, I won’t, d-daddy,” Jaskier says immediately and Geralt finally goes up to kiss at Jaskier’s face and mouth.

It gets even easier after that, Jaskier is the absolute sweetest boy; he doesn’t misbehave or move away, it’s like how things were before the mess of his boy trying and failing, to run.

When they finally get to Kaer Morhen, it’s a relief for Geralt. Jaskier’s name day having already passed, Geralt having bought the boy a couple of honey cakes and buying him a new journal since his old one was filled to the brim with drawings and stories that his smart boy would sometimes just write down.

Jaskier had shyly asked for a lute, as well, and Geralt wasn’t able to say no to him, he had bought, or well stole, a lute for the boy to play and learn. Geralt knows that Jaskier really wouldn’t be able to do much playing after he’s been through the trails, but he likes seeing his boy so happy and thankful.

Geralt had already sent ahead a letter explaining everything to Vesemir, asking the old wolf to prepare the few potions needed so days after they arrive, Jaskier’s transformation can begin. Vesemir is already waiting for them when they arrive, standing tall at the gate but leaning down and pushing forth a hand for Jaskier to shake when they get to the main gate.

Jaskier smiles at the old wolf, shaking his hand and introducing himself, all polite.

It’s only a few days later that Geralt is putting Jaskier under the spell of Axii so the potion administration is calm and goes well. Taking the boy down to the trail rooms, where Vesemir is already prepared with the syringe, they quickly administer the potions and Geralt has to hold Jaskier down as the little body immediately starts thrashing in pain, his mind wiped clean of his experience as he won’t remember this later but for now, now all Jaskier’s small body can feel is that he’s growing new body parts and that it’s painful.

A few hours later, the thrashing stops, Geralt has his boy sit up slightly to have him drink some water, eat some food then put him to proper sleep.

Jaskier wakes up around a day later, feeling sore and hungry but when he gets up, he immediately feels something worse. He looks down at his legs, putting a shaky hand between his legs and finding that his cock is, rather suddenly for the boy, gone.

He starts crying, yelling out for Geralt for daddy to come here and see what happened to him, to see what’s wrong with him and Geralt runs into his room where he laid Jaskier down to sleep and rest, to find his boy crying and clutching at the new parts between his legs.

Geralt sighs, he knew the reaction to the change wouldn’t be the best but he didn’t want immediate tears, he calmly walks over to the bed. Taking Jaskier’s face in his hands and kissing his head, shushing him when the boy starts to talk speak, starts to ask about what happened to him, why he doesn’t have his thing anymore,

“You didn’t need it, Jaskier,”, Geralt’s voice is calm and soothing as he picks up his boy and holds him, and rocking him in soft motions, getting the boy to calm down,

“You didn’t need it and we changed you for the better, didn’t you want to be daddy’s wife? Now you can be daddy’s wife and have daddy’s babies, be filled up and,” Geralt kisses Jaskier’s mouth, a soft chaste kiss, loving, before he continues with, “A perfect little cumslut for daddy, be daddy’s breeding bitch, baby”

Geralt ends up calming the boy down after that, he has the whole winter to get the boy used to his new cunt, get him used to, and crave, wanting to get fucked and bred.

They need to renew the Wolf School anyway, and Geralt’s going to have so much fun training his perfect boy.

______

I know there isn't as much porn here and I do wanna add a just porn ficlet of how Jaskier gets pregnant and bred up and kept but I physically could Not Add More To This,,,, I honestly hope you like it! 

#t reblogs old blog

[witcherhdkinks]

Geralt gets little (8-ish??) Jaskier through the Law of Surprise. (1/) He takes him to Kaer Morhen because he has no idea what to do with a kid. (Little Julian is very homesick the whole trip, heartbroken over the fact his father just handed him over, like a thing and not a person, not his own son-) At the keep, no one knows what to do with Jask, either. The older witchers don’t see much point in training Jask to be a witcher,

(2/3) since he’ll never be one - the steps to make a witcher are long-forgotten, and without the mutations, it would be like signing the boy‘s death to send him out on the Path. But then, one of them has a brilliant idea – they won’t train him to be a Witcher, they’ll train him to be something else, something useful – they’ll train the boy to be the perfect fuckhole for all of them. They teach Jaskier how to jerk them off, how to suck their cocks just right; they train him to swallow their spend, (3/3) even though he had gagged at the bitter taste at first. They teach him to take cock and knot. Few winters pass and Jaskier can ride them for hours on end without stumbling, can suck them off better than any whore. Over the winter, the witchers of Kaer morhen entertain themselves with him, and over the rest of the year, Jaskier keeps his father, Geralt, company on the Path, where they dutifully continue Jaskier’s training to bet he best witcher slut he can be.

ALSO

Ask: okay but. geralt spanking little!jask's small cock and tiny balls when he misbehaves?? like he's so small that it takes just a few slaps and he's wailing and bawling his eyes out? and it's a great discipline tool bcs of how young jask is

+++++

As I mentioned in the previous, very similar 'underage sex-slave jask' prompt: I'm making Jask an incubus in this, so things aren't too repetitive?  It does actually change... a bit of your prompt, mostly just that Jask Does Not balk at the taste of cum initially⁠— I hope you still enjoy it!

I know the witcher succubi are goat-esque, and that young goats are called kids, but since that's... the same as the human word, and also less cute, I'm going with 'lamb' as the accepted term.  This is actually part of an AU that me + @witcherhkinks have been fleshing out for fun, so the Content Credit here is as much theirs as mine!

+++++

The 'creature' that the Viscount de Lettenhove 'trapped' in a garden shed behind his estate is, as it turns out, an incubus lamb. 

Geralt was dubious of the contract the instant he read it; if it's so dangerous, how were they able to trap it, and keep it trapped?  And why weren't they able to dispose of it on their own? 

But the listing had promised an absurd sum of coin for both the swift resolution of the problem and the discretion of the resolver, so he held his tongue when a stern, well-dressed servant met him at the property's gate and handed him a coinpouch and a key, giving him brusque directions and a request to please dispose of the mess when he finished.

The lamb drowsed in a corner, under a shelf packed full with newly sprouted seedlings.  He straightened up, eyes brightening when the door cracked open, and immediately began crying inconsolably when Geralt came into view, silver sword in hand.  He's never sheathed his blade so fast in his life, his rapid approach frightening the boy until he falls to his knees in front of him, palms up.

He doesn't have the satyr legs incubi born of succubi do, but two tiny, cream colored horns poke out of his hair above his eyes, and the smell of him, cloves and salt-sweat, is unmistakable.

There are plates half full of food dirty and stacked in an opposite corner, as well as several waterskins⁠— they'd been feeding him, at least⁠— but he still looked alarmingly sallow, jowls pronounced in a way they shouldn't be on someone his age.  Geralt's not very good at comfort, he knows, but he's willing to try.

"How'd you get in here?  Where are your parents?"

More likely than not he'd wandered off when his sire went into town to feed, since his dam was clearly human going by his anatomy.

"M-mom's away in Kovir, visiting my auntie.  Dad's the one who⁠— who⁠—"  He returns to his inconsolable state.

This is the Viscount's son.  His illegitimate son, apparently, who had flowered with age into the dominant half of his heritage. 

Geralt leaves the key in a wheelbarrow on his way out, holding the lamb's hand all the way back to Roach, where he lifts him up into the saddle and climbs behind him to ride off, the boy's auburn goat-tail flicking against him.

+++++

It's an easy enough task to find a sorceress and exchange a handful of chimera teeth for an amulet with a very mild glamour charm, hiding the boy's horns and tail from those not specifically looking for them.

Jaskier is eight, he learns, already a great lover of fiction and music and surprisingly educated on both topics, as well as several others.  He's reserved as they travel, heartbreak clear in the way he curls into himself every morning upon waking, remembering his own circumstances.  Geralt wishes that was why he's still getting thinner⁠— just the sadness, a wave that will hopefully pass with time and care⁠— but he knows it isn't.  It's his job to know monsters, even the sentient ones, and Jaskier's body was certainly withering away in the absence of something, but it wasn't food.

Geralt feels like the world's biggest pervert when he brings himself off into a shallow bowl before the lamb wakes one morning, pressing it into his hands and telling him in a no-nonsense tone to drink it; it'll make him feel better.

Jaskier makes a face, swirling it around with disgust as he looks at the viscous, half-opaque 'medicine', but he does as he's told. 

The little chirp of delight he makes the minute it hits his tongue has Geralt's cock valiantly trying to rise again.  He tells himself it's because the boy's an incubus, his power heavy and aimless around him at all times, to young and untrained to curb or direct it.  It's Not, he resolves, the way he licks the bowl entirely clean of Geralt's cum, a healthy flush returning to his face, tail waggling behind him when he asks if there's any more.  He's gotten a shiny smear of cum across his chin in his eagerness⁠— Geralt's cum, on his porcelain cherub face, like he'd straddled the lamb in bed and given him a facial⁠—

Jaskier's breath catches when Geralt wipes it away with his thumb, the touch lingering. 

He can smell the magic-desire-arousal thickening around the lamb, his immunity as a witcher in no way eliminating the instinctual draw to it as a man.

He forces himself to pull away.  Jaskier looks upset, and confused that he doesn't know what he's upset about, but the return of his joie de vivre quickly overwrote any mixed feelings.  He's shooting questions at Geralt like he intends to write his biography, curious at the level an eight year old should be about where they're going and what's going to happen and who Geralt is and why Geralt brought him⁠—

Geralt's tremendously thankful that his nonstop chatter deafens the lamb's ears to the lusty, enthusiastic fucking that's begun in both of the rooms sharing walls with theirs, their occupants explicitly, verbally wondering why they were so horny, and why it all felt so good.

He needs to get Jaskier a small, secondary waterskin, for Geralt to store his... medicine in.

......in his second year on the path, he'd fucked an incubus who'd burned down the home of one of his lover's abusive husband.  The hole beneath his tail didn't feel like any ass Geralt had fucked before or since, slick-soft and sucking, like a mouth, like it was greedy for his cum⁠—

Geralt bites his tongue so hard it bleeds.  He needs to get Jaskier a small, secondary waterskin.

He does⁠.  It sees use for four days.  On the fifth, Geralt wakes up to Jaskier suckling at his morning wood, swallowing frantically when the sight gets him off like a firecracker.  He pulls off with a 'pop' when he's done, thanking Geralt for breakfast and asking what they're going to do today.

Jask feeds form the source form then on.

+++++

Jaskier, once he's fit and healthy again, is an absolute little menace.

Broaching the topic awkwardly over a campfire one night, Geralt explained to him what he was, how that had already started to impact him, and how it would impact him in the future.  Jask already knew what sex was, to Geralt's unspeakable relief, although that 'knowing' was in the vague, amorphous child way where they don't really understand it.

He only doubts the veracity of Geralt's claims for a few days, until the witcher begins him to control his magic.  He's not qualified for this, but the magic theory behind the casting and control of witcher signs should be consistent with the theory behind Jaskier's inherent magic.

Jask's a quick study.  So quick that Geralt's problem soon becomes not teaching the lamb, but curbing him.  He's not willing to limit his access to food, or switch-whip or spank him⁠— and his firm, annoyed admonishments rolls off the boy like rain sliding off glass.

Geralt doesn't know if it's a brilliant, logical solution or his sick lust planting ideas when he gets it in his head to flick Jaskier's cock and balls.  They're so delicate that it won't take any real application of force to have him bawling from it, and won't leave any marks.  Just a quarter-strength, smooth-nailed little flick: Geralt can imagine the noise he'll make, his pink, perfectly smooth balls drawing up and away at the harsh treatment⁠—

⁠—nope, he wants to do it because of the lust. 

He manfully tables the desire for two whole weeks, even with Jaskier growing ever more mischievous. The lamb's taken to tugging freely at Geralt's pants when he's hungry, even if they have company⁠— purely for the impish delight of watching Geralt jump and stumble away.

The resolution holds, until Jaskier gleefully, deliberately thralls a brawny drunk into propositioning the old fishwife in the corner, and her into accepting, all while Geralt is outside discussing his board and pay with a contract issuer.

He walks back inside to find every soul in the house heckling two passionately entwined individuals to 'get a room,' tossing spare bits of food at the May-December couple and gagging.  Jaskier looks pleased as punch on his stool at the bar, tail⁠— because Geralt's looking for it⁠— wiggling with unbridled glee when he's spotted.

Jaskier's laughing and unbothered when Geralt hoists him onto his shoulder and up to their room, and tantalized when his pants are tugged unceremoniously off.  It's not until Geralt pushes up under his thighs, spreading him wide and vulnerable like he never has before, that he realizes the trouble he's in.

This is the first time Geralt's gotten a good look between the lamb's legs.  His tiny chubby package is just as cute as it is in the bath, twitching curiously at the attention, the barest flash of his pink cockhead visible through the opening of his foreskin.  It's his hole that's really striking, though.  Rather than the dark pinprick of a human asshole⁠— at least when they're not all fucked out, or regularly accustomed to being fucked out⁠— it's a plush, slightly puffy ring of muscle, the same bright healthy pink as a cunt.

Intellectually Geralt knows that he's immune to Jaskier's thrall, but he can't reconcile that with how badly he wants to sink his finger in and feel around: let the boy's greedy incubus body try to milk cum out of it, like he's made for.

The witcher gently flicks up at Jask's cock and balls before he can lose any more coherency. 

Jask had not expected that, a shout of pain turning into loud, furious crying.  He's not strong enough to pull out of Geralt's pin, so on he cries, bratty and loud, as Geralt flicks him again.

"If you ever thrall strangers fucking for your own amusement again I'm going to flick you black and blue, do you understand?"

Jaskier doesn't answer, brows drawn together in anger.  It takes two more flicks, the lamb's bits clearly trying to retreat into his body by the end of it, and another fifteen minutes of weeping for Jask to break.  He nods his head rapidly the second time he's asked if he understands, breathing heavy through his snotty nose.

Geralt lets himself kiss Jaskier's cock, just once, just to kiss it better, and climbs onto the bed himself to pull his cock out for Jaskier's lunch.

Jaskier massages the crown with his little tongue like an apology, looking periodically up at him with big, wet eyes to gauge how mad he still is.  Geralt pets his hair as he cums, teeth clenching, and tells Jaskier he knows he doesn't mean to be a bad boy as he drinks it down.

+++++

Geralt brings Jaskier to Kaer Morhen because there's nothing else to do, and because he hopes someone who isn't him will have a constructive idea what to /do with him, long-term.

He leaves the boy up in his room with a couple of the library's plain-text books on witcher culture, and a promise to be back within the hour, before going back downstairs to convene with his fellow wolves.

"What do you mean, what do we do with him?  He's an incubus, Geralt: we fuck him.  Regularly, until he knows what we like, and we don't all get blueballs every winter anymore."

Eskel, Gods preserve him, seems as appalled by Lambert's suggestion as Geralt is.  "It's one thing to give him what he needs to survive⁠, and a whole other to do... that.  You want to just lean into it?  Raise an eight-year-old to be our communal cumrag?"

It's clearly meant to be a discouraging sentence, but they all pause and shuffle awkwardly when every single one of their scents spike with arousal.

Lambert gets over the chagrin first.  "An eight-year-old /lamb.  Fuck, Geralt's been having lamby up there nurse his 'special milk' for months now, haven't you⁠—"  Geralt punches him. 

Fuck that's hot.  Messed up beyond belief, and so, so hot. 

He lets Lambert get a good, bruising shot in on his shoulder in retaliation.  "Am I the only one here not entirely up my own ass?  We're gonna be fucking him anyway, unless the game plan is to starve him to death.  Why are we suddenly monsters if we decide to enjoy it?  I know he looks like a regular kid, but this is what he's made for; if he wasn't here with us fucking him, he'd be somewhere else with someone else fucking him."

Despite his bold words, he slinks just as guiltily as the other two back up to Geralt's room, moving as a pack to go investigate the feasibility of regularly plowing an almost-child.

Jaskier's bouncing with giddiness on the bed before the wolves can get through their deeply uncomfortable, probing inquiry about how Jask might feel about being... fed regularly and athletically, in all his eligible orifices, by all of the men before him.

There's not a single ounce of hesitation behind the emphatic yes the question garners, Jask's boycock rising like the smallest flagpole and beading with precum. 

It's Geralt he's staring adoringly at when he asks, pulling his own clothes off, 'what he wants to do first?'

Geralt isn't actually sure until the answer comes to his lips.

He shouldn't be saying this to a kid.  Certainly shouldn't be doing this to a kid, Geralt has to put a pause on this before⁠—

Lambert shoulders him as he walks past, snorting, and thrusts two fingers repeatedly into Jaskier's mouth.  Within thirty seconds the lamb is cumming, eyes crossed, scent more pervasive and tempting than a full whorehouse.

Right.  Incubus.

"I want to tonguefuck your tail-hole."

"Oh-ho!  Still waters run deep, white wolf."  Geralt opens his mouth to get into it with Lambert⁠— having a healthy hesitation about this is a good thing, and Lambert should be questioning why he didn't, not the other way around⁠— when Jaskier rolls over with an 'oomph!', tucking his knees under him and reaching back to spread his plush little asscheeks. 

"Damn, that's a fuckhole if I've ever seen one.  If you don't hop to it I'm gonna."

Jask looks back over his shoulder at Geralt, tail wiggling. 

It keeps wiggling against the bridge of Geralt's nose when he presses his face in and licks like he's starving.  He knows it's the boy's biology, but he's smelled like the consummate sexual partner since the day they met, and Geralt is ravenous for him after so much restraint.  The lamb squeals happily, like he does when Geralt swings him around by his hands, as the man grabs his thighs to lift him, holding him nearly upside-down while Geralt settles back onto his haunches and presses Jaskier's ass as flush to his face as he can.

He's just as warm and soft inside as Geralt imagined, giggling and squirting as he comes (how many times can a lamb cum in a row?  His testicles are so small, but he just keeps dripping) when Geralt groans into his tail-hole, the vibration clearly doing something for him.

Lambert's already begun rather roughly fucking Jaskier's mouth by the time he convinces Eskel to come over, the boy's repetitive climaxes finally convincing him that this really is welcome attention.  Geralt's eyes, though somewhat obscured my the movement of Jask's tail, watch hungrily as Eskel grabs the lamb's hand where it lays limp and curling on the bed and pulls it up to his now-exposed cock, wrapping the short fingers around it and moving his skinny wrist to get Jaskier to jerk him up and down.

"Fuck.  He sucks like he's hungry, doesn't he Geralt⁠— you hungry for this cock, lamby?"  The desire to punch Lambert again for talking to Jask like that goes to war with the desire to join in, especially when Jaskier keens for the words, redoubling his oral efforts until his eager, imprecise sucking was audible.

When Geralt can't stand not to have him any longer, he sets Jask down on his belly and lays on top of him, enough weight held up off him that it's not suffocating.  He shouldn't be surprised that his cock slides in without a hitch the minute it kisses the boy's hole, but he is⁠— a prick bigger than one of Jaskier's forearms, sheathing in his belly in one smooth motion. 

He knows that pressing Jask down to the bed has made his mouth and hands unavailable to his brothers, and he doesn't care.  They can wait, like he's waited. 

Geralt doesn't know what the boy's insides are made of that he's hot-soft-giving at every angle Geralt pokes in from, with none of the channel resistance or in-the-way organs he normally has to worry about when giving someone a dicking this deep and vicious.  He's filled with horny pack-animal pride when he hears his brothers whoop and holler at him, the sounds of their masturbation joining the cacophony of balls-slapping-thighs as Lambert asks if Jask 'just goes on forever in there or what?'

There's another round of whistling when Jaskier whimpers "Daddy," slurring and stupid, like his body has diverted all its attention from being a thinking, breathing creature into the clutch and pull of his asshole, trying to earn Geralt's spunk.

The look on his face when he's rolled over, Daddy milked fully and expertly into his guts, is the most serene, perfect happiness Geralt thinks he's ever seen.  He hooks a finger into the lamb's mouth to tug it open when their voyeurs get close⁠.  He's a growing boy, after all, instinctively swallowing down the cum sprayed into his mouth with a pleased hum.

Damn it.  Geralt hates when Lambert's right.

+++++

They repeat some variation of this routine, every night they're at the keep together, until practice has made perfect.

+++++

Winter is easily Jaskier's favorite season, though he revels in the warmer months he spends alone with his Daddy on the path, too.  He always comes back with something new to show his uncles, a trick or position they'd picked up from a whore, troubadour, or uptight cobbler's daughter that a bit of incubus charm had loosened up.

As he gets older, though, the main marvel of every year becomes not what he can do but what he's become.

At sixteen Jaskier struts back through the rusted gates of Kaer Morhen like the cock of the walk, having fully grown into a big, gorgeous cock and perky balls.  Geralt knew it was going to happen eventually, him being an incubus, but he thought he'd lament watching the change more, miss making his itty-bitty parts sore and hurting with a single swat.

Instead, it gets all of them foaming-at-the-mouth randy, watching him strip to swim in the creek or change clothes: a rail-thin teenage frame, knock-kneed, with sparse, bristly stubble and a chubby, perfect prick swinging between his legs.  He knows they like to look at it, too.  Their trained hedonist delights in the fact, turning to pull his cheeks apart so they can see the wink of his hole and the hang of his sack, wiggling his tail like he's a lamb again, whenever he catches someone staring.

His asshole's only gotten hotter and plusher with age.  It's near-constantly swollen up from the fucking, a puffy pink ring of muscle that sucks in everything they decide to fuck him with.  The first time Geralt and Eskel plow him at the same time, cocks pressed together and splitting him open wider than should be possible, he bucks and whines and pulses so much magic they all lose time, shuddering back to themselves two hours later with Geralt's cock softening in Eskel's ass and Eskel's fist shoved into Jaskier's hole.  The incubus is still twitching weakly on it, flaccid cock bouncing wetly against his belly.

They still slap his prick and squeeze his balls when he's being bratty, but he likes it now. It still hurts and he still cries, begging them to stop, but he remains unflaggingly hard, dripping wet and canting into every abuse.  Jask lays on his stomach across the scaffolding, exposed in the main hall from their never-ending renovations, when he wants his privates hurt: letting them hang down through the bars to point straight at the ground, too big and heavy to rise up and tap his belly.

It’s a task he prefers Geralt undertake: he loves uncle Eskel and uncle Lambert, but it doesn't make him feel like a coddled, sheltered little lamb again when they do it, not the way Daddy's harsh matter-of-fact swatting and gentle but firm admonishments do.

He kind of wants to go to college, when they head back out on on the path come Spring.  Jaskier knows Geralt will let him, if he asks, and that he’ll come to visit with clockwork regularity.

Eskel and Lambert probably would too, come to think of it.  He has them all pretty well trained at this point.

+++++

The cum drinking is entirely @witcherhkinks 's idea, I'm just Enthusiastically Writing about it.  An alternate school of though to Jask having a big swingin' incubus dick is him never developing his cock and balls past when Geralt met him, since all of his formative sexual experiences revolve around him getting plowed.  I'm also Very Into that concept, but pouty well-endowed sex slave Jask won out here.

I hope ya'll enjoyed me suffering trying to describe jask's little lamb hole as a pink donut without using the not at all medieval and also frankly unsexy term 'pink donut.'

#t reblogs old blog

[witcherhdkinks]

Mean Ciri

Ciri who considers Geralt her dad and shes sp jealous about the attention jaskier gets from Geralt bbecause shes the princess and the special one and shes a spoilt brat so Geralt should be paying attention to her! And Geralt is still kinda mean to Jaskier, but its kinda jokey, banter, in jokes that the two of them both get and Jaskier knows that Geralt doesn’t mean it but Ciri hears and thinks that if her daddy can say mean stuff surely she can too! She can do anything she wants can’t she? 

So she waits until Geralt is on a hunt before calling Jaskier a useless bard and dumb and worthless and kicking him sometimes and Jaskier cant discipline her because thats Geralt’s kid and shes just a traumatised child so he just takes it until hes all watery eyed and crying softly, asking her to please maybe stop. Ciri leaves bruises all over his shins and pinches at his sides, pulls his hair until his scalp hurts.

And Jaskier knows he should tell Geralt, but Geralt loves his little girl so much, can’t see any faults in her even when she has temper tantrums and smacks at him with little fists, never anywhere near as hard as when she hits Jaskier. Ad Geralt sees these bruises but Jaskier just laughs it off as being clumsy and well - Jaskier has always been a bit prone to falling over his own feet.

Ciri getting her first crush on Jaskier but its only when he’s all blotchy faced and teary eyed and trembling like a leaf as he cries. His voice gets all pitchy and Jaskier can barely breathe around the lump in his throat and his blocked up nose. And maybe Geralt sees this happening and he knows that he should stop Ciri, that’s his boyfriend, his lover, but Ciri is talking, calling Jaskier pretty, only worth something when he cries and well- She’s not exactly wrong, so he just watches, getting so so hard that he can’t think straight but he wants to see Jaskier cry more. 

#t reblogs old blog