#indulgent overuse of the word pup | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hardkinkbardkink · 4 years

Text

anon asked: Incubus!Jask at Kaer Morhen, having enthralled the witcher boys (+Ves? Your call.) wanting to watch them fuck only to be surprised they’re all... small? Maybe it’s the mutations fault. No matter. Jask makes them get off with each other by making them lap at each others’ cocks like they’re cunts, fingering one another until they’re squirming like pups begging for Jaskier’s cock to breed their needy holes because no other cocks will do. Bonus for puppy play, and forced orgasms because I could see someone like Eskel or Lambert snapping out of it for a moment while Geralt is humping their thigh and being horrified until Jaskier talks him down, asking “don’t you like being my pup? Doesn’t it feel good to have your little cunny touched?” Until they’re re-enthralled for Jaskier’s sole amusement.

so this is,,, my favourite prompt i’d ever got? truly? and that’s not to say that the other asks i get aren’t fucking amazing cos they very much are but this just hit all the points for me. all of them. lord have mercy.

this is filthy overstim tiny cock mind-controlled porn thru & thru oof i’m a bit hot under the collar not gonna lie to you babes

now also on the ao3 near you

***

At first Jaskier’d thought it was a joke. How could he not? The concept of a witcher letting him tag along for the monster-slaying ride was rich enough. The idea–the very idea of being invited to the place that was basically Geralt’s home, and home to his brothers, to other witchers–

It was, very much, not a joke, if the cold ache that’s seeped through his joints and the monolithic, run-down keep standing stark against the grey sky are anything to go by.

“This seems like a needlessly intricate plot just to kill me, you do realise. You could easily have done it at any moment and I wouldn’t even notice you draw the blade.”

Geralt never appreciates this particular vein of his humour.

“I won’t–”

“Yes, yes, you won’t kill me, I know, you boring old man.”

The heavy oaken door squeaks horribly when Jaskier pushes it open with some considerable effort. Geralt doesn’t move to help him, the great brute that he is, resigning instead to stewing in his insufferable self-righteousness.

The inside of the keep is no less cold than the outside, though there are at least three lit hearths in the big, open hall alone. At least there’s no snow. Jaskier looks around, overwhelmed by how awfully bland and devoid of style everything is. A long table with two equally long benches on either side seems to be the hall’s biggest attraction, and Jaskier nearly weeps at the thought of the sad, sad souls that have come through here. No wonder Geralt is the way he is.

“Witchers–” Geralt continues suddenly when Jaskier’s already long moved on from the subject.

“–are immune to incubus magic, yes, Geralt, you told me. I do listen sometimes, you know.”

“He never listens, though, so he assumes nobody else does either,” comes a beautiful voice speaking the whole truth and the truth only.

Jaskier turns as quickly as his stiff limbs will allow him.

“Eskel,” Geralt growls in–what, a threat? Even in his own home, the man resorts to threats?

“Eskel!” Jaskier repeats with the cheer it deserves. He’s heard only great things about Eskel. He extends a hand in greeting, and shivers when Eskel takes it in his own, gloveless in this awful chill. “Pleasure.”

“The pleasure’s all mine.”

Eskel’s smile, Jaskier thinks, is quite striking, just as the rest of him. Broad shoulders and thick thighs, dark hair peeking out from under the collar of his shirt, a playful glint in his golden eyes, the exact copies of Geralt’s–

He shivers again, and not from the temperature.

Another set of footsteps echoes through the hall, obnoxiously loud. Geralt walks silently, like a cat slinking in the shadows. Eskel seems about the same way. Whoever this is must just enjoy being a right pompous prick for the sake of it.

Jaskier gets introduced to Lambert and grows a little bit warmer when all three witchers gather around him, tower above him, really, walking, talking mountains of muscle and strength and gods, fuck, Jaskier’s so hungry.

He shouldn’t have agreed to come, but Geralt’s assured him they’ll figure it out.

They are yet to figure it out.

But he gets as many cups of mulled wine as his little heart desires, and Geralt soon brightens up around his brothers, cracking jokes as they all shove at each other playfully like they’re still wolf pups instead of hundred-year-old men.

The evening, all in all, ends up pleasant. Jaskier falls asleep calm and safe, ignoring the sucking emptiness inside him.

***

So here’s the thing.

Sometimes, he thinks Geralt makes himself forget about Jaskier’s inhuman heritage.

Sometimes, he thinks maybe Geralt really believes he doesn’t need to feed on energy because he scarfs down half a loaf of bread at breakfast.

Sometimes, he wishes someone would strike him down, so he doesn’t have to be so achingly hungry anymore.

And everyone’s being so nice to him, so accommodating–he’s embarrassed to ask them for anything more when they already give him so much.

And, here’s another thing.

Witchers are not actually immune to incubus magic.

Jaskier’s never had the heart to tell Geralt.

The poor dear once told him no when Jaskier half-jokingly asked to suck his cock and really thought his mighty witcher-brain is immune to Jaskier’s power.

It is decidedly not the truth.

Jaskier makes it a whole week, waiting for Geralt to offer himself or anyone else up–Jaskier would even take a sacrificial virgin in a pinch–but he stays famished and weakening by the day.

He means to only take a little, at first. He finds Eskel and Lambert in the courtyard. Compelling them to drop their swords and follow him inside is child’s play.

Jaskier walks them up to his bedroom–the only chamber in this whole blasted keep that’s even remotely warm–and thrums with anticipation as he practically skips up the steps.

He means to only take a little, so he gets Lambert on his knees and makes for Eskel to shove his undoubtedly glorious cock down his throat, except–

Except that he doesn’t think Eskel’s cock could reach Lambert’s throat in any capacity.

Oh.

When Lambert peels away his own leathers, and his dick turns out similarly sized, Jaskier burns with curiosity.

He motions for his boys to come forward, half-tangled in their clothes still, and they come to sit on the bed with him. He pets their precious tiny pricks and they squirm deliciously.

Oh, he’s got to find Geralt.

He leaves them to undress and sprints through the keep at inhuman speed, dipping his head into various rooms until he spots the shock of white hair. Geralt’s defences are so embarrassingly low, Jaskier doesn’t even have to try particularly hard to catch him under a spell.

Eskel and Lambert are knelt dutifully in front of the bed, their clothes strewn all about, their expressions blissed-out like Jaskier’s never seen them before. He helps Geralt undress–gods, and Geralt’s prick is even smaller, somehow–before directing him to his knees between his brothers.

Jaskier practically vibrates with eagerness.

He meant only to take a little, but now he thinks he’ll have all of it, and then some for dessert, until he’s bursting with it.

Gods, the possibilities are endless.

Jaskier makes himself comfortable, leaning back on the cushions, facing his obedient pups.

“My good boys. My darling, perfect pups. You’re even more breathtaking than I could ever imagine.”

Someone whines pitifully at the words.

“Oh, it’s high time someone took care of you, isn’t it? Look how wet your gorgeous cocks are getting, and I barely even touched you.”

He wants to touch, but even more he wants to watch.

“Eskel, my lovely, why don’t you lay down for me? That’s it, heart. Open your mouth nice and wide–”

Jaskier looks on, transfixed, as his pups shuffle to accommodate his wants; Eskel on his back on the furs, Lambert straddling his face, cute prick hovering just above his parted lips. He’s got Geralt on his belly, face buried between Eskel’s legs.

“My, look at you. Go on, dears, you must be ravenous.”

He can’t settle on where to look–to watch clumsy tongues lap desperately at each other’s cocks, or their faces twist in unadulterated pleasure. Just as he fixes his wandering gaze on where Lambert’s got his lip between his teeth, he catches a glimpse of Geralt rutting his tiny prick against the edge of the fur.

He waits until he can just feel the static of release cloying the air, all his pups whimpering as they approach the precipice–and orders them apart. They kneel again, their chests heaving and cocks throbbing, clad only in their medallions.

“What would my pups want? Do you want to fingerfuck your needy holes, since none of you have a cock to do it? I’ll give you something bigger, when you’re all nice and loose.”

“Please,” Geralt says quietly and crawls up the bed. He comes to straddle one of Jaskier’s thighs, his prick flushed a delightful pink, deliciously wet at the head, and Jaskier’s sure greater men would have succumbed.

“Oh, is my puppy desperate?”

Geralt nods frantically as he rides Jaskier’s thigh, spreading sticky precome all over the fabric of his trousers.

“You’ll have to wait your turn to get bred full, then, heart, since your brothers are so patient.”

He brushes Geralt’s hair to the side and shivers when Geralt comes with a series of lovely, high-pitched moans, feeling the shadow of his pup’s release at the base of his spine.

“Good boy. But you’re so greedy, darling, you’ve left your brothers waiting. Better make it up to them, yeah?”

Geralt nods again and scrambles off the bed to push at Eskel’s chest and get him to lay back down again. This time Geralt throws Eskel’s legs over his shoulders and laps hungrily at his hole. Jaskier makes Lambert return to sit on Eskel’s face, turned the other way as he rides Eskel’s tongue and moans wantonly.

They both take a finger beautifully, even before Jaskier hands them the oil.

Gods, Jaskier has to palm his own cock when he thinks about his pups, made-over and trained to be killing machines–helpless as he forces them to take their pleasure, squirming on each other’s fingers and tongues, moaning and whimpering and begging in broken, breathy whispers to be taken and bred and filled.

He watches Eskel stretched on three fingers, his powerful thighs quivering. Jaskier feels the frantic crescendo of his pup’s orgasm, can taste the panic that rises in him because he didn’t get the permission to come yet.

“Do you like Geralt’s fingers, darling? Want to come on them? Go on, Eskel, my lovely, let go for me.”

Eskel’s little cock twitches before he comes with a sob, draining his heavy balls all over his belly, but he never stops driving his fingers relentlessly into Lambert’s slack hole.

“You too, Lambert, baby, come for me whenever you feel like it. Look how good it was for your brothers.”

Lambert only takes a few more harsh thrusts before he nearly collapses forward, seizing up and shooting his load over Eskel’s chest with a full-bodied tremor.

“Good. Gods, you’re all so good, so lovely, you make my heart ache.”

They make other parts of him ache, too.

When Geralt moves up to dutifully clean Eskel’s skin of seed, from his flushed chest all the way to his sensitive cock, Jaskier’s resolve breaks.

He divests himself quickly of his clothes, and his pups stare adoringly, hungrily, at the sticky-wet tip of his cock.

And Jaskier immediately knows that he loves all of them equally–but he needs Geralt to have the last turn, and he’s wanted Eskel ever since he’d first laid eyes on him that first day.

“You can all come up on the bed now, loves.”

His pups drool all over themselves, watching his prick bob between his legs, and Jaskier can’t believe they were to deprive themselves all winter, when they so fiercely want for a big fat cock to stuff them silly. His heart breaks for them, just a little.

He kisses Lambert deeply, his darling too out of it to do it properly, licking into Jaskier’s mouth with a sloppy tongue like the desperate puppy he is. They all try to get comfortable around him, even with the aching emptiness between their legs, but Jaskier’s quick to remedy that.

“Lambert, my sweet, be a dear and open Geralt up while I breed Eskel’s tight little hole.”

Jaskier reclines with his back against the wall, so he can see Geralt open his legs wantonly and Lambert quickly get between them.

But most importantly, he can urge Eskel onto his lap, his pup’s glorious thighs spreading wide over his own as he looks at Jaskier with blind adoration.

“You want my cock, darling? Want to finally be so very full?” Jaskier asks in a whisper, giving Eskel his full attention, like his baby deserves.

“Please, please.” Eskel’s soothing, deep voice trembles a bit as he tries to speak. “Want you so bad, it hurts.”

Jaskier shushes him before pressing his lips gently to Eskel’s. The kiss is more cohesive than his last, Eskel groaning quietly when Jaskier sucks on his tongue.

“I know, you just want to get fucked, nice and proper, huh? I bet you get no relief on the path, with that pitiful little excuse for a cock–want me to breed you like the good little fuckhole you are, darling? I’ll leave you dripping.”

He smooths his hands over Eskel’s thighs to urge him up, so he can press his throbbing cockhead against Eskel’s greedy hole. It swallows him all at once, steals the breath from his lungs when Eskel’s bottom presses against the tops of his legs.

“Oh, Eskel, my love–” Jaskier rambles, because the feel of his pup, coupled with the sight he makes–wide open eyes, glazed-over in elation, his lips swollen and pink, his tiny prick hard again and bobbing against his belly when Eskel begins bouncing on Jaskier’s cock–

Gods, how did he ever think he could have just a little?

“Take what you need, whatever you need, darling, oh, you’re divine, you’re perfect.”

Eskel whimpers and leans in to bury his face in Jaskier’s neck, overwhelmed, but Jaskier doesn’t mind. He rubs his puppy’s back, and keeps fucking him, as slowly and as quickly as Eskel needs from him, sinking into his sinful hole again and again until Eskel shakes with it, until he can’t go anymore.

Jaskier pushes him gently onto his back and keeps driving into him, faster now, and Eskel sobs beautifully with each thrust. They share a feverish kiss and Jaskier finally gets his hands on that alluring chest, squeezing Eskel’s pecks and rubbing his nipples gently. Eskel arches into his touch and moans raggedly.

“Such a good boy, such a good pup–do you want me to touch your cute prick, love? Want me to rub your little clit?”

Eskel nods, his voice climbing frantically around a string of yes yes yes. It barely takes a full touch to his swollen, ruddy prick before Eskel pulses around Jaskier’s cock, thrashes on the bed with his head thrown back.

“Stunning, oh, that’s perfect–”

Jaskier pumps his darling pup full of hot seed and marvels when Eskel immediately quakes through another orgasm, before the first even subsides. Jaskier peppers his face with tiny kisses, wants to drown Eskel in affection. When he makes to pull out, Eskel whines and claws at his shoulders.

“I know, I know, pup, but I need to see to your brothers. Gods, I wish I had something to plug you up with, so you’re always nice and full.”

He does manage to pull out, and gets to watch Eskel’s puffy hole leak out his spend copiously. He leans down to lap it up, because how can he not? Eskel’s legs grip vice-tight around his head for a moment.

Eskel’s still convulsing periodically when Jaskier arranges him on his knees, straddling one of Geralt’s thighs, so they can hump each other like the needy pups they are.

“Lambert, love, would you like to suck a real cock, finally? I can shove it down your throat before I breed your lovely hole.”

And Lambert scrambles to get his mouth on Jaskier’s come-streaked cock so fast he nearly falls backwards and off the edge of the bed.

“Careful, dear, so you don’t choke. Gods, you are just my perfect cock-hungry sluts, aren’t you? How will I ever let you go?”

Geralt whimpers beautifully next to him, and Jaskier looks over to his other boys while he cards gentle fingers through Lambert’s hair.

Eskel’s too sensitive, Jaskier knows, and yet he still ruts his prick against Geralt like he’ll die without it. Their foreheads rest together. It only takes the smallest nudge to have them kiss, tentatively at first, then increasingly more hotly, until they’re both moaning with the intensity of it.

“Is this how my pups spend the winters? Rutting against each other desperately, lapping at your pathetic little pricks like they’re cunts? Writhing on fingers because there isn’t a cock in sight to fill you like you so very crave?”

Geralt shakes violently and grabs fistfuls of Eskel’s hair when he spills, yet the rhythm of his hips never falters. Jaskier smiles at them warmly, tugs Lambert’s head up and down, relishing the tight clutch of his throat.

Except there’s something threatening to ruin his perfect evening, and he can feel one of his pups slipping from his thrall.

Eskel jerks away slightly, as much as he can with Geralt still straddling his leg. His eyes aren’t filled with bliss and lust, but wide with confusion and, inexplicably, terror.

“You–” Eskel begins, trying to wrestle out of Geralt’s hold.

Jaskier shushes him calmly. “Oh, darling is something the matter? You do like being my lovely pup, don’t you?” He can see Eskel pause when he no doubt notices his sopping wet hole drooling all over the sheets. “Don’t you like your little boy parts touched, love? Doesn’t it feel good to be stuffed with my seed?”

Eskel’s sharp, golden eyes quickly lose their focus. Geralt whines and leans in for a kiss. Eskel opens his mouth somewhat reluctantly, still.

“That’s it, pup, just let yourself be cared for, isn’t that better? If you’re good I’ll have you warm my cock all night.”

Jaskier still has some tricks up his sleeve, so he snaps his fingers and has Eskel crashing through a sudden, dry orgasm, his lovely prick throbbing visibly.

“Maybe it’s for the better you don’t have real cocks. I can have your little boy pricks coming again and again, just as a woman would.”

Lambert gives a strangled groan around Jaskier’s cock, his release thick and heavy in the air without anyone even glancing at his dick. Amazing.

Jaskier urges his lovely pup up, gives him a chaste kiss before asking,

“How do you want it, darling?”

“Hard,” Lambert replies without hesitation, and settles on his hands and knees, his pink, sloppy hole perfectly on display.

Jaskier urges Eskel and Geralt to lay down, grind their oversensitive, aching pricks against each other. Their whimpers are a beautiful background for the slow, dizzying push of his cock into Lambert’s tight body.

“Oh, love, you’ve got such a nice, tight cunt, fuck–”

Lambert chokes on a breath, forces his hips back, overeager and hungry for every bit of cock he can get. Jaskier couldn’t deny him, wouldn’t want to anyway.

“That’s it, that’s right, I’ll fuck you until you can’t stand it anymore, darling, you’ll be feeling it for days.”

His hips hasten, until he’s snapping into Lambert with brutal force, jostling the whole bed, spurred on by the constant babble of more, harder, yes, yes.

“Will you finger your sore hole, thinking about my cock? Will you try to get Eskel’s tiny prick into you, to satisfy the ache?”

Lambert keens, and shakes his head vigorously.

“Just you, need your cock, need a real cock–”

The slap of Jaskier’s balls against Lambert’s is indecently satisfying. Jaskier brings his hand down with a crack on Lambert’s magnificent arse, and then a few more times, when Lambert hollers and the sharp scent of his intensifying arousal makes Jaskier half-rabid.

“Like that, darling? Want to be abused? Want me to bruise your little cunt until you sob with it?”

“Please, please, oh–”

Sobbing is not far off, it seems. Jaskier feels the tingle of power in every part of his body, in the air around them, everywhere, everywhere, raw carnal energy for him to devour.

Jaskier comes before Lambert does, but his pup isn’t far behind, milking the last of Jaskier’s release as he spills onto the sheets with a broken whimper.

“Don’t stop, don’t stop,” Lambert whispers and tries to impale himself on Jaskier’s cock further.

“Greedy. Greedy, slutty pups, you’ve been neglected for so long, you can’t get enough, can you?”

He thrusts languidly, because if there’s one thing he doesn’t lack, it’s stamina.

They fuck for long minutes, Lambert steadily growing louder in his pleas and his moans, Jaskier sweaty and out of breath trying to keep his darling satisfied. Each thrust fucks his seed deeper into Lambert with a wet squelching sound that makes Jaskier dizzy in its obscenity. Which is perhaps why he pulls out of Lambert entirely and rolls his pup to lay belly-up before him.

“How would you like to come inside a nice, warm body, love?”

Lambert whines, his golden eyes blown entirely black.

“Geralt, my darling,” Jaskier calls softly, and Geralt looks up at him with red-rimmed, shining eyes. “You’ll be a good pup and ride Lambert, won’t you?”

“Want a real cock,” Geralt says faintly, voice cracking, but he’s already climbing to sit astride Lambert’s belly, facing Jaskier. “Want your cock.”

“You’ll get it, heart, you’ll get it as much as you want–if you’re a good boy for me.”

Jaskier doesn’t think Lambert’s cock is longer than his fingers, but it’s nice and thick and just big enough to fit inside Geralt without slipping out, at least until Geralt tries to fuck himself on it.

“Jaskier, Jaskier, please–” his pups call out to him, all three in a beautiful symphony.

He’s suddenly obsessed with the thought of Lambert coming inside Geralt, so when Jaskier gets in him his hole is nice and sloppy with spend.

Lambert’s cute little prick is not big enough for Geralt to bounce on it like he so clearly wants.

Easily remedied, that.

“Geralt. Geralt, my darling, the light of my life, my perfect little puppy–” he prattles on in a soft voice before he gives a measured slap to the very tip of Geralt’s cock.

The effect is immediate. Geralt sobs, just the tiniest bit, tightens around Lambert like the most amazing little boy, until Lambert writhes and comes with a scorching hot shout of someone getting to breed a warm hole for the first time in a long time.

Jaskier is dizzy with all this power, lust-drunk and floaty. He can barely contain it. He has to be careful, usually, when it gets this intense, but his perfect pups can take it, were made to take it, gods, gods–

A sharp burst of energy makes his witchers all shudder with release, squirming as it takes them by surprise, their little cocks come-soaked and oversensitive.

“Geralt,” Jaskier says, and he slurs a bit in his haste. His composure is slipping. But his boys are so delicious, so eager and obedient and Geralt spreads his legs so very wide just to show Jaskier his loose, fucked-out hole, and what is he meant to do if not give in to the temptation laid out before him?

Geralt feels so intoxicatingly, unreasonably good, the spell nearly snaps. Jaskier has to keep himself firmly in check, even when everything around him becomes an impossible blur. He fucks Geralt on his back and his stomach, on all fours and against the wall. Vaguely, he registers the small tingle in his abdomen when his other pups come, too, again and again on each other’s fingers and tongues, wailing and screaming as Jaskier unconsciously wrings pleasure out of them long after it’d crossed the line of overstimulated pain.

“Geralt, my lovely, my darling little whore, fuck–you’re all so good, so, so good, ah–”

His pup’s tiny fucking prick twitches when Jaskier closes a palm around it, finds it deliciously soaked and so very sensitive. He licks the single tear that spills down Geralt’s cheek and rubs the heel of his palm over Geralt’s cockhead.

Jaskier blacks out when he finally breeds Geralt full of come.

***

He wakes up wrapped up in his beloved pups, keeping his hold tightly on their minds.

The room had grown cold, but he’s feverishly hot between three strong bodies. Curious, he touches a finger to the swollen head of Lambert’s soft prick, watches him twitch his hips away even asleep. Jaskier pillows his head on a burly chest and closes his eyes.

He’ll let them rest for the day, but by nightfall, Jaskier would very much like to be treated to an extravagant feast again.

#cw noncon #cw mind control #indulgent overuse of the word pup

38 notes · View notes

hardkinkbadkink · 4 years

Note

Incubus!Jask at Kaer Morhen, having enthralled the witcher boys (+Ves? Your call.) wanting to watch them fuck only to be surprised they’re all... small? Maybe it’s the mutations fault. No matter. Jask makes them get off with each other by making them lap at each others’ cocks like they’re cunts, fingering one another until they’re squirming like pups begging for Jaskier’s cock to breed their needy holes because no other cocks will do. Bonus for puppy play, and forced orgasms (1/2)

(2/2) because I could see someone like Eskel or Lambert snapping out of it for a moment while Geralt is humping their thigh and being horrified until Jaskier talks him down, asking “don’t you like being my pup? Doesn’t it feel good to have your little cunny touched?” Until they’re re-enthralled for Jaskier’s sole amusement.

this is filthy overstim tiny cock mind-controlled porn thru & thru oof i’m a bit hot under the collar not gonna lie to you babes

now also on the ao3 near you

***

At first Jaskier'd thought it was a joke. How could he not? The concept of a witcher letting him tag along for the monster-slaying ride was rich enough. The idea--the very idea of being invited to the place that was basically Geralt's home, and home to his brothers, to other witchers--

It was, very much, not a joke, if the cold ache that's seeped through his joints and the monolithic, run-down keep standing stark against the grey sky are anything to go by.

"This seems like a needlessly intricate plot just to kill me, you do realise. You could easily have done it at any moment and I wouldn't even notice you draw the blade."

Geralt never appreciates this particular vein of his humour.

"I won't--"

"Yes, yes, you won't kill me, I know, you boring old man."

The heavy oaken door squeaks horribly when Jaskier pushes it open with some considerable effort. Geralt doesn't move to help him, the great brute that he is, resigning instead to stewing in his insufferable self-righteousness.

The inside of the keep is no less cold than the outside, though there are at least three lit hearths in the big, open hall alone. At least there's no snow. Jaskier looks around, overwhelmed by how awfully bland and devoid of style everything is. A long table with two equally long benches on either side seems to be the hall's biggest attraction, and Jaskier nearly weeps at the thought of the sad, sad souls that have come through here. No wonder Geralt is the way he is.

"Witchers--" Geralt continues suddenly when Jaskier's already long moved on from the subject.

"--are immune to incubus magic, yes, Geralt, you told me. I do listen sometimes, you know."

"He never listens, though, so he assumes nobody else does either," comes a beautiful voice speaking the whole truth and the truth only.

Jaskier turns as quickly as his stiff limbs will allow him.

"Eskel," Geralt growls in--what, a threat? Even in his own home, the man resorts to threats?

"Eskel!" Jaskier repeats with the cheer it deserves. He's heard only great things about Eskel. He extends a hand in greeting, and shivers when Eskel takes it in his own, gloveless in this awful chill. "Pleasure."

"The pleasure's all mine."

Eskel's smile, Jaskier thinks, is quite striking, just as the rest of him. Broad shoulders and thick thighs, dark hair peeking out from under the collar of his shirt, a playful glint in his golden eyes, the exact copies of Geralt's--

He shivers again, and not from the temperature.

He shouldn't have agreed to come, but Geralt's assured him they'll figure it out.

They are yet to figure it out.

But he gets as many cups of mulled wine as his little heart desires, and Geralt soon brightens up around his brothers, cracking jokes as they all shove at each other playfully like they're still wolf pups instead of hundred-year-old men.

The evening, all in all, ends up pleasant. Jaskier falls asleep calm and safe, ignoring the sucking emptiness inside him.

***

So here's the thing.

Sometimes, he thinks Geralt makes himself forget about Jaskier's inhuman heritage.

Sometimes, he thinks maybe Geralt really believes he doesn't need to feed on energy because he scarfs down half a loaf of bread at breakfast.

Sometimes, he wishes someone would strike him down, so he doesn't have to be so achingly hungry anymore.

And everyone's being so nice to him, so accommodating--he's embarrassed to ask them for anything more when they already give him so much.

And, here's another thing.

Witchers are not actually immune to incubus magic.

Jaskier's never had the heart to tell Geralt.

The poor dear once told him no when Jaskier half-jokingly asked to suck his cock and really thought his mighty witcher-brain is immune to Jaskier's power.

It is decidedly not the truth.

Jaskier makes it a whole week, waiting for Geralt to offer himself or anyone else up--Jaskier would even take a sacrificial virgin in a pinch--but he stays famished and weakening by the day.

He means to only take a little, at first. He finds Eskel and Lambert in the courtyard. Compelling them to drop their swords and follow him inside is child's play.

Jaskier walks them up to his bedroom--the only chamber in this whole blasted keep that's even remotely warm--and thrums with anticipation as he practically skips up the steps.

He means to only take a little, so he gets Lambert on his knees and makes for Eskel to shove his undoubtedly glorious cock down his throat, except--

Except that he doesn't think Eskel's cock could reach Lambert's throat in any capacity.

Oh.

When Lambert peels away his own leathers, and his dick turns out similarly sized, Jaskier burns with curiosity.

He motions for his boys to come forward, half-tangled in their clothes still, and they come to sit on the bed with him. He pets their precious tiny pricks and they squirm deliciously.

Oh, he's got to find Geralt.

He leaves them to undress and sprints through the keep at inhuman speed, dipping his head into various rooms until he spots the shock of white hair. Geralt's defences are so embarrassingly low, Jaskier doesn't even have to try particularly hard to catch him under a spell.

Eskel and Lambert are knelt dutifully in front of the bed, their clothes strewn all about, their expressions blissed-out like Jaskier's never seen them before. He helps Geralt undress--gods, and Geralt's prick is even smaller, somehow--before directing him to his knees between his brothers.

Jaskier practically vibrates with eagerness.

He meant only to take a little, but now he thinks he'll have all of it, and then some for dessert, until he's bursting with it.

Gods, the possibilities are endless.

Jaskier makes himself comfortable, leaning back on the cushions, facing his obedient pups.

"My good boys. My darling, perfect pups. You're even more breathtaking than I could ever imagine."

Someone whines pitifully at the words.

"Oh, it's high time someone took care of you, isn't it? Look how wet your gorgeous cocks are getting, and I barely even touched you."

He wants to touch, but even more he wants to watch.

"Eskel, my lovely, why don't you lay down for me? That's it, heart. Open your mouth nice and wide--"

Jaskier looks on, transfixed, as his pups shuffle to accommodate his wants; Eskel on his back on the furs, Lambert straddling his face, cute prick hovering just above his parted lips. He's got Geralt on his belly, face buried between Eskel's legs.

"My, look at you. Go on, dears, you must be ravenous."

He can't settle on where to look--to watch clumsy tongues lap desperately at each other's cocks, or their faces twist in unadulterated pleasure. Just as he fixes his wandering gaze on where Lambert's got his lip between his teeth, he catches a glimpse of Geralt rutting his tiny prick against the edge of the fur.

He waits until he can just feel the static of release cloying the air, all his pups whimpering as they approach the precipice--and orders them apart. They kneel again, their chests heaving and cocks throbbing, clad only in their medallions.

"What would my pups want? Do you want to fingerfuck your needy holes, since none of you have a cock to do it? I'll give you something bigger, when you're all nice and loose."

"Please," Geralt says quietly and crawls up the bed. He comes to straddle one of Jaskier's thighs, his prick flushed a delightful pink, deliciously wet at the head, and Jaskier's sure greater men would have succumbed.

"Oh, is my puppy desperate?"

Geralt nods frantically as he rides Jaskier's thigh, spreading sticky precome all over the fabric of his trousers.

"You'll have to wait your turn to get bred full, then, heart, since your brothers are so patient."

He brushes Geralt's hair to the side and shivers when Geralt comes with a series of lovely, high-pitched moans, feeling the shadow of his pup's release at the base of his spine.

"Good boy. But you're so greedy, darling, you've left your brothers waiting. Better make it up to them, yeah?"

Geralt nods again and scrambles off the bed to push at Eskel's chest and get him to lay back down again. This time Geralt throws Eskel's legs over his shoulders and laps hungrily at his hole. Jaskier makes Lambert return to sit on Eskel's face, turned the other way as he rides Eskel's tongue and moans wantonly.

They both take a finger beautifully, even before Jaskier hands them the oil.

Gods, Jaskier has to palm his own cock when he thinks about his pups, made-over and trained to be killing machines--helpless as he forces them to take their pleasure, squirming on each other's fingers and tongues, moaning and whimpering and begging in broken, breathy whispers to be taken and bred and filled.

He watches Eskel stretched on three fingers, his powerful thighs quivering. Jaskier feels the frantic crescendo of his pup's orgasm, can taste the panic that rises in him because he didn't get the permission to come yet.

"Do you like Geralt's fingers, darling? Want to come on them? Go on, Eskel, my lovely, let go for me."

Eskel's little cock twitches before he comes with a sob, draining his heavy balls all over his belly, but he never stops driving his fingers relentlessly into Lambert's slack hole.

"You too, Lambert, baby, come for me whenever you feel like it. Look how good it was for your brothers."

Lambert only takes a few more harsh thrusts before he nearly collapses forward, seizing up and shooting his load over Eskel's chest with a full-bodied tremor.

"Good. Gods, you're all so good, so lovely, you make my heart ache."

They make other parts of him ache, too.

When Geralt moves up to dutifully clean Eskel's skin of seed, from his flushed chest all the way to his sensitive cock, Jaskier's resolve breaks.

He divests himself quickly of his clothes, and his pups stare adoringly, hungrily, at the sticky-wet tip of his cock.

And Jaskier immediately knows that he loves all of them equally--but he needs Geralt to have the last turn, and he's wanted Eskel ever since he'd first laid eyes on him that first day.

"You can all come up on the bed now, loves."

His pups drool all over themselves, watching his prick bob between his legs, and Jaskier can't believe they were to deprive themselves all winter, when they so fiercely want for a big fat cock to stuff them silly. His heart breaks for them, just a little.

He kisses Lambert deeply, his darling too out of it to do it properly, licking into Jaskier's mouth with a sloppy tongue like the desperate puppy he is. They all try to get comfortable around him, even with the aching emptiness between their legs, but Jaskier's quick to remedy that.

"Lambert, my sweet, be a dear and open Geralt up while I breed Eskel's tight little hole."

Jaskier reclines with his back against the wall, so he can see Geralt open his legs wantonly and Lambert quickly get between them.

But most importantly, he can urge Eskel onto his lap, his pup's glorious thighs spreading wide over his own as he looks at Jaskier with blind adoration.

"You want my cock, darling? Want to finally be so very full?" Jaskier asks in a whisper, giving Eskel his full attention, like his baby deserves.

"Please, please." Eskel's soothing, deep voice trembles a bit as he tries to speak. "Want you so bad, it hurts."

Jaskier shushes him before pressing his lips gently to Eskel's. The kiss is more cohesive than his last, Eskel groaning quietly when Jaskier sucks on his tongue.

"I know, you just want to get fucked, nice and proper, huh? I bet you get no relief on the path, with that pitiful little excuse for a cock--want me to breed you like the good little fuckhole you are, darling? I'll leave you dripping."

He smooths his hands over Eskel's thighs to urge him up, so he can press his throbbing cockhead against Eskel's greedy hole. It swallows him all at once, steals the breath from his lungs when Eskel's bottom presses against the tops of his legs.

"Oh, Eskel, my love--" Jaskier rambles, because the feel of his pup, coupled with the sight he makes--wide open eyes, glazed-over in elation, his lips swollen and pink, his tiny prick hard again and bobbing against his belly when Eskel begins bouncing on Jaskier's cock--

Gods, how did he ever think he could have just a little?

"Take what you need, whatever you need, darling, oh, you're divine, you're perfect."

Eskel whimpers and leans in to bury his face in Jaskier's neck, overwhelmed, but Jaskier doesn't mind. He rubs his puppy's back, and keeps fucking him, as slowly and as quickly as Eskel needs from him, sinking into his sinful hole again and again until Eskel shakes with it, until he can't go anymore.

Jaskier pushes him gently onto his back and keeps driving into him, faster now, and Eskel sobs beautifully with each thrust. They share a feverish kiss and Jaskier finally gets his hands on that alluring chest, squeezing Eskel's pecks and rubbing his nipples gently. Eskel arches into his touch and moans raggedly.

"Such a good boy, such a good pup--do you want me to touch your cute prick, love? Want me to rub your little clit?"

Eskel nods, his voice climbing frantically around a string of yes yes yes. It barely takes a full touch to his swollen, ruddy prick before Eskel pulses around Jaskier's cock, thrashes on the bed with his head thrown back.

"Stunning, oh, that's perfect--"

"I know, I know, pup, but I need to see to your brothers. Gods, I wish I had something to plug you up with, so you're always nice and full."

He does manage to pull out, and gets to watch Eskel's puffy hole leak out his spend copiously. He leans down to lap it up, because how can he not? Eskel's legs grip vice-tight around his head for a moment.

Eskel's still convulsing periodically when Jaskier arranges him on his knees, straddling one of Geralt's thighs, so they can hump each other like the needy pups they are.

"Lambert, love, would you like to suck a real cock, finally? I can shove it down your throat before I breed your lovely hole."

And Lambert scrambles to get his mouth on Jaskier's come-streaked cock so fast he nearly falls backwards and off the edge of the bed.

"Careful, dear, so you don't choke. Gods, you are just my perfect cock-hungry sluts, aren't you? How will I ever let you go?"

Geralt whimpers beautifully next to him, and Jaskier looks over to his other boys while he cards gentle fingers through Lambert's hair.

Eskel's too sensitive, Jaskier knows, and yet he still ruts his prick against Geralt like he'll die without it. Their foreheads rest together. It only takes the smallest nudge to have them kiss, tentatively at first, then increasingly more hotly, until they're both moaning with the intensity of it.

"Is this how my pups spend the winters? Rutting against each other desperately, lapping at your pathetic little pricks like they're cunts? Writhing on fingers because there isn't a cock in sight to fill you like you so very crave?"

Geralt shakes violently and grabs fistfuls of Eskel's hair when he spills, yet the rhythm of his hips never falters. Jaskier smiles at them warmly, tugs Lambert's head up and down, relishing the tight clutch of his throat.

Except there's something threatening to ruin his perfect evening, and he can feel one of his pups slipping from his thrall.

Eskel jerks away slightly, as much as he can with Geralt still straddling his leg. His eyes aren't filled with bliss and lust, but wide with confusion and, inexplicably, terror.

"You--" Eskel begins, trying to wrestle out of Geralt's hold.

Jaskier shushes him calmly. "Oh, darling is something the matter? You do like being my lovely pup, don't you?" He can see Eskel pause when he no doubt notices his sopping wet hole drooling all over the sheets. "Don't you like your little boy parts touched, love? Doesn't it feel good to be stuffed with my seed?"

Eskel's sharp, golden eyes quickly lose their focus. Geralt whines and leans in for a kiss. Eskel opens his mouth somewhat reluctantly, still.

"That's it, pup, just let yourself be cared for, isn't that better? If you're good I'll have you warm my cock all night."

Jaskier still has some tricks up his sleeve, so he snaps his fingers and has Eskel crashing through a sudden, dry orgasm, his lovely prick throbbing visibly.

"Maybe it's for the better you don't have real cocks. I can have your little boy pricks coming again and again, just as a woman would."

Lambert gives a strangled groan around Jaskier's cock, his release thick and heavy in the air without anyone even glancing at his dick. Amazing.

Jaskier urges his lovely pup up, gives him a chaste kiss before asking,

"How do you want it, darling?"

"Hard," Lambert replies without hesitation, and settles on his hands and knees, his pink, sloppy hole perfectly on display.

"Oh, love, you've got such a nice, tight cunt, fuck--"

Lambert chokes on a breath, forces his hips back, overeager and hungry for every bit of cock he can get. Jaskier couldn't deny him, wouldn't want to anyway.

"That's it, that's right, I'll fuck you until you can't stand it anymore, darling, you'll be feeling it for days."

His hips hasten, until he's snapping into Lambert with brutal force, jostling the whole bed, spurred on by the constant babble of more, harder, yes, yes.

"Will you finger your sore hole, thinking about my cock? Will you try to get Eskel's tiny prick into you, to satisfy the ache?"

Lambert keens, and shakes his head vigorously.

"Just you, need your cock, need a real cock--"

The slap of Jaskier's balls against Lambert's is indecently satisfying. Jaskier brings his hand down with a crack on Lambert's magnificent arse, and then a few more times, when Lambert hollers and the sharp scent of his intensifying arousal makes Jaskier half-rabid.

"Like that, darling? Want to be abused? Want me to bruise your little cunt until you sob with it?"

"Please, please, oh--"

Sobbing is not far off, it seems. Jaskier feels the tingle of power in every part of his body, in the air around them, everywhere, everywhere, raw carnal energy for him to devour.

Jaskier comes before Lambert does, but his pup isn't far behind, milking the last of Jaskier's release as he spills onto the sheets with a broken whimper.

"Don't stop, don't stop," Lambert whispers and tries to impale himself on Jaskier's cock further.

"Greedy. Greedy, slutty pups, you've been neglected for so long, you can't get enough, can you?"

He thrusts languidly, because if there's one thing he doesn't lack, it's stamina.

"How would you like to come inside a nice, warm body, love?"

Lambert whines, his golden eyes blown entirely black.

"Geralt, my darling," Jaskier calls softly, and Geralt looks up at him with red-rimmed, shining eyes. "You'll be a good pup and ride Lambert, won't you?"

"Want a real cock," Geralt says faintly, voice cracking, but he's already climbing to sit astride Lambert's belly, facing Jaskier. "Want your cock."

"You'll get it, heart, you'll get it as much as you want--if you're a good boy for me."

Jaskier doesn't think Lambert's cock is longer than his fingers, but it's nice and thick and just big enough to fit inside Geralt without slipping out, at least until Geralt tries to fuck himself on it.

"Jaskier, Jaskier, please--" his pups call out to him, all three in a beautiful symphony.

He's suddenly obsessed with the thought of Lambert coming inside Geralt, so when Jaskier gets in him his hole is nice and sloppy with spend.

Lambert's cute little prick is not big enough for Geralt to bounce on it like he so clearly wants.

Easily remedied, that.

"Geralt. Geralt, my darling, the light of my life, my perfect little puppy--" he prattles on in a soft voice before he gives a measured slap to the very tip of Geralt's cock.

A sharp burst of energy makes his witchers all shudder with release, squirming as it takes them by surprise, their little cocks come-soaked and oversensitive.

"Geralt," Jaskier says, and he slurs a bit in his haste. His composure is slipping. But his boys are so delicious, so eager and obedient and Geralt spreads his legs so very wide just to show Jaskier his loose, fucked-out hole, and what is he meant to do if not give in to the temptation laid out before him?

Geralt feels so intoxicatingly, unreasonably good, the spell nearly snaps. Jaskier has to keep himself firmly in check, even when everything around him becomes an impossible blur. He fucks Geralt on his back and his stomach, on all fours and against the wall. Vaguely, he registers the small tingle in his abdomen when his other pups come, too, again and again on each other's fingers and tongues, wailing and screaming as Jaskier unconsciously wrings pleasure out of them long after it'd crossed the line of overstimulated pain.

"Geralt, my lovely, my darling little whore, fuck--you're all so good, so, so good, ah--"

His pup's tiny fucking prick twitches when Jaskier closes a palm around it, finds it deliciously soaked and so very sensitive. He licks the single tear that spills down Geralt's cheek and rubs the heel of his palm over Geralt’s cockhead.

Jaskier blacks out when he finally breeds Geralt full of come.

***

He wakes up wrapped up in his beloved pups, keeping his hold tightly on their minds.

The room had grown cold, but he's feverishly hot between three strong bodies. Curious, he touches a finger to the swollen head of Lambert's soft prick, watches him twitch his hips away even asleep. Jaskier pillows his head on a burly chest and closes his eyes.

He'll let them rest for the day, but by nightfall, Jaskier would very much like to be treated to an extravagant feast again.

#cw non-con #cw mind control #indulgent overuse of the word 'pup'#i rarely enjoy my own writing but bitch i'd read this again

36 notes · View notes