#casin play cw

[alittlemxchievous]

So we've had a thought around domming and being sadomasochist...

We have accidentally spilt habanero juices on our dick and that felt exciting but would habanero dick be useful for domming or is that a bit harsh?

-A disabled transfemme switch

That is not the harshest thing you could do. Have you considered the utility of enemas

[robinrites]

Safe

Whumptober Prompts for Day 21 and 24 :)

Prompts: Famous Last Words, Coughing Up Blood, “You’re Safe Now”, “Take Me Instead”, Fight, Flight, Or Freeze, Blood Covered Hands, “I Don’t Want to Do This Anymore”, Catatonic

Part Six of Toss a Coin To... last part here!

CW: torture, forced to beg, stabbing, infection (last two are not graphic but felt like adding just in case!)

The next time the two guards pay Jaskier a visit, they break two more fingers. His index and middle finger on his left hand now match his right. Once they run out of fingers, they’re going to break his wrists. Not that they’ve told him as much, but he can put the pieces together just fine on his own. A chill runs down his spine, reminding him of yet another downside of his new cell. He wants to rub his hands together to generate warmth, but the thought of accidentally jostling his injured fingers keeps him still. His threadbare clothes do little to keep out the cold, maybe if I beg hard enough when they come back they’ll give me a blanket. He tries to not judge himself too much for thinking that way, but shame still fills his body. 

As if the guards were reading his mind, his cell door opens. Jaskier eyes the torch in Kariah’s hands longingly, and he briefly thinks about lunging for it. Common sense wins in the end, the temporary warmth of the fire wouldn’t be worth the pain it would result in, plus Jaskier doubt’s his chains would let him reach the far side of the cell. Casine approaches him, to hang him back up by his wrists, but words spill out of Jaskier’s mouth before he can stop himself. 

“Wait!” He throws his battered hands up in front of himself, “I know you’re about to torture me and there’s little I can do to stop it but can I- can I please have a blanket for after? It’s just so damn cold in here and you can’t really torture someone who’s dead can you?”

Casine stops in his tracks and looks at Kariah, “What would you do for a blanket?” 

“Anything.” His eyes widen at the implication, “Well, not anything! Please don’t-” 

“Psh, you think so lowly of us that we’d stoop to that level?” Kariah sneers, then gestures for Casine to go to his side. He whispers something inaudible, which garners a grin from the other man, who quickly exits the room. “I think I know how you can pay us for a blanket.” Minutes pass in silence until Casine returns. Jaskier’s stomach drops when he sees what he is holding. 

“Is that my-” 

“Lute? Yes, now I’ve heard you were once the greatest Bard on the Continent. Put on a good show and we’ll see about that blanket.” Jaskier looks down at his broken fingers and shaking hands, then back up at his captors. “Yes, I’m aware of your fingers, gods I’m the one who did it.” Kariah sneers, then he nods at Casine, who gives the lute to Jaskier. Jaskier takes it in shaky hands, tears pricking up in the corner of his eyes from the pain it causes his fingers to hold it. “Go on then, give us a show.” 

Jaskier takes in a deep breath before attempting to wrap his hand around the neck of the lute. He quickly forces his injured fingers down, which results in him crying out in pain, but at least he’s got the first part down. Thankfully, for strumming he can use his thumb, though it’s a lot more tedious and less convenient to only use one finger as opposed to three. 

“Any requests?” He tries to put on his showman voice, but the only voice that comes out is meek and afraid. 

“I’ve always liked ‘Toss a Coin to Your Witcher.” Casine says, smiling to himself like he’s said the most clever thing. 

“Oh, erm, any other ones?” 

“No, I agree, let’s hear it.” 

Jaskier painstakingly plays through the first verse and chorus of his song and by the time he’s finished, his hands burn. He hasn’t played since before his capture, nor has he ever played with injured hands. Jaskier wants more than anything to cry, from pain and embarrassment. Screaming has ruined his voice to the point that so many of his notes came out flat or off key. He looks up from his lute only to see Casine and Kariah looking at him expectantly, they want him to play the rest of it. 

“Please, my hands hurt so much-” 

“Then I guess you don’t want that blanket, do you?” Kariah taunts before nodding at the lute. 

Somehow, he finds the strength to keep playing. He only knows it's over when he feels his lute yanked from his hands. Casine quickly takes the lute away, then leaves the cell-hopefully to get Jaskier his blanket. Kariah grabs Jaskier by the chin, his sickening smile sending a chill down Jaskier’s spine. 

“You played well Little Bard, almost makes me regret breaking those fingers of yours.” He stands to go, only pausing at the door to add, “Almost.” 

Some time later, the door to his cell opens and a blanket is thrown in. Jaskier is about to get up to grab it when he sees some food and a cup of water are also placed on the ground. Pushing down any dignity he might have left, Jaskier crawls towards the blanket and food, worried that if he stands he’ll fall over, but if he’s too slow it’ll be taken from him. A stale bread roll and apple sit on the floor next to a half-filled cup of dusty water. He quickly snatches it up and drags it back to his corner, all while taking extra care not to spill any water. 

The apple is bruised and Jaskier has to rip off some of the bread due to mold, but he happily eats everything he’s given. He tries to pace himself with the water, but his thirst takes over and he finishes it far too quickly. Jaskier reaches for the blanket only to realize it’s far from a warm blanket. The material is rough, scratchy and is way too small to completely cover his body, even if he curls up really small. Still, it’s better than being exposed to the elements and it does bring some warmth to his body. Jaskier makes a mental note to thank his captors for their kindness when they return. 

Geralt hears a scream come from further down the trail, and on instinct races towards it. He jumps off Roach and into the bushes, allowing himself to fully take in the situation before jumping in. He sees a woman, a young child and a horse cornered by a group of about five bandits. 

“No!” The woman screams, holding onto the boy--presumably her son--’s hand for dear life. “You can’t take him! I won’t let you! Take me instead!” 

One of the bandits rushes towards the woman and grabs her, throwing off her balance so she loses her grip on her son. 

“Mummy!” The boy cries, and Geralt quickly decides he’s heard enough. He leaps from the bushes and quickly makes his presence known to the bandits. 

“Leave the woman and the boy alone.” He threatens, his sword drawn and ready. 

“Or what?” One of the bandits sneers, “I’m not scared of you.” 

“I’ve heard that one quite a bit, believe it or not.” Geralt makes quick work of the bandits, dispatching the ones who are grabbing the woman and boy first, to get them out of harm’s way

Geralt plunges his sword into the final bandit, then kneels to wipe his blade off in the grass. A cough rises up in his throat, and when he pulls his hand away he sees blood. Should probably take a potion for that, he makes a mental note as he stands back up, quickly wiping his mouth to remove any evidence of blood. He looks at the cowering travelers he just saved and tries his best to give a comforting smile. 

“You’re safe now.” He turns to go, only to have the woman grab his hand. 

“Please, Mister Witcher, Sir,” She takes his hand in both of hers, “Is there anything my family and I could do to repay you? I don’t know what we would’ve done if you hadn’t happened along this path at the same time as us-” Geralt gently pulls his hand from her grasp. 

“That really won’t be necessary.” He reassures her while trying to hide his eagerness to get back to Roach. Ever since he and Jaskier…parted ways, he’s been trying to work on being gentle with humans, but it hasn’t always been easy. Somehow a small coin purse makes its way into his hand anyway. 

“Please.” The lady smiles, patting the coin purse in his hand, before turning to rejoin her family. 

“Mummy, was that the White Wolf?” The little boy asks. 

“Oh, I don’t know about that my dear, probably just some kind soul.” She smiles, glancing back at Geralt. 

“Excuse me Mister!” The little boy tears his hand from his mother’s and races towards Geralt, “Are you the White Wolf?” 

“That's one name people have for me.” Geralt nervously looks at the mother, before looking back at the boy. “I take it you’ve heard of me?” 

The boy nods, “Just the other day some people in town were looking for you!” He smiles, “They put up posters and everything!” 

Geralt’s smile drops, “What did the posters say?” 

“Somethin’ about finding your bard! One time I lost my lucky penny, but no one ever put up a sign saying they found it.” The boy frowns, then smiles again before running back to his mother. “Nice meeting you Mister Witcher!” 

The mother smiles at Geralt one more time as if apologizing for her son, then helps him get back on their horse. Geralt watches them until they’re out of his line of sight, just in case any other bandits try to attack, before returning to Roach. Another cough reminds Geralt of his injury, one he assumes he got from his fight with the bandits. He quickly digs through his pack, then pulls out a healing potion and drinks it. 

“You heard what they said about Jaskier didn’t you?” Roach neighs in response. “That’s what I thought. How about we go check this poster out for ourselves, hm?” 

The next time Kariah and Casine visit Jaskier, the first thing that comes to his mind is if he’ll see his lute again. Maybe one day they’ll just break it in front of me, he thinks numbly as he is dragged off the floor and hung up by his wrists again. He stares at the wall in front of him, his mind devoid of any thoughts other than, gods this hurts. Jaskier’s far from being a medic, but he has a sinking suspicion that his shoulders are dislocated. Either that, or he’s lost more muscle from being imprisoned than he’d thought possible. 

A slap across his face brings him back to the present, but all he can do is blankly stare at his captors. What’s the point? We all know I don’t know what they want to know. Gods that was good, I should do more poetry. But isn’t all music poetry- Another slap interrupts his thoughts. 

“Are we boring you Little Bard?” Kariah taunts, Jaskier’s nose only wrinkles, I hate that nickname. “Maybe this will help liven things up.” 

A sharp shooting pain radiates from Jaskier’s stomach, a quick glance down shows a knife sticking out of his abdomen. Jaskier can only whimper in pain. The knife being pulled out hurts twice as much as being stabbed, and suddenly he finds himself on the floor again. His shirt is removed, the cold bites at his skin and gives him goosebumps, as a fabric bandage is quickly placed over his injury. He finds himself pressing a hand on the fabric, only to pull it away bloody. 

“I don’t want to do this anymore.” He mumbles before passing out. 

The next time he wakes up, someone is changing his bandages. “I can’t believe those idiots almost killed the one good hostage we’ve managed to secure. Will he survive this?” The voice seems distant. 

“He’ll make it.” The second voice is right in front of him, the healer. “We’re lucky it hasn’t gotten infected. His fingers on the other hand-” 

“Tch, he doesn’t need fingers to live.” Jaskier wants to open his mouth to protest, but his lips feel heavy and he can’t seem to get his mouth to work. The healer gently opens his mouth and pours some kind of elixir inside, resulting in a warm feeling burning its way to his stomach. 

“That’ll help make sure it doesn’t get infected.” The healer stands up as Jaskier watches them quickly exit the cell, followed by the other voice. Jaskier goes to blink, but instead finds himself falling back into a dreamless sleep.