#celus A/B/O CW

[piceuscelus]

A/B/O with cnc, feminization, AND incest kink with Lambert, Eskel, and Geralt, go wild.

to absolutely no one's surprise, this one got long.

even though it took me two motherfucking goddamn years to make it GO, good fucking lord.

so, uh. here it is on ao3 with tags and warnings (read the AN y'all) etc, and snip below :D

cw drugs/intox, a/b/o, CNC

It isn’t unto Lambert’s finished his glass of Gull, and his fingers are suddenly going tingly, that he realizes what’s happened.

Almost at the exact same moment he realizes it, though, as he sucks in a breath to protest, Geralt is at his side, rough fingers at his throat, murmuring, “Shh. Shh, little omega.” Eskel follows near immediately after, large palms landing on Lambert’s chest and nape, and as if they’re speaking as one, he continues, “Shhh, it’s alright.”

He fights the urge to squirm, swallowing back the needy noise that nearly escapes his throat, and firmly fixes his expression into a frown before growling – or at least, trying to growl; the sound he makes is thin and too breathy to really be called that. The tingling is slowly getting worse, as each second ticks by, even with his slow heart rate impeding the drug’s spread; it’s not a paralytic, it’s barely even a sedative, but all the same it’s making it harder to move, less as if he can’t and more like the whole process from thinking to moving is too long, and too much effort to make. He sucks in another breath, and the scent of alpha surrounding him hits like a punch.

“I know,” Eskel murmurs, thumbs rasping over Lambert’s chest and under his ear in a soothing motion. For a split second he forgets himself and leans into it, just a fraction, breathing in deep, and then he remembers the game and goes rigid once more. He thinks he catches Geralt’s huffed breath of a laugh about it. “I know, little one,” Eskel continues, and then his hands are shifting, sliding to Lambert’s waist and gripping to pull him out of his chair. “I know, little omega, you hate that we have to do this.”

Geralt hums an agreement. “But it’s for your own good,” he reminds, voice gentle but undeniably firm, and Lambert’s heart thuds hard, once, and then speeds up, just slightly. It worsens the tingling feeling, moving from his limbs and in to his center.

He whines, struggling weakly against Eskel’s hold, and Geralt’s hands join again, then, curling tight around his elbows to hold him still. Between the two of them, they start walking toward the bedrooms, moving as one with Lambert pinned like a bug between them.

He ignores the way his cock is throbbing, and tries to struggle again, lifting his feet and kicking toward Eskel, then Geralt. Both of them dodge smoothly, tutting in disappointment.

“It’s for your health, little omega,” Geralt murmurs, and Eskel nods with an approving sound, clearly in agreement. They reach one of the bedrooms, and despite his continued kicking, take him through the door as if he’s not struggling at all.

Lambert manages to cover his sharp breath at the casual, easy manhandling with a grunt. “‘S not for my health,” he argues, voice a little shaky, “It’s not necessary, I don’t need – ”

And Eskel shoves a wooden gag between his teeth, cutting off any further protest. Geralt’s hands leave his arms to secure it behind his head, but he doesn’t have any chance to do anything with that freedom before Eskel is moving him around, pulling off his shirt and tossing it away just for Geralt to start on his pants. 

He grunts, already starting to drool past the gag, and presses at Geralt’s shoulders, trying to wriggle away. All he succeeds in doing is helping the alpha get him out of his pants even faster, and Eskel grabs his wrists before he can even twitch toward grabbing his own braies. He whines.

“Hush,” Geralt says, a little harsher than before but still fairly gentle. Lambert swallows, once again trying to ignore how he’s throbbing, and makes a harsh, protesting noise in response, just for Eskel to squeeze his wrists to the point of paint and make him yelp.

“Be good, omega,” Eskel tells him. “We don’t want to make this any harder on you than it already is.”

Which is a cue, Lambert recognizes, though with the drug starting to go to his head it takes a beat for it to process. He’s being given a choice, for all that the idea – the game – is that he’s not. 

He swallows and makes a choice, yanking hard with his arms, trying to twist away from the two of them. He just catches Eskel’s smothered laugh, and the flash of Geralt’s grin in the corner of his eye, before suddenly he’s being wrenched around, his braies somehow getting left on the floor as he goes. He ends up facing Eskel, and one of those large hands moves from his wrist to his jaw, fingers digging into his cheeks in a way that makes his mouth open, wider, just a little, and even more drool spills from behind the gag. 

“Geralt,” Eskel says, and he doesn’t elaborate, but Lambert can hear the other alpha step away and a door creak open before clicking shut again, and then he’s back, presence large at Lambert’s back. The whole time, Eskel doesn’t take his eyes away from Lambert’s, and Lambert trembles but looks back, as defiant as he can manage to be when his belly is full of heat.

He doesn’t miss the flash of a smirk that earns him, but it is just a flash, and Eskel’s expression is a stony sort of pitying, then. 

“If you would just let us, omega,” he says, almost sadly, and Lambert swallows shallowly. “We just want to take care of you.”

[piceuscelus]

Can I get Jaskier or Lambert Axii-trained deepthroating, with a side of free use and cum inflation? Axii-trained hole too? Just desperate for Witcher cum to soothe the never ending hungry ache in him? Perhaps belly bulge?

me @ the date on this ask like idonotseeit.jpg

anyway.

went a teeny bit off the rails with this one, but i got the spirit i think - intersex a/b/o, omega lambert and alpha everyone else, belly bulge mentioned, free use and axii and misuse of potions. see the ao3 post for more complete tags because i feel like i've been hit by a bus

(god please someone give me validation for this)

They’ve taken great pains to make sure that the physical effects of their games wear off by winter’s end, to ensure that no matter what kind of pleasures they get up to in those cold, dark months, that there’s no risk of them bleeding into the Path.

Not for anyone else’s sake, mind, but for his, for his safety and comfort and well-being when he’s away from them and the protection they provide. And he appreciates it, he absolutely does.

But, well.

The physical may not last, but the mental – the eagerness, the need. There’s nothing much they can do about that, really.

And, he suspects, they wouldn’t anyway, because he wouldn’t, either.

It’s just more fun when he’s desperate.

– – – – –

He’s the first to arrive at the keep, like he always is since they started this…tradition. And Vesemir is just as amused as he always is about it, but Lambert can’t even care past the want that’s been eating him for the last week, getting worse and worse with each treacherous step up the Killer. 

“Careful there, pup.”

Amusement or not, at least Vesemir catches him when he stumbles in the courtyard, opens his arms and lets Lambert bury his face into his throat. It’s lucky that the old man is holding onto him, too, because the smell of him makes Lambert’s knees go weak.

It’s not heat, he hasn’t had one of those since – before the Trials, or maybe right after, he’s not sure, but it feels like it is, at least with how much he needs. Even luckier than the fact that Vesemir caught him, though, he knows the old alpha will take care of him, too.

He lets himself melt into Vesemir’s chest, tucking his face further into the alpha’s throat as if that would muffle the whine he lets out when Vesemir’s arms tighten around him. 

“Yeah, I’ve got you, good boy” Vesemir murmurs, nosing at Lambert’s temple. He’s not subtle about the way he sniffs at him as he does it.

“Fine,” Lambert manages to mumble, knowing even past his own aching that Vesemir worries fiercely when they’re all gone. “‘M fine, just – fuck, I need it, Ves, please.”

“Mm, you always do, pup.” Vesemir shifts his arms, and even before Lambert turns his face to see the alpha’s hand shaping Axii he can feel the power of it surge around them. Something about Vesemir’s age, how long he’s been a Witcher – Lambert doesn’t know the specifics, he just knows that Vesemir’s got better control over the Signs than all of them combined and more power to boot, so he’s always the one to do this.

And even knowing it’s coming, even wanting it so badly he’s certain every part of him is somehow itching for it, he still isn’t prepared for how it hits him. He never is.

That’s half the reason he loves it so much.

It washes over him like a tidal wave and he goes dizzy at first, eyes rolling as he slumps further into Vesemir’s chest; after that first press, though, the first surge of Vesemir’s power eroding his will, it’s less like being taken underwater by force and more like sinking willingly into the hot springs. His mind goes soft and hazy and slow, and while he still needs, is still an embarrassing level of soaked between his thighs, it’s more distant, now. There’s less urgency to it.

It, more than anything else, feels like coming home. 

“There you go, pup, just like that, good boy.” Vesemir’s voice seems distant to his ears at the same time that it thunders around his head, every part of him attuned to the alpha so well that even just hearing the words good boy makes him feel borderline euphoric. 

And then, of course, he feels even better when Vesemir gets a hand in his hair and kisses him before murmuring, “On your knees, I want a proper greeting as well.”

A large, rough thumb sweeps over the hollow of his throat, and without any input from him, his mouth drops open at the same time his knees hit the cracked flagstones. Lambert doesn’t know how, but Vesemir has already managed to loosen his breeches, cock starting to poke out of the gap as he slowly hardens. 

His mouth is already watering, drool slipping easily over his tongue and down his chin where it’s hanging open. Vesemir just makes a rough sound of approval, getting a better grip on Lambert’s throat before he’s fisting his cock with the other hand and shifting closer.

Lambert can only lap eagerly at the bead of precum at the tip of his cock and whine needily when he’s not allowed to duck forward for more. Vesemir’s hand at his throat holds him in place, unless he wants to choke – which he does, but not from pressure.

“Good,” Vesemir rumbles, almost more of a growl. “Look so good on your knees, pup. Always so desperate for it, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” Lambert slurs, lisping as he keeps his mouth open.

Vesemir chuckles, but it’s rough and broken. “Good boy,” he says, and finally shifts close enough that Lambert can wrap his mouth around the head of the alpha’s cock, which he does with fervor.

– – – – –

He spends the next week or so in a haze, a mix of Axii and his own unrelenting horniness blurring everything together. The only real clarity he has is when Vesemir is fucking him, and while he loves the haze, the molasses-like crawl of his brain when Vesemir has him on a leash, he loves being railed even more.

It’s almost like a hunger, as if he needs to be fucked, needs to be filled to the brim, to survive. Which is patently not true, obviously, but here, safe in Kaer Morhen for the winter, it’s a fantasy he loves.

“Please, please,” he’s gasping and sobbing and probably looks a mess, drooling all over himself, but he doesn’t care. Can’t care, not when Vesemir is slowly working his knot into his ass, going torturously slow even though the carefully-placed grip at his nape and ample prep means he’s already loose. 

His cunt clenches along with every new millimeter of knot he’s given, making him entirely too aware of how he’s both filled and so, so empty all at once. 

“Please,” he pants again, and Vesemir makes a low, soothing noise.

“Just like this, pup,” the alpha murmurs, and he sounds remarkably calm for how Lambert can feel his cock throbbing. If he wasn’t so desperate, he’d marvel at it, but as it is, he is entirely too intent on feeling Vesemir’s knot sink into him. 

“Gods, even with this trigger,” Vesemir squeezes where he’s practically scruffing Lambert, and they both groan at how his muscles go even more lax, “you’re still so fucking tight.”

Lambert babbles wordlessly for a long moment, enthralled by the sensation of being so caught, Vesemir’s hand at his nape and cock bulging his belly, but eventually it coalesces into words again. “Please, please – need it, wanna be full, Alpha, please.”

The title is what does it, because Lambert rarely calls him – or any of them – that, never defers like a proper omega. Not like that, at least, because weird gendered lines of deference are, at least as far as Lambert’s concerned, tremendously different from submission, from trust. 

Vesemir growls and his hips jerk, forcing the rest of his knot into Lambert’s body with a filthy, slick sound, and Lambert screams. It’s not in pain, not even a little bit – Vesemir’s hand on his neck runs deep, that prompt embedded so strongly that they don’t even need him under Axii to trip it, and Vesemir has always preferred overpreparation versus the risk of causing any pain.

Which is funny, because Lambert isn’t exactly averse to pain, but that’s not really the point.

His whole body is pulsing, ass clenching around Vesemir’s knot while his cunt clenches around nothing at all, and he feels tears gather in his eyes at the pleasure of it mixed with the frantic need for more, more, more.

“V-Ves, Ves, more, please,” he manages to rasp, and Vesemir makes that same soothing noise from earlier, but easily pulls Lambert back against his chest so the hand that had been holding his hip steady can slide between his legs instead.

Already knowing exactly what Lambert wants, Vesemir doesn’t bother with his clit, just slips his fingers through the slick mess of him and shoves two of them into his cunt without preamble. Lambert screams again, but this time it’s breathy and cuts out around a choked whimper when Vesemir’s fingers curl and press viciously into that sensitive spot inside him. 

Between the alpha’s cock in his belly, giving him more than just a little pooch, the knot pressing into him relentlessly, and that, he’s got no chance to do anything except come with a high-pitched, breathy whimper. 

It leaves him trembling wildly in Vesemir’s lap, and the alpha just chuckles. He’s still fingerfucking Lambert lazily, even as he moans when Lambert squeezes around his knot with an aftershock. 

“G…good boy,” Vesemir manages around a gasp as his cock pulses, and Lambert allows himself a momentary flush of pride at making the alpha stammer. “Too bad one of the others isn’t here, though. Shame for that pretty mouth to go unused.”

That has Lambert shivering in Vesemir’s lap all over again.

– – – – – –

As if the universe had heard the complaint, though, a few days later Eskel arrives while Lambert’s caught on Vesemir’s knot again. In his cunt, this time, which of course means he’s all but out of it, babbling and shuddering down from several orgasms in a row. 

That hardly matters, though, not when the whole point of this, of Axii and Lambert’s need and the triggers embedded into his psyche, is so they can use him exactly like he wants to be used. It takes some maneuvering to get him turned around in Vesemir’s lap, both of them grunting and whining at the pull of the tie, but soon enough Lambert’s turned around, cunt still clutching at Vesemir’s knot and mouth perfectly level with Eskel’s ruddy cock.

“Look at you,” Eskel purrs, fisting a hand in Lambert’s hair. He’s not exactly rough, but he’s not near as gentle as Vesemir, and the dichotomy of it plus the spark of not-quite-pain has Lambert’s eyes rolling with pleasure. “Gods, always so pretty like this, Lamb. Perfect boy.”

And in another way Eskel is deeply unlike Vesemir, he doesn’t bother with letting Lambert work at his cock once it’s in his mouth. Instead, he just uses that grip on Lambert’s hair and the roll of his hips to fuck his face, only gentle until Lambert has readjusted to the sheer size of him again after three seasons away.

Once he has adjusted, though.

Feeling Vesemir reach forward and drag a thumb behind his ear makes him shiver and whine, but the sound is cut off by the press of Eskel’s cock and the way the trigger forces his throat to relax. Eskel just chuckles, his thumb replacing Vesemir’s so he has both hands on Lambert’s head and can really move him, as if he’s just a warm sleeve toy for his cock.

Lambert can’t even gag, not properly, and his cunt is throbbing around Vesemir’s cock, which just makes the older alpha grind up into him, and the momentum pushes him further onto Eskel. Deep enough that he can feel the way Eskel’s knot is already starting to swell against his tongue. 

He hadn’t exactly been out from under Axii, before, but he feels the weight of Vesemir casting it again like a heavy blanket, settling over him until he’s actually limp between the two alphas. Caught and kept with their cocks and their hands and their desire, and he’s so close to coming again there are tears in his eyes. 

“Feel so fucking good,” Eskel growls, using a little more force and pushing his cock all the way to the base in Lambert’s throat. It makes his body twitch, something that would have been a spasm if it weren’t for the layers of Axii robbing him of the will, the thumb Eskel has under his ear keeping his throat from constricting. He tries to whine and can’t, doesn’t have the breath or the muscle control, and his eyes are rolling from that and the sheer pleasure of being so trapped, stuffed full at both ends.

They push him between them like that for what feels like a small eternity, though he knows that his grasp of time is practically nonexistent. At some point, Vesemir’s knot goes down, but that just means he can grab Lambert’s hips and fuck him properly, the noises of it loudy and filthy to match the same kind of noises as Eskel fucks into Lambert’s throat faster and faster.

It isn’t until Eskel pulls all the way back, cock falling out of Lambert’s mouth with a wet sound, that he sort of tunes back in. For a certain definition thereof, at least. 

Eskel’s fingers tap at his lip, then his tongue, and then there’s shuffling before they’re back again, this time curled around cold glass. It takes the space of a few heartbeats for Lambert to gather the mental capacity to focus his eyes, but eventually he does, and he sees the little vial Eskel is holding. It’s thin and sealed with black wax, the potion inside a sort of amber color, if amber was tainted with drowner tongue. Killer Whale, supplies a voice in the back of his head that’s almost definitely more memory of Vesemir than his own cognitive ability right now.

He shudders and tenses so hard that Vesemir shouts and growls before locking him again, and in lieu of trying to find his words, buried under Axii and so much want he might choke on it, he just opens his mouth wider and tips his head back. His gaze catches Eskel’s, and he’s treated to the sight of the alpha’s pupils expanding far enough to nearly eclipse the gold of his iris. 

“Such a good boy, letting us do anything we want to you,” Eskel murmurs, sounding damn near enthralled, and with a practiced move he’s torn the wax seal from the bottle and popped the cork. The potion tastes foul sliding over his tongue, of course it does, but Eskel chases it down with his cock, and that makes up for the momentary disgust entirely.

Already, he can feel the potion’s effect, both that when he breathes in it feels like he’s got more air than before, and his skin going cold and grey, blood rushing oddly as it pushes to the surface. 

Eskel just rubs the head of his cock over Lambert’s tongue for a long moment, replacing the taste of rancid monster tongue and buckthorn with the tang of his precum. Lambert lets him do it, lets both of them use him as they will, legs trembling around Vesemir’s again each time the older alpha grinds his knot into his cunt. 

“Breathe in,” Eskel orders, finally. Even though he’s not the one holding Lambert under, the order still takes as if he is, and Lambert lets out a thin whine that’s muffled by the alpha’s cock before he does as he’s been told, sucking in air until his chest aches. 

Eskel doesn’t let him breathe it out, barely even lets him finish taking the breath, and with his thumb still pressed firmly at the hollow of Lambert’s ear he barely even has to push to shove his cock all the way into Lambert’s throat. 

He lets his eyes slide all the way closed, then, quivering from his hips to his shoulders with the pressure of being so full, knowing he’s stuck like this as Eskel’s knot flares behind his teeth. The sound both Vesemir and Eskel make about it sends even more heat pooling down his spine, and he tries and fails to squirm, the attempt making him twitch again where he should be gagging and choking.

“Good boy,” Eskel rumbles, at the same time Vesemir murmurs, “Feel so good clenching on my cock like that, pup,” and if he wasn’t several orgasms deep, under Axii, and caught on two knots, he’d be embarrassed that that’s all it takes to make him come.

As it is, though, he just makes a low, indistinct sound around the bulge of Eskel’s cock in his throat and lets the searing pleasure wash over him, barely even noticing when Vesemir starts fucking him again except to try to whine and come again, and then again.

The two of them keep him caught there for – a long time. At some point, Eskel’s knot goes down and he lets Lambert breathe, but it doesn’t bring any clarity, and even if it did, Lambert wouldn’t notice; Eskel keeps fucking his throat, and Vesemir keeps hammering into his cunt, until they both knot him again, and then he thinks it happens again, but he’s so far gone under Axii and on the cocktail flood of chemicals rushing through him he may as well be a toy.

He does know he comes again just thinking that, though.

– – – – –

Geralt arrives in the middle of a blizzard, and wastes absolutely no time in dragging Lambert onto his lap to warm up. 

At this point Lambert barely knows when he is or isn’t under Axii, and he – loves it, loves being so hazy and high all the time without the crash. Because even if he did – or could – crash from the endorphins rushing through him at any given time, Vesemir or Eskel and now Geralt are always there.

He’s never left alone, even if they’re not fucking him, and it’s all he’s ever wanted.

“So fucking pretty, Lamb,” Geralt purrs it into his ear as he works freezing fingers into the loose breeches Lambert’s been wearing to ward off the cold. “Gods, missed you so much – gonna be a good boy for me?”

“Mm, mhm,” Lambert nuzzles into Geralt’s throat and breathes him in, heat already building in his belly, between his legs, heedless of how Geralt is stealing the warmth from everywhere else. At least he knows he’s not the only one, because when Geralt finishes tearing him out of his breeches and drags him into straddling his lap, Lambert can feel the press of his erection already. 

He squirms and grinds down against the bulge of it, whimpering at the spark of sensation from the friction and from Geralt’s nails digging viciously into his hips. 

“Eager, pretty thing,” Geralt mumbles, and all it takes is some more fumbling between them before he’s able to lift Lambert and then pull him back down, his cock shoving into Lambert’s cunt this time. 

“Oh!” Lambert’s head falls back as his hands fly up to grip Geralt’s shoulders, thighs twitching at the sudden heat and stretch, even though by rights he should barely even feel it; both Eskel and Vesemir have fucked him already today, several times, though he hasn’t kept count.

“Fuck,” Geralt growls, and gets a hand on the small of Lambert’s back to yank him in closer, grinding his cock deep enough that it aches for a moment before settling out into burning pleasure. “So fucking tight and wet, shit, Lamb, not gonna let you back up for a while.”

Lambert just giggles, rolling his head to the side just in time to see Eskel in the doorway with a bottle of oil and intent in his eyes.  

“S’fine,” he murmurs, and goes heavy in Geralt’s arms to let the alpha fuck him properly, and so Eskel has plenty of room to get at his ass. “‘S what I’m for, isn’t it?”

Both of them growl, “Fuck,” at that, and, feeling incredibly satisfied, Lambert lets himself drift again.

you can also read this on ao3!

[piceuscelus]

Prompt idea if you feel like it: Omega Jaskier is bought by Vesemir in the fall to be a welcome home winter gift for his pups. Jaskier thinks he is just being bought by one mild smelling beta, but is shocked when 3 alphas appear for the winter. Bonus points for free use elements and taking about what will happen in spring.

...oops it got long.

here have 5.5k of sex slave omega jaskier, snip below the cut :D dubcon because obvious reasons but honestly jaskier's into it, also intersex a/b/o

read on ao3!

Three Alphas.

Three. Alphas.

Jaskier thinks he might faint.

His cunt throbs, already beginning to leak, as the Alphas all move around him, sniffing indiscriminately – rudely, even, not that he’s about to mention it, three pairs of hands stroking over his body and grabbing, eventually shoving the shift aside to get at his skin.

“H-hello,” he greets finally, incredibly delayed. He hears Vesemir chuckle. “I’m – Jaskier. J-Julian, if I’ve misbehaved.”

“Eskel,” the biggest one offers. He smells like pine sap and bitter cold, and has horrible, twisting scars covering the right half of his face. Jaskier shudders when their eyes meet.

“Alpha,” Jaskier murmurs, tipping his head back to bare his throat, perfectly submissive. Eskel makes a low, pleased sound, and immediately ducks down to mouth over his scent glands, giving a soft, growling chuckle when Jaskier jerks and whimpers.

“Lambert,” the smallest of the three says, once Eskel has moved on from Jaskier’s throat. His hand threads into Jaskier’s hair and pulls him back, back, until he’s against a solid chest, enveloped in the smell of woodsmoke and leather and metal.

“A-Alpha,” Jaskier repeats, a little breathier as Eskel’s cold hands sweep up and down his sides.

“Pretty little thing, aren’t you?” the third one murmurs, shouldering Eskel slightly to the side so he can also grab at Jaskier’s sides and belly. “I’m Geralt.”

“Alpha.” Jaskier whimpers as Lambert’s fist in his hair tightens and twists, not enough to hurt but definitely enough to tingle, to get his attention. “P-pleased to meet you.”

“Just to meet us?” Geralt and Eskel ask it in tandem, and Lambert chuckles. Jaskier feels as if his whole body flushes, cunt clenching around nothing. He shivers but doesn’t fight it when Geralt pulls him away from Lambert and into his own chest, breathing in the scent of horse and herbs, and more leather.

“P-pleased to be of s-service, too, as well, if you’d like,” Jaskier amends. His voice shakes just like his hands do, as Eskel grabs one and puts it on his own chest, Lambert grabbing the other just to put it around Geralt’s neck so that Lambert can press close to his back and not make him lose his balance.

All three of the Alphas now surrounding him laugh, low and indulgent, and Jaskier thinks he’s never been more glad that he was sold off by his family.

read the rest on ao3!

[piceuscelus]

Jaskier the noble owns Geralt the omega witcher through magic reinforced submission to Jaskier's orders. He's done something to displease his master, and to teach him a lesson, Jaskier puts him on display in public, fucks him, and orders him to offer himself for free use. Lots of takers, every possible way--even if Geralt passes out for part of it. Jaskier encourages them to be rough and punishing, but allows no permanent damage.

h n g

i intended to just sort of bullet-point ramble about this one but oops it fic. enjoy! multisex a/b/o (geralt's got a vagina), noncon, free use, rough sex. basically just the prompt lmao

Jaskier’s touch to Geralt’s collar makes the metal heat, and Geralt hisses, unable to stop himself from trying to flinch away. The alpha sighs, then tuts, and Geralt shudders as his touch disappears and the metal goes suddenly, frigidly cold instead. Geralt grits his teeth and forces himself to sit up straight on his knees again where he’d listed to the side with his flinch.

“Behave yourself, pet. You’re in enough trouble as it is, isn’t that right? Answer me.”

“Yes, Alpha,” Geralt responds obediently. “I’m sorry, Alpha.”

“Of course you are,” Jaskier says, and there’s an edge to his voice that tells Geralt he will be sorry. “You’re a good omega, deep down, we both know it. Sometimes you just need a little...reminder, isn’t that right?”

No permission to speak, so Geralt keeps his mouth shut, carefully not making eye contact when Jaskier crouches down to his level.

The alpha laughs. “See!” he says. “Very good, Geralt. Now, it’s such a nice day out. Let’s go for a walk, hm?”

– – – – –

It wasn’t as if Geralt didn’t know the walk was a trap. As much as something can be a trap, when one is already pinned by chains, but that’s not the point.

He didn’t quite realize the kind of trap he was walking into. Jaskier rectifies that quickly, though not quickly enough Geralt can do a damn thing about it, of course.

“Come here, pet,” Jaskier orders, and Geralt wants to snap and snarl and shout no, but he knows better, so he carefully crawls to where Jaskier is pointing. Which happens to be a little stool, one that would look entirely innocuous except that Geralt is intensely familiar with the purpose it serves.

Jaskier coos at him. “Good, pet, so good. It’s a terrible shame I have to punish you, it is, but I can’t risk being too soft on you, you know.”

Geralt doesn’t speak, doesn’t react, just stays exactly where he is, on his hands and knees just to the right of the stool Jaskier is towering above.

“Ah, such is life,” Jaskier continues. “We all have to do things we don’t really want to. Now, you know the position, over the stool, pet.”

It takes a split second for Geralt to unclench his muscles and move, but if Jaskier notices the hesitation, the alpha doesn’t mention it. He moves as slowly as he knows he can get away with, until he’s in the expected position, his belly held up by the stool but the slant of the “seat” forcing his chest to the ground, which in turn makes him raise his hips.

He’s held the position without the stool, before, because Jaskier likes to amuse himself with the feats Geralt’s mutated body is capable of, but the stool is a blessing as much as it’s a curse, because it makes it easier to balance. The position he’s in, without the stool to prop up his stomach, is precarious – one of the reasons it’s a popular one to put omegas in. Precarious and vulnerable, exactly as omegas should be.

“Good,” Jaskier is still cooing, but there’s a different edge to his voice now, and Geralt curses his body for reacting to it without his permission. The scent of his slick floods the air, and Jaskier laughs at him, though it’s a fond laugh – almost affectionate, really.

Geralt very carefully does not squirm. Jaskier’s hands on his ass, and then his cunt, aren’t really a shock, but the pleasure that sears through his veins at that touch is.

He makes a noise, something low and animal, and Jaskier chuckles again.

“Isn’t that nice?” he asks. “Answer me.”

“Y-yes, Alpha,” Geralt manages, stammering when Jaskier sweeps his palms up from Geralt’s ass and over his spine. The worst part is that it’s not even a lie, either; the pleasure is less of a shock this time, but the intensity isn’t any less, and his thighs start to tremble.

“Good, pet,” Jaskier’s cooing has changed now, almost more of a purr, and Geralt bites back a curse as his cunt throbs. He doesn’t miss the sound of Jaskier’s breeches being unlaced. “So good….”

There’s not any further preamble, nor anything slow; as soon as Geralt registers the sensation of Jaskier’s cock against his hole, it’s being pressed in.

Somehow, even after several months as the Viscount’s pet, he’s still stunned by the size of him every time.

“Poor thing, you’re shaking,” Jaskier says, all false pity and poorly disguised glee. “Go on then, pet, I know you want to speak – you have permission.”

Geralt doesn’t want to, cheek bloody to prove it, but the blanket permission breaks the little resistance he had. “Alpha, Alpha,” he pants, ruining his blunt nails on tearing at the ground. “Please fuck me, oh.”

“As you wish, pet,” Jaskier chuckles, and then he’s moving, sharp, precise snaps of his hips that have Geralt wailing, entire body trembling as his cunt clenches around the alpha’s massive cock. “Look so good hanging off my cock, omega. Too bad I already have your punishment planned, or I’d just make you milk my knot all day.”

“Please, Alpha,” Geralt babbles, belly tightening with his impending orgasm. “Please, anything – ah, ah….”

“Good pet,” Jaskier hisses, fucking harder and deeper. “Even when you’ve misbehaved, you’re such a perfect little slut for me – on your belly in public just like I told you to, presenting this tight little cunt….”

It doesn’t take long after that. At the first punishing press of Jaskier’s knot, Geralt comes with a scream, and then Jaskier is shoving it into him with a snarl, locking him despite his body’s weak, clenching protestations. The alpha makes a low sound as he grinds his knot into Geralt’s cunt, pleasure-soaked and smug, and Geralt just whines as it makes the heat in his blood ratchet higher.

He doesn’t know if someone slipped him something with his breakfast for this, or if Jaskier had another enchantment added to the cursed fucking collar, but whatever it is, it’s wickedly effective. If he didn’t know better he’d say he’s in heat, but he does know better, and knows too that no matter what he does, Jaskier wouldn’t ever take him publicly for a heat.

The bastard is far too possessive for that.

“Come back to me, pet,” Jaskier is murmuring, and Geralt suddenly realizes he’s floated off into the usual haze that comes with being knotted. He jerks, making a rough, broken sound when his cunt clenches hard around Jaskier’s knot and sends pain and pleasure flaring up his spine. His only consolation is that Jaskier reacts, too, nails digging sharply into Geralt’s hips. “Are you with me, pet? Answer.”

“Yes, Alpha,” Geralt grates out, eyes rolling as he feels Jaskier’s cock flexing.

“Good. Look up, omega.”

It takes a few moments of reorienting himself, and then finding the strength in his arms, but Geralt manages to lever himself off the ground enough to pick up his head. He finds exactly what one should expect, being fucked in public, but somehow the crowd still shocks him; he grunts, hips jerking involuntarily, and then groans when the movement makes him aware of just how stuffed Jaskier has him right now.

Jaskier chuckles, even though the sound is rough and broken. “Quite the audience, isn’t it, pet?” he asks. Geralt grits his teeth and looks down again, not wanting to see the alphas all salivating over him, their omegas pointedly looking away so they don’t have to share in his shame. Jaskier rolling his hips, though, makes him shout and snap his head back up, eyes slitting open to see several of the alphas begin to palm themselves.

“Go on and offer yourself,” Jaskier says, and his tone is downright nasty. There’s the anger Geralt expected when he’d misbehaved, banked and then stoked at the perfect time. He shudders and bites his lip bloody. Jaskier hisses.

“I said,” he snarls, grabbing Geralt around the hips and pulling him back at the same time he thrusts forward, making pain flare deep in Geralt’s belly, the alpha’s cock entirely too deep for comfort. “Offer yourself, Geralt. Tell them that you’re free to use for the rest of the day, however they want, as long as you’re not permanently injured.”

“A-Alpha,” Geralt gasps, choking when Jaskier just grinds his hips further in, turning the ache into a pulse of pain in his womb. “I – ”

“Do as you’re told, omega.”

Geralt swallows the rest of his pleading, knowing just from the edge in Jaskier’s voice that it’s useless.

He hasn’t been given a script, not properly, so he has several false starts as Jaskier keeps grinding his cock too deep, until the pain turns sharp. “Please – uh, fuck, I’m...free to – shit, Alpha, Alpha, fuck – I’m free to u...use, fuckfuckfuck – for the. The rest of the hnck, day!”

“I’m free for your use for the rest of the day,” Jaskier offers, knot finally starting to go down, and Geralt sobs.

“I’m ff…. Free for your use,” he has to stop to suck in a pained breath, “for the rest of the day.”

“Good.”

Jaskier doesn’t bother with gentle, or even a warning; instead, he pulls his cock from Geralt’s cunt almost violently, leaving Geralt to collapse haphazardly onto the stool and then, when he can’t find his balance, the ground.

“Go on,” he says, to the crowd at large. “You heard him.”

– – – – –

The voyeurs-turned-participants don’t even bother with the stool. Instead, the first two alphas to reach him just hoist him between them, his knees only technically underneath him. The one behind wastes no time sinking into his cunt, even as the force of his thrust makes Geralt leak Jaskier’s cum down his thighs; the one at his front gives him a little warning in the form of a finger tapping at his mouth, but then there’s a cock there, too.

He knows better than to resist. He had just announced that he was free to use, after all.

Neither alpha cares about him or his comfort, clearly, both fucking into him with almost feverish abandon. Geralt hacks and chokes on the cock in his throat, but just tries to keep his balance and take it, pretending he’s not making high, involuntarily noises each time the one fucking his cunt slams into his womb.

“No permanent damage,” an unfamiliar voice says. “So as long as it’ll heal….”

“Or he’ll wake up,” another voice says with a cackle.

The alpha in his cunt growls and stills, knot flaring sudden and painful, but Geralt’s body isn’t interested in his disgust and just locks, clenching down to milk the knot. Like a good omega slut, he hears in Jaskier’s voice in his head, and then he’s not hearing or thinking anything, because the alpha fucking his throat grabs a hold of his head and yanks.

No matter how much his throat convulses to try and force the cock out, he’s got no chance, and when the alpha’s knot flares behind his teeth, he’s truly fucked. Most knots don’t last long enough to make him pass out – it’s one of the reasons omega Witchers are so prized, the ability to knot their mouths – but he’s already out of air and half-delirious from Jaskier’s fuck, and now this.

He loses time as he tries not to pass out, but eventually the cock shoved into his throat is pulling out. He carefully doesn’t think about what, if anything, follows it out, and just focuses on getting his hands beneath him to hold him up. The alpha in his cunt is softening and leaving soon after, too, but then there’s even more hands on him, forcing him out of his balance again and onto his back, so that someone – he can’t tell their designation, so distracted by everything else – can sit on his still-hard cock.

He screams, but they ignore that, and then there’s barely-slick fingers prodding at his asshole as another cock sinks into his cunt. Before he can make another loud, desperate noise about either of those things, there’s a cunt sinking down over his mouth.

Brain fried between the pain and pleasure remaking him, he just starts eating the stranger out, his body taking the path of least resistance into instinct that usually doesn’t flare unless he’s in heat.

Maybe that’s what this is, a pseudo-heat, so Jaskier can humiliate and use him better than usual.

He doesn’t have the chance to think about it, really, before his legs are being jerked and forced apart, and the cock in his cunt slams deeper at the same time another one pushes unrelentingly into his ass. He screams again, the sound muffled by the person sitting on his face, but once again he’s ignored.

The cunt on his tongue comes, and he’s able to get a single breath before a hand in his hair is yanking his head back so that another alpha can have his throat, just as unrelenting as the last. He can’t even focus on it, this time, just letting the alpha use his throat like a toy as he chokes and convulses, hyper aware of the knot being slowly forced into his ass as the alpha fucking his cunt moves faster, harder.

He just feels the flare of that knot, pain searing through his lower body at the forced stretch, before there’s another knot catching behind his teeth, and he’s got no chance, this time.

The hand one of them gets on his throat, squeezing viciously, doesn’t do him any favors either.

He doesn’t quite pass out, not properly. But he’s not conscious, either, barely aware as he’s moved some more, some knots disappearing just for others to appear, all of them fucking him viciously, until he’s certain he’s torn and bleeding. Some people ride him, too, forcing his cock back to hardness every time it flags, until each touch to it makes him shout, but they keep going, and going, and going, and going….

Eventually, though, biology and mercy win out, and he finally, blessedly goes black.

[piceuscelus]

The witchers buy a teenage omega (Jaskier) so that they can augment their dwindling population. The Witchers treat their slave like little more than a walking womb, stuffing him full with a half dozen or more pups each year and using him during their ruts even if he's already knocked up. I know birth isn't your thing but if you could focus on how big Jaskier is and how little the witchers care about his comfort as he gets more and more swollen with their young, that would be great :))

hhhhhh anon this is just - hhhhhnnnngggggg jesus christ

i had so many ideas for this and like,,, so many specific things i wanted to try and do but it was just Too Much. i might have to write more if the inspo strikes me tbh.

non-con, breeding, and pregnancy below. (no birth, only vague mentions of babies.)

It’s somewhat rare that an omega is compatible with Witchers, but when they do find one – well.

Jaskier is his name – at least, that’s what the slave trader had told them. What his name is doesn’t really matter, overall; he’s a breeder. The world needs more Witchers, and the easiest way to make them is to find a compatible omega, and he’s a compatible omega. Past that, none of them really care.

When they first buy him, he’s a tiny thing, thin and just barely coming in to his purpose as a womb; his breasts are tiny, his hips barely wide enough for birth, but that’ll change soon enough. It always does. After the first pup, an omega’s body gets the message and adjusts.

And they’ll be giving him much more than just one pup.

– – – – – 

“Present,” Vesemir orders, and the omega squeaks but does as he’s told. Either because he’s been trained or because omegas always do what Alphas say, none of them know, but like his name, it doesn’t matter enough to think on.

Jaskier goes to hands and knees first. Eskel kicks his wrist out from under him. He squeaks again at the kick, but doesn’t protest; instead, he just shifts his arms back and drops his chest to the floor, turning his head so he can press nearly flat. The motion raises his hips higher, but Geralt nudges at his waist to make him lift them even more, until he’s nearly unbalanced on his knees.

“Hands,” Vesemir says, and Jaskier wobbles a little but manages to stretch his hands out behind him so he can grasp at his asscheeks and pull himself open, baring his cunt and his asshole. His cock is just barely long enough to see it past the curve of his pussy, probably a bit longer if he gets hard, but none of them care much about that. It’s not the important part of him, after all.

Vesemir bends and prods at the omega’s asshole, then his cunt, spreading the folds and testing the automatic production of slick by shoving two fingers inside him with no preamble. Jasker makes a sound, shocked, but there’s no pain in his scent and no blood on Vesemir’s fingers, just the first thin, watery beginnings of slick. It’s a good sign, means they’ll be able to fuck him full properly once his body gets the message that he’s being bred. 

“Never had a pup, have you?”

“N-no,” Jaskier mumbles. Vesemir tuts and smacks the tender join of ass and thigh. Jaskier shouts, but quickly tacks on, “Alpha, no, Alpha, I’m sorry.”

“Good,” Vesemir says. “Well, you will with us. More than one. Probably more than a dozen.”

Lambert snorts. “More than that,” he says. “Between the four of us…. Never mind if any of the others join in.”

Vesemir chuckles. “True. Alright, up, omega.” 

Jaskier grunts and scrambles to his feet, shivering when he’s finally standing. He does look good, even with as thin as he is, and he smells like a dream – he’s probably the most fuckable omega they’ve ever found. Just means they’ll be putting a lot of pups into him.

Vesemir reaches out and adjusts the omega’s collar so that the decorated ring is at the front. “We’ll have to get you some matching cuffs,” he muses. “Be easier to get you on the bench if we have something to anchor to.”

“Y-yes, Alpha,” Jaskier murmurs, looking at the floor.

“When’s your heat due?” Vesemir asks.

Jaskier makes a little, thoughtful sound, and there’s a moment’s pause where he clearly does the math in his head. “Two months, Alpha,” he declares, and Vesemir hums.

“Lambert, your rut is closest, right?”

“Two weeks.”

“Right, then you’ll pair with him first. That should trigger his heat, and that way we have a better chance to get him bred with a litter the first time around.”

“What if his heat doesn’t trigger?” Eskel asks. Ever the pragmatist, he’s been the most concerned about the logistics of such a young omega as a breeder since the moment they bought him. “Lambert’s an unfamiliar Alpha.”

“If it doesn’t, we’ll use the potion,” Vesemir says. “It’ll increase fertility anyway.”

Geralt hums. “Lambert’s pairing first,” he says, “but are we joining?”

“After the first two days, sure,” Lambert says. “I’ll be too possessive before that.”

“Fair enough.”

“A-Alpha,” Jaskier mumbles, quiet and shaky.

“What, omega?” Vesemir answers, even though they all turn when he says Alpha.

“Can I – will I have any clothes?”

Vesemir chuckles. “No, omega,” he says. “You’re a breeder. If you’re not pregnant, we’ll be breeding you to get you there. If you are pregnant, we’ll be breeding you to give you a litter. And if we can’t give you any more, well, we’ll be breeding you for the stress relief. Got it?”

Jaskier makes a small noise. “I – y-yes. Alpha.”

“Good, omega. Now, come on. We’ll need to measure you for those extra cuffs.”

– – – – – 

They end up lucky; Jaskier is even more fertile than expected. 

They can all smell it when he catches the first time, when Lambert’s rut starts and he takes Jaskier to the floor without preamble. Jaskier cries out and struggles, but only for a split second before Lambert’s cock is sinking into him and he’s going pliant, instincts much louder than any of his conscious thoughts. He catches on that first knot, which makes Lambert preen like an arrogant knothead.

Never mind that when Jaskier catches again the first time he takes Geralt’s knot, and then again on Eskel’s turn, they both preen the same damn way.

Three for a first pregnancy is a lot, but it’s fine. Omegas are built for birth, for breeding; and if he doesn’t survive it, well – omegas are plentiful. It’ll be harder to find a compatible one, but if they spend a season searching all the slave auctions, it shouldn’t be too hard.

And really, Lambert’s rut is more likely to kill him than the pregnancy.

“Alpha,” Jaskier whines, clearly overwhelmed as Lambert knots him for the fifth time in as many hours. “Alpha.”

Lambert chuckles. “Feel full yet, omega?” he asks, rubbing a large hand over Jaskier’s belly. “You’ve caught three times now – you’re gonna be bedridden, you’ll be so big.”

Jaskier squirms and sobs, thighs trembling as his body milks the knot settled deep in his guts even though it hurts. “Alpha, please.”

“Please what?” Lambert asks. “I’m already giving you more than you could ever want, omega. Got you all nice and knocked up, and you’ll never be empty again. Not if we have any say in it.”

“Too much,” Jaskier pleads, and Lambert snorts.

“Should probably get that phrase out of your vocabulary,” he says. “Oh well. We’ll train you up soon enough.”

– – – – – 

Since Jaskier’s heat had triggered with Lambert’s rut, it means they spend even more time breeding him. Even with him already caught, the heat is vicious, as if his body thinks it can take more.

They’re definitely not complaining. Jaskier makes the sweetest noises strung out on their knots, pained and desperately wanting all at once, and he’s so full of their seed that his belly is swollen no matter how long they leave him to leak. 

“Hell of a claim,” Eskel says, petting over the curve of it as he shoves his knot into Jaskier’s abused hole. The omega gives a choked scream, but his hips jerk back into the pressure all the same, eyes hazy with the heat. “Wonder if he’ll go into heat again like normal after this.”

“Shouldn’t, since he’s caught,” Geralt points out, shoving three fingers into Jaskier’s mouth to muffle his sounds. He sucks at them, sloppy wet and obscene, and Geralt’s cock twitches slowly back to life between his thighs. As soon as Eskel’s knot goes back down, Jaskier will get Geralt’s again.

“Yeah, but this heat is pretty brutal considering he’s already caught. Wouldn’t be the strangest thing I’ve ever seen if he still cycles as usual.”

Geralt hums. “Gods, that’ll be something – knotting him when he’s really swollen. Three pups already – he’s already shaping up to be the best breeder we’ve ever had.”

Eskel grunts and grinds his knot further into Jaskier’s body, making the omega choke on Geralt’s fingers. “Yeah,” he agrees.

Lambert mumbles sleepily where he’s still recovering from his rut. “Still need to train him, too,” he says. “Think it’ll be easier or harder with him carrying?”

“Easier,” Geralt guesses. “He’s already pretty suggestible. Obedient, too. All hopped up on pregnancy hormones and surrounded by alphas I think he’ll be easy to mold.”

“Hope so,” Eskel sighs, giving one more grinding thrust before his knot deflates and he shoves Jaskier’s hips toward Geralt’s lap. It’s easy to turn him, he’s so small and light, and slide right into his hole, gaping wide from the constant use over the last week. 

Jaskier melts into him with a high, pained little noise. “Alpha.”

“You can sleep,” Geralt offers. “We’re not going to stop, but you don’t need to be awake for it.”

Jaskier sucks in a trembling breath. “Oh – oh...okay.”

Geralt snorts and grinds his cock deeper just to feel the way Jaskier’s body spasms around him. 

– – – – – 

“Witcher pups don’t need milk as long,” Vesemir informs Jaskier, as he’s lying bedridden and so round with three pups that he almost looks comical. “You’ll birth, breast feed for two weeks, wean them off for one, and then we’ll give you more.”

Jaskier groans, clearly upset, but doesn’t protest. “Yes, Alpha,” he mumbles. “I – oh.” He jolts and reaches up to rub at his side. “Kicking,” he explains, when Vesemir raises a brow.

“Hm. Well, it’ll be over soon,” he says. “Get some rest. You’re due to go into labor in a handful of days, if that.”

“Yes, Alpha,” Jaskier says.

– – – – – 

The timing of the birth ends up great. Vesemir ends up going into rut almost as soon as Jaskier is ready to be bred again, the triplets weaned. 

He’s exhausted, clearly, bags under his eyes and a frown etched on his face, but none of them care. And he’s obedient, well-trained after an entire pregnancy of being fucked whenever they wanted; when Geralt gets him out of bed just to drag him downstairs and strap him to the breeding bench, he only grunts his discomfort at the pressure on his still-sagging belly.

“Don’t worry,” Geralt reassures him. “It’ll be swollen and full again soon.”

Jaskier mumbles something unintelligible, but when Geralt pets over his cunt, he’s already wet. 

“Good omega,” he praises, chuckling when Jaskier shivers clearly against his will. “Vesemir’s probably gonna give you another three all by himself. Wonder how many we could get you to carry, hm?”

Jaskier just makes more unintelligible noises, but then Vesemir is striding into the room, eyes bright with rut-fever, and Geralt backs up quickly.

Vesemir is mostly silent for his rut, no teasing or humiliating words like the others. For some reason it’s almost worse for Jaskier, being treated entirely like an object.

His cunt is still wet, though, and the more cum Vesemir pumps into him, until the pressure of the bench on his belly is more painful because of the swell, the wetter he gets.

“Look at that,” Lambert whistles, coming in to watch near the end of Vesemir’s rut. “Fucked you all through your pregnancy and you’re still desperate for it. What’s that rule we taught you, omega? Repeat it for me.”

“Whenever, wherever, however,” Jaskier repeats, voice breaking with each of Vesemir’s brutal thrusts. His knot is forming and against his will, Jaskier wants it.

“Again.”

“Whenever, wherever, however,” Jaskier says. Before Lambert can even ask again, though, he’s doing it again, and again, and again, until Vesemir’s knot slams into him and he’s taken in an orgasm he can’t control, body shaking hard enough to rattle his restraints on the bench.

“Good little bitch,” Vesemir growls, and Jaskier just clenches harder onto his knot to milk it.

“Think I’ll have a go when Vesemir’s done,” Lambert muses. “After all, you’re already on the bench. No reason to waste the position, is there?”

Jaskier moans tiredly. “Whenever, wherever, however,” he repeats. 

“Exactly. Good little breeder.”

– – – – –

Jaskier gives them nine pups in his first three years as a breeder. In his fourth year, between Geralt and Eskel’s ruts hitting at the same time alongside Jaskier’s heat, and several fertility treatments, they manage to give him seven at once.

It barely takes two months of that pregnancy for Jaskier to be bedridden and beside himself with the intensity of it. That doesn’t mean they stop using him, though.

Why would it?

Lambert’s rut hits just after Jaskier becomes bed bound. He spends the whole week of it in the same bed as Jaskier, forcing Jaskier to hold his own weight up on hands and knees so Lambert can take his pleasure, filling Jaskier even more full with cum.

“Look at you,” Lambert growls, grinding his knot into Jaskier’s body just to yank it out and then do it again. Jaskier screams with it, arms trembling where he can barely hold himself up, belly heavy and painful as it sways below him with each of Lambert’s movements. “All fucked full with our pups and still so fucking wet for it, like your cunt doesn’t know it’s done it’s job. We got seven this time, think we could get you to nine at once?”

Jaskier sobs. “Alpha,” he pleads. “Alpha, please.”

“Hush, omega,” Lambert orders. “Take your knotting like a good little bitch. What’s your rule?”

“When – ah – whenever, wherever – h-h – ow, however.” 

“Exactly. We get to decide when you’re done being a nice little hole to fuck, not you. Gods, you squeeze so fucking tight when you hurt, fuck.”

Jaskier sobs again, and hears as well as smells Vesemir’s approach. “Alpha,” he mumbles, head dropping. He’s so tired and everything hurts and – oh.

“Yeah, just like that,” Lambert coos. “You always do come on our knots. Such a good little omega. You do know your purpose, don’t you? You just get a little forgetful, sometimes.”

Vesemir chuckles. “Think we should bring the other two in here again? Make him remember for real?”

Lambert laughs, too. “Oh yeah,” he grunts. “Fuck, he feels so fucking good when he’s all sloppy and tense at once like this.”

“Oh, I know,” Vesemir agrees, and a hand cups Jaskier’s jaw. He lifts his head with the pull to find a cock in his face, and he takes it into his mouth with ease, not bothering to repress his gagging or choking as Vesemir slowly fucks his face. They’ve knotted his mouth so he passed out, before; a little gagging is hardly enough to put them off using his body. “Best breeder we’ve ever gotten. Think we’ll keep him once he can’t pop out pups anymore, even. He’s already such a good toy – may as well keep him for it.”

[piceuscelus]

Ages and ages ago, you shared a snip of geralt being presented with his omega law of surprise ciri, wearing only silver body jewellery (i think its under sex slavery tag?). Is that from the same idea as the more recently discussed geralt/ciri law of suprise? Or are there TWO law of suprise ciri ideas?

there's two, kind of!

that one was from, more specifically, a sex slave ciri idea, wherein when ciri is born an omega, calanthe switches from "never gonna let the witcher have my granddaughter" to "well, if she's going to be an omega she may as well be a useful one" and has her trained to be a sex slave for whenever geralt gets around to coming to get her (or if he never does, general entertainment)

that one is technically a WIP, since i have started it, part of it exists in a gdoc, but i also haven't touched it in a while, whoops 😅