#celus consensual non consent 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]

hmmmm having my own mermay thots, courtesy that anon that has opened my eyes to ciri being the mermaid

concept: merperson mating is a chase-and-catch affair, and geralt chasing ciri til she’s exhausted so he can fill her up

he’s massive and she’s tiny, of course, and it’s her first proper mating season so she’s half-delirious with the new need coursing through her - she almost doesn’t want to go through the chase, just wants geralt to give her what she needs, but he insists, so she does her best past the heat making her dizzy

and geralt is practically feral with it, getting rough when he catches her, rougher than he’d planned to be but ciri’s just begging for it

(i know fuck all about fish anatomy/breeding and also don’t care weeeee) female mers serving basically just as incubators and nutrient supplies, males laying the eggs inside them and fertilizing them. so geralt catches her and pins her down, then absolutely ravages her, stuffing her so full she’s round and crying, squirming weakly as he keeps going, and it hurts and its unfamiliar but it feels so good, too, and geralt keeps telling her how good she is, how pretty and perfect

by the time he finishes with her she can’t even swim by herself, so full and fucked out, so he has to carry her back to their little cave, cooing about how perfect she is and how she’ll be the perfect little incubator

and of course eventually he’ll help her lay the eggs, holding her and massaging and prodding at her as she sobs and thrashes through the process