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piceuscelus · 3 years

Note

Hey, how would you feel about (adult) Ciri developing a monsterfucking obsession? Maybe it starts with a werewolf and spirals out until she’s waiting to see what the contract will be and if she can take it. And then Eskel finds her. An experienced monsterfucker himself, he starts using her as bait, watching her, and she gets off on the humiliation of his threats to tell Geralt? Maybe even breeding/lactation dirty-talk? Not into huge insertion/pain, but if you must!

okay okay okay so i didn’t know i needed this until you handed it to me on a silver platter. i have been thinking about this on a rotation with the rest of the filth and it’s just so fucking good.

more monsterfucking focused than breeding/lactation or humiliation, but i did manage all of it lmao. also, if you’re cool with it anon - or if literally anyone else presents me with one (1) single interest, i have an idea for a continuation of this that’s much more explicitly eskel/ciri.

monsterfucking and the lightest pseudo-incest below~

The first time it happens, it’s a werewolf.

At least, technically.

Okay, so the man isn’t just technically a werewolf, he is a werewolf, but he was born one and he’s old. By the time Ciri comes across him, he’s not a hunt, but a contact; there’s something – or someone – slaughtering sheep, and he would certainly know if there’s any other monsters about.

And he does. But he’s also charming, and handsome for his age – Ciri knows he likely looks much younger than he is – and he’s kind, too. Offers her a room in his home to rest, after her hunt, upon the promise that she won’t try to kill him in her sleep.

Which she wouldn’t. First of all, he’s of no danger to anyone and hasn’t been likely since long before Ciri was born, and Geralt taught her better than to kill first and ask questions later (despite Lambert’s continued attempts to sabotage it). And secondly, well….

He’s attractive. And charming. And he has very, very good wine that he’s willing to share with her, alongside the hospitality of a warm, clean bed.

She’s never claimed to be a saint. And considering the shenanigans she knows Geralt and Yennefer have gotten up to, well – she comes by it rightly.

The thing is, she hadn’t known that sometimes born werewolves aren’t able to entirely shift back and forth.

She’d noticed that he was hairier than the average man, but passed it off as a side effect or maybe just a genetic accident. And she’d noticed the fangs, but realistically, plenty of regular humans had sharp canines – hers were nothing to scoff at, even, and she’d never been anything more than human, disregarding the Source thing.

But, well –

“I understand, if you’ve changed your mind.” His voice is gentle and steady and sincere, and Ciri is maybe a little bit tipsy and quite a bit more horny and….

“No, no, wanna try it,” is what she says.

She definitely doesn’t regret it, even if she is limping a little for the next few days.

– – – – –

That’s where it starts, but that’s definitely not where it ends.

After, she has another encounter with a born werewolf, this one also unable to transform all the way back – and much more confident about it, even. He knots her, heedless of the fact that it leaves them stuck together for nearly half an hour, and she can’t help but whimper and whine at the rush of cum that leaks from her cunt when he finally pulls back.

He grins exactly like she’d expect a wolf to grin, and she doesn’t say no when he fucks her again that night, or the next morning.

– – – – –

She would say that she just has a thing for werewolves. Which is – yeah, unusual, but not...not that unusual, considering.

Geralt has a thing for sorceresses who can and will kill him. Eskel likes anything with horns, as he’s said, though he’s never elaborated.

Werewolves aren’t that strange, in the grand scheme of things. And besides, it’s not like she’s out there trying to get railed on hunts.

Until, of course, she...is.

– – – – –

It’s...mostly unintentional. Mostly. She knows what she’s hunting, obviously, and she’s thinking about it, of course she is. Sue her, the two best fucks of her life have been with werewolves, who wouldn’t think about it.

And maybe it makes her sloppy, maybe she should have waited another day and gone out when she wasn’t so distracted, but….

Well, she doesn’t do that.

And then the werewolf gets the drop on her, pins her to the forest floor with an echoing howl, and she expects a bite, expects to be torn to shreds – fuck, what a way to die, she’s certainly not the first Witcher to perish in such stupid circumstances but it’s not exactly a hall of fame she wants to be a part of.

But the werewolf just...sniffs her. And then nuzzles at her throat, her shoulder, nose cold and wet. It makes a soft noise, like the howl but quieter, more...pleading? It shifts its grip on her, and when it presses closer, she can feel its cock out.

She could get out of this. She could – the werewolf is distracted, and she’s got magic on her side, and she could do any manner of things to struggle out and behead the mangy monster.

She...doesn’t do any of them.

Instead, she shifts back against the werewolf, a gentle encouragement. It gives a soft, rumbling growl, almost like a purr but too rough and deep, and snuffles at her neck again. She leans up on her arms a little – with the way the werewolf moved to press its cock against her thigh, she’s more free to move her arms now – and reaches back with one to push at her pants. It takes a bit of fumbling, not helped at all by the way the werewolf keeps sniffing at her, licking over her lower back and hand and whining.

The feeling of its tongue slipping into the crease of her ass, just barely grazing her asshole, should not make her cunt pulse like it does.

She ignores that, though, and finishes pushing her pants down before slowly shifting, lifting her hips.

For a moment, the werewolf just keeps nuzzling, sniffing and licking and generally being a goddamn tease. And then its tongue sweeps across her cunt, a long, wet lick that should be uncomfortable or gross or any manner of things.

Ciri nearly comes on the fucking spot.

“Oh, oh fuck,” she whimpers, dropping her head and shoulders to the ground and lifting her hips higher. The beast seems to catch on then, making a low, excited little sound as it lets go of her to shift onto its haunches, cock sliding against her thigh, her ass. “Please.”

The werewolf rocks its hips, cock dragging over her ass a few times before it slots between her legs. It takes another few ruts, and Ciri lifting her hips even higher, but eventually the tip catches and slips inside.

She gasps at the pressure, and then doesn’t get the chance to catch her breath as the werewolf immediately starts to rut. This is nothing like the other two – this one is lost to its instincts, all but entirely feral, rutting into her exactly like a dog would rut into a bitch.

“Melitele’s sweet fucking tits yes.”

– – – – –

After that, well...it sort of becomes a habit. At first just on werewolf hunts, or any time she encounters a born werewolf.

And then….

It’s a succubus that breaks the pattern. She thinks Eskel would either be deeply disappointed or extremely proud, and the fact that she’s not sure which one is funnier than it has any right to be.

At least there’s no fisstech involved in her rendezvous with the very lovely sex demon.

But after the succubus – and the incubus that follows that, and the drowner after that (which was much less gross than she would have expected), she starts to...wonder.

After all, there’s plenty of sentient and semi-sentient monsters – and even aside from sentience, there’s plenty that are easy enough to...well, convince. Some basic alchemy is all it takes, and sometimes not even that, and most monsters are ready to go.

The first time she tries something a little more out there, she’s in Skellige investigating rumors of another Convergence, and instead of the marks of the Spheres coming together, she finds a kelpie.

Seeing as there hasn’t been any reports of this particular kelpie bothering anyone, she has no interest in killing it. Plus it’s gorgeous, looking nothing like the haggard sea monster she’s seen in bestiaries, and she’s...curious.

The thing must be able to smell it on her, because instead of reacting the way most monsters would react upon her encroaching on her territory, it just tilts its not-quite-horse head and peers at her with one big, black eye through its drooping seaweed mane. All the same, she approaches carefully, skirting around the edge of the water to make sure that it can see her fully at all times. When she stops to stand and just look, it moves closer, and she gets a glimpse of its powerful tail.

And more than that.

She sucks in a breath and takes a careful step into the water, hands already at her breeches. The kelpie’s gaze is intelligent and shrewd, and it comes right up to her, lipping at her cheek and sniffing. She stills and lets it, heart pounding as she looks down between its legs and sees more of its cock starting to peek out from the in-between space of horse and fish.

It’s exactly as massive as a regular stallion’s cock would be, maybe just a bit thinner, and obviously differently colored. She’d never consider this with an actual horse, but….

Well. But. When the kelpie seems done with its assessment of her smell, it pulls back a little and snorts before tipping its head pointedly down.

Ciri goes without a single complaint, even when she ends up muddy and covered in slimy pond water.

– – – – –

She should feel guilty. She should feel...just about anything aside from thrilled. Or insatiably curious.

But she doesn’t.

Oh well.

– – – – –

Of course, eventually, the monsterfucking catches up and bites her in the ass.

She knew it would, really. It had to.

It just doesn’t happen the way she expects.

Selkie contracts are rare, because selkies never want to be around humans. And when they are, well – they’re usually not violent, not when someone has their coat. Too much risk.

But this one is reported to be slaughtering fishermen up and down the coast, so she has to at least investigate.

And if she’s honest – after the kelpie, she’s very curious.

It takes several days and a lot of coin given to suspicious sailors to find it.

Him, as she discovers, creeping out of the shadow of boulders at the cliffside to see the creature better. He’s half-human, half-seal at the moment, perched on a rock with the top half of his coat wrapped around his waist as he strokes over his arms.

She can see the way the moonlight glints off the sharp points of his teeth, the way his hands are just slightly webbed. He’s very clearly not human, even at first glance, even ignoring the seal tail.

Ciri swallows, heart rabbiting in her chest, and steps out onto the beach.

The selkie’s head turns to her whip-fast, his teeth bared, but she raises her hands in surrender. Her swords are hidden amongst the boulders; if she needs them, she can get to them, but she’s relatively sure she won’t need them.

“What are you doing here,” the selkie hisses, sliding off of the rock and into the water.

“Looking for you,” Ciri says, honestly. She gestures to herself. “Witcher.”

“I can and will kill you.”

“I know. But I don’t think you will.”

“Why not?”

Ciri shrugs. “Gut feeling. I see you have your coat.”

“I do. There are many who wish to steal it from me.”

“Not me,” Ciri assures. “I’m mostly just...curious.”

The selkie pauses, straightening as his expression goes from warily suspicious to neutrally bemused. “...about?”

Ciri figures at this point there’s no reason to bother dancing around the subject. “I’m sure you can guess,” she says, and starts carefully stripping away her minimal armor and clothes. “The only interest I have in your coat is how it feels against my skin.”

For a moment the selkie doesn’t say anything, and then slowly, a wicked smirk crosses his face. “Oh really,” he says. “You know, I’ve heard all kind of things about Witchers…. I didn’t think this one was true.”

“What?” Ciri laughs and finishes with her clothes before wading into the water. “That we fuck monsters?”

“Hm, exactly,” the selkie says, swimming closer. She keeps going until the water is just above her waist, and he meets her there. His hands are cold, but no colder than the water around them, and his smirk widens when she shivers. “Pretty little thing, aren’t you?”

“I’ve been told so before,” Ciri says magnanimously, and the selkie chuckles.

“Do you know what you’re getting into here, little Witcher?”

Ciri shrugs one shoulder. “I have an idea.”

“Good enough for me.”

Before she realizes he’s going to move, he’s spinning her around and wrapping iron-strong arms around her, and then they’re moving. For a split second she considers being afraid, but when she sees that he’s just headed toward the rock he was perched on, she calms. His little chuckle in her ear means he probably notices, and she pretends she’s not flushing.

After all, she has plenty of reasons to be going red right now. The pulse between her legs is excuse enough.

“On your side,” he orders, once they’ve climbed onto the rock. “Easier that way.”

She hums and turns onto her side, letting him spoon up behind her. His coat is slick and warm, but soft like she’d expect of fur still. It’s an odd sensation, but not an unpleasant one. She shudders as he wraps his arms around her again, one at her waist and the other at her thigh, lifting it up.

His cock presses up against her ass before slipping between her legs and dragging over her cunt. She shudders and lets her head fall back, until it rests on the selkie’s shoulder. She can’t see it, but his cock feels a lot like the kelpie’s, but it’s got more girth and it’s less slick.

Considering the tightening heat in her belly, slick won’t be of much concern.

“Gods, you really do want this, don’t you,” the selkie purrs, and she hums her assent as he shifts and his cock drags over her cunt again. She tries to tilt her hips, to make it easier for him to sink inside her, and he chuckles. “Needy,” he murmurs, and after another few teasing drags, the head finally catches on her hole and sinks inside.

Her breath rushes out of her on a shocked moan, eyes flying wide with the stretch and unfamiliar texture. “Oh,” she pants, squirming lightly. The selkie just chuckles again and thrusts, sinking in to the base and then pulling out and doing it again, again, again.

She’s panting and whining inside of a minute, the combination of sensations almost too much – the cold night air on her damp skin against the heat of the selkie’s coat, his thick cock spearing her open with a stretch that matches the stretch in her thigh as he holds it up, the slight chill of his hand over her breast.

“Oh, oh, fuck,” she babbles, head rolling. He just chuckles again and moves faster, breathing going short and rapid.

“Nice and tight,” he mutters, and it sounds less like praise and more like a comment on the weather, but it sends heat flaring through her all the same.

“Please,” she whimpers, clenching down as her orgasm starts to take her over. He doesn’t stop, just makes a low, inhuman sound and fucks harder, deep enough that it aches a little, and of all things that’s what pushes her over.

She cries out, eyes open wide with the shock of it, and makes eye contact with Eskel, standing on the shore.

“Fuck!”

– – – – –

Eskel watches as she finishes up with the selkie. She can feel his eyes on them as the creature comes inside her, as he keeps a hold of her to press his fingers inside once he’s pulled his cock out. She doesn’t look, but she knows, and she doesn’t quite know what to do with the uncomfortably shivery feeling it gives her.

The selkie leaves with a smirk and a kiss to her temple, disappearing into the water. She loiters on the rock for a moment, unsure, but eventually decides that Eskel or not, she can’t stay on this rock in the sea for the whole godsdamned night.

“Hi,” she says, awkward like she hasn’t been since she was a teenager, as she walks past him to get to her clothes.

“I suppose you could make worse choices,” is what Eskel replies with.

“Like a succubus while on fisstech?” she teases, pulling her breeches and shirt on but just picking up the armor and the rest.

Eskel snorts. “Like a succubus while on fisstech,” he agrees. “Although – ”

“Oh, succubi are fun, I know,” Ciri interrupts, winking.

Eskel laughs properly this time. “That’s our girl,” he says.

– – – – –

They travel together for a week before Eskel suggests it, a calculating look in his eye.

“Fiend,” he says, waiving the notice in his hand. “‘S in season.”

For a second, Ciri isn’t quite sure why that’s relevant, and then it hits her.

“Easier to hunt that way?” she asks.

Eskel snorts. “No,” he says. “Unless, it’s got something to stick its cock in. They go particularly stupid then, and after.”

Ciri hums, heart already starting to hammer in her chest. Eskel’s gaze flicks down to her chest, and a smirk pulls up one side of his mouth.

“Well?” he asks.

Ciri takes a breath. “Yeah, let’s do it.”

– – – – –

She knows, logically, that she should feel weirder about this than she does. She just...doesn’t.

The fiend pheromones reek something awful, and she can’t imagine what it’s like for Eskel if it’s so bad for her. All the same, she rubs it around the base of her neck and over her collar, and then, when Eskel directs with a not-so-subtle nod, over her thighs and between her legs.

“It’s already caught the scent,” Eskel murmurs, as she hands the empty vial back to him. “It’s easiest on your knees.”

“I’ve fucked a werewolf before,” Ciri finds herself blurting, even as she goes to her knees and adjusts to raise her hips up high. She’s pretty sure she doesn’t imagine the way Eskel shifts uncomfortably.

“Then you know the stance,” Eskel says. “...wonder what Geralt would think of that.”

Ciri gasps, belly tightening with something that’s somewhere between violent shame and pulsing arousal. “Eskel,” she says, warning. “You can’t – ”

“I could,” he interrupts. “Could tell Geralt all about your adventures out here on the Path. What I saw with the selkie, what you’ve said about the others….”

There’s the sound of a fiend crashing closer through the trees, growling. Ciri tenses and then forces herself to relax, raising her hips further, and it doesn’t take much longer for the fiend to find them.

“Hold still and let it,” Eskel orders, and Ciri can’t help the way her breath stutters in her chest at that. The fiend sniffs her, licks over her pheromone-covered skin, seemingly deciding that she’s good enough as it shuffles behind her. “Don’t tense.”

She does her best, but it’s nigh on impossible to follow the order as the fiend’s frankly massive cock pushes into her cunt, straight to pressing against her womb. It aches fiercely, but in a way that makes her belly swoop, makes her clit throb.

“Oh,” she gasps. “Oh, fuck, that’s – ”

“It’s going to try and breed you,” Eskel says, and there’s a strain to his voice. “Fuckssake, Ciri, you took that like the loosest whore in Novigrad.”

Ciri whimpers. “I – it – fuck,” she babbles, eyes rolling as the fiend starts to move. Much like the first proper werewolf, it doesn’t give a whit for her, just pistoning its cock in and out viciously. It chafes and each bumping thrust against her cervix sends a flare of ache through her gut, but she’s sopping wet for it, whining and moaning into the forest floor as it rails her.

Something about knowing she’s being watched – knowing that it’s Eskel watching – makes it better than it’s ever been.

“Y’know, they can go a few times,” Eskel says, casual. “Usually kill them in the first lull, but as long as the pheromones are there, they’ll fuck til they pass out. Ever been so full of cum you can’t even put your pants back on?”

Ciri squeaks, clenching down on the fiend’s cock, and it roars, fucking faster. “I – no, I – fuck, fuck, fuck, Eskel, it’s – ”

“Just imagine,” Eskel interrupts. “Could let it fuck you as full as it wants, til you’re covered in it and look like the whore you’re acting like. Go home this winter and tell Geralt all about it – watching you rub fiend pheromones all over your cunt and present for it to breed you. Imagine if it could actually knock you up.”

Ciri shudders, teetering on the edge of orgasm just from the overload of sensation, the humiliation burning in her gut. “Eskel,” she pants. She vaguely hears the slip of laces, the clink of buckles.

“Get you all full of monster pups,” Eskel murmurs. “Watch your tits get all big and leaking. They’d be so sore, you know. You’d just be sore, all full up of monsters and cum. Are you going to come like this, Ciri? Getting fucked by a fiend while I watch? Wonder if your cunt will gape afterward. Probably will….”

“I – fuck!” Ciri screams as she tips over the edge, the pulsing rhythm of her orgasm pulling the fiend with her. It fills her up so much she can feel it inside her, and she whines, drooling into the dirt. “Fuck, fuck.”

“Should I let it go again?” Eskel asks. “It certainly looks ready to. Don’t think it’s ever ridden a better bitch.”

Ciri whines, high and breathless.

“Yes.”

#celus writes #celus prompt fill #dead dove #dead dove: do not eat #celus psuedo-incest CW #celus monsterfucking CW #Anonymous #wreck ciri anon #monsterfucker ciri verse #celus wrecking ciri

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piceuscelus · 3 years

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😱😱😱 it’s monsterfucker Ciri anon (who is also body mod Ciri anon so just Wreck Ciri anon) and...... wowwwwwwwww. Your writing is wonderful? Quite apart from the wowwwwww of that???? That was so much hotter than I could’ve imagined. Please please please share your Ciri/Eskel thoughts!!!! 🥺

hi hello i have mentioned i would die for you, right? wrecking ciri is a good fucking time, okay, and i didn’t even know how much i needed it, god bless you

okay so i will share my Thoughts and then maybe actually write something later

LOOK OKAY i l o v e the idea of eskel having this like, super taboo relationship with ciri. she’s his niece, basically, but she’s fucking gorgeous and sexy and a Slut to the highest proportions so they’re pretty well matched

and fiends aren’t the only monsters that are easier to kill when they’re fuck-stupid, so like.......this is advantageous! ciri can fuck monsters, and eskel can watch and viciously get off and also make sure she’s safe. win-win.

so he comes across a basilisk contract, and he already knows how much he likes seeing ciri stuffed full - they’ve had plenty of time to test that - and basilisks have two cocks....

ciri is into it from the start, but when she goes to prepare herself, eskel stops her because fuck if he doesn’t want to take this a little further, and ciri’s shaking and bright red but lets him

so he fingers her open, gets her nice and stretched and slick before plugging her up - it’ll be easier in the long run - and then has the particular pleasure of watching her ride a horse with a plug in her ass. the whole time, from the first finger he got inside her, to when they get to where the basilisk is nesting, he’s spouting dirty talk. talking about how he should tell geralt how tight her ass is, how much she loves being filled, how she begged him for more even while knowing he was opening her up to take two cocks at once and from a monster no less

this time, since the line has already been crossed, eskel is the one to rub the pheromones over her, and he doesn’t even pretend he’s not just abusing it, massaging over her tits and pinching her nipples just to watch her shake, rubbing his whole palm over her cunt to feel how soaked she is and how she instinctively spreads her legs wider to give him room, fucking her on the plug to watch the way her rim stretches, pink and puffy

and the thing is that basilisks are vicious anyway, nasty creatures, so while the thing definitely wants to fuck ciri where she’s ass-up at the entrance to its cave home, because she smells like something it can breed, it’s not nice about it.

ciri’s crying and sobbing but when eskel asks she just screams for more, and so he lets it happen, watches as the basilisk practically ravages her, her cunt and asshole red and gaping by the time it finally fills her and slinks back to collapse into a stupor. eskel follows and dispatches it quickly, quickly enough that ciri hasn’t even moved by the time he comes back, and he can’t resist her any more than the basilisk could, fucked open and sticky

he makes her cum once, twice, three times before she begs him to please just fuck her, and who is he to tell her no, really

#celus writes #celus prompt fill #celus psuedo-incest CW #celus monsterfucking CW #wreck ciri anon #Anonymous #dead dove #dead dove: do not eat #monsterfucker ciri verse #celus wrecking ciri

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piceuscelus · 3 years

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[Wreck Ciri Anon] YOU RANG? Howwwwwwww do we feel about monsterfucker Ciri and Eskel going back to Kaer Morhen for the winter, trying to hide what she's been up to from Geralt? But she gets so pent-up, she goes out for a hunt and meets Lambert before she smells quite...right again. And he threatens to tell Geralt unless she lets him watch, too, and the idea makes her so wet... and then Vesemir catches her, wants to "study this," until it's just Geralt who doesn't know...

hhhh babe i love you so much

this one is short but rest assured i have IDEAS and idk if they’ll go anywhere but they’re all filthy and i bow down before you in thanks

Ciri tries to tamp down on her urges during the winter. She does.

It’s just...hard. And she can’t very well get fucked by anyone else, either. She knows Eskel would be willing, but nothing is a secret in a keep of Witchers, and the last thing she wants to do is try to explain to Geralt. Any of it, really – her and Eskel, or the monsterfucking.

Sure, she knows that Geralt has done his own fair share of getting around with the non-human and monstrous, but this is a bit different.

Eventually, though, she can’t contain it anymore. She lets Eskel know what she’s doing – he can’t follow her, not without more forethought about planning to hunt together or something, but it’s better than just disappearing.

Luckily, the forests around Kaer Morhen are infested with all kinds of things.

– – – – –

There’s a nest of male drowners making a home downriver of the keep. She pulls the right vial from her pouch before undressing and putting all of her things high up in a tree, and then covers herself in the pheromones.

Just for the sake of safety – and because she really is so fucking desperate for it – she also uses the pheromone solution to finger her ass open. It’s not quick slick enough, but it’s good all the same, and she hopes that using the pheromones will make the drowners want her ass, too.

After all, if she can get properly fucked out here, maybe then she can hold out for a bit longer.

The drowners smell her before she even gets to the nest proper, and she finds herself being grabbed by slimy, webbed hands and forced down into the dirt. She goes easily, doesn’t struggle, and the drowner propped over her back makes a low, excited noise before rutting forward against her ass.

Some are smarter than others, though, and a second one shoves it out of the way to mount her proper, slamming its cock into her cunt without any problems. She buries her face in the mud to scream, entire body lighting up as she’s filled, fast and rough and perfect.

When the drowner is done, one of its friend shoves it back out of the way to set upon her. She thinks its the first one, but she can’t tell for sure and it doesn’t actually matter. There’s more fruitless, aimless rutting at her for a moment before this one’s cock catches – on her asshole.

She screams again, the pain almost too much, but before she can even adjust, there’s a drowner on the ground next to her, shoving under her body to rut up against her belly, frantic from the pheromones she’s soaked in. Between the one at her back rutting quick and hard, and her own gentle encouragement, it only takes a minute or two to get the bottom drowner’s cock to slip into her cunt.

“Oh, oh, fuck, please,” she babbles, and loses herself to the vicious pleasure for a while.

– – – – –

She’s...better, she finds, as she trudges back to her things, but the itch under her skin is still there. She needs more.

She doesn’t bother putting her clothes back on, just gathers her things and sets off into the wilds to look for more monsters.

It’s not long before she stumbles upon werewolf tracks. But before she can properly tune in to find the werewolf – likely a born one, but feral, considering the phase of the moon and the location – she finds evidence of something else.

Someone.

“Hey, Ciri.”

Shit.

“Lambert,” she says, and her voice is mostly steady.

“What are you up to?”

“None of your business,” she says, and he cocks his head with a smirk.

“Oh really?” he says, and she doesn’t miss the way his eyes trail over her body. She shivers. “So you think I should just go back to the castle,” he continues, “maybe see if Geralt is still awake…? I think he’d like to know if you got accosted by drowners.”

“Lambert, don’t,” she says, heart in her throat.

“I can tell what you did,” he says. “Gotta say, I never thought you’d do that kind of thing, but…. Well. You’re looking for the werewolf, aren’t you?”

“...yes.”

“Let me watch, and I won’t tell Geralt,” Lambert offers, and he gives her another once over.

Ciri sucks in a breath, feeling the heat already pooling in her belly, her cunt.

“Fine,” she agrees.

– – – – –

With Lambert to help, finding the werewolf is easy.

With the pheromones already on her, even though they’re for the wrong monster, it’s even easier to get it to fuck her.

She was right, it’s a born werewolf, but a feral one. It growls at Lambert, but can’t seem to take its attention entirely off of her, especially when she goes to the ground, face in the dirt and hips raised high. All it takes, once she’s in position, is an enticing howl – something Eskel taught her how to do – and a wiggle of her ass, and the werewolf is on her.

She sobs when its cock slides into her cunt, bigger than the drowners, more satisfying. “Oh, yes,” she mumbles, fists digging into the dirt. “Fuck, yeah, oh.”

“Shit, Ciri,” Lambert mutters, and Ciri whines as she gushes wet over the werewolf’s cock as it pistons into her, each thrust jarring and making her eyes go crossed.

“F...feels good,” she gasps out. “Want it to knot me.”

Lambert sucks in a breath. “Can make it,” he says. “If you want.”

Ciri moans, because she knows that, has had Eskel do it. “Please,” she begs. “Please, I need it so bad – ”

The werewolf roars, and she just barely sees the flare of magic before it’s shoving into her, knot and all. It locks easily and she wails as she comes, entire body jolting and shuddering.

“Fuck,” she pants. “Fuck, feels so fucking good.” She grinds back against the werewolf, making it growl at her and jerk its hips. The way the knot tugs at her insides makes her whine.

She turns her head to see Lambert with one hand down his pants, wide-eyed as he jerks his cock to the sight of her caught on a werewolf’s knot. She licks her lips as she watches, and that’s what sets Lambert off, knocking a startled grunt out of him as he spills into his pants.

– – – – –

The night with the drowners and the werewolf manage to tide her over to another few weeks.

But then she’s back to being restless and itchy. Horny.

She wants to be filled. Properly.

Problem is, when she goes to the far-out cave that houses several arachas, she finds Vesemir already there.

And just like when she ran into Lambert, there’s fuck all she can do to explain this away; she reeks like arousal and arachas pheromones.

Vesemir gives her a curious look. “Not a common choice,” he says. She flushes scarlet.

“Don’t tell Geralt,” she murmurs, and Vesemir hums.

“Let me see,” he says. “I think I’ll study it, if you’re going to give me the option – let me see, and I won’t tell Geralt.”

Ciri hates the fact that she immediately soaks her breeches.

“Y-yeah.”

So Vesemir watches as she strips, as she carefully opens herself up with a special oil, plugging her cunt up with a toy so the arachas can’t push its eggs into her womb. She’s done it before, but she doesn’t think she can handle it right now.

They move deeper into the cave, and it doesn’t take long before one of the arachas catches her scent. Vesemir stays back, close enough to see – and hear, and smell – but far enough to not spook the monster. Ciri takes a shuddering breath and gets into position, just in time for the insectoid to come sniffing, as it were.

Much like any other monster, it gives a cursory examination and then just goes for it. Its ovipositor is large and cold, only a little softer than the toy stretching her cunt, and she can’t help the way she sobs for it, working her hips into the pressure of it.

The arachas clicks, excitedly, and then moves. As it thrusts, she feels the creep of the eggs along the shaft, until finally they’re pushed into her, deeper and deeper with each new one that the arachas forces into her body. They’re smallish eggs, but they’re hard and heavy, and the arachas is guaranteed to lay at least two dozen.

She can tell Vesemir is shocked when she comes, even as she sobs at the sensation of being so filled. He’s probably even more shocked that she comes again, and again, and then a fourth time when the arachas is finally done breeding her, leaving her stuffed full of its eggs and in a heap on the floor.

It takes a little bit of maneuvering, but she manages to twist until she can grab the dildo in her cunt and fuck herself with it, quick and hard, and comes a fifth time with a wail.

– – – – –

After that, she notices how Lambert, Vesemir, and Eskel all look at her.

Geralt still doesn’t know.

And she’s still itchy, barely holding on without the ability to get fucked near constantly – by monsters or by Eskel.

But with the three of them knowing, it is much easier to get out to get a fix.

#celus writes #celus prompt fill #dead dove #dead dove: do not eat #wreck ciri anon #celus monsterfucking CW #celus oviposition CW #celus psuedo-incest CW #Anonymous #monsterfucker ciri verse #celus wrecking ciri

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piceuscelus · 3 years

Text

soooooo @little-red-riding-doublet is a menace and a treasure and planted this in my brain

ciri / wolves, all-the-way-through, body modification, overstim, multiple orgasms aaaaand implied bestiality below

When Ciri wakes up she feels...different. There’s no way to really define what the difference is, but it’s noticeable, all the same.

Trying to catalogue what, exactly, feels different, though, falls entirely to the wayside when Lambert and Geralt are looking at her that hungrily.

“Open up,” Lambert says, and she obeys easily. The potion he pours down her throat is sweet, almost too sweet, but she doesn’t mind. Especially not when she feels it start to affect her; her nipples tighten and her cunt throbs, heat zinging along her nerves like lightning.

“Oh, fuck,” she mumbles, and Lambert laughs as Geralt picks her up.

– – – – –

The whole common area has been rearranged so that the fancy new toy they made is center-stage, and all of them can sit comfortably to watch the show. Ciri moans at the sight of it now like she did the first time, like she did when Lambert explained what they wanted to do to her.

Geralt chuckles and kisses her temple, a stunningly sweet gesture for what he’s about to do. He hands her off to Eskel while he climbs up onto a little stool and slathers something slick and shining over the top of the new toy – really it’s not much more than a pole, made of carefully sanded and lacquered wood, all the appearance of a walking stick except for the fact that it it’s much too long and has textured bumps all along it.

Once that’s done, Eskel steps up onto another stool, and Geralt grabs her as well. They adjust her limbs – she tries to help but mostly they just move her as needed – and then set her carefully over the top of the pole.

She whines. All three of them laugh. Slowly, so slowly she thinks she’s going to cry, the thick top end of the pole pushes into her cunt, and it makes her jerk, everything sensitive. Sensitive like she usually isn’t until she’s come half a dozen times or more, entire body seizing with the rush of pleasure. It sinks deeper and deeper until it's lodged tight against her cervix, sending a deep, pulsing ache through her that’s familiar but also...not. There’s not so much pain as there’s more pleasure, deeper and sharper. It feels like something is pinching her clit, the same kind of too-much, overwhelming pleasure.

She’s overwhelmed by the background ache and the wealth of pleasure searing across her nerves, squirming. As soon as she’s impaled as deep as she’ll go easily, the pole just starting to force her cervix open around its girth, Geralt and Eskel let go of her and go back to the chairs that have been arranged around the fake stage.

Ciri sobs as she feels the pole start to force her cervix open with a deep pulse of pleasurable ache, gravity and her own weight meaning that something has to give, and of course it’s her. That was the plan, after all. The stretch of it is like nothing she’s ever felt before, slow and aching but inexorable and yet so, so fucking good, pushing deeper and deeper into her womb, until it reaches the top.

She doesn’t know what they’ve done to her body, exactly, but she does notice the way they’re all watching raptly as she sinks deep enough to feel the pole stretching at the top of her womb. At first she feels like she might come, just from this, the slow push of being impaled while they watch, and then –

And then the initial punch of pleasure–sharp-ache comes back, like it’s stretching through her cervix again, and she sobs, cunt clenching weakly around the pole as she spasms lightly. She can feel it in her gut now, pushing up and up and up as she sinks down slow, and tears are streaking her face as her body wars between alarm and mind-numbing pleasure at being so fucking full. She squirms, setting herself off balance so she bends back, and the pole bulges out of her belly, stretching her gut so far out she can feel it.

Eskel stands and rubs over the bulge, making Ciri sob wildly with the feeling, the sensation of her insides rearranging for the toy. After a moment, though, he pushes her back up so she’s balanced again, and then returns to the chair he’d been in.

Though not without a mean flick to her clit that makes her tense up so hard that when it releases she sinks another three inches so rapidly she gags, as if she can feel the pole in her throat.

Not yet, she can’t. But she knows it’s coming, and that makes her squirm again, makes her gush slick over the wood, so she sinks down even faster.

Somehow she can feel each individual inch of the pole, each textured bump as it slides through her insides, and she’s mindless with it, the pleasure warring with the pain and instinct of wrong sending her into a haze, cunt clenching and squelching as she sinks.

With great effort, she tips her head up to look at Geralt and Eskel and Lambert. They’re all touching themselves, sprawled lazy in their chosen chairs, and she whines. She wants to touch them, to service them, to let them take her throat and her cunt and her ass until she’s gaping and so full of cum it makes her swell.

But no, she’s the entertainment as usual, but in a different way, now. She goes to swallow and finds that suddenly she can’t, the pole having reached her esophagus. She gags and chokes, body spasming in a way that sends a lightning bolt of pleasure up her spine, and suddenly the pressure forces her head back, until her throat is straight.

It aches and it feels so fucking good and the pole pushes up her throat and out her mouth, leaving her literally impaled, gagging around the shaft of it with no choice but to adjust, mouth forced open with the girth. Still, she sinks down, down, until she’s finally as far as she’ll go, knees folded under her and the pole slightly thinner than her bicep at the bottom.

She’ll gape when they pull her off it, at both ends, and the idea makes her eyes roll as pleasure rolls through her. She can’t see the others but she can hear them, hear the wet sounds as they jerk themselves off. Something like a whine forces its way out around the pole, desperate and muffled, and she hears Lambert laugh.

“I think she wants more,” he says.

“Probably,” Geralt agrees, and she hears one of them stand, footsteps coming toward her. The hand that cups around her distended throat is Lambert’s.

“Pretty little fucktoy all impaled,” he says. “But you need more, don’t you? Won’t do with just two holes filled.”

Ciri tries to make more noise around the pole, but all of it is choked and muffled. Lambert laughs and pets over her throat one more time before he’s shifting behind her and spreading her ass cheeks. She doesn’t know where he gets the slick but it doesn’t matter as he sinks one finger into her ass to the knuckle.

Her body spasms around it, around the pole, pleasure blinding her for a moment as she somehow gets more full. Lambert fucks her with one finger for a moment and then goes up to two, stretching her as quickly as he can while she squirms helplessly around the pole and chokes.

As soon as she’s open enough, he’s pulling back to slick his cock, the sound obscene so close, and then without much more preamble he’s pushing inside. The pressure is incredible, bringing more tears to her eyes as she’s pushed up the pole so he can sink his whole cock into her ass.

“There you go,” Lambert purrs. “All plugged up now. Feel better?”

Ciri just sobs, choked and shapeless around the pole spearing her so open, and Lambert laughs. His cock feels like touching hot metal as it pulls out, so much pleasure it hurts, and then the thrust in moves her on the pole again.

Like she’s getting stuffed airtight, fucked in all of the holes that can take a cock. Lambert moves faster and the obscene sounds get worse, the sound of her cunt squelching around the pole as she chokes on the other end, the slick smack of Lambert’s cock in her ass, the background of Geralt and Eskel touching themselves.

“Gonna fill you up even more,” Lambert growls. “Then I think they should fuck your ass, too. Really fuck you proper on this, hm?”

She wants to beg, wants to plead and sob and demand that they fuck her ass, but she can’t, she can’t and Lambert knows it, and he’s laughing when he finally comes. So sensitive from whatever they did to her she can feel the heat of it, feel it striking against and then dripping around her insides, and that alone makes her come, finally, a proper orgasm that makes her vision swim out.

When she comes back to, Geralt’s cock is in her ass, and he’s licking affectionately at her lips where they’re stretched around the pole. “Should keep you like this,” he murmurs, “nice little hallway decoration, just fuck your ass whenever we want.”

Eskel groans almost as loud as Ciri wants to scream when Geralt’s hand slides down, pressed hard against her so he rubs over the pole inside her guts, clear to her clit, still swollen almost hard as a cock. One little stroke over it has her clenching so hard he grunts, and another has her coming again, feeling electrified as he fucks her through it, lifting and dropping her on the pole and his cock all at once, until he fills her up, too.

She whimpers and sobs, still shapeless, when Eskel comes to replace Geralt. Eskel’s cock is the biggest, long enough that he can’t fit all of it inside her cunt, as thick as or more so than her wrist. She wants him to fucking ruin her.

And as if he knows, he does his best, going fast and hard from the start, lifting and dropping her as if she’s nothing more than a toy, wrapping both arms around her middle so he’s squeezing against her body around the pole, making her feel the shock of each bump as it forces past the grip of his arms.

When he sinks all the way inside, balls slapping against the pole and her stretched-wide cunt, she chokes hard, eyes rolling as her body thrashes. He comes, growling and forcing her still with wide, bruising hands, grinding his cum into her guts.

“Get the other one, Lambert,” he orders, voice low and dangerous, and Ciri comes when he forces a finger inside her cunt next to the pole, clenching and sobbing and choking as she convulses, milking more cum out of Eske’s cock where it’s still buried deep.

She doesn’t know what the other one is, not until Geralt and Lambert start to lift her off of the pole. She struggles, crying out, because being so empty after being that full hurts, but Geralt hushes her.

“Shh, shh, you’ll be okay,” he says, and she sobs, twisting in his arms as the emptiness crashes over her.

But Lambert grabs her again, and then she’s being lifted once more. She tries to focus, to tune in, but all she can do is wail and gasp when something even thicker than the pole that she was speared on presses against her cunt. She wriggles, trying to go down faster, wanting more, but Geralt and Lambert don’t let her.

Like the first pole, they don’t let go of her until it’s wedge tight against her already-gaping cervix. This one is thick enough that it actually does take a bit more stretching for it to pop into her womb, and she’s already sobbing, everything so sensitive and so good that she thinks she’ll lose her mind, be left nothing but a husk that needs to be filled to live.

“Please, please, fuck,” she begs, rasping and nearly more breath than words.

Despite the new stretch, she sinks down onto the second pole in half the time, the entire thing so slick it’s almost more of a slide. She’s not sure if that’s from her cunt alone or if they put something on it, but it doesn’t matter, because quicker than she can prepare for it the pole is in her throat, big enough this time that it cuts of her air entirely, and she convulses, limbs jerking.

Panic sets in but then there’s hands on her, lifting her up enough to get a breath, and then pulling her back down to cut it off again. Again and again and again, being fucked on the pole, breath stolen in a rapid half-rhythm, this pole so thick she doesn’t think she’ll ever recover, no matter what they do to her. She’ll just be empty for the rest of her life.

Someone’s cock thrusts into her ass again, and she doesn’t know who it is but she doesn’t care, because she’s so, so full, and being fucked like this it’s as if all of her insides are her clit now, sensitive and stinging with pleasure. She’s not sure if she comes or if she just never stops coming, until all three of them have filled her ass again, and a mean pinch to her clit makes her black out.

– – – – –

Ciri swims toward consciousness, hearing Geralt’s voice.

“Think she could take Scorpion now,” he murmurs. “Give the poor boy a nice cocksleeve for the night?”

“Could just tie her to his belly,” Lambert suggests. “Let him rut all he wants, she’ll just be a convenient toy til he’s done.”

Eskel hums. “Not a bad idea. May as well make good use of all the work we did so she could be used like this.”

#dead dove #dead dove: do not eat #celus writes #celus psuedo-incest CW #celus all-the-way-through CW #celus body modification CW #celus overstimulation CW #celus wrecking ciri

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