Patreon Compilation – Fic#177 – Jaskier/Vesemir – daddy kink – Living The Best Life

Jaskier/Vesemir – Jaskier meets Vesemir for the first time and immediately knows that he needs to have that crooked nosed daddy in his bed.

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Jaskier trails off mid-sentence, eyes sliding off to the side to watch as someone enters the room.

“Oh daddy,” he whispers under his breath. From how mildly disturbed Geralt looks, he must have heard it with his freakishly good ears… but it’s not like Jaskier minds. He jerks his chin over to the old guy that has made his way into the hall and a beeline for Yennefer and Ciri. “Who is that? Why have you not introduced me?”

Geralt looks like he’d rather stab his eyes out than see who Jaskier has put his sights on, but eventually he sighs and turns around a bit jerkily to peer at the back of the old guy’s head.

“Vesemir,” he says simply in a slightly strangled voice, then turns and… leaves.

Jaskier is not put off by it; Geralt is a strange fellow and usually doesn’t know when something good bops him right on the nose.

And damn, Vesemir is something real good. Jaskier just has to get his hands on him.

.oOo.

He does. Well… well he gets his hands on him – and a lot more.

Vesemir is just as stoic and… Witcher-esque as Geralt – no surprise there – but he is not at all hard to get once Jaskier creeps his way into his bedroom deep at night and finds himself walking into an open blade that has been pointed at him in the inky darkness.

He doesn’t have to explain himself long either… maybe because he’s made it so very easy to undress him; his shirt having been open and the ties of his britches barely tightened up enough to cling to his hipbones.

He designed it to make himself look like a whore and the message thankfully comes across clearly. Geralt certainly could learn a thing or two still from this bear. Like not being so fucking obtuse when a wonderful opportunity jumps ass first into your face (almost literally).

Soon enough he is face down on the bed, biting at a pillow that smells so deeply and intensely of the man currently dragging his tongue across the tight clench of his hole, that his mouth is just flooding with saliva. Oh God why is he so tasty?

He’s whispering soft little nothings whenever he isn’t suffocating himself in the pillow and wasn’t aware Vesemir was even listening to them until he pauses and inhales sharply, his breath wafting over Jaskier’s wet hole once he breathes out forcefully.

“What’d you call me?” he asks all gruff and… well… well Witcher-esque. Turns out that the whole ‘big dark and brooding’ comes with the title and is not just something that Geralt has shrouded himself in to be more mysterious and handsome.

Jaskier fumbles down, trying to grab his flexing cock and rub it just to take the edge off while he tries to figure out what Vesemir meant, but a sharp slap to the back of his hand deters that again.

“What did you call me,” Vesemir asks again; there’s not much of a question in there, though. It’s growled and demanded, though Jaskier can’t say that it sounds angry, per se.

His brain only comes up with one answer. He isn’t entirely sure if it’s the right one but…

“Daddy,” he groans. He never really does well with authority but oh shit when he does… then he gets off just from having an old Witcher slapping his ass and calling him a naughty little boy.

His eyes roll into his head, balls feeling sensitive as if they had been the ones receiving the sharp love tap.

Vesemir pushes himself over his back, all that delightful salt-and-pepper fur scratching along Jaskier’s spine. He’s pretty hairy himself but oh if that doesn’t make him feel all small and young again-

Vesemir’s broad fingers find his previously licked hole and massage it very briefly before rudely hooking one of his digits inside. Jaskier’s body opens up for it like he’s been waiting for it for weeks.

It doesn’t burn. He wonders if Vesemir performed a sleight of hand and has been massaging some numbing agent into his muscles but all Jaskier feels is the rough fingertip dragging against the silky, spongy walls of his intestines until it finds where to push to make him sing-

“Say it again,” Vesemir croons, the whiskers of his beard tickling Jaskier’s ear as he tries to catch his breath enough to speak. His body feels hot and sensitive just from having a bear like the old guy putting some weight on him and making him feel close to being crushed.

Jaskier wheezes, fingers digging against the thin, uncomfortable mattress. He’ll be sporting bruises all over his body and remember the bear that dicked him every time they ache…

“Daddy,” he finally gets out when his brain starts to shut down and stops overthinking things. His reward is to feel the warm, broad tip of Vesemir’s cock pressing against his hole once he stops fucking his fingers into him and dragging his thick knuckles against the sensitive rim of his hole.

It’s all good in his book. It’s all just fine and dandy as long as he gets filled and fucked and someone puts an arm around his neck so he won’t break his nose against the stone wall while he gets rammed into next week-

Vesemir doesn’t need to be told. He has a hand around Jaskier’s throat, both keeping him safe and also choking him as he starts to rock his dick into him, spreading him open far wider than his thick fingers had…

“Oh that is… that is marvelous, that is… that is just beautiful,” Jaskier croaks out, unable to stop the flood of words that wants to come dripping out of him. It feels like he would have to combust if he didn’t get to pour out all the things that were inside him.

Vesemir is chuffing. It almost sounds like a laugh. Doesn’t keep him from steadily squeezing more and more of his dick into Jaskier’s quivering insides that keep clenching nervously, waiting for the ache to come that never arrives…

“You never shut up, do you?” Vesemir croons. He doesn’t sound angry or overly annoyed… that’s nice. That’s real good.

Jaskier pushes up against him, arching his back like a cat to rub up to him as much as possible – and also try and spear himself on the whole length of Vesemir’s cock.

“Should I… should I stop? Oh Lord your cock is… oh it’s big, so big, so fat can you just move please? I would be so much obliged if you just… just a little bit of movement with that big juicy dick-”

“Say the word,” Vesemir interrupts him. It doesn’t go past Jaskier’s overheating brain that he hasn’t been told to stop babbling like the bitch he is quickly devolving into. Vesemir moves his hips just a little as he says it, dragging what feels like millimeters of dick against Jaskier’s needy insides until he almost starts to sing a litany of ‘please daddy’s.

That gets him what he wants. He can appreciate the approach: giving him sugar whenever he does something well. He has always thrived beneath some gentle teaching. He definitely is motivated to keep being a good boy. To say and do whatever Vesemir could want of him just so he’d continue fucking him nice and slow with a smooth roll of his hips-

Vesemir bears down against him harder, pushing down on Jaskier’s back until he gives with a whine and just lays down on the bed, buried beneath the bulk of a Witcher that fucks him nice and slow.

He can’t remember the last time he’s been dicked down so nice and unhurried. The low grunts in his ear keep plucking a string inside him that vibrates throughout his whole body. It is almost better than the immense stretch of his hole or the delicious ache in his thighs as he lies there with his knees spread off to the side, just offering himself up without any defense.

The roll of Vesemir’s hips is hypnotizing. He fucks exactly like he looks: like a bear that’s fucked often enough to be bored by it. A breeding stud that does it when he sees there is someone in need…

Not that it feels like the old guy is doing it just for Jaskier’s sake; he seems more than interested in having a pretty man like Jaskier call him daddy and submit to all the gentle bullying he is doling out.

“Go on, little boy… don’t you want to come? I’d try if I were you. Night’s long, you know,” Vesemir croons. It’s the most he’s yet said to Jaskier, and it hits him nice and deep where it counts.

He tries to tilt his ass up into the fucking, give his poor dick some relief where it is trapped beneath his belly and the mattress… but in the end it feels like he really is a little boy that is wetting the bed, the warm gooey feeling of cum against his stomach enough to keep him nice and hard for however many rounds were still in store for him.