#@gravitational813

[ex0rin]

it’s me hello i’m a whore uhhh 26 and/or 30 would be spicy as hell i am particularly fond of bucky with zemo but honestly you know what go for whatever if you write these (what’s the secret number for 250 words about batman stepping on someone’s throat)

Hi! Yes and yes and then also yes (after the read more)

WinterBaron, WinterBones (past) (NSFW) erotic branding, fisting, possessiveness - 370 words

Bucky’s struggling to hold the flame from the lighter steady while his entire body shakes; his thighs are parted wide, shoved open and hitched up over the other man’s shoulders in a way that bends him almost in half - he can barely breathe around the constant, pulsing ache between his legs, “I can’t,” he says with a wince and another trembling shudder, “Zemo, I can’t.”

“You can,” Zemo starts - he looks down to where the widest part of his gloved and curled fist is catching up against the clench and fight of Bucky’s puffy, used hole, “you’ve done it for men who would have rushed it James,” he continues, his voice soft and sweet despite the sharp trigger of the memories those words conjure in Bucky’s head; the knuckle of Zemo’s thumb slips in past the soaked and well-lubed rim, letting Zemo’s full hand sink inside just as he says, “just breathe James, you can do it for me.”

Bucky gasps around another sobbing breath, his thumb flicks over the flint wheel again and again until the fire licks up against the raised circular symbol that marks the signet ring that Zemo wears on his other hand, on the hand that’s not fisted and twisting inside of Bucky’s body - Zemo pushes forward a little more and holds Bucky’s eyes as the metal heats around his index finger, “Tell me where.” he says, the flame glinting in the darkness of his eyes.

“Here,” Bucky breathes out - he drops his hand, his fingers curling around the lighter and feeling the burn of the metal against his palm; he taps down against his chest and over the amateurishly carved R that marks his skin with faint and faded white lines, “put it here.”

Zemo turns his ringed-hand down over the scar while letting his other sink even deeper into the warm, tight heat of Bucky’s body; he pushes down, bringing his mouth closer to the gasping part of Bucky’s spread lips, “You’re filled with me James, you’re covered in me.” he says, letting his mouth slide over Bucky’s and pushing the red-hot brand of his crest against Bucky’s previous handlers signature until they can hear the sizzle of skin between them, “I’ve got you now.”

From this kink ask meme More of my writing can be found on AO3

Batman/some guy (as a treat) boots, bruises - 140 words

The bulky, thick treads dig in, hard enough to leave indented marks against the man’s throat - the bat grinds his heel down with a heavy twist, really pushing the rubber and ridges in and leaving the man on the ground gasping brokenly around the pressure; the man can feel the dirt and gravel from the bottom of the boot like little pin pricks being buried in the taut stretch of his neck.

He tries to speak, to beg over the loud rush of blood pounding in his ears but the bat leans in further, shoving all of that leather-bound weight forward to increase the force and strain against the man’s neck - he can feel the blood rising beneath his skin, bruises blossoming under each curve at the bottom of the bat’s boot.

The man gasps for air, for breath, but none comes.

#cara writes #writer meme #kink meme #@gravitational813 #asked and answered #winterbaron #winterbones #bucky tag #zemo tag #rumlow tag #ALSO! #the batman tag

[xdandelionxbloomx]

I hope you realize I'm keeping the emoji and the tag - I've grown attached. Alright, alright, well... "The Hope Inside" by Colony House gives me some serious Geraskier vibes, and I hope you like it! Spotify Release Radar did good this time. Also, PSA to everyone else seeing this: this person's awesome. Seriously, go give them some love. They deserve it. - butterfly anon

This took me a hot minute because I didn’t have a clear image when I listened to the song, but it finally hit me! It is a good song!

Has it been happening all this timeLike another breath that goes unnoticed?

Geralt wasn’t quite sure how it managed to sneak up on him - 

Not many things ever have, so it was startling - 

The children crowded around him, patting at his armor, eyes wide and curious. A few mothers watched from the sidelines, but the same as they might watch over young children around any traveler - 

“You’re the White Wolf, right?” A little girl asked, awe in her voice. Geralt hesitated, glancing to the side where Jaskier stood, smiling at him gently. He wasn’t sure he could look at that expression for too long - it held too much softness for a creature like himself. 

And yet. 

Geralt swallowed thickly, before he lowered himself to a crouch, the children trilling their delight around him. Little hands patted at his sword’s sheath, and a few played with his hair - it had grown out past his shoulders and he’d planned on getting it cut despite the betrayed look Jaskier had given him when he mentioned it. 

(Maybe he’d been putting it off a bit since then, but no one had to know that. It certainly wasn’t because Jaskier had taken to braiding his hair after baths. No.)

“I am.” Geralt rumbled, quietly. 

The girl grinned at him, her little hands bracing on his shoulder as she got jostled by one of the other kids, righting her balance. 

“I wanna be like you when I grow up. My nan said I’d be good at it. I beat Jamie at wrestling and I--” 

“You did not!” One of the boys protested, shoving her and she whirled on him and shoved back even harder, sending him sprawling. 

“I did! You’re just embarrassed!” Geralt carefully put an arm between the two, torn terribly. Because she didn’t really want to be like him, she-- 

Wanted to be like the image that Jaskier created. 

Geralt blinked, turned his head to look back at the bard. 

“Oh, come now.” Jaskier stepped forward to break the fighting up as Geralt stood slowly, careful not to knock any of the children down. “No need to fight. I’ll sing you a song if you calm down - one I haven’t had a chance to sing to any other town yet.” He grinned a dazzling sort of thing and Geralt’s mind scrambled to catch up - 

When had all that happened?

+++

The inn was nice. 

Geralt had a good bath and currently was enjoying the luxury of a bed that was decently comfortable, Jaskier’s clever fingers buried in his hair. 

And yet. 

Geralt couldn’t fully relax, brows furrowed as Jaskier worked on braiding his hair back. 

“I’m not the man you sing about in your songs.” Geralt murmured, suddenly, and Jaskier’s fingers paused in their work. 

“Yes, you are.” Jaskier responded, tying off the braid and brushing his hands over Geralt’s shoulders. 

Geralt couldn’t remember when he came to enjoy the touch, when it became simply touching for touching and not an asking for anything more. 

“I am not good.” Geralt forced the words up and out because Jaskier needed to understand - this image he sang about might rake them in coins, but Geralt didn’t need people wanting to be like him. In fact, that was the worst thing they could want - 

“Oh, Geralt.” Jaskier’s voice was heavy with sadness and when he leaned closer, Geralt could smell the fresh dew of spring and the earth after a storm - adoration and sadness all at once. He shivered, turning his head to glance over his shoulder at the bard, confused. 

“You are the best man I’ve ever met.” Jaskier said, simply, like it didn’t pull the world out from under Geralt. 

“Don’t lie.” Geralt managed, frowning, and froze when Jaskier’s fingers smoothed out his brows. 

“I’m not.” Jaskier leaned his chin against Geralt’s shoulder and instead slipped his arms around the witcher’s waist, holding him easily, as if Geralt wasn’t a monster in his own right. 

“I don’t understand.” Geralt croaked, and Jaskier smiled, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. 

“You don’t have to. Just let me care for you, Geralt. That’s all you have to do. Which, really, truly just means letting me stick around and you’ve done a fairly good job of that so far.” Jaskier did manage a laugh then, nuzzling at the side of Geralt’s neck, making the witcher melt back against the bard’s chest on instinct. 

He hummed a low noise, muscles finally relaxing against his better judgement. 

#gravitational813 #butterfly anon #geraskier #geralt x jaskier #q&a

[cymothoe]

Jocund

This is for @gravitational813, who gave me the prompt of “laughter”, which I of course had to turn into hurt comfort (but the happy ending has already been achieved):

Geralt never did figure out what Jaskier found so funny. He was mostly just surprised at first, in the low light of the candles flickering on the bathwater, sponging down Jaskier’s back for the dozenth time (but the first time, the first time in what felt like a lifetime, that Jaskier had been fully - well, mostly - upright and not shivering for it), as he heard those soft chuffs of laughter escape from wry lips. He knew all of Jaskier’s ticklish spots, and these weren’t them. 

He could have been laughing at some joke he remembered - the last few days of delirium had treated them both to a parade of unearthed memories, but most of those weren’t much cause for merriment. Maybe he was just laughing at Geralt himself - but surely he had had time to get used to the image of the mighty witcher, kneeling by a sickbed, tending him with careful, desperate, unworthy hands, throughout the course of this fever. Besides, while Jaskier’s sense of humour rarely spared Geralt’s pride, he didn’t think his lover would have laughed at him now. Not after last night, in the last harrowing hours before the fever broke, when Jaskier had been so far from lucid and practically cross-eyed with pain - even then, he had grabbed Geralt’s hand once, pulled him close and said “Please, love. Please don’t be sad.”

None of that had been funny. But maybe this was, a bit: Jaskier, naked,  slumped and flushed and giggling away in the bathtub, pressing his mouth into his forearm to muffle himself but sneaking little glimpses at Geralt out of the corner of his eye. Perhaps he was still just a little bit out of his head. Geralt, limp with exhaustion and relief, hair somehow fluffy and stringy at once, carefully washing the last of the sweat off of him, gazed at their bed, made up with clean sheets and waiting, finally, for both to sleep at once, together. He shook his head, bewildered by his good fortune, and laughed, lowly, along with Jaskier.

#the witcher #geralt x jaskier #geraskier #hurt/comfort #gravitational813

[thorniest-rose]

Brooke: I’m nearing the end this time! Also Brooke: ... hey you know what I need to proofread these extra 5,000 words - no but really take your time!! we’re all foaming at the mouth for this and it’ll be perfect when you post

Hahaha, oh god, I know. This has been me all week:

Me: My FIC is FINISHED People who like my fics: Hurrah! Where the’s ao3 link bitch Me: No wait I need to add 10,000 more words People who like my fics: WHAT NO

Like Eddie and Richie, I’m pure of heart but dumb of ass.

#asks #gravitational813 #tender was the flesh at his neck

[teddylacroix]

Say five things you like about yourself, publicly, and then send this to 10 of your favourite followers (positivity is cool) ♡

@gravitational813​ @xdandelionxbloomx​ @humii369​ @disasterboysandtheirgruffloves​ I’ve been putting this off because it’s so difficult to come up with, but after getting a small stream of them, I suppose I should finally do it...! Thank you all for spreading such lovely positivity across Tumblr

I am always up for anything creative, no matter how bad I am at it. I’m big on art for the sake of art; so much of my tablet right now is Witcher fanart that will probably never see the light of day, but that doesn’t stop me from doing it. My longbow is one I made, I built several of my benches, I painted my entire living room wall on a whim, I love reading, writing, poetry, lyrics, music, painting, scrapbooking, photography. If it’s art, I’m in!

I’m also always up for an adventure! I love to travel, I love to try new foods, I love just going for a drive and making stops along the way anywhere that catches my eye. (I don’t love driving itself, so I’d rather play passenger, but still.) I’m the friend you call up because you decided you’d like to visit Italy or try a new restaurant or randomly go to the coast. (But, you know, with enough advance notice to budget for it. :P)

I’m quite good with cats. Several of my friends and neighbors have skittish kitties, but given a fairly short span of time, they all come to like me.

I... like that I can cook from scratch? I mean, I don’t use recipes unless it’s just to check the temperature for baking something, I make everything on the fly. I thought that was how everyone cooked, to be honest, until isolation happened and my 50+ year old coworkers started doing a recipe share because they’d run out of things they knew how to make!

I’m quite good with money. Not in an investment/savings kind of way—I know nothing about stocks and don’t care enough to learn—but I’m very thrifty (maybe a bit stingy lol), live simply, always wait for sales, and have great self discipline. I’m also fortunate enough to have good health insurance, so my medical costs aren’t bad. (Dental, on the other hand... ouch.) My parents are quite poor, and my dad is terrible with money, so I learned very early what to avoid; I was our class banker in 4th and 5th grade. :)

Thank you for tagging me!!! I think everyone but me has done this by now :O

#tag game #gravitational813 #xdandelionxbloomx #humii369 #disasterboysandtheirgruffloves #teddy talks

[inber]

A/N: Happy beginning of spooky month, everyone! I doubt I will write a drabble every single day, but I might attempt it! Perhaps some mix of my own ideas and the kinktober prompts that @gravitational813​ has kindly provided. I chose today’s fluffy theme: ‘Bump in the Night’.

A cold nose snuffling into the back of his neck rudely awakens Geralt. He's alert and aware of his surroundings in mere seconds; a witcher that suffers from brain-fog is not a witcher that stays alive for long. Nothing appears abnormal. Above him, the moon bloats ethereal silver as it waxes, autumnal; he can smell the approach of morning rain, and Jaskier is curled tightly against his back--

Wait.

“Jaskier?” Geralt grunts, the steel-edge of his baritone blunted by sleep.

“Mmm.” Jaskier acknowledges, and as if reading Geralt's mind, he snuggles closer. Snorfs little puffs of air behind Geralt's ear. Reflexively, Geralt resists the urge to giggle at the sensation.

“Why aren't you on your bedroll?”

“There was a scary noise.” Jaskier's voice is muffled in the fabric of Geralt's night-shirt. “Didn't want to get eaten.”

Fair enough, Geralt thinks, and stills himself to listen to the forest that cocoons them again. The occasional scuffle of paws – rabbits in burrows – too far away for Jaskier's human hearing to detect. He can hear water running to the north. A fox barks, territorial, and Jaskier flinches.

“Oh, Gods! There it is again. What is it, Geralt? It sounds perfectly wretched!”

The truth dances on the tip of Geralt's tongue as Jaskier wraps one arm securely around Geralt's torso, his fingers knotting into the folds of Geralt's shirt. Calming him would be an easy feat – fuck, Geralt could even traipse out there and shoo the fox away – but would Jaskier return to his own bedroll, then? The bard is ever-so warm. That must be why Geralt feels so cosy and settled.

“Don't know.” Geralt says. “Could be anything.”

He's a shit liar, but Jaskier doesn't pick up on it. Instead, he throws one leg around Geralt's, apparently intent on entangling himself completely with the other man. Geralt feels... warmer. He doesn't mind it.

“Gods,” Jaskier repeats, “will we be okay? Will it smell us? Is it friendly, maybe?”

Geralt hides a smile behind the spill of his own hair. “It sounds like it's passing through. We'll be okay.”

“Good,” Jaskier whispers, “that's good.” He's no longer trembling so much. After a beat, he asks, “um, can I sleep here? Please?”

It's not behaviour that Geralt should encourage. They are both grown men, after all, and there isn't even any threat. Still, if it'll make Jaskier feel more secure, where is the harm?

“Just for tonight,” Geralt acquiesces, letting a touch of irritation colour his tone, “don't get used to it, bard.”

“You're the best.” Jaskier mumbles, already sounding sleep-drunk, tucking his forehead against Geralt's shoulder. “Night, Geralt.”

Geralt makes a non-committal grunt. Jaskier is out in seconds, snore-honking in the quiet way he does when he's relaxed. Stupid bard, Geralt thinks, I'll never get peace like this.

He blinks, and it's dawn.

#the witcher fandom #the witcher fanfiction #october day 1 #fortune writes #inber

[vulturhythm]

so uh idk bro

follow me on twitter @/gravitate813

follow me on instagram @/gravitational813

promos for old fics previews of new ones prompt requests red dead content miscellaneous bullshit

etc etc

dm if you want my discord to talk ships or fics or what the hell ever honestly

#personal #geraskier #the witcher

[valdomarx]

i was tagged by the lovely @witchertrashbag and @gravitational813 to post my fanfic trope tier

so maybe i do love those classic cheesy fic tropes?? and what of it???

i’ll tag @lilacsdandelionsandonions @girl-in-red-crossing and @shipwrecked-nawtali if you’d like to play

#tag games #i'm a simple woman i see 'first time' and 'sharing a bed' and i click

[disasterboys]

17 Questions!

Tagged by @the-winter-witcher thank you darling!!

Nicknames: Britain, mrs montegue

Zodiac: 🦀 the most cancer-like Cancer you’ll ever meet

Height: 5’4” (am smol)

Hogwarts House: I’m a cusp, I can be a hardcore Hufflepuff and a Straight up Slytherin depending on the day/situation. I can make the best cookies you’ll ever eat but I will come after you with my cookie sheet if you fuck with me.

Last thing I Googled: why does my kitten bite my face? One of my kittens likes to paw at my face and nibble and I was trying to figure out why lol

Song stuck in my head: How Strange by Robert Hallow and the Holy Men

Number of followers: 595 (wow that number jumped lol. Idk why you guys are here but I love you all!!)

Amount of sleep: I am not sure what time I went sleep so like maybe 7 hours? (Too much wine man)

Lucky number: idk maybe 5?

Dream Job: working in a non profit, not sure what all it would entail but that’s my dream

Wearing: tank top and workout shorts (I haven’t changed out of my pajamas yet)

Favorite song: Farewell Wanderlust, Wild Blue Yonder by TAD and I design disasters and How strange by Robert Hallow and the Holy Men.

Favorite instrument: I don’t play but I adore the cello and am thinking about getting lessons

Aesthetic: crystals, soft blankets, the moon, winter, long nights

Favorite author: Libba Bray

Favorite animal noise: the happy chirps of kittens when you come home

Random: when I am stressed, I either sleep or I scrub every single inch of my kitchen.

Tagging: @fruitysoakedbih @laymedowninsheetsoflinen @who-alem @gravitational813 @a-disaster-gay @lutes-and-dandelions @dandelionpoet

#tag games #dany drones

[ex0rin]

uh so i just left the batman movie and uh. the boots. the fighting. the blood. the bo o t s

y-yeah, yeah.

look, I am begging for gifs of his boots - I know I KNOW that I'm the weirdo boot kink girl on everyone's tumblr but like, show me the boots someone please it's been almost a month since I saw it and I have been suffering through this hardwired desire alone

but yes, yeah, thank you for sending this ask in solidarity

#the batman #the batman 2022 #the batman spoilers #(i guess??) #boot kink #i just remember them being very good #asked and answered #@gravitational813

[xdandelionxbloomx]

Your daily reminder that I adore you, and this will never, ever change. You’re a bright spot in my life, and you make me smile every day. Life’s dealt you a shit hand lately, and I wish I could do more to help, but in the meantime, I just want to say I love you. So, so, so glad I worked up the nerve to tag you on the pirate AU. Love, 🦋

Ilysm I can't even put it in words thank you 💚💚💚 I'm so glad I met you 😭

#q&a #butterfly anon #gravitational813 #i did in fact tear up st this ask

[cymothoe]

Hurt/Comfort prompts, maybe?

I’ve never done this before, but inspired by the great work of @gravitational813, I would like to invite anyone who happens by to send me a Geralt/Jaskier hurt/comfort prompt (either a whole idea or a just a word or concept) for a short snippet. I must note, my writing gears are incredibly rusty and slow and I can make no promises to fulfill all, or, indeed, *any* prompts. Truly, you would be doing me a favour to offer me inspiration and if it bears any fruit we can both be surprised! Hurt (or sick) Jaskier with protective/caring Geralt is probably best since that’s the one track my mind has been running on since early February. Thank you for your consideration!

#geralt x jaskier #geraskier #hurt/comfort #story prompt

[thorniest-rose]

Is it a Grimm fairytale? Hmm...

That would be too telling I think, haha. But you’re on the right lines.

#asks #gravitational813 #tender was the flesh at his neck

[teddylacroix]

💐🌷🌹🌺 SEND THIS TO TEN OTHER BLOGGERS YOU THINK ARE WONDERFUL. KEEP THE GAME GOING 💐🌷🌹🌺

😭😭 Senpai noticed me!

Thank you @gravitational813 !! You are amazing!!!

#teddy replies #gravitational813

[littlestarofthewest]

💐🌷🌹🌺 SEND THIS TO TEN OTHER BLOGGERS YOU THINK ARE WONDERFUL. KEEP THE GAME GOING 💐🌷🌹🌺

Thank you so much!! Always makes my day to get one of these 💕

#answered asks #sweet people #gravitational813

[inber]

A/N: Happy day two of spooky month! I chose to do one of @gravitational813 ‘s Geraskier kinktober prompts today - 2. ‘Ride His Thigh’. I baked a giant cake today and I am very tire, so this is a bit low effort, but thems the breaks sometimes. Enjoy!

Jaskier cannot sit or stand still. Geralt has a pet theory that if he does not fidget or dance or wriggle about like a hunting stoat at all times, Jaskier might suffer some sort of catastrophic bodily failure. Even in his sleep, he kicks his damn feet. The skipping dreams, Geralt privately calls them, because Jaskier tends to smile and hum, too.

It's the same tune on his breath now, and a similar shuffling jig. Geralt is atop Roach, letting her set the easy walking pace, and Jaskier is cavorting at their side. This is not unusual.

“Tired, bard?” Geralt asks, because they have been on the road for a few hours.

“Huh-wha?” Jaskier blinks himself out of his daydream, and beams up at Geralt. “Oh, no. All this travelling with you is doing me the world of good, actually. Had to let the seams out a little on these breeches the other day!”

Geralt's eyes drift down to where Jaskier is patting his own thighs, and he's distracted by the subtle clench and shift of muscle hidden beneath pale golden fabric that is very unsuitable for hiking. Perhaps it's because he's in the bard's company so frequently, but Geralt has hardly noticed the gradual change in Jaskier's physique. In Geralt's imagination, Jaskier is still the eighteen-year-old ne'er-do-well that he picked up like a flea in Posada's tavern.

Before him, Jaskier is hale and strong. The two images grate upon each other in Geralt's mind. Eventually he realises he's staring, and jerks his gaze away with shame pinching pink at his ear-tips.

If Jaskier noticed the transgression, Geralt cannot tell. The bard is chattering about sewing and boots and something about – fuck, his smallclothes – and he's still skipping. Even as he talks, Jaskier hums. Geralt sets his mouth into a hard line and resolutely keeps his eyes upon the horizon.

----------------

“Pass the fish.”

“Get it yourself.” Jaskier smugly taunts Geralt from atop his makeshift throne of stone, a boulder that he is sat upon, the fire-roasted food beside him. He's finished eating, and is now preoccupied with his notebook. Geralt glares at him; Jaskier does not take notice.

With an irritated grunt, Geralt pushes himself up, leaning over Jaskier's lap to reach for the plate. As he does so, Jaskier's leg slots between Geralt's own. In a move so subtle it might be mistaken for accident, Jaskier rubs the length of his thigh gently along Geralt's soft, cloth-covered prick.

It twitches with instant interest, and Geralt makes a quiet moan in the back of his throat. He freezes in place, mortified. Jaskier chuckles, faux-sweet.

“I saw you leering at my legs, earlier. See something you like, darling witcher?”

Jaskier's breathy voice makes Geralt prick all over with interest, and his cock fattens further in his breeches. He shivers. That silky-slippery thigh presses a bit harder, grinds nice and slow, and Geralt finds himself obediently rolling his hips.

“Mm-hmm,” Jaskier purrs, “that's what I thought.”

Dinner forgotten, Geralt plants both his hands firmly on either side of Jaskier on the rock, shuffling his feet apart, rutting in time with Jaskier's movements. He can feel the thick muscle shifting beneath Jaskier's pants, cobra-coiled and disciplined, and the potential strength of it makes Geralt feel dizzy. Geralt fumbles for the buttons on his own trousers, fingers clumsy, but Jaskier pulls away.

“Ah, ah,” Jaskier tuts, “you like my thighs so much, you'll take your pleasure from them, and them alone. Go on, darling.” The leg re-appears, and Geralt whimpers gratefully. “That's it. Fuck against me, gorgeous.”

The adoring nicknames are making Geralt stupid, and he thinks he might do anything Jaskier says at this point, so long as he keeps his damn thigh there. Everything else dissolves into the background around him as Geralt humps faster and harder against Jaskier's leg like an animal, friction-fucked, a wet spot growing at the front of his breeches. It feels impossibly good.

“Oh, yes,” Jaskier encourages, “just like that. Look at you, so needy and beautiful. I want to feel you come against my thigh, Geralt. Wanna feel your prick swell and throb and know it was all me.”

Geralt does not know how Jaskier can be so verbose, because his own faculties have utterly failed, but some part of him is grateful. All the things Jaskier says just spur Geralt on faster, turn him on more, have him aching and bordering on feral with the urge for release.

And then Jaskier grips Geralt's arse, guiding his thrusts more directly, tighter. “So good, you're so good,” Jaskier whispers, “let go for me.”

Restraint flees him as Geralt jerks down and grips Jaskier's hips hard enough to leave finger-shaped bruises, his prick pulsing hard and wet in his smallclothes. Geralt's voice breaks on a deep groan as he comes, flooding his own pants with thick spurts that seem unending, soaking through to the material of Jaskier's trousers. He finds himself trembling and breathless in the wake of it all, utterly filthy and strung-out.

Jaskier giggles musically, pressing a chaste kiss to Geralt's cheek. “You're doing the laundry this week, dearest witcher.”

Geralt snorts, eased by the joke. “Fair,” he agrees, “but if that's to be the case, I think I'll make it more worth my while.”

Snatching Jaskier up from the rock, Geralt tumbles onto the bedroll already laid out on the ground, delighting in Jaskier's giddy squeals. The bard isn’t the only one with thigh tricks to share that night.

#the witcher fandom #the witcher fanfiction #october day 2 #fortune writes #inber