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#Jaskier is a SOFT boy okay
spielzeugkaiser · 4 months ago
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Season 2 reunion?? I think, as a character, Jaskier can be a petty man, but I also think, when it comes to Geralt... I could imagine it being easily forgiven. And honestly, I could see Jaskier only complaining about it afterwards, once they made up, in a overdramatic don't-think-you-actually-hurt-me-but-you-kinda-did-oh-well-no-confrontation-tho way, because... Abandonment issues?? *me thinking about hexer!Jaskier and crying* And, honestly. Jaskier is self-centered, but I can also see him being hurt (which he won't actually talk about) overriden by the joy that Geralt is safe.
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daddyissues-n-simping · a year ago
Little Secrets
So, I wrote another Geskier thingy. I'm curious if I should do a follow up chapter. The name of it is Little Secrets. I really like how it turned out. Warning nonexplicit mentions of child abuse. However quite a large amount about PTSD and night terrors. Also Jask ain't human. This story covers alot of headcannons I like.
Geralt sat confused at the edge of the inn bed. Jaskier was asleep, peacefully so. He looked unreal, and truly angelic. It left the Witcher dazed many times.
You see, it was just this thing about Jaskier. The man could talk for hours and hours, and you still wouldn't know anything about him.
 On the rare, very rare, occasion when Geralt would enquire about Jaksier's life before meeting him, he always got the same reply,
"Oh really now, Geralt? Asking questions when you don't tell a thing about yourself either?"
Thus, Geralt shut up and neither learned anything new about each other.
Another thing was the whole aging factor. Geralt had known the man for over twenty fucking years, and the damn bard hadn't aged a day.
It was bloody infuriating!
He had yet to inquire about the whole doesn't age thing. Maybe that also connected to Jaksier's past that Geralt was still unable to wring out of the man.
But here he sat looking at this ageless man who after twenty fucking years he still didn't know a damn thing about.
He had many thoughts about it all. Maybe the man was an escapee from some high court that had magic? Yeah... Don't judge him. He was still figuring out the hidden "lore" of Jaskier.
Geralt huffed and shook his head. He really shouldn't care about this human (?) man. However, for some reason a twinge settled low in him at just the thought of Jaskier getting harmed. He realized that whenever he went to fight that that damn sinking feeling he felt was the fear of never seeing Jaskier again.
Of course he would never admit this outloud, especially not before admiting he wanted to know more about Jaskier and his life.
Jaskier also did this thing that must be related to his childhood. The first time it happened Geralt wasn't really sure if he had seen it.
They were at a tavern like many times in the past twenty years. A man came up behind Jaskier, without the bard knowledge, and just touched him. Geralt saw how stiff the bard became, how wide his eyes grew, how his breath hitched, how he looked so pale and scared.
But it was gone as quick as it came. Jaskier calmed and then acted like nothing happened. So, of course, the Witcher did the same.
After that he noticed small things about Jaskier. Things like how he always tried to sit in the corner. The bard, no matter how much of a flirt he was, always refused to flirt with older men. Jaskier also would leave a room if there was more than one older, large male. If he could at least.
Jaskier would also have horrible nightmares. He would start screaming and crying and shoot up acting like a wild creature. He never knew where he was or what had happened. He would then curl up in a ball and cry.
When this happened Geralt would go over to him. He'd sit down and hug the bard close. Jaskier would always refuse however. Kicking and shoving attempting just to stay curled up. Eventually he would wear himself, making Geralt's job easier.
He would whisper, "It's okay, your safe." to the man until he fell back asleep, either from exhaustion of the day or the refusal to be touched. Normally always crying himself back to said sleep during the whole ordeal.
He had no idea if during those—usually 15— minutes Jaskier even knew what Geralt was saying. Afterall he never remembered the night before the next day. And maybe Geralt was glad he didn't.
Geralt hated those nights the worst. He hated seeing Jaskier cry. He hated seeing the one he loved in pain.
It made no sense to Geralt, but he never asked about it. Especially, after the night terrors. He could tell how poorly Jaskier reacted in those situations. And as he said he didn't want to lose the man. He cared for him was a good companion.
But anyways Geralt decided it was late and probably a good idea to head to bed. He looked over at the man next to him, they were only able to get one bed, before climbing in and going into a restless sleep.
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darkverrmin · 8 months ago
"Okay, that's all! See you in a few months, hope you have a nice winter with your family!"
Before Geralt could react, Jaskier wrapped his arms around his neck in a tight hug and pressed a kiss to his cheek. Geralt just stood there, blinking.
"Bye!" Jaskier called over his shoulder, as he took off in the opposite direction from where Geralt was heading.
Geralt remained standing in the same place for another moment, before shaking his head and turning away.
"Jaskier. Sit up. You need to drink this".
Jaskier groaned loudly, as he sat up slowly on his bedroll, holding his head in one hand. Geralt would have denied it, but he was worried. Jaskier was burning up, and none of the potions Geralt had made him drink so far helped. The Witcher hoped that this nasty-looking medicine he bought from a mage at the market (which also cost him almost all of his coin, not that it mattered now) will do the trick.
Jaskier downed the medicine, grimaced, and plopped back down onto the bedroll, burying his face in one of Geralt’s shirts, which he used as a pillow.
Geralt sighed quietly and moved to stand up from where he was kneeling beside Jaskier, when Jaskier weakly grabbed him by the arm.
"Thank you for taking care of me." Jaskier mumbled into the bedroll, tilting his head slightly to meet Geralt’s eyes.
"Shut up." Geralt replied, entirely fond. Jaskier giggled, bringing Geralt’s hand to his lips, and leaving a kiss there. A moment later, he was snoring softly.
Geralt didn’t leave his side the entire night. The back of his left hand, where Jaskier had kissed him, stung pleasantly. The Witcher breathed out in relief for the first time at dawn, when Jaskier's fever finally broke.
"You're not coming with us".
"Yes, I am".
"Leave it, Geralt." Lambert called from the other side of camp. "The boy's just not afraid of you anymore".
Jaskier showed him the middle finger, as he continued to glare at Geralt. "And don't you dare growl at me, Witcher".
"You're staying here and that's final!"
"Don’t yell at me!"
"I think you've forgotten where you are, bard. You're in a camp full of Witchers, who can kill you using only one hand, or the least tie you to a tree until we're back-"
"Eskel and Lambert love me and they'll never let you do that. And you, my friend, although big and seemingly threatening, are the sweetest and softest man I know".
Jaskier emphasized his words by taking a step closer to Geralt, wiping some dirt off his nose with his sleeve and placing a kiss there.
Geralt could only stare at him dumbfounded, ignoring his brothers, who started laughing uncontrollably.
"Geralt. Geralt- Oh, Gods. Geralt. Geralt, please, stay with me. Yen will be here soon. Please, don't leave me".
Geralt was barely aware of his surroundings. The pain in his side turned from sharp to dull. There wasn't the cold, hard ground under his head anymore. He was lying on something soft. Jaskier's lap, he realized.
Something wet was running down his temple, either his blood, sweat, or Jaskier’s tears.
Warm, shaky lips pressed themselves against his forehead. "Please, Geralt. Stay with me".
And he did.
"What's this?" Jaskier blinked at the book Geralt dropped in his lap. Geralt muttered something in reply.
"Come again?"
"A present." Geralt repeated, a little louder.
"Oh. For what occasion?".
"It was your birthday a couple of days ago".
Jaskier gave him a warm smile. "Aw, Geralt! You remembered!".
Geralt rolled his eyes. "Just shut up and tell me if you like it".
Jaskier looked down at the book in his hands and gasped quietly. "Oh. Oh, wow. It's-"
"I saw you examining it in the market the other day." Geralt mumbled, rubbing his neck awkwardly. "Thought you'd like it".
"I do! Thank you so much, dear!" Jaskier got up, pulling Geralt into a hug.
"Alright." Geralt muttered, patting Jaskier’s back. "Let go of me".
"Pff." Jaskier snorted, pulling away and placing a tender kiss to Geralt's clothed shoulder. "As if you don't like it. I'm onto you, Witcher. You're a sweet, soft man".
"Okay, this is it. See you in the spring. I'll miss you!".
Jaskier pulled Geralt into a hug, and this time Geralt hugged back. He'd been nervous about this moment for weeks. Other from the fact that he didn't want Jaskier to leave, he didn't want the younger man to leave feeling unwanted.
So when Geralt turned his head to kiss Jaskier on the cheek, he was so distracted, that he completely froze when Jaskier's nose bumped into his.
They stood there in silence, Jaskier's hands on Geralt’s shoulders, Geralt’s arms around Jaskier’s waist. Their noses touching, warm breaths mingling together.
Geralt gulped, panicking, and was about to pull away, when Jaskier placed a gloved hand on his cheek, stilling him. "Please," the younger man whispered, closing his eyes and leaning in.
Jaskier's lips were the softest and the sweetest, and once Geralt started kissing them, it was impossible to stop.
"Guess it's too late to be going anywhere today." Jaskier breathed out, a moment after Geralt rolled off of him.
"Hmm." Geralt replied, tossing another log into the fire, before crawling back under the blanket beside Jaskier. "C'mere." The Witcher muttered, pulling Jaskier against his chest.
"You're sweaty".
"You didn’t seem to be complaining about it a moment earlier".
Jaskier laughed, resting his cheek against Geralt’s chest. "You're right, I didn’t. That was a rather pleasant experience".
"Okay. The best. Magnificent. Fantas-".
Geralt laughed quietly and Jaskier smiled against his chest. The younger man hummed happily as Geralt started rubbing his back in soothing circles.
"Come to Kaer Morhen with me." Geralt muttered into Jaskier’s hair. "If you can. Or want to".
Geralt blinked. "Okay?"
Jaskier shifted in his place, so he could meet Geralt’s eyes. "Okay. They don't really need me at Oxenfurt this year, I'll just write them a letter. And I'd love to see Kaer Morhen again".
"It will be freezing. The winters at Kaer Morhen are harsh".
"So someone has to be there to warm you up, then". Jaskier smiled, pressing a kiss to the corner of Geralt’s mouth. "And I'll just love to cover your whole body with kisses. Again. And again. And again-".
Geralt cut him off by pulling Jaskier into a deep kiss. The Witcher smiled into the kiss, knowing they will have a whole winter of this. And hopefully, a lot more.
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The Way I Am
Pairing: Geralt x Jaskier Warning(s): virgin!geralt, loss of virginity, erectile dysfunction Rating: explicit
Summary: Geralt doesn't think anyone could ever want him because he can't perform sexually, Jaskier makes a point of proving him wrong.
Geralt has never been wholly comfortable with his body. It was essentially created to kill monsters and survive and for no other purpose and it does its job, but Geralt doesn't like it. And not only because now that he's older it's covered in scars and his left knee has never been the same since the injury, but his body doesn't function normally. He's not supposed to be human, not any longer, but he hates that his heartbeat is so slow, hates that he can't turn off the hypersensitivity when he's in a crowd. 
But the second round of trials brought with them an additional problem that he doesn't share with the others. When he was younger, it was his hair that bothered him the most, that set him apart even from the other Witchers who shared the rest of his maladies, but as he grew his hair became the least of his problems.
Geralt was fourteen when he realized his cock didn't work the same as everyone else's. Which is to say, it didn't work at all.
It wasn't unusual for the boys to mess around with one another; they were all learning and developing and with the heightened senses it could be a lot. But Geralt never had before and the very first time it went… badly. The other boy had been confused as to why he couldn't get hard and when Geralt had continued to struggle, the other boy eventually tired of waiting and went off to find someone else.
It hadn't meant much at the time, but Geralt had continued to dwell on it, thinking about the look on the other boy's face, how wrong it had made him feel. He hadn't tried again after that, afraid to face the same confusion and rejection a second time, afraid to even share his secret with those closest to him. Eskel, he's sure, wouldn't care that he was broken, but Geralt wasn't willing to take that chance.
So when they set out on the Path, Geralt makes a point to avoid sex in any context, bottling up the need when it arises and focusing on his job above anything else. He knows no one will want him because he has nothing to offer them in bed and that's just something he has to live with. But he still feels the need, still desires a soft touch, but even that seems beyond his reach because he's a Witcher and people have little love for Witchers.
Then, he meets Jaskier who is both a blessing and a curse. Because Jaskier is soft and sweet and beautiful and treats Geralt like he's no different than anyone else, but Jaskier is also stunningly beautiful and Geralt longs to get his hands on him. But he knows how that would end, so he keeps him at arm's length, and still, Jaskier just continues traipsing around after him. He takes his leave on occasion, but never longer than a few weeks at a time before he's bounding back into Geralt's life with some new wonderful thing to tell him about.
And Geralt, regrettably, falls hard.
He can't tell Jaskier how he feels because he knows the second they fell into bed together, the whole thing would fall apart. Because no one wants someone who can't perform and at this point, Geralt is so inexperienced, he'd be embarrassed to even consider sleeping with someone, even someone as caring as Jaskier.
So he keeps his feelings to himself for years, suffering through Jaskier's failed relationships and many more dalliances in between. And he tells himself he's okay with it because he could never be what Jaskier wants anyway. Then one night, they're in the city for a festival. Jaskier is performing and between sets he's ducking back to their table, chatting away happily with Geralt and sharing drinks with him. And by the end of the night, they're both a little drunk.
So when Jaskier saunters up and climbs into his lap, Geralt doesn't stop him. Because Jaskier's hands feel good on him and he so rarely gets to indulge in even the faintest of touches. Jaskier's sitting back, smiling at him as he twists his fingers through Geralt's hair and then he gently tips forward, pressing their foreheads together.
"Geralt?" he breathes, "Can I kiss you?"
Everything in him screams no because he can't let himself have this little bit of Jaskier and then never again, but he's already come this far. So he nods, slips a hand up around the back of Jaskier's neck and pulls him close.
And Jaskier's mouth slides against his own like it was meant for it, soft and needy and he doesn't seem to care that Geralt is a little out of his depth. He guides him, showing him how to move and Geralt copies Jaskier's motions as well as he can, licking lightly into his mouth and nibbling on his lip.
Jaskier moans against him, sliding forward so their bodies are pressed together, fingers tangling in his hair and tugging and oh he likes that. But then Jaskier pushes further, sliding a hand down Geralt's chest and pressing against his crotch, and Geralt panics.
He shoves him away without thinking, sitting back in his seat, and when he looks up Jaskier looks hurt and confused. And Geralt knows he can't tell but he doesn't know what to say to him, so he pushes himself up and hurries away, making for their room.
He shuts the door and locks it behind him, stripping out of his outer layers and curling up in the bed. He knows Jaskier will be back before too long or if Geralt's lucky, he'll find someone else's bed to sleep in tonight and Geralt won't have to worry about him until the morning.
But it isn't long before Geralt hears the clink of a key in the hole and the door pushing open into the room. He doesn't look up and he doesn't move from his spot on the bed, but he listens to Jaskier. The door shuts and Jaskier crosses to the other side of the room, carefully undressing, but what Geralt isn't expecting is to hear the sound of his footsteps coming back toward him. Then the blankets are pulled back and a gust of cold air hits his back before Jaskier climbs up into bed with him.
"I'm sorry," he whispers, reaching out and tentatively brushing his fingers along Geralt's back. "I didn't mean to push, I thought it would be okay."
"It's fine," Geralt whispers.
"Obviously not, darling or you wouldn't have pulled away like that. I don't mind."
"It is," Geralt insists, "I… like when you touch me."
"Okay. What was bad about tonight, then?" Geralt just groans into his pillow, pulling it up around his face. One of Jaskier's hands comes up to settle on his arm and he leans up over him. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to. But you can, Geralt. You can talk to me about anything."
"It's just," he pauses, curling his fingers around the edge of the pillow in frustration. "I'm… broken." Immediately, he can feel Jaskier's despair and he doesn't know what else to say, he doesn't want to make it worse.
"You're not, love."
"I am," he snaps, frustrated by Jaskier's continued gentleness. "My fucking prick doesn't work, Jaskier."
"Oh," Jaskier says quietly and Geralt wants to scream, to throw something, but Jaskier just wraps his arms around him and holds him closer. "They have medications for that, enchantments."
"They don't work. I got desperate once and tried, even Yen- It was the trials, Jaskier, it's irreversible."
"The others-" he starts but Geralt cuts him off.
"Just me."
Jaskier nuzzles against his back and squeezes more firmly around him. There's silence for a long time, just the sound of Jaskier's breath, and Geralt focuses on the steady rise and fall, letting it soothe him.
"You know," Jaskier whispers at length, "none of that matters to me. I'm so sorry you were made to feel like you were somehow broken, Geralt, but it doesn't matter to me. I- I love you. For who you are, not for your cock, and I don't want you to think something's wrong with you because of it. You're too important to me." Geralt scoffs and Jaskier flattens his palm against his chest, sliding up over his heart.
"Don't argue with me, Witcher. "My love is mine to give."
"But I'm-"
Jaskier sighs softly, brushing his fingers against Geralt's skin. "Beautiful," he whispers, "kind, soft, loving. You're a wonderful man, Geralt, and there are already so many who refuse to see that. Don't be one of them. I'm not going to stop loving you, so you might as well accept it."
He presses his forehead against Geralt's back, kissing up his spine and Geralt shudders under the touch, biting back the insistence that he's not enough, that Jaskier will tire of him because he can't fuck him. Eventually, the soft brush of Jaskier's fingers and his lips calms him and Geralt drifts off, still wrapped up in his arms.
In the morning, he wakes to Jaskier's breath against the back of his neck. They've shifted during the night, so Jaskier is curved right around him, fitted against his body like he belongs there, and as soon as he realizes Geralt's awake, Jaskier kisses the side of his neck and slides an arm up his chest.
"Good morning," he hums.
"Mm, morning."
"How did you sleep, love?" Geralt hums but doesn't answer. He slept better than he has in a long time, but he doesn't know how to say that to Jaskier. "Can I ask you something?"
"Does it still feel good when someone touches you?"
"I… don't know."
"Can I?"
"You don't have to," Geralt breathes, "I know it's not worth it for you-"
"Geralt," Jaskier interrupts gently, "I thought we went over this. I am in love with you and it's going to take a lot more than a soft prick to keep me away so unless you tell me not to, I will do everything I can to make you feel good."
Jaskier shifts behind him, and the arm wrapped around him slips lower, fingertips slipping through the patch of hair right above his waistband.
"Can I?" Jaskier asks again and Geralt can't bring himself to speak, too afraid to break whatever spell or dream he's trapped in. He nods against the pillow and Jaskier leans up, kissing his shoulder. "Tell me if it's too much, love."
Jaskier fumbles a little with the buttons on his trousers, getting them undone with one hand before slipping inside and wrapping around his cock. He squeezes a little at first, then moves on to stroking him slowly, letting Geralt feel him as he moves down the length of him. Sparks shoot up his spine and Geralt squirms, pushing into the touch and groaning softly because no one has ever touched him like this and it's overwhelming.
"I can't," he whispers and Jaskier immediately lets him go, but Geralt can feel Jaskier's cock swelling against his lower back and it only makes him feel guilty. "No one's ever touched me like that."
"Darling, I'm so sorry. Did it feel good?"
"Good," Jaskier hums, "that's all I want." Jaskier smoothes his hand up Geralt's side, kissing his shoulders and humming against him. "Do you want to try again? It can be a little overwhelming, but I promise you it'll feel good."
Jaskier gets his hand around him again and Geralt groans as he strokes him, fingers slipping up around the head of his cock pulling back at the foreskin so he can touch him properly. Pressure builds as Jaskier touches him, squeezing around the base then pulling up the length of him again. And Geralt can barely breathe, he’s engulfed with pleasure as Jaskier kisses his neck and his shoulders and presses up against him.
And Jaskier is hard, digging into the small of his back and Geralt wants so badly to turn around and touch him, but he can hardly think through the fog of pleasure. His hips twitch forward, pressing himself into Jaskier's hand and Jaskier loosens his grip a little, letting Geralt fuck between his fingers.
"You're beautiful like this," Jaskier whispers, "Geralt you have no idea how lovely you are." He hums against him, pressing his nose into Geralt's hair. "Are you gonna come for me?"
"It feels-" Geralt gasps, but then Jaskier's hand is around him again, slipping to the base to stroke him quickly.
"Good?" Jaskier asks.
"Like I'm gonna split apart."
"Yeah, it will. You're so close, love, so close."
Geralt jerks in his grasp as the pleasure peaks and he's not certain how he can contain this feeling but then he's coming, spilling over Jaskier's hand and onto the sheets. And he's never felt anything like it before but it's incredible. Blood rushes in his ears and he's only barely aware of Jaskier talking to him as he whines and squirms against him.
Then it's over and he's left panting and hot, sweat gathering at the hollow of his neck and Jaskier's hand slips up his chest soothingly.
"How was that?" he breathes, pressing his lips to Geralt's shoulder.
"Felt good," Geralt mumbles, "really good."
"Yeah," Jaskier agrees, "it feels incredible. And just think of all the different ways I can make you come." His hips jerk, pressing into Geralt's back and he mutters a faint apology against his skin.
"What about you?" Geralt asks, turning in Jaskier's arms to face him. Jaskier tips forward, catching his lips in a brief kiss.
"This is for you, my darling, we can worry about me another time."
"I've never," Geralt starts but he feels awkward talking about it and ducks his head, staring instead at where Jaskier's hand reaches out to twine his fingers with his own. "I've never been with anyone and I know I can't, but…" he trails off and Jaskier presses in again, kissing his lips before tipping his head up.
"Geralt if you want me to fuck you all you have to do is ask."
"I didn't think anyone would want to."
"I do. Fuck, Geralt, the number of times I've thought about it… I've always wanted you ever since the first day. I don't care how your body reacts as long as you're enjoying yourself. So yes, Geralt, if you want me to fuck you I'd be more than happy to."
"Please?" Geralt breathes and Jaskier gets both arms around him, hauling him up against him and rolling onto his back.
Geralt settles quickly as Jaskier's hands slide down his back and over his ass, catching on the waistband of his trousers. When he tips his head up, Jaskier is looking back at him, his eyes dark with lust but somehow still soft and Geralt can't help but dip down, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. And Jaskier hums against him, sliding one hand back up to the back of his head and deepening the kiss.
He presses one thigh between Geralt's legs drawing him in and Geralt lets out a shuddering breath as his cock grinds up against Jaskier's leg.
"That's it," Jaskier hums, "I'm here for you, too, darling just wanna make you feel good." He pushes his trousers down, encouraging the roll of Geralt's hips as he gets them off of him and then, as he brings his hands back up, Geralt's attention is diverted.
His cock feels incredible where he presses it into Jaskier's thigh, but practiced fingers slip up over his ass, spreading his cheeks and dipping between and Geralt holds his breath. Realistically, he knows how men have sex, has seen his brothers do it and has come across it more than once in his travels, but he never expected it to happen to him and he can barely think.
Jaskier reaches for something on the floor, fumbling with it, and the next time he touches him, his fingers are cool and slick. He drags them across Geralt's hole and Geralt whines at the sensation that flickers through him. He drops to his elbows, burying his face in Jaskier's neck.
"Feel good?"
"Good. Want more?"
"Mm," Jaskier hums, "how could I refuse when you ask so nicely?"
He brushes his fingers over him again, letting them catch on his rim and pressing a little firmer when they do. He circles his hole, pressing against it consistently and then pushes the tip of one finger into him and Geralt nearly cries out. Jaskier's free hand comes up to the back of his neck, stroking slowly.
"Still good?" he asks and when Geralt nods he hums pleasantly. "Good. It's gonna stretch a little, especially when I get my cock in you, but just tell me if it's too much, okay?"
Jaskier presses in a little further and Geralt inhales sharply. He remembers all the calming techniques he was taught as a child and shuts his eyes, breathing slowly. It feels good, having Jaskier's finger inside him and he likes the stretch of it, but he's already creeping close to the edge again, the pressure within him building and he doesn't want it to be over yet, he wants Jaskier to fuck him.
And it feels incredible when Jaskier adds a second finger, when he presses all the way in and rubs into him. He finds a spot deep within him that has Geralt moaning wantonly and grinding hard against Jaskier's cock. And Jaskier groans under him, not faltering as he continues thrusting into him, sending sparks of pleasure up Geralt's spine.
"Fuck," Jaskier groans, "Geralt you're so fucking sexy and you know I'd be happy to make you come on my fingers ten times over, but I'm not gonna last with you grinding against me like that. Think you're ready for my cock?"
"Yes," Geralt rasps and Jaskier is quick to pull out of him, but Geralt doesn't have the chance to miss the fullness before he's being shifted and the head of Jaskier's cock is pressing against him, pushing in.
It's much bigger than his fingers, but Geralt just keeps himself steady, face pressed into Jaskier's shoulder as he takes all of him. And once Jaskier is settled, he shifts his hips slowly, allowing Geralt to adjust to the intrusion.
And it feels amazing, the absolute fullness and the pressure against his cock as Jaskier's thrusts rock him and the fact that it's Jaskier, that he wants him despite everything. Geralt can't cope and he shuts his eyes, burying his face in Jaskier's neck and kissing him softly, frantically.
Jaskier keeps up the pace, finding an angle that hits that spot and sticking with it until Geralt can only whimper and moan with every thrust. It's all so much and before long, he's moving with him, unable to keep still any longer. He pushes back onto Jaskier's cock and ruts against his stomach, whining at the sensitivity of his cock and then without warning, he's coming.
He spills over Jaskier's stomach, dropping against him as waves of pleasure crash over him and he's barely aware of Jaskier coming too until he's pulling his head up and kissing him hard.
They rock through it together and Jaskier doesn't let him go for a second, running his hands over him and kissing him eagerly. It takes longer this time before Geralt finds his breath again, and when he does, Jaskier is right there with him, cheeks flushed and bright, and he can't help but lean in to kiss him again.
He doesn't know how long it is that they lay there, wrapped up in each other just kissing and touching, but eventually, it's Jaskier who pulls away.
"As much as I'd love to stay here for the rest of the day," he hums, lips still barely an inch from Geralt's, "I think we should have a bath and get some lunch."
Geralt would also like to stay in bed for the rest of the day, but his stomach grumbles at him and he finds himself agreeing. Jaskier runs a hand down his chest, wrapping loosely around his cock and brushing his fingers along it. Geralt's eyes flutter shut and Jaskier hums softly.
"If you're amenable," he breathes, "I'd like to rent a room at the kingfisher, one of the nice ones, and stay for a while." He slips his hand back up Geralt's chest and around the side of his neck. "I think we both deserve a break and I'd like some time to… get to know you better." His lips curl up in a cheeky smile and Geralt scoffs at him but doesn't resist when Jaskier draws him back in for a gentle kiss.
A shiver runs up his spine and Geralt thinks, maybe, that despite its flaws, his body isn't so bad after all.
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julek · 4 months ago
through mine, you were looking in yours
2.9K | d/s undertones, explicit sexual content | read on ao3!
“So, I’ve got a bit of a problem,” Jaskier says breathlessly from where he’s pressed against Geralt’s body, perched on his lap.
Geralt frowns and stops his movements, his fingers looped around the laces of Jaskier’s trousers. “What is it?”
Jaskier splays his hands on Geralt’s naked chest, a smirk on his face. “I can’t get enough of these,” he says, squeezing Geralt’s pectorals and pressing a kiss to his sternum.
Geralt pauses for a minute. Then, he shrugs. “There are worse problems to be had.”
Huffing a laugh, Jaskier presses a trail of kisses down Geralt’s chest, biting and licking as he goes down. He rubs his cheek against the soft hair that covers his stomach, now full and healthy from the gratuitous meals he gets to indulge in every day, presses tiny kisses to the scarred skin. His fingers come up to rub against Geralt’s nipples, and he bites down hard on his hip when he hears his Witcher moan.
“Sensitive, are we?” he teases, a mixture of lust and love and need in Geralt’s eyes that mirror his own. “I wonder if…”
He keeps rubbing, and gently, slowly licks one of his nipples with his tongue. He can feel the shudder that goes through Geralt at that, can hear the stutter in his breath.
He does it again.
“Jaskier,” Geralt breathes, and it’s a shallow thing. Jaskier sucks hard, his teeth grazing the skin. Geralt drops his head against the pillow, his fingers slipping through Jaskier’s hair, holding but not guiding — a silent plea for more.
Jaskier hums against his chest, sucking a bruise right over Geralt’s heart. It won’t last, he knows — but he also knows how much his Witcher likes the feeling. Keeping his touch light, he presses a kiss to his other nipple. He can feel Geralt’s fingers tighten in his hair.
“Yes, love?” he says, blowing on the hard nub, making Geralt hiss. “Something you wanted?”
Geralt blinks at him, slowly, and it’s a lovely sight. His hair is a mess, half-up and undoubtedly full of knots by now, and Jaskier loves him for it. His eyes are near black, pupils wide and blown with want, his lips red and bitten, caught between his teeth. He looks at Jaskier, and it almost makes the bard lose focus.
“Do something,” he rasps, but it doesn’t come as the warning it should be — a prayer, more like.
“But I am,” Jaskier says with a pout and props his head on one elbow, innocently drawing nonsense patterns on Geralt’s skin, ignoring the way Geralt’s need presses into his hip.
Geralt huffs, tries to wiggle under Jaskier’s weight. He could, of course — he could escape with a flick of a wrist, Jaskier knows — but he likes being held down, likes relinquishing his control to someone he knows will take care of him. Still, “Touch me.”
Jaskier frowns, amused. “But I am,” he insists, drawing a line down Geralt’s middle, stopping short of where he wants him, moving his finger up until he reaches Geralt’s mouth, following the line of his lips until Geralt sucks him in, and Jaskier knows he’s biting down a whine. “Oh, good boy.”
Geralt scrapes his teeth against Jaskier’s finger at the praise, and Jaskier gives him another. “Greedy today, aren’t we?” he coos, his free hand hovering over the waistband of Geralt’s smallclothes, and Geralt fruitlessly raises his hips, looking for friction. “That’s okay,” Jaskier soothes, “we’re just getting started.”
He takes his fingers back, leaning down to kiss Geralt, instead, and feels him melt back against the mattress. He’s endlessly grateful they’re locked away at Kaer Morhen, no innkeeper, no patrons, no looming monsters to get in their way — nothing but snow and wind and the occasional bleat of a goat as the perfect background. He can take his time like this, find all the ways to make Geralt pant and curse and, most importantly, truly enjoy himself. Jaskier’s biased, he knows, blinded by love and adoration, but he’s vowed to shower Geralt with love and affection until he no longer walks the Earth.
So, like a man on a mission, Jaskier gets to work. He grinds down against Geralt’s cock, feeling him hard and hot through their smallclothes, and smiles as Geralt groans, deep and raw. Geralt’s hands immediately find his waist, and Jaskier lets him, allows him to guide his movements as he kisses Geralt’s neck. Every point of contact feels like a bolt of lightning coursing through his veins, the way his palms map out the expanse of Geralt’s back, his arms, the place where thigh meets hip, the swell of his stomach. He takes his time with him, leaving every bit of empty skin accounted for.
He can feel Geralt growing impatient, angling his hips in a way that punches out little ah, ah, ahs out of him, but that’s not what’s happening tonight. Gently, Jaskier extricates himself from where he’s slotted against Geralt’s thigh, his heart swelling at the soft whine that escapes Geralt’s lips.
“Is that how you want to get off?” He asks softly, hums when Geralt shakes his head, his eyes screwed shut. “How do you want it, then?”
Jaskier can tell Geralt’s trying his best to stay still, but the way he’s clenching his fists on the sheets gives him away. “Hey, love,” he says, his voice impossibly soft, “you’re doing good.”
Geralt visibly relaxes, his eyes glowing in the candlelight, and Jaskier presses a kiss to his hipbone. “What would you like?”
“You,” Geralt says, wrapping his hands around Jaskier’s to try and pull him up for a kiss. “Please.”
Jaskier lets himself be led, but stops short of Geralt’s lips. “That’s a bit vague, isn’t it?” He says lightly, and runs a single finger down Geralt’s shaft, making him inhale sharply. “Can you be more specific, pup?”
Geralt squirms under Jaskier’s feather-light touch, brow furrowing as he tries to concentrate, but he’s so wound up already, Jaskier knows it would take three proper strokes for him to be an incoherent mess, so he stills. Geralt breathes in, then out, and says, “Want… want to fuck you.”
Jaskier lets out a soft fuck and presses a kiss to Geralt’s lips, murmuring a thank you against them as his insides burn, as he finally, finally takes hold of his own pressing need, his cock hard and aching against his trousers. Geralt’s hands start wandering down his body, his touch careful but with purpose, and Jaskier can’t help the shudder that runs down his spine as Geralt kneads his ass in one hand, the other spreading him even through the offending layer of clothing, tugging a bit.
Taking the hint, Jaskier leans back, kneeling on the bed, and quickly divests himself of his trousers, reveling in the choked noise that comes from Geralt’s mouth as his cock springs free, dark pink and leaking against his stomach. Knowing Geralt’s eyes are on him, he takes his time, teases himself a bit as he runs his fingers down his chest, up his thighs, until he finally takes himself in hand and gives his cock a few sloppy pulls, wet and messy from the precome gathered at the tip.
“Jaskier,” Geralt whispers, his eyes never straying and his fingers hooking under the waistband of his smallclothes. “Please.”
“Patience,” he says, groaning as he swipes his thumb over his slit one last time before withdrawing his hand completely. He gives himself a minute to just look at Geralt; the way he’s leaned back against the sheets and his chest is gleaming with sweat, how his amber eyes have gone honey-dark and he’s got that predator glint in them, carefully watching his prey before he pounces. He’s straining against his smallclothes, already leaking, and Jaskier can tell he’s uncomfortable in them, but it’s what he wanted — to be reduced to a worked-up mess, wet and filthy in his own need. The wood cracks in the fireplace, and Jaskier’s never loved him more.
Finally, Jaskier gets up, placing his discarded clothes on the nearby table and picking up the half-empty vial of oil laying there. It makes him smile, how unabashedly Geralt wants him; how often they find themselves in need of it, that it just lays out there in the open.
Geralt lets out a shaky breath as Jaskier gets up on the bed again, his knees bent against the sheets as he sits back on his heels. He opens the bottle and pours some on his fingers, letting it drip over his stomach before reaching behind himself. Geralt could touch him, could move a hand and grab him by the ankle and finger him open him himself, but he simply lays there, a breath away, waiting for Jaskier’s command.
“No touching tonight,” Jaskier breathes, running one cold finger up and down his crease. “Okay?”
Geralt lets out a strangled groan.
“Geralt,” Jaskier warns, his finger rubbing against his hole in small, tight circles.
“Okay,” Geralt says, finally, digging his nails into his palm as he watches Jaskier press the pad of his finger against his hole.
Jaskier lets out a groan as he breaches himself. He likes it when Geralt does it for him; likes feeling his thick fingers fill him up until he can’t breath, can’t think — but there’s something about making him watch, something in that ravenous gaze that makes his insides light up as he pumps one finger in and out of himself. He rocks back against his hand, a second finger making him gasp as he fucks himself slowly.
“You’re such a good boy,” he coos, sounding wrecked already. “So good for me, so patient.” Geralt moans, his gaze fixed on Jaskier’s hand. “Gonna make such a mess, aren’t you?”
Geralt moans louder and looks at him pleadingly, and Jaskier makes a split-second decision as he fucks himself more harshly now. “Gonna come so hard, aren’t you?” Geralt whines. “Gonna make me yours, Witcher?”
There’s a choked groan as Geralt comes, untouched, spilling into his smallclothes, and Jaskier moans at the sight. “That’s it, that’s it,” he praises, and it makes Geralt sob. His hands are still at his sides as Jaskier had requested, but his hair is thrown back and there’s a bead of sweat running down his throat, right over his jugular, that Jaskier desperately wants to run his tongue over. He slows down his movements, still fingering himself, and whispers, “Wish you could see yourself, pup— being so good for me.”
Geralt looks at him, utterly debauched, and Jaskier wants nothing more than to crawl onto his lap and kiss him senseless, but he knows he has to wait. Instead, he stuffs a third finger inside himself. “You’re so beautiful,” he breathes out, “so perfect, so eager.”
“For you,” Geralt says, fucked-out. “Only for you.”
“That’s right,” Jaskier chants, feeling the stretch of his fingers. “Because you’re mine, aren’t you?”
Jaskier huffs a laugh as Geralt curses, watching his cock grow hard despite itself. Jaskier slows down and takes out his fingers, wiping them on the sheets before climbing on top of Geralt and kissing him like he’s meant to. Geralt’s hands are on him in a second, touching everywhere they can reach — still, when his hands move down Jaskier’s ass, he waits, groaning against Jaskier’s mouth when he nods, and he pushes two fingers into his hole. Jaskier moans, loud and wanton, as Geralt fucks him fast and hard.
“You’re so tight,” Geralt says, pressing his forehead against Jaskier’s as he pants. “So tight around me.”
It takes every ounce of focus for Jaskier not to come right there, from Geralt’s rough voice and his frantic tone, the wet sound of his fingers plunging in and out. He taps Geralt’s chest twice and whimpers when Geralt retracts his fingers, his hole clenching around nothing.
“How do you want me?” He says after a second, nudging his nose against Geralt’s, fishing for a kiss. He gets it, soft and tender despite the heat that burns inside of him.
“On my lap.”
Jaskier makes a hungry noise and kisses him again, fiercer and hotter this time, as he grinds down against Geralt’s hard cock, rubbing his wet hole against the cotton of his pants. It makes Geralt whine low, his hands spreading Jaskier’s ass almost on instinct. It takes all of Jaskier’s willpower to sit back, placing Geralt’s hands on his hips.
“Come, now,” he purrs, finally undoing the laces on Geralt’s front. “Let’s see what you got for me.”
Geralt hisses as the cool air kisses his cock, finally freed and rock-hard against his stomach. Jaskier smiles as he wraps a hand around him, gathering the drying come and the new precome at the tip and giving him a few long, agonizing pulls. He’s a mess — come-striped and sweat-lined, and Jaskier can’t help but lean down and suck him into his mouth.
“F-fuck, Jask,” Geralt pants, bucking into the heat of Jaskier’s mouth as he hums. “I won’t— ah, I won’t last.”
Jaskier sucks him from root to tip, swirling his tongue on the slit before reluctantly pulling off. He leans down for one final kiss, swallowing Geralt’s moan as he tastes himself in his mouth, and guides himself down on Geralt’s cock.
It’s a tight fit — always has been — and Jaskier forgets how to breathe as he takes every inch, slowly. He feels so full, so stretched around his Witcher’s cock, he takes a moment to drink it all in — having Geralt inside him, his ragged breaths as he waits for Jaskier to move, the slow beating of his heart under his palm.
And then he moves, up, up, up until nothing but the tip is inside of him, and he slams back down hard. “You feel so good, pup,” he gasps, placing his hands on Geralt’s chest for leverage as he rides him, teasing his aching nipples, “so good and big, always stuff me so full.”
Geralt moans low at the praise, his fingers aching to touch, moving up and down Jaskier’s sides, thumbing at his hole. “Jask.”
“Yeah,” Jaskier replies, nonsensically, as he grinds down in tight little circles, but it’s not enough, he needs to— he needs— “Fuck me, Witcher.”
Geralt doesn’t wait to be told twice, pushing his hips up and meeting Jaskier halfway, the angle making his cock push deeper and deeper, Jaskier’s thighs burning as he chases the feeling. “Yeah, yeah, like that, like that, don’t— ah, fuck, don’t stop, you’re doing so good, such a good boy for me.”
Geralt growls, moving his hips faster, harder, and Jaskier sobs as he hits his prostate, stars behind his eyes as he says, like a prayer, “That’s it, that’s it, oh fuck, that’s so fucking good, you’re doing so good,” and he can feel Geralt’s movements faltering, can feel him close to the edge, so he asks, “Are you gonna come inside me? Gonna mark me up, gonna claim me, Wolf?”
And Geralt comes with a cry, deep and hard as he still pumps his hips into Jaskier, filling him up. Jaskier keeps mumbling praise, keeps riding him until he feels Geralt whimper, overstimulated, and slowly comes to a stop. He leans down, pressing kisses to Geralt’s face, his temples, the swell of his cheeks, his jaw, his lips, as his Witcher’s arms wrap around him, sweaty and his, enveloping him in his warmth.
They stay in each other’s arms for a moment, before Geralt says something Jaskier doesn’t quite catch. “What’s that, love?”
Geralt looks at him, eyes sad. “I didn’t— you didn’t come.”
“Oh,” Jaskier says with a smile, and looks between them, his cock still hard and aching. “I didn’t.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t—”
Jaskier shushes him softly, leaning back again, straddling his lap. “I love seeing you come,” he says, lazily wrapping one hand around his cock. He’s fit to burst, it’ll just take a few well-placed strokes to— “Love seeing the look on your face, love, so beautiful.”
Geralt looks at him, at his hand, a gentle blush dusting his face. Jaskier speeds up his movements. “Where, love?”
“On me,” Geralt murmurs, and his eyes are hungry again. “My chest.”
Jaskier smiles, feeling the pool of heat in his stomach tightening, his movements chopped, uncoordinated. “Want everyone to know you’re mine, hmm? Want my scent on you for days?”
“Jask,” Geralt gasps. “Please.”
And Jaskier comes undone, coating Geralt’s chest, his nipples, his throat, with his spend. His mind is fuzzy and soft at the edges, and he distantly hears Geralt mumbling sweet nothings into his ear, his hand wrapped around Jaskier’s cock, milking the last drops of his orgasm onto his body.
It’s mind-numbingly good.
“Fuck,” he says, laying down on the spot next to Geralt, the one that’s not covered in come.
“Fuck,” Geralt agrees. He’s absolutely drenched, sweat and come pooling in the hollow of his throat. If Jaskier were a stronger man, he’d lick it off of him.
Instead, he buries his face in the crook of Geralt’s neck, tangling their legs together. He feels Geralt press a kiss to his hair, feels his hand finding his own, fingers interlocking, feels Geralt’s chest rising and falling with even breaths. Most of all, he feels love.
“I love it when you fuck me,” he says, moving back just enough to see Geralt’s face.
Geralt smiles, simple and soft. “And I love you.”
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Till You Can’t Think
my final submission for @thewitcherbog bingo!!! i am very excited to have actually done let alone completed one of these! the prompt for this one was service top so i went for topping from the bottom 😏
pairing: geraskier (dom geralt/sub jask)
CW: anal sex, anal fingering, dom sub, negotiation, pet names: Sweetheart and baby, i broke my rule about Geralt never calling anyone baby but like, it fit? in this context only? i dont think he’d call anyone that outside play? or other than jask? idk. i feel weird about it still lol
“Sh, sh, shhhh, I know you’re so needy right now,” Geralt purred as he held Jaskier close and let his sub grind against his crotch. He absolutely loved to watch Jaskier get so worked up, especially sat directly in his lap. His eyes would roll back as Geralt trailed his hands over his body and he’d squeeze them tight before trying to open them and look at Geralt through the fog. It was never a rule they set up, but Jaskier always wanted to see Geralt, and Geralt found it incredibly endearing.
“What do you need today, Sweetheart?” Geralt ran his hand over Jaskier’s hair as the brunet bit his lip and whined as he wiggled as if he couldn’t possibly sit still. 
“No cuffs,” he mumbled, back to rutting his half chub against Geralt’s abs. 
Geralt kissed him sweetly and softly, “Mmm, thank you, Sweetheart. Do you want to move? Get all that energy out?” 
Jaskier nodded and squeezed his eyes shut with a high-pitched whine.
“Okay, good boy. One more question then you don’t have to speak, I promise.” Geralt practically cooed as he stroked Jaskier’s cheeks, trying to get his attention while keeping his voice soft, “Do you want to fuck me or something else?”
“Ohhhh fuck you.” 
Geralt always knew he’d found the right option or hit the right spot when Jaskier’s voice dropped down an octave and he drew out his moan like that. He’d get whiny and needy and hit notes Geralt hadn’t thought possible, but when Jaskier really liked something, he damn near growled. 
“Oh-ho-hokay,” Geralt laughed, laying back on their bed and situating the two of them so they could easily shimmy out of their clothes. Jaskier’s hands were all over him as soon as they were both naked. He knelt between Geralt’s thighs and ran his hands up over Geralt’s torso, taking time to grab a handful of his pecks and sigh like it soothed some incredible itch. 
“That’s it Sweetheart, I’m all yours. Take what you need,” Geralt fumbled for the bottle of lube by the bed as he hummed his encouragements, his breath hitching every now and then when Jaskier flicked his nipple or groped at his inner thigh. 
As soon as he uncapped the little bottle, it was snatched out of his hands by Jaskier who quickly covered his fingers and nudged Geralt’s legs farther apart with his thighs. He dragged the length of his finger over Geralt’s hole and earned a delighted chuckle for his efforts. As Jaskier started working up a rhythm circling Geralt’s entrance and almost pushing a finger in before pulling back, he used his other hand to lazily stroke himself. 
“A-are you getting hard for me, Sweetheart? Hm? Go- oh- gonna fuck me till you can’t think anymore?” Geralt stuttered as Jaskier finally pushed one finger inside. 
Jaskier groaned in response, his hips twitching into his hand as he pumped himself in time with his hand opening Geralt up. His whines got higher and higher as he stretched Geralt sloppily. Jaskier always took his time, in and out of play, to make sure Geralt was fully ready for him but he couldn’t focus. Geralt propped himself on his elbows and watched his pretty little sub for a moment, all blushy and desperate for him. Jaskier was watching his fingers disappear inside Geralt, slowly and a little unsteadily, as he squeezed his cock almost in frustration. It was adorable, but Geralt didn’t want his sub frustrated right now. He wanted him satisfied and without a care in the world. 
“Here, Sweetheart, do you need some help?”
“Mhm,” Jaskier nodded as Geralt gripped his wrist and slid one finger down Jaskier’s hand to join his other two inside him. 
“There you go, baby. That’s much easier, hm? Just need a little more. Can you add one more finger for me- Ohhh yes, good boy. Th-thank you,” Geralt guided their hands to pump in and out just enough to really open him up. At this point he did if for Jaskier. He’d be fine with a burn and a little adjustment period, but Jaskier would feel guilty later and Geralt couldn’t have that. 
As soon as he deemed himself ready, Geralt released Jaskier’s wrist and pulled his hands back, pitching his voice down so it was almost a command, almost, “Go ahead Sweetheart. Fuck me until your head’s completely empty.”
Jaskier growled as he lunged forward. Geralt dribbled some more lube as Jaskier rested the tip of his cock against Geralt’s hole. They both hissed at the sudden rush of cold but the distraction didn’t last long. Soon Jaskier was steadily pumping in and out of Geralt, hands planted on either side of Geralt’s ribs. Geralt did his best not to get swept up in the moment and demand more or harder or anything at all. Instead, he caressed Jaskier’s face and mumbled sweet little praises or check ins, making sure Jaskier was getting exactly what he needed. 
When Jaskier was close he wrinkled his nose. Geralt never asked if he realized he did this, but he loved it, as a perfect tell and also because it was adorable. 
As soon as Geralt saw it he tapped the bottom of Jaskier’s chin, “Eyes on me, baby. Mm! Fuck that’s perfect. You’re doing so well Sweetheart.”
With that Jaskier tipped over the edge, swearing and gasping but not breaking eye contact with Geralt. Before he pulled out and before Geralt could even say anything, Jaskier wrapped his still lubed hand around Geralt’s cock and stroked until he came with a shout. 
Coming back to his senses, Geralt realized Jaskier was still trying to rut into him even as he began to soften. 
“Oh, Sweetheart, come here,” he cooed, guiding Jaskier to pull out and snuggle up to Geralt’s chest, regardless of the mess, “Did that help?”
Jaskier just nodded and did his best to crawl inside Geralt's skin as he settled and his breathing began to slow. 
"Thank you…" he whispered, tracing one of Geralt’s scars with his fingertips. 
"For what, Sweetheart?"
“For talking me through it.” his voice was so so quiet, but Geralt thought he sounded much less frantic than when he’d burst into the room before, “It was nice to hear, you know… that I did a good job…” 
“Of course, anything for you,” Geralt whispered before kissing Jaskier on the forehead before tilting his chin up for a proper kiss. He’d want to clean them up before they fell asleep, but it couldn’t hurt to hold Jaskier for a little longer.
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penandinkprincess · 3 days ago
i really want to know your hc about when they fight, like, really fight. how does Geralt react? how jaskier reacts? EVEN BETTER how do people around them (like ciri) react?
i mean i would point to the mountain
i think geralt does have a tendency to blow up. he won't get into a fight for just anything (he'll just settle for being grumpy and making snide comments). but when he's had a series of frustrations or a big stressor? boy knows how to hold his temper for a while, but then he EXPLODES. and it's not like jask has ever been afraid of him, so better or worse this is the one time he gets to act exactly how he feels instead of watching his tone and presentation for the sake of people not stoning him out of town. i do think it's one of geralt's faults (and i love seeing it addressed in fic, especially when it's geralt identifying it and working on it) that he knows he can take things out on jaskier without real consequences. this will probably (i hope) be different after the mountain, but jask is SO fucking loyal and will shout back instead of cowering (or just take it, still without cowering). so geralt in a fight is the loudest he ever is (the jask in my head followed that up with "outside of the bedroom ;D"). he hates it about himself (digging into that self-loathing all day every day), but it feels GOOD to finally let it out now and then. to just yell because he feels like it instead of having to take it on the chin and move on.
and for jask, i think it matters what they're arguing about. if it's a third party/outside thing, he'll shout back with the best of them. see: djinn squabble. this isn't about him, so it doesn't really ping any of his insecurities so LIKE FUCKING HELL WILL HE TAKE THIS LYING DOWN. boy puffs up like an angry cat and gets right in geralt's face. if it's something personal, though? shutdown. total blank. (like his soft little "that's not fair" and "i'll see you around" after the mountain). i see jask as coming from a bad homelife, so i think when something in a fight goes along lines of things that he's sensitive about ("you're too loud" "you're annoying" "you break everything you touch"), he shuts down because he doesn't know how to defend against the things he hears in his own head during his worst moments, especially when they're thrown at him by geralt of all people. worst case, i could even see him dissociating from trauma responses he learned as a child, so he comes across as polite and unusually unbothered (the whole mountain scene, man, so much reads "i'm not really home rn in my head so imma shut this down and leave" to me).
as for how they respond to each other's fight responses: i think jask will let geralt have some time to get it out tbh if it's something that he doesn't really have a stake in. i don't think this is necessarily a healthy thing, but he knows that geralt doesn't really get a lot of chances to just feel his feelings. this also doesn't really help with geralt's bad habit of taking things out on jask (because jask will let him. bc he doesn't like getting yelled at, but if it makes geralt feel better, then okay). it's something to work on for both of them (geralt needs to get better at feeling his feelings in a way that isn't screaming at jaskier, and it's not his fault that it happens, but jask needs to work on saying "this is not healthy for me, so you need to stop"). i see jask going quiet pissing geralt off more at first early in their relationship ("OH THIS IS THE ONE TIME YOU HAVE NOTHING TO SAY"), but i think once he knows jask better/works on his own temper, it would probably be more likely to stop him short when he sees the shutdown because fuck. fuck fuck.
i think ciri would find it stressful to see them fight because she'd be torn between loyalty to geralt (even if she knows he's in the wrong, he's still her father figure, now, and she owes him a lot and also she's a kid and please don't be mad at her) and loyalty to jaskier (treats her like a princess still, makes her life happier with music and on-purpose dumb jokes, takes opportunities to let her act like a kid), so she'd be a pretty desperate peacemaker. i can also see her losing her temper and also start shouting at them to stop (she's no wilting flower, and she wants this to STOP, DAMN IT. STOP IT RIGHT NOW)
i think lambert and eskel would have a tendency to defend jaskier or at least want to get in between them to put some distance between the two (i'm thinking of those videos where cats get into fights and dogs just put themselves in the middle and nose all parties to break it up). it ends up doing more harm than good, though, bc it makes geralt feel ganged-up on and betrayed like they're taking jaskier's side. eskel would try to mitigate this, but lambert would be like pouring gas on a fire. if you're yelling, he's yelling, man.
i think vesemir would be the type to order them to both stop and send them to separate rooms. he raised warriors from boyhood. he knows how fights go down when tempers are hot. so he makes them go apart to their own spaces and cool down because nothing is going to get done in the moment. he also won't allow for it to fester after. they need to get apart and cool down, but he will make them sit down and have a talk after (and if he has to lock them in a room together to do it so be it).
in a non-serious note: i can 100% see them having play fights (verbal and physical) over THE DUMBEST stuff. because it's fun to have a fake argument where they have no stakes. i think geralt would be too shy to do it around other people necessarily, but i could see him engaging in a fake squabble over something dumb like white vs red wine with jaskier.
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greyduckgreygoose · 13 days ago
Some Geralt/Jaskier dub-con please? 🥺 Okay so I’m a huge dub-con fan, particularly the fallout or aftermath. A/B/O, cursed, monsters/humans made them do it, not really picky. I’m here for the stumbling over each other after the fact.
For example, lets say they both want to apologize or make it better by removing themselves from the other’s immediate area but the other keeps INSISTING that they want no such thing. So of course they stay because they feel guilty but oh boy are they gonna respect the other’s wishes and boundaries. Even if they have never HAD a boundary about a particular thing. Geralt becomes weirdly insistent about never sharing beds. Personal boundaries are important to Geralt, who can’t figure out why Jaskier stays with someone who has violated his. Jaskier becomes OBSESSED with equally splitting costs of shared things. Because Geralt doesn’t NEED much; he can take care of himself and Jaskier intends to make sure he isn’t taking advantage in the one area he really could. Which clashes directly with Geralt trying to buy Jaskier small tokens of appreciation or Jaskier trying to wash Geralt’s hair or tend his wounds he can’t reach.
Love languages battle royale with as much sexual tension (or straight up sex 🤷) as you can manage? Feel free to use or not use or ignore my ideas.
ok, so this sounds like a follow-up to this post so i went ahead and outlined the next few chapters:
(TW: vomit mention, fuck-or-die rape recovery, self-hatred and self-victim-blaming, a/b/o)
(in summary, alpha geralt was forced to claim/bond and fuck omega jaskier in the middle of the town square to prevent a worse punishment for jaskier. geralt is pretty sure the bond won't hold since he's a witcher, but it's a traumatizing event for them both.)
[jaskier throws up when he’s set free from the stocks, the square emptying of sullen villagers who were denied a show. The lord makes some high-minded threats, telling geralt and jaskier that they’ll be hung if they ever set foot in the town again etc. some curses spring to jaskier’s lips but luckily he’s too busy spitting the acid from his mouth to get them into more trouble.
His knees are weak, his consciousness is fuzzy. When geralt looms in the edge of his vision, jaskier flinches, but geralt is just handing him a waterskin. Jaskier gratefully washes out his mouth, feeling the sting of geralt’s bite on his nape. Geralt mutters an apology, not meeting jaskier’s eyes, and jaskier doesn’t know what to say. /he/ should be the one apologizing. He drifts in and out of consciousness as geralt picks him off of the ground, trying to ignore the mushy feeling between his legs and the ache in his cunt. What’s worse is the itch he /still/ feels, how much he wants to claw geralt on top of him and beg him to knot jaskier again. Jaskier knows that it’s just a side effect of the bonding, hormones that make the alpha and omega crave each other, crave that emotional solidification. But he still berates himself for being a slut, remembering all of the poisonous words that were thrown at him in the square.
Luckily, jaskier slips into unconsciousness at this point.
When he wakes up he’s in an inn the next town over. Geralt is shaking him awake and jaskier feels as weak as a baby kitten. There’s a bath in the room and geralt says that he asked the maid to help jaskier with his clothes. Despite his words, Geralt moves automatically to unlace jaskier’s boots, his hands tender and gentle, but he forces himself to stop. Geralt is trying to hold it together but just comes off as cold and brittle. The omega healer introduces herself, and is disapproving when Geralt rushes out the door.
From the way the healer is talking, she clearly thinks that geralt has misused jaskier somehow, and jaskier weakly tries to correct her even as he keeps looking to the door, hoping geralt will come back and - what? Help him bathe? Hold him and whisper soft words in his ear? Like this is a real bonding, one that geralt actually wanted instead of what jaskier’s stupid mistake forced him into?
Jaskier lets the healer examine him, bathes and eats as much as he can keep down, then passes out on the bed. ]
[geralt listens to the healer’s report, then pays her the last of the coin. They can’t really afford the room either, but geralt visited the contract board when jaskier was bathing and grabbed the highest paying contract (which will also take him away from the inn for a week or more).
Since hearing the story (kinda) from jaskier, the healer has become a little warmer towards geralt (and sees that he’s a victim too), but when he mentions leaving, she still grows sharp. Bonds are very fragile at the beginning, especially when they are made under traumatic circumstances. If geralt doesn’t spend enough time with jaskier/give him enough skinship then this will fray them /both/ psychologically. She says that jaskier needs him right now and geralt should let jaskier heal him too. Geralt disregards her, certain that the last thing jaskier needs is to be near him right now. He’s certain that their bond will disappear during the week he’s away and jaskier will be better for the rest alone.
Still, geralt cannot help but slip into the room. Jaskier is sleeping, and geralt stands over him for a moment, feeling a painful yearning in his chest. He wants more than anything to give jaskier comfort, to slide into bed and press himself against the line of jaskier’s back. If this were a true bond, made the right way, if geralt weren’t a witcher, maybe jaskier would turn and smile, open his arms for geralt and murmur reassurances at him.
But this is none of those things. Geralt took jaskier against both their wills in the cold town square. And now jaskier hates him, he /has/ to. Geralt has no right to touch him at all.
But when Jaskier whimpers geralt’s name in his sleep, geralt can’t stop himself from placing a hand on his shoulder. Jaskier settles, the scent and warmth of his mate near.
Feeling shattered, geralt sits down to meditate in front of the dying embers of the fireplace. But jaskier doesn’t call for him again, and in the morning, when jaskier awakes, geralt is already gone.]
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I don't know if it's much of a prompt but the first time Geralt info dumps about monsters to Jaskier, and Jaskier just falls for him even harder, because oh wow this idiot witcher cares very much about the difference between griffins in the north and griffins in the east, or something like that. Also I really enjoy reading your fics so thank you so much for posting them!!^^
okay so you just gave me the opportunity to infodump about something I love through the medium of Geralt so... enjoy these boys being cute and soft!
“Jaskier, look!” Geralt gasps. He grabs Jaskier by the wrist and drags him over to the side of the worn beaten path. He kneels in the dirt and tugs the bard down alongside him, pointing eagerly at a small patch of roses. They look close to blooming and they’re terribly out of season. “A fairy is about to hatch!”
“Oh,” the bard inhales softly. He leans closer, his blue eyes widening in wonder and a grin stretching across his boyish face. Geralt is smitten. “How lovely!”
“Shh,” Geralt holds a finger to his lips. Jaskier goes quiet beside him, the only noise now is the out-of-rhythm beating of their hearts. After a moment the rose begins to bloom. A small head pokes out first, then two arms and a pair of bright purple-tinged butterfly wings. “It’s a boy!”
“How can you tell?” Jaskier asks. From what he could see, the tiny humanoid figure was neither boy nor girl. The fairy had short, cropped red hair and lovely large wings and not much else to go by. 
“His wings are mauve, see? Boy fairies have mauve wings and girls have white wings and those who are neither or both are blue.”
“You know an awful lot about fairies, dear heart,” Jaskier’s grin grows. He crowds closer against Geralt’s side and pouts up at his Witcher. “Tell me more?”
Geralt flushes his own shade of mauve and Jaskier delights in it, utterly captivated. “Do you really want to know?”
“Of course!” 
The tiny thing before them is slowly pulling the petals from his rosy nest to build a shirt and trousers, sticking the pieces together with sap and dusting it over with pollen. 
“Every time a child laughs for the first time, that laugh goes skipping out into the world and becomes a fairy. The laugh becomes a flower and from that flower climbs a tiny person that already knows how to fly.”
“Are fairies good or evil?”
“They’re so small that they can only feel one thing at a time, so I suppose the answer to your question lies in the hands of whatever any given fairy is feeling that day.”
“Huh,” Jaskier leans his head against Geralt’s shoulder. They sit in the dirt for a long while, watching the newborn fairy gather up his courage and burst into anxious flight for the first time. They cheer him on, watching with bated breath as he finally disappears over the tree line. 
The sun is close to setting by then and Jaskier finds himself shivering lightly in the chill of early spring. Geralt settles his cloak over the bard’s shoulders and gets busy scouting for a good place to rest. He pretends not to notice the way Jaskier buries his nose in the neckline of the cloak and breathes in, his eyelids close and his face blooms into an expression of utmost fondness.
I wonder what your laugh turned into, Geralt thinks as he lights a fire and ushers his delicate human companion into its the circumference of its warm glow. Jaskier warms his hands over the flames, his eyes following the Witcher’s every move. He glances back, returning the fond look with one of his own. I wonder what this feeling will turn into...
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falcor-thee-luck-dragon · 7 months ago
Drink Up - Geralt of Rivia x reader
Summary: Traveling for hours on end can become exceptionally loathsome, but with a bottle of something strong to pass the time, things get very interesting indeed.
Warning: reader and Jaskier talking about sexy times, reader getting drunk and things get entertaining, the trio being goofs tbh
-reader is part of my Geralt series (Of Monsters And Men)
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With not a whole lot of entertainment sprouting forth from the nearby scenery of the continent most days, or by the unfortunate lack of abundant random wanderers to cross your path. You’ve become accustomed to imploring very creative ways in amusing yourself while wayfaring the roads with your two favorite traveling buddies.
A Witcher, to handsome for his own good, and a lovely yet mildly annoying bard.
You’ve been currently hiking on this forest trail for half the day without much to pass the time. Sure Jaskier has delved into giving you all a show with his ballots and fantastic lute playing skills. But there’s only so much of that angelic voice you can take before it turns into the most goddamn irritating thing you’ve ever heard.
Also you’re pretty damn certain that Geralt could have been one more strum away from knocking the bard out cold, thus pleading for you to leave him there for the next unlucky fellow who decides to wander by.
The sun on the other hand keeps her great golden colors beaming across the landscape, warming the earth to a comfortable temperature on this calm spring afternoon. It’s been a good hour since anything interesting has happened and this stick you keep flipping around in your hand is not cutting it.
Pressing onward, your mind suddenly sparks with an idea, surly an idea that will stir up some much needed conversation on this rather dull trip though the peaceful woodland. Smirking to yourself, you glance to your right where Jaskier is walking with lute in hand, oblivious to your growing mischievousness.
Then your crimson gaze trails a small distance ahead where Geralt sits atop of Roach, his snowy head faced forward as he relishes in the quiet of the green woodland. Gods he looks like a proper knight, with that dark armor, sword on his back, and all that manliness seated atop his grand stead. Hmm, delicious.
Casually twirling your stick here and there, you turn your attention over to Jaskier who’s looking away from you, “Psst...Jaskier.” You whisper, making sure Geralt can’t hear.
The bards head snaps over to you in an instant, a new intrigued curiosity overtaking him, “Yes?” He whispers back just as quietly, blues darting over to Geralt who’s none the wiser.
You casually shrug, using your normal speaking voice now, “Just wanted to make sure you haven’t forgotten your name.”
His face falls, “Y/N.” He whines disappointedly, “Come on I’m bored as shit.” Complains Jaskier like a whiny little toddler before he huffs and pauses for a moment to think. Suddenly he taps the side of your bicep with the back of his hand, you raise a curious brow as he shrugs, “You got any good stories?”
Searching your extensive past of palpable events for a moment, your face quickly lights up, “Ohhh better then a story. Get a load of this shit.” You muse while pulling out a bottle of wine from your traveling pack, “Stole this from some pricy vendor. Figured it’d have some purpose sooner or later and right now I need it sooner.” You chuckle while popping off the spongy cork and taking a hearty swig.
Jaskier lets out a breathy laugh as he watches you fully enjoy your stolen beverage, “Not sure if I should be impressed or concerned.”
“Don’t worry I’ll share but only if you indulge me.” You quip before taking another gulp before bringing the bottle to your side, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand before speaking, “I have a question for you my dear lover boy.” You inquire with a wiggle of your brows.
Jaskier smirks, ready for the challenge and some wine, “Ask away.”
Whipping your stick around, you point it at the bard, “Okay. And be honest, I can tell if you’re not.....what’s the best part of a woman?”
Jaskier nods, his face shifting into one of legitimate deep thought as he takes a considerable amount of time to contemplate the possibilities, “Well, I guess I’d say I’m decently fond of a good smile,” Admits the bard before he lets out a small chuckle, “cause if they don’t have one it’s regretfully difficult to watch them enjoy themselves if you understand my meaning.” Adds Jaskier, nudging your arm with his elbow as you roll your ruby irises.
“Hmm alright well you’re a fucking snooze.” You deadpan as he suddenly lets out a burst of laughter.
“Oh I didn’t realize you wanted all my inner most personal tastes, is that it then?” He wonders as you chuckle at his little half offended outburst.
“Tell me what gets you all hot and bothered and I’ll indulge you in my own appetites.” You add slyly, giving him a mischievous wink while continuing to twirl your stick and sip more of your strong liquor. Damn this stuff is strong.
He nods in understanding, a cheeky smile pulling at the corners of his lips as he decides to indulge you, “Well the lady asks, where to start?” Questions Jaskier.
“Oh I don’t know. Let’s say, personality aside cause we’re not here for that shit right now..” You swat the air theatrically before taking another sip of your drink, “...what do you think? Firm or soft, maybe even a little saggy?” You suggest, making a squeezing motion with your one hand while your stick is tucked underneath that arm.
“I’d say both. A breast is a breast.” He confirms Jaskier with a laugh.
“A man of all dishes served I see. I respect the inclusion of diverse variety.” You add with an honest nod of approval. “Alright. Are scars a turn off if severe?”
“Taverns are dark for a reason Y/N.” Muses Jaskier with a knowing look causing you to snort with laughter.
“Fair point.” You wheeze.
“Okay Y/N/N, my turn.” Inquires Jaskier as you hand him the liquor.
“Lets hear it.”
He gives you back your bottle, “So....what’s so intriguing about that old grumpy wolf up there?” Questions Jaskier as he nods towards Geralt who’s minding his sweet business from his perch on Roach. No doubt probably listening.
Biting your lip, your eyes linger on the broad leathered back of your silver haired lover, “Are we talking physically or personality wise?” You wonder while turning your attention back to the bard, your voice lowering a couple octaves, “cause let me tell you he’s not much for words most times...” You lean in closer to Jaskier before whispering, “but I can get him moaning so goddamn fast.”
“Oh gods. Please tell me everything.” Presses Jaskier with a laugh as you take another sip from the bottle. Shit, you’re already feeling buzzed, guess it is much stronger then once previously thought.
Giving Jaskier a fangy smirk, you point the stick in Geralt’s general direction, “You asked so you’ve been warned. This man can come absolutely undone within minutes, literally all I gotta do is call him some cute names and lick his know, feel him up a bit. Get him feeling all loved and appreciated you know?”
“Really?” Inquires Jaskier, enjoying your progressively drunken shpeel of personal info regarding yours and Geralt’s sex lives.
“Oh fuck yeah, but what really gets him off, is if I undress in front of him and then get all dominant and rough you know. He loves that shit.” You explain with a smile as Jaskier stares at you in awe. “He’s a moaning mess after I put on the charm, practically cumming at my command. The fucking power I have.” You mumble proudly with a shake of your bottle, though you try and keep your voice down.
“Y/N, you are, quit the woman.” Points Jaskier like a proud father watching his daughter marry to a prestigious lord of great wealth.
“I know.” You add with a shrug, clearly self confident and half drunk by now, “I’m a seductress what can I say?” Taking a moment to drink some more wine as Jaskier holds in his laughter.
He watches you trip on nothing before regaining your bearings a second later, “So uh, how you feeling?”
You give him a fangy grin, raising your bottle in salute, “Fantastic.”
“That’s good.” He muses, clearly not believing you, “How’s the wine?”
“Delectable and worth every coin!” You whisper yell, raising your bottle once more, the dwindling contents swirl around, some drops falling out as you bring the glass back down to your side.
“I thought you stole it?”
You snort, “I did.”
“Hmm alright, maybe uh....maybe slow it down on the intake Y/N?” Says Jaskier, taking notice of your new inebriated state and knowing all to well what you’re like when fully drunk of your ass.
“Fuck off bard I’m fine.” You mutter with an elated snicker before starting to giggle like a drunken jester in a kings court, causing Geralt to turn his head to the side in interest before shrugging and looking down the trail once again.
“You sure?” Half worries Jaskier, though in truth he’s absolutely living for the situation unfolding in front of him, “I’d rather not have you puking later.”
Scoffing you take another sip, “I’m not getting sick Jaskrr, I’m just horny.”
Brows raised in surprise, he coughs, “Oh, that’s um...good....I think?”
Almost tripping over a jutted out root, you bite your lip while eyeing up Geralt hungrily, “Now the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen and you know what?”
“What should I know?” Wonders Jaskier with interest, making no faults to decrease how he’s clearly egging you on.
Grinning with a face full of mischief, you snicker, “Well....I can say I’ve seen his dick.” The bards eyes widen in amusement as you continue, “Which the way....very lovely and large, he knows how to please a woman if you know what I mean.” You mumble quickly with a wink as Jaskier snorts.
“Oh, that’s good to know. What else is nice about him?” He agrees while successfully baiting you on further.
“Hmm mhmmm. Big muscles, Jask, big muscles.” You emphasize while leaning into the bards side and squeezing his less then impressive biceps, “Oh and he’s so good at hugging and cuddles.” You squeak with joy, shaking Jaskier as you swoon over Geralt, “Ugh, I love it when he’s shirtless and he looks at me and I just....ugh I’ll take my pants off so goddamn fast.”
Shoving his face into the crook of his arm to keep from laughing, Jaskier does all in his power to refrain from losing it while you lean away, stumbling around on the trail, oblivious to how hilarious he’s taking everything you just confessed to him. The biggest lovestruck grin dancing across your features as you stare longingly at Geralt’s leather clad back. A flash of lust rising in your smiling expression as you eye him up.
“I want.” You mutter, throwing your stick to the side as you make a childlike grabby motion with your hand.
“Y/N he’s on a horse.” Explains Jaskier as you make a face.
You scoff, sending Jaskier another dirty look, “You don’t understand.”
“Y/N it’s the middle of the day and we’re in an unknown forest.” Warns the bard, “Not exactly the time or place for whatever is brewing in your head.”
“Nuthin’s brwing in me head Jask.” You slur, tripping once again before just barely catching yourself.
Jaskier gives you a less then convinced expression, seeing straight though your terrible lying, “I don’t believe you.” He says while you frown.
“But he looks so delicious.” You whine with a dramatic pout, “And I’m so fecking horns right noww ‘cause of....wull, I just’am!” You grumble, turning your head to face Jaskier with an angry little frown before a mischievous smile begins to form upon your lips.
Jaskier blinks, knowing all to well what drunk you is capable of, “Y/N. Don’t you dare.” He warns.
“Waterr you gonna do bart?” You challenge, pushing him though its a weak assault that does nothing significant, “Fight me? I’ll kick your little pixie ass.”
Shaking his head, Jaskier takes a cautious step away from you, “Definitely not. Actually you know what? He’s all yours, go get him Y/N.” Urges Jaskier, really anticipating the possible beautiful disaster that may just soon enough present itself.
Raising your brows in pleasant surprise, you down the rest of your bottle, “Ha! Yu’r not as stupi’s ass’he says yur. I knews it. All along, nev’r a doubt in my mind really.....I sw’r it........promise.” You slur, the alcohols affects really starting to delve into your system.
Jaskier’s brows furrow in confusion, not one hundred percent sure how he should take that, “Well, that’s good I suppose.”
“ is....... isn’t it.” You agree with a couple quick nods that look like a small child who’s trying desperately to get their parent to agree with them, “Okay, I’m go’in ta get h’em ov’tha house now.” You pause a moment, brows furrowing in thought as you grab Jaskier by the shoulder, “Horse. That’s uh, what I mean.....yeah.”
Jaskier opens his mouth to say something but you’re already stumbling quickly down the beaten trail much faster then he’d anticipated. You zero in on Geralt’s fine leather armored back, your vision slightly blurred and your legs a bit wobbly from the strong alcohol you’ve managed to make empty in less then ten minutes.
Shaking the fuzziness from your head, you drop the empty bottle in the dirt before hustling to Geralt’s side. Stopping quickly, halting a moment to gather yourself before walking onward, continuing side by side next to his feet and Roach’s middle.
Geralt hums before casually turning his head to find your beaming face with the dark of your eyes as big as a ceramic plate. Raising a brow, the Witcher throws Jaskier an odd look before shifting his attention back down to you.
“Y/N?” He mutters, not sure if you’ve eaten something you shouldn’t have or were recently hexed by some random fairy nearby. 
Letting out a little burp, you hold your hands close to your chest all the while giving him the biggest smile, “I’’loe....v..uh, love....with’u.”
Geralt let’s out a humored snort at your intoxicated self while you await his answer to your grand declaration of love that he was indeed able to understand, “Sorry, I’m taken.” He quips, obviously teasing you though you’re to drunk to realize this.
Frowning you look at the ground in disappointment, “oh.” You whisper sadly causing Geralt to legitimately feel bad until your whole demeanor shifts to heated aggression, “That fucking bitch!” You shout coherently through a small slurred wavering in your angered voice, scaring some perched crows from their keep as well as a couple of innocent rabbits.
Geralt listens to the muffled laughter of Jaskier as you throw your hands up in aspiration before letting out a colorful stream of curses, “No good dirty whore faced dog shit horse shit bitch who’s clamed h’em ferr the’own!”
“Do’snt mak’any sense! I have a sw’urd! I can run....really fast! I’m half vampurrr goddammit!” You shout into the woods, struggling to keep your words together, “I’m pre-destinated...pre-dun.....pre-dragons....destiny, de-destined to be seductive! I am sexy!” You shout dramatically.
“Okay, Y/N let’s not wake something or someone with ill intentions.” Interrupts Geralt as you make two frustrated fists, your face appearing rather angered, crimson eyes dancing with hellfire.
“No!” You snap before turning an accusing dagger up at him, where you got that he’s not sure, “Tell me..who’s this-this donkey wumunnn! So I I can uh, so I can...” Quickly looking down, you struggle to put away your dagger back into it’s designated sheath, you frown once again before shifting your face into a fake, yet rather convincing smile, “I just’uv sum’thins to say to’er. Thas’all. Promise.” You add sweetly, grin as shiny as a barrel of shimmering pearls and honestly a bit sadistic if he didn’t know any better.
Chuckling at your adorable drunken antics, Geralt shrugs, “She’s from a far away land. About a couple leagues from here northwest.”
“Wha’else.” You demand urgently, tone authoritative and hostile.
“She’s pretty tough, and very beautiful.” Teases Geralt as you scowl in irritation for this unidentifiable cunt who’s taken your man.
“Disgustin.” You scoff, flicking a hand upward as you mutter, “Go’un.”
“She’s got the most lovely body I’ve ever seen, and her laugh is more angelic then all the greatest singers in the entire continent.” He confirms with a handsome smile that would have you swooning like a fair maiden if not for how filled with hatred you are right now. 
“Blah.” You dismiss while sticking out your tongue in disgust, “Com’un giv’m a name. Then I’ll handle the’rst.”
“I don’t want you to hurt her.” He mutters with a shrug, holding back laughter at your amusing facial features.
“I won’t.” You sass, making a face before mumbling, “Jus’wanna’memr.”
“I don’t think I believe you Y/N.” Affirms the handsome Witcher much to your frustration.
“I jus’wanna fucking talk!” You growl as Jaskier cackles in the background, clearly enjoying this conversation though you can’t understand what’s so funny.
Snapping your head in his direction, you squint your eyes at him menacingly before yanking off a hanging thin branch and launching your new makeshift weapon full force in his general direction. He yelps in surprise before ducking, the wooden assault just missing his face by mere inches.
“Dear gods Y/N!” Gasps the bard with wide eyes as you snicker at his dramatic reaction.
“Fuck’ov h’was gonna tell me!”
“No he wasn’t!” Argues Jaskier while fearfully clutching his lute to his chest, afraid you might start swinging.
“H’was and I’m gonna fuck’n kill that bitch!” You snap angrily as Roach snorts, having not a single iota what the hell you’re saying. Only that you sound like some wounded beast on their last hour.
Rolling his baby blues in annoyance, Jaskier shouts back, “There is no other woman or man or any fucking forest nymph that Geralt has any sort of eyes for! You-you crazy woman!”
“How’u know? He doesn’t tell you shit!” You yell back, emphasizing the last word with some heat.
“He does! For your humbled information.” Protests Jaskier sassily while Geralt silently listens to you two idiots scream at one another in the middle of some large lumbering forest. His drunken lover and his, perhaps he could say it, friend who happens to be a bard.
“Oh really?!” You challenge, “Wel’in who’s this fuck’in cunt who’h said he’s with’en? Huh?!” You shout back.
Jaskier let’s out a stream of incomprehensible mumbles before throwing his hands into the air in frustration, “That’s because this woman is you, you drunken bat!”
“I’mnut drunk! Nor’m I a bat!” You yell, ignoring the fact that he confirmed you’re indeed Geralt’s lover, “I didn’evn drink tha’mush!”
“You drank the whole bloody bottle!” Claims Jaskier, much to your great shock and bewilderment, that Geralt struggles to keep himself from losing it atop of Roach.
 You scoff, clearly not believing a single thing out of this bards mouth, “I dunt see’a bottle!”
“That’s because you threw it somewhere!”
“Wel’wy woulda’ do’tha?” You snap, hands fanned out to each side in puzzlement like an angry castle pigeon standing up to a hulking statue.
“Oh I don’t know...let me think for a brief moment here...oh right! Because you’ve drank more then a king on his wedding night!” Shouts Jaskier as Geralt rolls his golden eyes, moving to jump off of Roach.
Standing oblivious to your Witcher who’s no more then five feet away from you now at ground level, your eyes start to grow darker as your frustration grows in this hazy state you’re in. “Mayb’if I knuck you’ot wit’a lute then’ull shut up!” You slur, taking a threatening step forward.
The bards eyes widen in fear for a moment as he sends Geralt a desperate glance, “Geralt!”
“Y/N.” Mutters Geralt gently in that grumbly voice of his, causing you to immediately turn in his direction.
Eyes softening, you instantly break out into a joyful fangy grin, “Yes.” You mumble happily, eyes shifting from his boots to his face as you shamelessly check him out.
“Come here.” Beckons your beautiful Witcher with a pleasant smile upon his plush lips, his arms soon reach out for yours and quickly enough they intertwine.
You blink back your slightly blurred vision to witness as Geralt’s lips flicker from your mouth to your shimmering irises of ruby red, a second later he pulls you flush against him for a heated embrace. Just want you wanted. 
Your lips move passionately against his own, a delighted smile forming as you enjoy the feeling of his tongue inside your mouth. Then all to soon he pulls away and your lips are left empty and wanting so much more.
Pouting you make an adorably angered face, “Wul’that wasn’t nearly s’long as it coulda been.” You grumble bluntly, suddenly yawning as you try desperately to keep focused on his face. His beautiful face. So pretty, so kissable, so lovely.
Dark spots skip and flare through your fading vision until without warning your legs feel like they’ve turned to pudding, giving out from underneath you in an instant and all you’re able to witness is Geralt’s lovely face before....
Waking up from a deep sleep, your eyes open to the sound of a fire crackling nearby, the sweet smell of grilled leaks wafting into your nostrils that aids in fully awakening your senses. You let out a sleepy yawn, sitting yourself up from your once previous positioning on your rolled out travel sack underneath you.
Sitting criss crossed, you wipe the bleariness from your scarlet irises before sucking in a deep breath and blinking, your sights now set on the campfire in front of you, a beautiful glow of bright oranges and gold. Geralt and Jaskier on either side, both quietly talking to one another before turning to face you. A knowing smile on either of their faces. Oh, Gods what did you do? And how did you even get here?
Shifting your confused gaze from Jaskier to Geralt and back again, you raise a puzzled brow, “Would any of you be kind enough to tell me how the fuck it’s already dark out?”
“What do you mean Y/N? It’s sunny as a summers day.” Confirms Jaskier with an honest smile, blue eyes looking into the fire as he strums a cord on his lute.
Shaking your head, you sniff, “Okay fuck you.”
Jaskier laughs as Geralt lets slip a couple chuckles before explaining, “You drank all of that wine bottle you stole.”
“Shit.” You mutter while rubbing your temples, “Who let me do that?”
“You did.” Adds the bard.
“Did I threaten you? I feel like drunk me was yelling for some reason, my throat kinda feels weird.”
“You were trying to get me to tell you the name of my lover.” Affirms Geralt with a laugh, “Which is obliviously you. Though drunk Y/N thought otherwise.”
“Fantastic.” You deadpan before turning on your side and laying on your back, deciding to relax once again, “So, how’d I get here? I forget after I was telling Jask about...uh, well...doesn’t matter.”
Smiling to himself from the explicit information you slipped to him about yourself and Geralt in the bedroom, Jaskier chuckles at that while Geralt moves to lay down as well, his head close to yours as you both make an L on the ground. “I put a drop of sleeping potion on my tongue and when I kissed you...”
“You gave me tongue and drugged me?” You confirm with a breathy laugh, honestly quit impressed he managed to pull that off so smoothly. Well, then again you were drunk off your ass.
Geralt hums, “It was either that or let you kill Jaskier. It was a tough decision really.”
“What?” Gasps Jaskier, “You had to think about it?”
“And he chose to slip me some enchanted sleeping juice instead. You’re welcome.”
Jaskier scoffs, “Yeah well you wanted to fuck him in the woods so....shut it.”
“We still can,” Mutters Geralt with a smile, face turned a bit so he has a better view of your face, “if you want.”
Smirking back at him, Jaskier almost chokes on his own spit, “I am right here. Right here Geralt. Right here.”
You laugh at the bards dramatics, “We never said you had to watch.”
“Wha-thats besides the point! And just, ugh please don’t....” Whines Jaskier, making a face of disgust before frowning, “or at least just wait for me to fall asleep.”
Laughing, you give the bard an agreeable nod, “Don’t worry we will.”
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spielzeugkaiser · 11 months ago
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OKAY, who has seen atonement here?? (I keep doing horrible things to these poor boys, I am sorry.) I’m not sure how this would work out, and how to do the story here; maybe Geralt already served, maybe his leg is too bad - but I know he’s farming, and he has Ciri, and he just can’t. But Jaskier? Is too gentle and too soft to be made for war. I also dragged @abluescarfonwaston down this hole with me, who wrote some of the most beautiful, heart-wrenching letters from Jaskiers pov which made me a.) cry like a baby b.) want to draw even more.
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daddyissues-n-simping · a year ago
So, guess who finally posted the new fan fiction on Ao3???? Me. Its just me. It was much more exciting for me then it seems actually. 
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elliestormfound · 7 months ago
List of free things
Happy Birthday @thecomfortofoldstorries​ <3 
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I’ve written fluff for you! 
In which it's Geralt's birthday and Jaskier has compiled a list of free activities for them to do Or: modern au roommates idiots to lovers (1,796 words)
CW: nothing, just idiots mutually pining with a happy end :D
read on ao3
“I made a list,” Jaskier said as he walked into the kitchen of their shared flat. He looked expectantly at Geralt, who was preparing a sandwich with marmalade and cheese. After two years of living together Jaskier did not even raise an eyebrow at this odd combination of ingredients. He was used to Geralt’s weird tastes by now.
“What for?” Geralt looked up and frowned at his grinning roommate. He knew nothing good came from this particular grin. But fuck - it looked just too cute on Jaskier. 
“For your birthday!” Jaskier said and threw his hands in the air in a dramatic gesture.
Geralt groaned and rolled his eyes. “You know that I hate birthday parties.” Parties, especially ones where he was the center of attention, made Geralt incredibly anxious.
Jaskier clapped him on the shoulder and replied, still smiling, 
“I know, that’s why I thought of something else.” Geralt raised his eyebrows.
“Do you want it to be a surprise?” 
Geralt shook his head. “You know I hate these kinds of surprises.”
Jaskier eyed him for another moment and nodded. “I know our money situation is a bit tight at the moment, so I researched places that give out free stuff on birthdays!” With that, Jaskier pulled a piece of paper out his pocket, unfolded it and put it on the kitchen table. 
They sat down and went over the list together. Some of the items were crossed off instantly,  others they argued over for a while but in the end they arrived at an array of activities that could fill a day, but were not too much. Geralt was still not a hundred percent sure about this, but the idea of spending a day with Jaskier, the man he was secretly in love with, was enticing, no matter what they did. 
“Happy Birthday!” Jaskier called as Geralt walked into the kitchen a week later. Geralt just grunted in reply and walked over to the counter. But when he reached for the coffee machine, Jaskier sprang in the way, wrapped his arms around Geralt and squeezed him tightly. 
Geralt sighed, but hugged him back and murmured, “coffee.” Geralt rested his cheek on Jaskier’s head, whose hair was still a bit damp from when he had washed it earlier, smelling of the fancy lemon shampoo he used. Geralt had to admit that hugging him was a rather nice way to start his birthday. 
After a moment Jaskier took a step back and said with a smile, “that’s where we’re starting off. A coffee at the Gasolin.” That was the coffee shop Jaskier frequented for their open mike nights. 
Geralt was not sure if Jaskier had called ahead or if the barista was just as uninterested as they looked, because they did not congratulate him as he told them it was his birthday. They just asked for his order and moved on to Jaskier. And as he had reassured Geralt, he did not have to pay for the latte. When they both had their drinks, Jaskier maneuvered him over to a table in the back where it was less crowded. 
Eskel and Lambert were sitting at the table. Jaskier had told him where they were going but had not mentioned inviting his brothers. As far as surprises were going, this was a pleasant one, and to be honest, Geralt had suspected that they would show up for one of the activities today. 
“Happy Birthday, asshole,” Lambert said as he hugged Geralt and clapped him on the back. After Eskel had hugged him too, everyone sat down. For a while they talked about Eskel’s fishing trip he was planning for the weekend and about the roller derby game Lambert had visited the day before.
When Lambert and Jaskier were deep in conversation about the new jammer of his favorite roller derby team, Eskel bumped his knee into Geralt’s to get his attention and said quietly with a grin, “don’t worry we’re just here for the coffee, then we’ll leave you two alone.” Geralt’s face grew hot but he did not reply. Eskel could be as much of an asshole as Lambert sometimes.
Eskel knew that Geralt had had a crush on his best friend and roommate ever since they met in uni years ago. But Geralt had never acted on it. He knew Jaskier was never shy about his emotions and attractions and he had never even hinted at finding Geralt attractive. 
But Geralt enjoyed moments like this, sitting next to Jaskier on the narrow bench, their knees and elbows pressed together. There weren’t many people he was comfortable being so physically close with, crush or no crush. The coffee was excellent, and Geralt began to relax. 
After his brothers had excused themselves to go to work, Geralt and Jaskier went on a walk down the little river towards the next thing on Jaskier’s list: the art gallery where Geralt - the birthday boy, as Jaskier had called him - got in for free. It was still early in the day and they only saw a group of school children being herded through the otherwise quiet rooms. 
But that did not stop Jaskier from linking his arm with Geralt’s and whispering into his ear as if he did not want to disturb unseen visitors. Jaskier had been at the gallery before and could tell Geralt a lot about a bunch of different paintings. When he had seen the art gallery on Jaskier’s list, he had protested at first, telling him it would be boring, but Jaskier would have none of it. And he had been right. Learning about the lives of the artists, the circumstances of when and how a painting had been made, made the visit much more interesting. 
And to be honest, they could have been in the most boring museum on earth because having Jaskier practically clinging to him and whispering into his ear felt wonderful, especially when he giggled about his own jokes. Not that the jokes were that funny, but the pure joy radiating from him was intoxicating. Geralt nearly frowned when they reached the last room and Jaskier untangled his arm from Geralt’s as they left the gallery. 
After that they went to a bakery where Geralt got a free piece of chocolate cake and a corner shop where he got a small bottle of champagne. They went into the nearby park and shared both.
The next point on their list was the beauty salon, where Geralt got a free hand massage. Jaskier and Gerallt had invited Yen to join them here.
“Happy Birthday,” she said as she hugged him and gave him a kiss on the cheek. She and Jaskier got their nails done - both black - as one of the women of the salon kneaded Geralt’s hands and fingers skillfully, rubbing soothing oils into his skin. Yen told them about a case she was working on at the moment. She was a lawyer, having started out as a divorce lawyer and then specializing in child custody cases. At first glance people would not assume that the immaculately dressed woman with the sour expression had a heart of gold, but she always fought tooth and nail to get the best solution for every child caught in the middle of a divorce war. She and Geralt had dated for a short while years ago but had found out that they were much better suited to being friends rather than lovers. 
It was late in the afternoon when they left the beauty salon and Yen hurried back to work. They collected the last few things on Jaskier’s list on their way home: a few samples from the tea shop, a magnet from the plumber (yes, a magnet from the plumber - in the form of a comic-style u-shaped pipe with huge eyes they would put on their fridge) and a single red rose from the small flower shop, which Jaskier carefully threaded through a buttonhole on Geralt’s shirt (making Geralt blush).
“And now to the last part of the day,” Jaskier said.
Geralt furrowed his eyebrows. “But there was nothing more on your list.”
Jaskier laughed and replied, “it’s just ice cream on our balcony. But I bought your favorite kind.”
Geralt exhaled slowly and grinned. “Sounds perfect.”
Half an hour later they were sitting on their balcony in the evening sun, shoulder to shoulder.
“So, did you enjoy your birthday?” Jaskier asked, leaning a bit more into Geralt.
“Hm…,” Geralt began and swallowed. It had been a good day. A great day. And he didn’t mean all the activities. They had been fun too, but the best part had been spending time with Jaskier. Jaskier giggled and Geralt could not suppress a smile. 
“Eloquent as ever, my dear,” Jaskier said. 
Geralt breathed in deeply. Jaskier had organised this wonderful day for him and he wanted to thank him for it, but words had always been hard for him. But Jaskier deserved a thank you and so he cleared his throat and said quietly, “it was are...I mean you did great.” His cheeks felt hot and his throat was suddenly dry. So instead of saying anything more, he extended his arm and wrapped it around Jaskier, hugging him to his side. There was a soft gasp of surprise but then he felt Jaskier relax against him. 
Jaskier in turn reached for Geralt’s other hand and slowly interlaced their fingers. 
Oh. Geralt had not expected this. It was weird, on the one hand Geralt’s heart pounded and he worried that his sweaty palm would make Jaskier withdraw his hand (he didn’t!) and on the other hand it felt like their fingers were meant to be interlaced, fitting perfectly together. Geralt closed his fingers around Jaskier’s, squeezing them softly. 
Geralt looked up from their entwined fingers into Jaskier’s eyes. The sun accentuated their ocean-blue color and his cheeks were flushed. Geralt was sure that he had never seen anything more beautiful in his life. His eyes wandered down to Jaskier’s lips.
Then Jaskier said softly, “ would it...would it be okay if I kissed you?” The breath that escaped Geralt’s mouth was more a sigh and he nodded as no words wanted to come over his lips. So Jaskier leaned the rest of the way forward and brushed the tip of his nose against Geralt’s before their lips met. 
It was a slow kiss, unhurried, and it felt like the only logical conclusion to this day, to their friendship. “This is the best birthday present,” Geralt whispered as they broke apart and Jaskier smiled brightly. And even though he hadn’t thought it possible a moment before, Jaskier looked even more beautiful with kiss-swollen lips and hooded eyes as he leaned in to kiss Geralt once more.
Link to my master list for more of my fics
Tag list: @jaskierswolf @dani-dandelino​ @hailhailsatan @panerato @marvagon @x-anxious @moonysrz @kaktusbambus @wildonewrites @dapandapod @honeysuckletook @thecomfortofoldstorries @geraltrogerericduhautebellegarde @broken-verses @vampire–dad @whenrainbowsend @geralt-of-riviass @sleepy-thief @artistsfuneral @stinastar @innocentbi-stander @in-love-with-writing002 @fandommagpie @fontegagrilledcheese @kozkaboi @nonegenderleftpain @veritasrose @havenoffandoms @feral-jaskier @llamasdumpsterfire @dhwty-writes @trickstermoose67 @rockysstupidity @peanitbear  @pomegranatebitch  @mayastormborn @strippiluolamies @kmuir1 @holymotherwolf @imweakmylove02 (please let me know if you want to be added (18+) to or removed  from my tag list)
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wherethewordsare · 8 months ago
What is Mine: Jay’s 400 Follower Celebration Bingo
Mind the tags on this one, yall. It gets Very Spicy
“Geralt! Geralt, help!” Jaskier came sliding between a group of patrons and slid right in Geralt’s lap without a second of hesitation. 
“What the fuck are you-” Geralt growled but then Jaskier was wrapping his arms around his neck and leaning in to whisper in his ear.
“Listen, I’m sorry but there is this man at the bar who is well past reasonably drunk and is not taking no. Just this once, Geralt, please,” Jaskier pleaded before burying his face into Geralt’s neck. 
There was something in the tone of Jaskier’s ‘please’ that set Geralt’s teeth on edge and before he knew what he was doing, he wrapped both arms around the bard’s middle and pulled him tighter against his chest. Really he should have thought more about why there was always this instinctive need to protect Jaskier when he got into these situations, but Geralt had decided long ago that he couldn’t afford to. 
“There you are, gorgeous,” a man had pushed his way through the crowd, his words slurred and his eyes unfocused. He didn’t seem to even notice the way Jaskier was tucked against Geralt. Anyone else would have thought they were involved but that thought didn’t seem to even register with the drunk. 
“Fuck off,” Geralt said flattly as Jaskier shifted in his lap. He had to grit his teeth to fight down just how good that had felt. This was very much not the time. 
“Listen, I think there’s enough here to go around, don’t you?” The man leered, swaying dangerously close. “You could pay just about any whore-”
“Husband,” Geralt spat. He rearranged Jaskier with a hand under his thigh, ignoring how it made Jaskier’s breath hitch against his neck, as he pulled a dagger from his hip, sticking it into the table and glaring at the man. “As much of a showy flirt as the bard might be, he’s not a whore. He’s my husband.” 
Jaskier for his part snorted into Geralt’s armor but pulled up to look at the man with a smug grin. “I told you I was taken. Did I mention I was married? To a witcher? The White Wolf actually,” he sighed dreamily as he looked at Geralt, his eyes convincingly soft. “Gorgeous thing, I don’t know how I got so lucky.” 
“You said you were taken, not married,” the drunk grumbled. He was getting agitated now but still too stupid to take the hint that given to him. 
Geralt growled again, making Jaskier jump slightly as he tightened his grip around Jaskier’s waist. “I said. The. Bard. Is. Mine.” he spat out each word, slowly reaching for the dagger. 
Warm hands cupped his face and his eyes tore away from the man hovering over their table back to Jaskier, his own eyes blown wide and his tongue darting over his bottom lip. 
“Dear heart, don’t cause a scene,” he said softly. Geralt should have seen it coming, and maybe he did but he didn’t do anything to stop it. He may have even leaned in like he was being pulled by the gravitational force that was simply Jaskier.
The first brush of lips was the last bit of hesitation he had left in him before his fingers dug firmly into Jaskier’s thigh. It wasn’t a kiss so much as a desperate clash and the growl that he had just leveled at the drunk turned into something closer to a contented purr as Jaskier pushed closer into his space. Geralt could get used to that taste, clove and wine and home. A hand slid into his hair and tugged gently and finally he broke away, panting slightly. 
“I…” Jaskier swallowed and it took everything in Geralt not to dip his head down and devour the column of his throat, “I think he’s gone,” he breathed. His cheeks were flushed and his eyes still held that same wanton look. 
Without thinking, Geralt leaned in again, the kiss far more chaste though he didn’t let up his grip. “Still okay?” He hummed as he let his mouth trace along Jaskier’s jaw, nipping gently. 
“Mm, maybe,” Jaskier gasped and squirmed in his lap when Geralt sank his teeth gently into the space right beneath his ear before lathing his tongue over it. “Ah! Geralt! Not here! I won’t,” Jaskier shivered and shifted again and it was all permission Geralt needed before he stood quickly, swiftly throwing Jaskier over his shoulder with a chuckle. 
Jaskier made an indignant noise as a firm hand came down against Geralt’s backside. “Brute!” but the laugh was unmistakable in his voice. Geralt looked across the bar and winked at the man who had pursued Jaskier into his lap earlier before giving his own firm swat. 
“Now you’re just showing off, witcher. Get me upstairs before I combust,” Jaskier groaned, speaking just low enough he knew Geralt could still hear him. 
It hadn’t been the first time Geralt had carried Jaskier like this, but usually he was passed out drunk and his grabby hands were far less intentional. It made navigating the stairs, let alone getting through the door a feat all of its own. Once safely in the room, Geralt set Jaskier down, letting the bard gain his feet before he pinned him to the door, lifting up easily to wrap his legs around Geralt. 
“What the fuck,” Jaskier moaned, his hips already rocking desperately into Geralt’s thigh. He slid his hands into Geralt’s hair and pulled him into another messy kiss, his body wreathing between his chest and the door. 
“If you don’t want-” Geralt started when he pulled away but he was cut off when Jaskier sank his teeth into his lip and whimpered. 
“I want! I want! Fuck, all I’ve been doing for fifteen years is wanting!” he huffed. His fingers began to fumble with the straps at Geralt’s shoulders and sides. “Fucking witcher, always in this… Fuck, Geralt. Off. Now,” He babbled, his mouth leaving a trail of bites down Geralt’s neck. 
“Pegged you for bossy,” Geralt chuckled, shifting Jaskier’s weight and carrying him to the bed. He dropped him easily smirking at the soft noise he made when he landed. Geralt removed his armor quickly before sliding to kneel between Jaskier’s spread thighs. 
“That better not be the only thing you do to me, or I swear to all the gods, it will be the last peace you ever know.” And with that, Jaskier tugged him down, crashing their lips together again as his back arched, pressing the line of his body to Geralt’s. Already he felt like he was on edge, the bulge of his erection pressed hot and solid into Geralt’s hip. 
Jaskier nipped at the corner of Geralt’s mouth before his hands pushed gently on his chest, breaking them apart again. It was nearly enough to drive Geralt insane. After all this time, he finally had the bard under him and he kept having to pull away. He would have pouted if he were a weaker man. 
“Mm, trousers. Off. Fuck. Need-” Jaskier licked his lips, his cheeks flushing a brilliant shade in the low light of their room. 
“Getting shy on me now, Jask?” Geralt hummed, his fingers already working open the laces of Jaskier’s pants before sliding in. He wrapped his fingers around Jaskier’s cock and gave it a slight squeeze before stroking slowly. Every noise and every squirm Jaskier made in reaction was a rush. Geralt buried his nose behind Jaskier’s ear, breathing in the smell of him, lustful and needy as he let his fingers slowly take him apart. 
Jaskier was babbling, a string of half words and Geralt’s name as his hips rocked up into his hand. Finally a hand gripped Geralt’s wrist, pulling him away gently. Jaskier was panting under him as he turned his head to press a messy kiss to Geralt’s cheek. 
“Please, Geralt. Need you to fuck me. You keep that up and I won’t last,” he pleaded. 
It was all the urging Geralt needed. He pulled away from Jaskier, smirking at the needy noises the bard made when he did. As he shimmied down the bed, he took Jaskier’s trousers with him before reaching over to his pack by the wall. 
Jaskier was sitting up then, nipping at Geralt’s shoulder as his hands wandered shamelessly over him. When a firm hand pressed against his own erection he nearly teetered forward. 
“Oh no you don’t,” Geralt chuckled as he came up with the oil he had been looking for. With one hand he gathered up Jaskier’s wrists and crowded him back down into the bed, pinning his wrists above him. Like this, Jaskier was spread out beneath him like nearly every salacious dream he had had for the past eight years alone. “Now be good,” he nearly growled. Jaskier only looked up with him with wide hungry eyes, nodding vigorously. When Geralt pulled away, Jaskier kept his wrists where they were but arched up towards Geralt bodily. 
He knelt between Jaskier’s thighs, drinking in every sound, every twitch, every inch he could, the air heavy with the scent of arousal and something warm and inviting he wanted to curl himself into and never come back out of again. It was intoxicating. 
He slicked his fingers before letting them slide in a fine line down Jaskier’s twitching cock, tracing a line down  between his legs before his fingers traced over the Jaskier’s rim, making him shiver and gasp. Geralt hummed, pleased as he began to work Jaskier open. 
Jaskier groaned, throwing an arm over his eyes as he sucked in a breath. “Should have known you’d be smug in bed,” he half laughed but the noise died in his throat when Geralt gave a small twist of his fingers, stretching them apart slightly. 
“Should have known you’d run your mouth,” Geralt pumped a third finger in slowly, letting Jaskier adjust. “And I believe I told you to leave your hands where they were. No hiding from me now, Jask.” He nearly pulled his hand away completely, making Jaskier whimper as he placed his arms back over his head, his wrists crossed where they had been when Geralt pinned them. 
“Happy?” Jaskier huffed, his cheeks a brilliant red. 
“Thrilled, good boy,” Geralt began to move his fingers again and it made Jaskier moan obscenely as his body nearly left the bed. “Oh, I’ll be using that to my advantage,” Geralt chuckled. He let his free hand trace patterns into Jaskier’s thigh, pressing slightly to have him spread a little wider. He found he enjoyed teasing the bard, but they were both reaching their limit. 
When he pulled his fingers away, Jaskier looked up at him, his eyes bright and his hair already a tostled mess. He looked nearly fucked out as it was and Geralt wasn’t even finished with him yet. He couldn’t get out of his own trousers fast enough, shoving them down around his knees before nearly dragging Jaskier to him by his hips. 
Staying where he was, Geralt pulled Jaskier up and back into his lap, the bard’s legs wrapping around him easily as Geralt maneuvered him. Jaskier rolled his hips, his cock dragging against Geralt’s skin. He swallowed Jaskier’s moans, his hand threading into his hair as they collided into a clumsy approximation of a kiss. It was more teeth and panting and groans than the meeting of lips and it left Geralt’s fingertips tingling. 
With one hand under Jaskier’s thigh, he lifted him slightly, easing him back down when Geralt lined his own cock head up with the tight heat of Jaskier’s entrance. It knocked the breath out of both of them as Jaskier seated himself as far down as he could. He leaned his forehead into Geralt’s shoulder, panting for a moment as he adjusted, his fingers tapping irregular rhythms along Geralt’s ribs. 
Geralt leaned in, letting his lis brush along Jaskier’s ear, murmuring. “You move when you’re ready, yeah?” He laughed when in response Jaskier only groaned and bit into his shoulder, his nails dragging along his sides. But there was a testing kind of shift to his hips. 
“That’s it. Just like that,” Geralt let his hands drift down to wrap around Jaskier’s hips, holding him securely but not moving him. 
After a few shaky breaths, Jaskier began to move, rocking into Geralt’s lap, his hands clinging to his shoulders tightly as he keened every time he bottomed out. There was a trail of precum smeared along Geralt’s abdomen that only provided a better slide as Jaskier moved against his lap. 
The world shrank down to just them, the way their bodies joined and the desperate half thrusts Jaskier gave as he fucked himself down into Geralt’s lap. Geralt dipped his head, biting a trail of marks into Jaskier’s neck, moaning with a particularly lush roll of Jaskier’s hips that left them both trembling with effort. 
“Fuck, Geralt, feels good. So… Ah!” He cried out when Geralt sank his teeth sharply into his shoulder, his own hips snapping up to meet Jaskier. He couldn’t hold back any more. He leaned them back his one hand gripping Jaskier around the middle as his other braced against the head board. It pushed Jaskier into a slight bend and Geralt set a steady but punishing pace. 
From under him, Jaskier grew louder, a litany of curses and Geralt’s name mixed with gloriously filthy promises that only spurred him on. “Geralt! Geralt! Geralt! Jaskier chanted, his hand sliding between them to wrap around his cock, jerking himself quickly. 
“Oh no, sweetheart, not like that,” Geralt all but purred. He reached down, and grabbed Jaskier’s wrist, then the other before pinning them above his head again. They were barely inches apart and Geralt widened his stance, snapping his hips sharply up, making sure to catch against the spot that made Jaskier light up like a winter solstice festival. He watched his face intently as Jaskier began to fall to pieces under him, his body trembling and his breath hitched and heavy. He looked up at Geralt with eyes blown wide with hunger and something warmer, almost burning. 
He smiled, leaning down to let his lips brush against Jaskier’s with a satisfied groan. “That’s it, Jask. Come for me, good boy.” He was rewarded with a sharp gasp as Jaskier’s eyes rolled back, his whole body quaking as he came, hot and hard between them, a cry that could have been Geralt’s name tearing from his throat, ragged and spent and perfect. It made him tighten around Geralt’s cock, pulling him over the edge just behind him. 
As he came, Geralt squeezed Jaskier’s wrists gently but leaned down to bite his shoulder, knowing full well the marks would be there for days. He dragged his tongue over the marks content in how they darkened Jaskier’s pale skin. 
He lifted up gently, careful not to jostle them and looked down at the mess that was Jaskier, his hair sticking up at odd angles where Geralt’s hands had been, his face flushed and his neck and shoulders covered in dark crescents the shape of Geralt’s teeth. It was a hazy kind of contentedness that filled his chest as he brushed his fingers along the fresh bruises, enjoying the shiver it enlisted. 
“Mine,” he whispered softly, tracing the last bite with his knuckles before leaning down to kiss Jaskier. 
“Yours,” he grinned into the kiss. Fingers came up and cradled Geralt’s face as they caught their breath. 
After cleaning up and chugging down every drop of water they had in their packs, Geralt tugged Jaskier into the bed again, still perfectly naked. They fell easily into a tangle of limbs as they settled for the evening. 
“Husband, huh?” Jaskier mused. He wasn’t looking at Geralt but Geralt could hear the grin in his voice. 
“It worked, didn’t it?” He hummed back, fingers tracing down Jaskier’s arm idly. 
Jaskier lifted his head from Geralt’s chest, resting his chin on his arm to look at him. “Does this mean you plan on making an honest man of me yet?” His eyes were sparkling and he was laughing, but there was something underneath his words that sounded like hope. 
“Hmm,” Geralt rolled them, pushing Jaskier back into the mattress with a kiss. He found that it was hard not to now that it seemed it was allowed. “Now that sounds like an excellent plan,” he said softly. “Going to be good for me if I do?” he teased.
“Never!” Jaskier shot back, his smile bright and his hands just as eager and as hungry as Geralt’s. “Mine?” Jaskier whispered as his hand slid over Geralt’s chest.
“Yours.” And he was. And they were.
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pillage-and-lute · a year ago
An Ever Fixed Mark (Part 2)
Part 1, (here) Part 3, Part 4 , Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10,
Read it on Ao3 HERE
Just three days after the first installation and 4,000 words? That’s right baby! Because I run on validation and whew! Y’all provided.  The courting gift scene based on a recommendation from @tempered-char. Also with a hint of Geralt’s Delicate Sensibilities, as inspired by @valdomarx +Thicc Eskel as a bonus
“Come in.”
It was soft, but not nervous, and Geralt pushed open the door.
Geralt wasn’t a romantic. He didn’t believe in love at first sight. From what he’d seen of the world he wasn’t so sure he believed in love at all. He could imagine, however, that if he were a painter or a poet he could have fallen in love right there.
The room was a tiny, dusty study, and standing in front of the window was, presumably, Julian. The light haloed him, dust mites floating down. Grey-blue doublet and slightly darker pants brought out clear, bright eyes, rimmed with thick lashes. 
He had a rounder jawline, the sort that was in style with painters at the moment. It leant a softness to his face. Maybe that was the fact that he was...nineteen? Geralt couldn’t remember.
He realized he was staring and bowed. It was awkard, still holding his gift and the gift from the countess. He looked up, Julian was smiling.
“It’s nice to meet you, Lord Julian,” Geralt said. “I am Geralt of Rivia.”
“The pleasure’s all mine, Geralt, and please, call me Jaskier,” said the young man. He stuck out his hand. Geralt quickly shifted the gifts to one hand and shook. 
The hand was soft but not uncalloused, at the fingertips and base of the thumb. Long fingers, good for playing the lute that sat, gleaming and well cared for, in the corner.
“Jaskier,” Geralt said, tasting the name. It was a good name, bright and pretty and a deadly poison if treated incorrectly. “I have a gift for you, and her ladyship gave me a gift but I haven’t opened it yet.”
Jaskier rolled his eyes and sat on a plush chair, gesturing Geralt to one opposite. “I have my own gift for you,” he said. “Father and Amaria didn’t think I could get my own courting gifts.”
Geralt decided to give up on subtlety. He wanted answers and he hoped this young man, Jaskier, was willing to give them.
“They want rid of you,” he said. It was a question but without the inflection at the end. “Enough to marry you off to a witcher.”
Jaskier sighed. “Just father, Amaria doesn’t have much to do with anything these days.”
“She seemed...” Geralt trailed off, not wanting to be disrespectful.
“It’s all about heirs,” Jaskier said, standing and beginning to pace. “Suitable heirs, which I’m not.” He sent Geralt a bitter little smile and flopped back down. “My father is not a nice man, you see. He’s never taken kindly to disagreements, and to him there’s only one ‘right’ sort of man. Men like him, manly and strong who kill first and don’t bother asking questions later. I questioned him, maybe three years ago, I didn’t think he should raise taxes again. He doesn’t forgive that sort of slight.” 
Jaskier leaned forward, elbows on knees and stared at the ground for a second.
“I think he’d decided long before that, but he wants me struck from the family tree.” Jaskier looked up at Geralt. Some of his confusion must have been showing on his face.
This world of heirs and court intrigue was far from anything Geralt knew, and seemed more complicated than necessary.
“Follow me,” Jaskier said, rising and stretching out his hand again. “You can leave the gifts, we’ll be back.” Geralt set dow the gifts and hesitantly stretched out his hand, unsure if the gesture was figurative or if he was actually supposed to take it. Jaskier took him gently by the wrist and led him from the room.
“The halls are a maze,” he said, letting go a coridor later. “Follow close behind me, you could get lost.” Geralt did so. He couldn’t imagine anything more embarassing than having a footman fetch him from one of these little stone tunnels.
They emerged in yet another dusty hall, lined with tapestries. Jaskier stopped in between two, and in front of a large, painted wooden panel. It had a tree.
A family tree. 
“My father,” Jaskier said, tracing his finger along dusty, painted branches. “Finds it very important that the next Earl be his direct blood, and also his kind of man.” He looked at Geralt significantly. “That meant ridding himself of Amaria’s sons from her first marriage, by the laws of our country, he could have been heir. That also means getting rid of me.”
This explanation did not help Geralt’s bafflement. Jaskier sighed again, although he didn’t seem to be doing so at Geralt.
“Amaria had two sons, both manly and well suited to my father, but not his direct blood. And they were older than me, set to inherit the role of Earl first. They met with horrible accidents.” A shadow passed of Jaskier’s boyish face. 
“Strange coincidence, how a large rock managed to tumble from the ramparts on to Isak not even a week after the same thing happened to Tomas. Especially since there’s not rocks up there. I checked.”
“Your father,” Geralt said, a little numbly. “Had his stepson’s murdered.” He knew nobility could be nasty but still... “And we’ve made a deal with him.”
Jaskier patted him on the shoulder. “Don’t worry too much about it, Father mostly doesn’t do too much harm these days, and Filip, that’s my half brother, seems like he’ll turn out okay. Then again, he’s only seven.”
“Is he going to have you killed?” Geralt asked, knowing as he did that the Earl was trying, by way of marrying Jaskier to him.
“Not exactly. I don’t know if it’s because I’m blood or just because another ‘accident’ would look suspicious, but there’s an easier way.” Jaskier pointed to a name circled in blue. “That’s my aunt Matylda, father’s older sister. She got married, which officially makes her part of her husband’s family tree, not ours, and she can no longer inherit,” Jaskier paused. “If she weren’t already a woman, I mean.”
“But we’re both men,” Geralt said. “I could just as easily become part of your family tree and then your father’s problem.”
“Yes,” Jaskier said, “In theory, but of course that isn’t how he played it. I’ll be an honorary witcher, and my name,” here he tapped some fine script. “Will be circled in blue and removed from the line.”
They both looked at the tree, looming darkly for a while. 
“I’m sorry,” Geralt offered, although he supposed it wasn’t worth much.
“I’m sorry too,” Jaskier said. “You shouldn’t be roped into all this.”
Geralt privately considered that, yes, while he would have preferred to avoid all this intrigue and politics, Jaskier didn’t seem too bad.
Jaskier led him back through the stone rabbit warren that made up the bowels of the castle.
“Is her that, because of the death of her sons?” Geralt asked when they paused at the top of a staircase. 
Jaskier cocked his head sadly, and then continued walking. Aftr a few more paced he said, “Yes, mostly. She wasn’t always...present, I suppose before but when they died so close together, and in such an awful way-- there’s nothing nice about a block of stone dropping on you from four stories up--something broke. She’s a nice lady, just happier living in her head, I think. Maybe she goes somewhere else, where her boys and her first husband are alive, I hope.”
They arrived back at the study without another word. 
They sat.
“I, um.” Geralt said. “Hmmm. I got you,” he proferred the package, not knowing what to say and begging Jaskier to save him from trying to figure it out. 
Jaskier took the package and pulled the string so that it fell open. The doublet slithered out. Vesemir had sent a letter asking for measurements as soon as Geralt had told him the idea.
“It’s basilisk leather,” Geralt said. “Witchers, um, our Path, it can be dangerous, so you should have this.”
Jaskier held up the fabric, watching the colors, deep blue and green, shift across the slick material. Privately, and for no reason Geralt could really guess at, he was very pleased, both that the doublet was in what seemed to be Jaskier’s colors, and also at the awe struck look on his face.
“It’s as light as silk,” Jaskier said, passing the fabric between his fingers. “And you said it’s leather?”
“Basilisk leather,” Geralt said. Monsters. They were talking about monsters, which he knew about. Thank the gods. “It’s like armor, and it won’t burn or get wet, water just runs off.”
“I didn’t know there was such a thing as basilisk leather,” Jaskier said, holding the doublet up. “Where did you get it? It’s incredible.”
Geralt coughed modestly, and tried not to puff his chest. “I killed the basilisk. Making the leather needs different skills than normal tanning, it’s more like potion making.” He remembered that most people knew little about witcher skills and needs. “All witchers know some alchemy, and we make potions for combat so I...I tanned it. My brother Lambert drew up the design, I don’t know much about clothes.”
The tailor had nearly cried when they’d presented him with the fabric, exclaiming about it’s luster and the ‘glorious smooth hand’, whatever that meant. 
Geralt watched Jaskier’s face anxiously. It wasn’t a courtly gift, no crown of pearls or whatever nobles expected, but it had taken him two months to turn the basilisk skin into leather. It would have taken him half the time but he’d had to do it on the road. Lambert had fussed about the design for almost a week too, and it had been Eskel’s idea to ask for the buttons to be little black pearls like that.
Vesemir had smiled at the team effort, calling it the wolves gift to their new pup.
Jaskier looked up at him, face like a sunbeam. 
“Can I try it on?”
Geralt just nodded, and looked away modestly as Jaskier divested himself of his previous doublet before buttoning the basilisk leather.
He twirled, and in the light from the window the fabric seemed to glow, shifting and turning with each movement. 
“And it really will keep me safe?” he asked, looking down at himself, beaming. 
Geralt nodded. “It would take a battle axe a dozen tries to pierce it.”
Jaskier smiled at him again, and it made Geralt’s stomach tingle, although he had eaten some suspect meat on the ride to Lettenhove. Then Jaskier threw his arms around his neck.
Geralt wasn’t old fashioned. He could move with the times, whatever Lambert said, but manners had been stiffer sixty years ago and Geralt was just thankful that Jaskier wouldn’t be able to see the tips of his ears going red.
“It’s beautiful,” Jaskier said, pulling back. “Thank you.”
Geralt shrugged uncomfortably. Jaskier smelled like soap and some sort of oil. Linseed maybe, probably for the wood of his lute.
“I have a gift for you, it’s not as lovely, but I hope you like it.”
Geralt carefully took the package. It was wrapped much prettier than his had been. “The countess already...”
“That was from her,” Jaskier said dismissively. “And maybe even from Father, although I doubt it, he wouldn’t waste money on me. But this gift is from me.” He sat forward eagerly. “Go on, open it.”
Geralt wasn’t about to refuse that eager, open expression, so he pulled at the ribbon, feeling rather like a bear trying to tie a shoelace.
The bright paper just fell away and there was a stiff paper box. He opened that too. 
Three glass bottles sat inside, nestled in paper. The paper was only there to keep them from clinking because as he pulled one out he saw the telltale dark sheen.
Brimstone glass. It was unbreakable. Sometimes witchers carried their more noxious potions in it but rarely, it was frighteningly expensive, usually only mages could afford it.
“How?” he said. How did you afford it? How did you know it existed? Did you know witchers use potions? He looked up at Jaskier, who looked nervous.
“Are they alright?” he said. “Only I won them off a sorceror in a pub. He told me they were indestructible and threw one at the ground to prove it. I thought they’d be useful...Was it a trick?” He looked so upset at the prospect.
“These, Geralt said, “Are Brimstone Glass, they are indeed indestructible and very, very useful.” Jaskier’s face split into a grin again. 
“Thank you,” Geralt said. It didn’t seem like enough, but if he hugged the lad like Jaskier had him he would kill him.
“Should I open the box from the countess?”
“Do,” Jaskier said. “I want to know what it is.”
The latch flicked easily under Geralt’s hand and the lid popped open.
Jaskier gasped.
“It’s my mother’s ring,” he said. “I don’t remember her well, but I remember her hands...”
It was a beautiful ring, opal, if Geralt was any judge, but Eskel knew stones better than him. Silver wound around the stone, with smaller gems studding the setting to either side. 
“I will use it in the ceremony,” Geralt said, offering it to Jaskier. “If it fits.”
“It won’t fit,” Jaskier said sadly. “Mother had very small hands, but it’s a nice thought.”
Geralt looked at the ring and Jaskier’s left hand. “Try it?”
Jaskier did, sliding the ring onto his finger easily. He looked at it in amazement.
“Amaria must have had it enlarged,” he said.
“A good gift,” Geralt said, although not sure who the gift was really for.
There came a polite knock at the door, interupting the moment, whatever sort of moment it was.
“My lord, it is time for supper.”
Jaskier slipped the ring back into the box and Geralt looked away as he changed into his regular doublet. He didn’t look away fast enough and caught a scandalous glimpse of collarbone and soft chest hair where the chemise got pulled down a little. The air felt a little stuffy suddenly.
The gifts, and Geralt was proud to see that Jaskier folded the doublet carefully back into the paper, although nothing could have harmed it, were handed to a footman to be taken back to their respective rooms.Geralt offered Jaskier his arm, like he’d seen the nobility do, and then Jaskier led him to the dining hall.
To his relief, the hall wasn’t packed. They were what Lambert would call ‘fashionably late’ (and what Vesemir would call a reason for three extra laps) and all the guests were seated. A table held Lady Amaria and a man who must be the Earl, although there was little visible resemblance to Jaskier. They were seated with perhap half a dozen other nobles, as well as a red headed boy of about seven, Filip, probably, who looked like he’d rather be anywhere else. There was another table of presumably more minor nobility, and then a small table with the wolves, two seats still empty.
All eyes turned to look at the pair. Jaskier bowed deeply, and since his arm was still linked with Geralt’s he was made to bow too, or else risk having his arm pulled from its socket. Then they made their way to the smallest table.
Geralt pulled out Jaskier’s chair for him and saw Vesemir’s approving nod, as well as Lambert’s smirk. He didn’t see the swift kick Eskel delivered below the table, but caught the way Lambert’s eyes watered suddenly, and smiled at his brother in thanks for the retribution. Then he sat.
“Julian,” Vesemir said, reaching over the table to shake hands. “I am Vesemir, Geralt’s teacher. It is a pleasure to meet you.” 
“I am happy to make your aquaintance, Master Vesemir,” Jaskier said, and Geralt was impressed that he only winced a little bit as Vesemir inadvertently crushed his knuckles in a grip that could moor a boat. He did, however, gently shake out his fingers under the table once he’d been released.
“If you please, however,” Jaskier continued as if nothing had happened. “I prefer my nickname, Jaskier.”
“Jaskier it is, then,” Vesemir said, moustache twitching up at the corners. Geralt suspected he was thinking the same as he had done. Buttercups, pretty and poisonous.
“You were educated at Oxenfurt, is that correct?” Eskel said.
“Yes, in the fine arts, although I specialized in music composition and lute performance. I didn’t catch your name...?” The most delicate question mark was added to the end of the statement. Eskel blushed, Jaskier wouldn’t know it, but Geralt could see the back of his neck reddening.
“Eskel,” he said quickly. “And the asshole who’s snickering is Lambert.”
Jaskier didn’t look even a little intimidated by either of Geralt’s brothers, which was impressive, because Lambert could scowl like it was a contest and Eskel, although only an inch taller than Geralt, was naturally hugely muscled in a way even the mutagens hadn’t managed for Geralt. His chest and arms looked like they’d withstand a siege weapon.
Jaskier turned a smile on Lambert, who was sputtering indignantly at Eskel’s entirely fair description.
“I’m told you helped with my beautiful courting gift,” he said. Then he turned the smile on all of the wolves. “A team effort I imagine.” 
This stunned all three brothers, and made Vesemir smile. Lambert shrugged uncomfortably. For all his prickliness, he couldn’t take a compliment. 
“Eskel’s idea for the buttons,” he muttered, and Geralt knew he’d been entirely won over.
“The buttons are beautiful,” Jaskier said, smiling warmly at Eskel now, who looked like he’d rather be facing a mountain troll. 
“Was Vesemir that got your measurements,” he said, looking down at the tablecloth. Jaskier beamed at the whole table then.
“Truly a team effort, thank you all, it’s beautiful and I cannot wait to wear it.” With that the whole table was well and truly won over by Jaskier. Geralt couldn’t help but brag a little.
“Jaskier gave me Brimstone Glass bottles as a courting gift,” he said, and preened slightly under the others’ slightly jealous noises of amazement. Jaskier flushed a very pretty pink. 
“I just thought they’d be useful,” he said, although his smile was pleased.
Serving girls entered the hall with trays and the chatter in the hall expanded excitedly. A plump young woman set a tray down at their table and Eskel hummed in appreciation.
“It smells delicious,” he said. She smiled at him, looked him up and down, and then winked.
“Oh doesn’t it just, I could just eat it all up,” she said, not looking at the food even as she lifted the cloche from the appetizers. Then she winked and disappeared back into the kitchen. Another girl appeared and filled the goblets but the witchers hardly noticed for laughing at Eskel’s face.
“Seems Mabel took a liking to you,” Jaskier said, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes. Through his own laughter, Geralt watched Jaskier’s father glaring at their table. Good. The old fuck could choke on it, he didn’t look like he’d ever laughed a day in his life. 
“Careful though,” Jaskier was saying. “She looked ready to take a bite out of you.”
“But,” Eskel gestured, baffled to his face.
“Oh pish,” Jaskier said, taking a swig of wine. “Nobody cares about that sort of thing, do they? Plenty of ladies around here like a few scars, makes men look rugged and dangerous.”
“Rugged?” Eskel rubbed his hand over his face, contemplating. 
“Definitely,” said Jaskier, nodding. He took one of the appetizers. Geralt moved a few to his own plate and slowly their little table descended into a quiet contentment. The appetizers were good, hors d'oeuvres , Geralt remembered Lambert telling him once. They were little bits of paste, meat and vegetable mostly, inside pastry casings.
He smiled when he noticed that he and his brothers were all looking between Jaskier and Vesemir to make sure they hadn’t missed any manners. Eskel swiped Lambert’s elbows off the table.
Eventually the appetizers were replaced with soup. The saucy kitchen girl, Mabel, Jaskier had called her, made a positively salacious remark to Eskel. Something daring about him licking everything clean. Eskel smiled faintly and turned redder than the beet soup.
“You should flirt back,” Jaskier said, once Mabel was gone. “If you’re actually interested, I mean.”
“It’s not that I’m not. Interested I mean,” Eskel squeaked. “But I can’t offer her anything, no marriage or security.”
Jaskier looked at him. It was definitely a look, although not a nasty one. “She asked you to lick her clean and you think that was an invitation to marriage?”
“I wouldn’t want to defile...”
“Oh shut up Eskel, sex doesn’t defile anything. It’s natural and normal and if you think it some how ‘decreases the value’ of a woman than you aren’t the man I thought you to be.” Lambert cut in. “Have some fun, maybe she can remove the stick you’ve lodged up your ass.”
“You’re right, of course,” Eskel said. But now Jaskier was looking worried.
“It won’t be a problem, right?” he asked Geralt. “That I’m not, um a virgin, I mean?”
“No,” Geralt said, probably missing the mark on reassuring, but doing his best. “Unless you mind that I’m not one either. And there is no fidelity clause, and no consummation, you needn’t sleep with me, and you’re free to see other people.”
Jaskier looked at first relieved and then impish, licking the soup from his spoon in a way that made significant parts of Geralt’s brain go numb. “I dunno,” he said, leaning towards Geralt and bumping him with a shoulder. “I can’t imagine consumation with you would be such a chore.”
Melitele’s great gauzy veil, this boy would be the death of him.
There was a pause between soup and the main course, but when Mabel picked up the dishes Eskel leaned towards her and asked if he’d licked it clean enough, to the woman’s obvious approval.
They sat and chatted, Jaskier, Eskel, and Vesemir debated over some old literature that Geralt had never heard of, and then they were interuppted with a cough.
The earl stood, face like stone, beside their table. 
They rose. Vesemir bowed.
“My Lord,” he said. “It is a pleasure to make your aquaintance. I am Vesemir, of the school of the wolf.”
Lord Pankratz inclined his head. “Greetings, Master Vesemir,” he said. “I wish to discuss some of the terms of the contract with you.”
He snapped his fingers and a footman brought him a chair, without waiting for Vesemir’s response.
The wolves sat, feeling wary. Jaskier was looking down at his hands, shoulders shrunk in.
They sat in suspense as Vesemir and Lord Pankratz hashed out details of the legal protections. The main course appeared and the earl stood, and bowed.
“Why don’t we continue this after desert,” he said, smiling smoothly. And it was a very smooth smile. Like an oil slick.
Dinner after that was subdued, despite Eskel returning Mabel’s flirtations. Jaskier looked down at his plate most of the time and the witchers picked up on his unease.
“What’s wrong, Jaskier?” Geralt whispered.
“I don’t know, but he’s planning something, and I don’t like it.”
Then coffee was served after dessert, and the Earl de Lettenhove sat at their table again. 
“Now, for what I really wanted to discuss, I know political marriages can be...challenging,” the earl said in a voice like a snake. “But I wanted to make it clear, should either member express a wish to anul the marriage, the contract will become void.” Here he squeezed Jaskier’s shoulder so hard he winced. “I couldn’t bear for my dear Julian to be unhappy, you see. He’s high maintainance I know, but I wish him the best.”
The earl smiled a despicable little smile. “Now, I think you two shouldn’t really see more of each other before the wedding, yes? Bad luck and all.”
The earl then hauled Jaskier away by his collar.
“What a cunt,” Lambert said.
“I figured that was in the contract anyway,” Geralt said. “Isn’t that normally how it works?”
Vesemir nodded. “Indeed, it’s how these marriages go. But I expect the earl is betting that the two of you wont be able to stand eachother, and so he gets rid of his son and doesn’t have to help witchers all in one go.”
“Yes, Jaskier explained things.”
And then Geralt told his family what Jaskier had told him. The suspicious accidents, the laws, the family tree.
“I agree with Lambert,” Eskel said. “What a gigantic fucking cunt.”
What’s with my thing about clothing descriptions and fancy cloth? I’m a fashion design major, that’s what. 
We’ve got answers about Amaria, and the reason for the engagement, but what’s the wedding going to be like? oooh, cliffhanger, but not too much so I hope it makes up for last time when I was so bad to you all.
Tag List!  @llamasdumpsterfire @stinastar @aziz-the-fangirl @mordoriscalling @bastardofmothman @negativenuggetz @morte-mistrata  @hayleynzlive @filledepluie @bygodstillam@sociowithatardisachevyandawand @faery-god @honeysuckletook @theflurtifly @saibowtie @werevampiwolf @frywen-babbles @the-kewlest@innocentbi-stander @1stbonesfan @aqueenrisesintheeast  @marauders-fan-account @ineffable-lasagna 
@ailorian @toothhurtyam I’m having trouble adding you, I can’t tag if this is a password protected side blog or if you have Allow Blog to Appear in Search Results off, I think. 
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samstree · 8 months ago
The One with the Coastal Customs
Geraskier, 1.8k, Fluff, Crack, Secret Relationship, Kaer Morons at their best, humor, Jaskier takes one for the team
Inspired by Friends. Read on AO3
Breakfast at Kaer Morhen is full of chatter as always. With Ciri and Yennefer joining them a few days ago, loud arguing and laughter always fill those once empty halls.
Jaskier picks at the rye bread on his plate, not paying attention to Lambert’s clearly exaggerated monster story, though Ciri seems completely entranced, prompting him to go on with anticipation.
His mind is still full of last night’s visage of Geralt pressing him against the wooden door and kissing him senseless. The witcher had to come to his bedroom after everyone else turned in so no one noticed. After the whole mountain incident last year and Geralt’s following apology, they thought it wise to keep their blooming relationship in secret for a while.
Let’s not tell everyone in a rush. Geralt was the one who proposed the secrecy. Whatever we have here is ours, Jask. I don’t want them to interfere or mess it up. You are too important to me, He said. Besides, what could go wrong?
Jaskier, at the time, agreed to it whole-heartedly. The witcher was so sincere that day, his golden eyes flowing with adoration and vulnerability that Jaskier could not deny him anything.
Despite some inconveniences, Jaskier has to admit it does make things excitingly hot. He almost feels like a naughty student sneaking out of class to make out with a lover again.
Jaskier’s hand comes up to touch the skin on his neck, the same spot where Geralt nibbed and sucked gently last night and left him a sobbing mess. Next to him, Geralt catches his motion with a look before a faint smile quirks up the corner of his mouth.
“Grape juice?” the witcher passes him the pitcher with the most unaffected tone in the world but his other hand travels up Jaskier’s thigh teasingly.
He has to choke in a gasp.
“…and bam! The third wyvern drops dead.” Lambert ends the story proudly, “And that’s why I’m the best witcher at this table. You have a lot to learn from me, princess.”
Ciri giggles as Geralt and Eskel chime in to call out all the lies in that tale. The room erupts in jabs and loud arguments.
Yennefer is the only one who remains silent throughout the whole meal. Her violet gaze only falls on Jaskier once, piercing with intent, before looking away like nothing happened. Even though their exchanges are a lot more amicable these days, the sorceress tends not to acknowledge Jaskier’s existence very often.
From the corner of his eyes, Jaskier sees Vesemir leave for the library. The older witcher still has work for him to finish today.
“Right, duty calls.” With a screech of chair, Jaskier stands so he can leave too. “I’ll see you later.”
He rests his hand on Geralt’s shoulder and leans in for a kiss. Geralt’s lips taste like the sweetness of grape juice and Jaskier revels in it for a moment before pulling away.
Everyone at the table is staring at him.
Oh, fuck.
Jaskier freezes on the spot, a million thoughts going through his mind. Is it time to announce it to the world? They are ready for everyone to know and get involved, aren’t they?
But with one look at Geralt, he abandons the thought. The witcher has gone pale, and stiff as a statue. Panic starts to creep into those beautiful honey eyes, so subtly anyone else would have missed it.
Geralt is not ready.
Jaskier swallows. Well, there’s nothing to it.
He turns to Eskel, who’s holding a spoon mid-air and studying him with confused surprise.
“Eskel. See you later too.” He cups the older witcher’s jaw and presses their lips together. Eskel, the sweet man, even holds on to his wrist by reflex. He ends it with a pop before going around the table, careful not to trip over a chair.
Lambert can only be described as dumbfounded when Jaskier leans in, and incredulous afterwards.
“Have a nice day, Lamb.”
Yennefer looks at him with the same scrutiny. Wait, why is she looking smug? Fuck, the mage is looking scarier than the day they met. This one he might regret the most later.
“My favorite witch. It’s so good to have you here.” Jaskier opens his arms dramatically before going in, the familiar lilac and gooseberries filling his senses. Oh, her lips are so much softer.
When he stands to straighten his doublet, the whole table is still looking at him in silence. Geralt is tense as a statue while Lambert’s mouth hangs slightly open.
“Right.” He pats Ciri on the back and runs away from the scene, keeping his footsteps as steady as possible.
Ciri is the first one to break the silence.
“What the hell just happened?”
“Language.” Yennefer berates her, seemingly unfazed.
Geralt swallows a lump. If Jaskier is willing to go such length to keep the promise, he can try to look inconspicuous for a moment.
A blush is creeping up on Lambert’s face, but he tries to hide it with biting words. “Geralt, what the fuck is wrong with you bard?”
“Watch your language too.” Eskel’s voice is steady with amusement. “Why do you mind it so much anyway? He’s being friendly. It was nice.”
If Eskel wipes his lips casually with a pleased look, nobody mentions it.
“In what world is that friendly?” Lambert scowls.
“It’s –” Geralt clears his throat, “He went to the coast last year. In the south. Must have picked up some local customs. That’s…um…how they greet each other. In the south.”
Lambert stares at him. “Doesn’t feel southern to me.”
Geralt gulps down all the juice in his cup. When he puts it down, Yennefer is studying him like a predator might a prey.
“Interesting custom.” Her violet eyes sparkle with curiosity.
Geralt has never been more grateful for his witcher trials for allowing him to remain calm under extreme pressure. His heart still beats slowly without revealing anything.
They are fine as long as it doesn’t happen again.
It happens again.
Jaskier sucks at Geralt’s lips with heated passion, drawing a soft moan out of the witcher. Neither of them pays any attention to the flurries of snow falling into the empty courtyard around them.
“I’ve missed you today.” He moves down to Geralt’s jawline, and then his neck. “Where’d you go?”
“Had to repair the wall at the back, or the whole keep crumbles.”
“Hmm. Should have let it.”
Jaskier captures those lips again just when he hears people entering the courtyard, and pushes Geralt away with force.
It’s too late.
Eskel and Lambert stare quizzically at Jaskier, their training swords in hand. Behind him, Ciri is also in full gears, ready for lessons. The way she tilts her head in bewilderment is such a spitting image of her dad.
“Well.” Jaskier pats Geralt on the bicep. “Thanks for helping me clean the stable. That’s…nice of you.”
Roach snorts in the stable behind them.
He walks towards Eskel and kisses him again, and then Lambert. Boy he’s just noticing how tall the younger witcher is. Jaskier has to tiptoe a little bit. “I’ll be off then.”
When he passes Ciri, the girl just moves out of the way like he’s the plague. “See you, uncle Jask!”
Jaskier nods at her, carrying himself as naturally as possible, and enters the building.
The gwent is going great. It seems that Geralt is going to win again.
Jaskier yawns. He’ll never see the appeal of the game, so he just reaches over Lambert to grab the lute. Maybe a little practice will be good–
“Okay, bard. You need to cut it off.” Lambert stops Jaskier’s motion with a hand on his chest.
Jaskier blinks.
“I don’t care whatever–” Lambert gestures around Jaskier’s whole being. “– coastal customs you picked up from the south. It’s not…how we do things around here. We are not in the south and it’s fucking weird. So quit it.”
“Okay?” He blinks again.
“I know you like witchers more than the average man out there,” Eskel adds, “and you want to show us. I appreciate it, Jaskier, but it might not make us the most comfortable.”
“What now?” Jaskier looks around the room. Yennefer and Ciri are sitting by the fire with some magic book spread out between their knees, watching the situation unfold.
“Quit the kissing, bard.” Lambert scowls.
Eskel smiles politely. “Yeah, it’s best if you did.”
Jaskier can see the two witchers are clearly not at ease. Lambert’s face is a ripe tomato and Eskel is acting way too formal with all the niceties.
“Okay. Of course.” Jaskier raises his hands in defeat. “I will stop assaulting you with the overly familiar foreign customs. Message received.”
“Thank the gods. It was disgusting.” Geralt deadpans.
Jaskier looks into those golden eyes he loves so much and wonders if he can express ‘I’m gonna put a pillow over your face tonight’ with a neural glare. The bastard only raises an eyebrow in challenge.
“If you do need to let it out somehow, Jaskier, maybe your friends at that fancy academy of yours are open to it.” Yennefer says, chill as the winter sky, “Or some of your lovers.”
Maybe Jaskier’s eyes are deceiving him, but he swears the sorceress glanced in Geralt’s direction when she said ‘lovers’.
The ladies resume their discussion about spells and magic, and the gwent game continues. Geralt does end up winning.
Jaskier plucks his lute, imagining a million ways for his witcher to make it up to him later.
Oh the sacrifices he has to make for this ridiculous man.
“The sacrifices I have to make for you, my dear.” Jaskier rests his head on Geralt’s shoulder, cuddling up to his witcher’s warm body.
“What sacrifice? I thought you were enjoying it.”
“They are quite good kissers though, especially–” He cuts himself off. It’s best not to discuss your lover’s brothers that way, or ex-lover, for that matter.
“Then what are you moaning about?”
“But my reputation!” Jaskier protests, “My name will be tarnished forever. Jaskier – barker and molester of witchers. None of you will ever let me sing your heroism anymore.”
“Hmm. Don’t you forget about Yen.” Geralt’s voice rumbles deep in his chest.
“Oh yeah. I’m surprised she didn’t turn me into a toad on the spot.” He plays with Geralt’s long hair. “By the way – I just have this inking – do you think, perhaps, Yennefer might know? About us?”
“Oh she knows.”
Jaskier bolts upright, looking at Geralt incredulously.
“Since when?”
“The day she arrived?” Geralt guesses, “I’m sure she took one look at us and figured it out. It’s not my fault she’s so smart–”
Jaskier picks up a pillow and throws it at Geralt’s smug face.
“And you didn’t tell me?”
Geralt finally breaks out laughing. He catches the bard’s feral attack and pins him into the mattress. Jaskier’s angry little pout is too adorable Geralt has to kiss it away. Uninterrupted this time.
“Is it worth it though? All the sacrifices?” Geralt's breath ghosts over the skin at Jaskier's throat.
The bard only glares at him for a moment, before letting out a sigh long-sufferingly.
“For you, my dear. Always.” He pecks Geralt’s soft lips one more time. “As long as no one turns me into a toad.”
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comfyswitcherblanketfort · 7 months ago
geralt and eskel trying to out-beef each other like the true himbo thots they are?? 🥺🥺
oh hellllllll fuckin yes. okay. full himbo jock brain activated: 
It starts out by Geralt doing physical therapy for a back injury
he gets the yummy ropey back muscles that make my brain go hhhnngggg and Eskel is annoyed because he used to be the hot one
Eskel starts going to the gym with him and suggests whoever has the driest shirt at the end of the day has to buy the protein smoothies on their way out
Geralt is nothing if not competitive and adds in extra treadmill time at the end of his routine - he never loses- our boi is sweaty
Eskel is big on arms - they’re massive and he lifts lambert up by his scruff to show off in bars now
Geralt is big on glutes and legs - yes bc he wants to have a delicious ass, but also bc lower back stability is greatly improved by glute and leg workouts 
 he has Jaskier climb on his back and does squats - Jask blue screens for a whole day
Geralt has fucking b e a u t i f u l calves. like hhhhnnnnnggggggg
Eskel has those quads of fuckin steel
They have a competition for heaviest chest press
someone makes a comment about Geralt’s magnificent tits and Geralt leans into it. He does tits and glutes together and our boi gets shapely
They have a bulking phase and Geralt gets a little shy over his added layer of floof.
Eskel gets hit on SO much more when he goes out defs doesn't have a threesome with a succubus and terrifyingly sexy woman he meets in a bar and he drags Geralt out of the house kicking and screaming to show him the wonders of the soft buff bod
They both get laid
Geralt is too much of a himbo to take advantage of this but Eskel is the devious oldest child and he takes off at a full sprint
dude gets dicked down at least weekly and pretty much can get laid whenever he wants
Geralt says Eskel owes him a huge favor because his back injury was what started this
Eskel’s response is to turn to Jaskier and tell him the himbo is in love with him - it evens out nicely
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jaskier-cult · a year ago
what the fuck is wrong with you
Julian Alfred Pankratz, a small noble boy of Lettenhove, runs away from his lessons to play in the woods, because he would much rather prefer being bare-footed and climbing among the trees than being in some stuffy room learning about assholes who killed their people and then themselves. And, out in the woods, he finds an egg.
He gets excited because he learned about eggs before, and they always hatch into cute little birds. And this egg is really big, so that means this is going to be a really cute bird.
That was logical, right?
The bigger the egg, the cuter the bird?
What he doesn’t know is that it is a griffin egg – not just a griffin, but an arch-griffin egg – that was orphaned by a witcher who killed the griffin and cleared out the nest, but missed this egg, which had rolled away and stayed hidden.
Julian only sees one option, and it’s to carry the egg home so he can care for it and wait for the baby bird to hatch. Because what else would he do? 
He’s in his room when it hatches, and eww – the baby bird is covered in slime and mucus and whatever else had been packed inside the egg, and this is definitely not cute, what were his mentors talking about – but then the baby screeches and rolls around, blind and weak, and its behaviour is cute and Julian’s heart absolutely melts. 
The baby is promptly named Alfie, and Julian uses towels and cloth to clean off the baby, and he scrunches up his nose in confusion, because this is a really weird looking bird.
And ugly.
But ugly as in cute.
So, Julian shrugs and showers the baby in coos and praise and love. 
He hides it from his parents and house staff, keeping Alfie hidden under his bed whenever someone comes in his room. 
She’s so smart, too, as young as she is. She listens so well to Julian, like a trained hound, and she loves curling up with Julian at night at the foot of his bed. To make sure she doesn’t starve, he feeds Alfie leftover scraps from the kitchen, and finds that she really likes meats. Specifically raw meats. Which makes sense because she’s a bird, right? Birds are omnivores, right? 
It’s not until the next week that Julian learns about griffins when he hears servants in the manor talking about the contract the witcher took, and something clicks in his head, and he’s like, “oh, so that’s why it looked like a weird bird. Because it’s a weird bird monster.”
He brings the baby, who is growing really big, too big to fit under his bed now – which he now knows is a griffin – outside again and plays with it and gets so proud and excited when Alfie starts to flap her wings and glide, jumping from high places and chasing after Julian. Alfie is really affectionate and likes to nuzzle and press against Julian like a cat. She even responds to her name, the clever little thing, but only when Julian calls it. 
She also hunts down small rodents all on her own, and even though Julian thinks the raw meat and the blood is kind of disgusting, he still praises her for her hunting skills. 
And she loves praise, and she’ll preen and puff her chest out whenever Julian showers her with love.
Alfie becomes protective over her human, and anytime Julian wanders into the woods with someone else, he quickly has to steer the other person away, lest Alfie mistake them for a danger to her Julian. Years after finding her, Alfie even once mauled a man who tried to rape Julian in the woods, when he was only fourteen, and Julian had never loved Alfie so much before. Immediately after, Alfie sniffed and tried to lick the blood off Julian, making high pitched whining and keening noises, like an overgrown puppy, worried that Julian was hurt. Julian gave her so much praise and coos that day, and he even brought back the best cuts of his dinner for her to enjoy. 
Within a few months of bringing her outside to stay, the griffin grows to full size, and has the power and strength to kill ten men without blinking.  
She’s still cute when she rolls over for Julian to give her belly rubs.
Imagine Geralt’s surprise and exasperation to learn that the hopeless, painfully vulnerable and naïve bard who followed him, has a massive arch-griffin as a pet.
Certainly not him, who is attacked promptly after punching said bard.
“Wait!” Jaskier choked out, still out of breath from being sucker-punched. “Don’t hurt her! Please!”
Geralt ignored the bard, tucking and rolling to avoid a swipe of massive razor-sharp claws. He brings his sword up, but the griffin jumps back, cleverer than most of its kin, and hisses at him, strangely subdued for a normally aggressive monster. It was weird, the way it kept glancing around and back at the bard, like it didn’t want to fight and wanted to fly away. And Geralt usually would have let it go, if not for the fact that it was between him and the bard and posed a danger.
He signed Aard, and the griffin was pushed back, shrieking as it crashed painfully into a tree. 
Geralt brought his sword down to meet it, but then he was being body-checked by the bard, being thrown with unexpected strength. 
“What the fuck –” 
Then the bard stumbled and put his body in the way. “Stop!” 
“Get out of the way, bard,” the witcher growled. 
“No, you can punch me all you want, but I won’t let you hurt Alfie! She was only trying to protect me!” 
The witcher had to blink to ensure he wasn’t hallucinating. 
Then the bard spun around and was running over to the arch-griffin, absolutely and painfully no sense of self-preservation in sight. And then, he fucking cuddled up to the monster. 
“Oh, baby, are you okay?” He asked in a high-pitched, soft voice, as if talking to a kitten. 
That was definitely not a kitten. The furthest thing from it. 
Then the griffin moved, and Geralt was ready to watch the bard’s head be chomped off, when the griffin nuzzled into his chest in what could be called an affectionate manner. 
Geralt blinked. 
The griffin fucking what? 
It was unsettling to travel with an arch-griffin. It was even more unsettling to see it act like a tame overgrown puppy to a painfully naïve bard, who showered it unconditionally with love, kisses, and praise, near constantly. Jaskier would stroke and pet the griffin whenever he liked, and would fucking climb on its back to ride, and the damned griffin let him.
“Oh, you’re so beautiful! You’re so cute, such a good girl!” Jaskier crooned. “Yes, you are! So majestic! Geralt, isn’t she the cutest thing you’ve ever seen!”
Geralt wouldn’t exactly call an arch-griffin cute.
“What the fuck is wrong with you,” Lambert said, two seconds into meeting the bard. 
The fucking arch-griffin chirped affectionately and nuzzled into the bard. 
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hi bouncey!! idk how you feel about jaskier/eskel or writing eskel in general but my spouse proposed this idea and i couldn’t get it out of my head 😁 please consider this prompt:
jaskier winters at kaer morhen for the first time, & eskel observes him tenderly washing geralt’s hair (who seems to absolutely love it). eskel is like “i want that” but doesn’t know how to ask for it, so over the next year he lets his hair grow shoulder-length to give him the excuse to ask jaskier for “help” with his hair :’)) i’d love for it to be slashy but it doesn’t have to be!!
thank you, your writing is amazing 💗💗
okay, it’s Geraskel, because I cannot bear to separate my boys, but it’s cute! And fluffy!
tws: bath scene, nudity (platonic/inconsequential)
The first year Jaskier spent at Kaer Morhen, Eskel spent trying desperately to hide his jealousy. The way that damned bard ran his long, lute-calloused fingers through his brother’s thick white hair as they bathed in the hot springs, that gloriously melodic voice lulling both Witchers into a sense of calm... Eskel wanted that. He yearned for it.
He wished, more than anything, that Geralt’s pretty little bard would offer to wash his hair with such soft dedication. That he could feel those slender hands working against his scalp with that gentle yet somewhat imperious devotion. Gods, how he wanted.
But Jaskier was Geralt’s lover, and that could not be helped.
His hair could, though... Perhaps, if he had an excuse to ask Jaskier for help...
A plan began to form, and Eskel spent the next several months implementing it.
“Eskel!” Jaskier declared, grinning widely as he stepped into the keep. His cheeks were glowing, a healthy human pink, and Eskel felt his own cheeks attempting to heat up. “Your hair is so long and lovely! Please, oh pretty please will you let me braid it later?”
“I was,” Eskel cleared his throat, “I was actually hoping you could teach me how to properly care for it? It keeps getting tangled.”
“Oh my darling,” the bard’s eyes widened dramatically and oh-so-sweetly. “I’d love to help! Let me know when you’re taking a bath next and I’ll be right there with my bag of goodies!”
Geralt shot his brother a knowing look and smirked. Go ahead, the expression said. And good luck.
Geralt let a low purr rumble through his chest as Jaskier worked the lotion through his hair, pulling the smooth strands between his fingers. “You’re so lovely, my gorgeous Moonbeam. My Star, my guiding light in the darkness.”
“Eloquent,” Jaskier retorted, splashing his Witcher gently with his leg. Geralt captured his ankles in either hand and held them still. Eskel watched from his own corner of the bath, eyes flicking between them and the walls.
“I can smell your jealousy from here,” Geralt murmured. “Come join us, Eskel.”
“Yes! Let me wash your hair, next,” Jaskier demanded, pouting so adorably that both Witchers felt their hearts clench violently in their chests. Eskel nodded dumbly and joined the other two men on their side of the pool, sitting inches away from Geralt that felt more like miles. “We see the way you look at us, you know.”
“It’s okay,” Geralt added softly, reassuringly. “You’re allowed to look. You’re allowed to join, if you’d like.”
Eskel blinked and glanced back and forth between them, making sure this wasn’t some sort of joke. He didn’t smell any lies. No falsehood to be found. Just fondness and Jaskier’s gently floral soap. He let a slow smile spread over his face, scar and all, and it only grew when Jaskier smiled back.
“Alright, give me your hair, darling. It’s a total mess and I cannot wait to braid it away from those gorgeous eyes of yours. It’s getting shaggy, too. You’ll have to let me shape it-”
Jaskier continued to babble, as he always did, but Eskel let himself relax. Geralt held his hand beneath the water and squeezed every once and awhile as if reassuring him of his place between them. With them. 
Eskel smiled again, and let his head fall into Jaskier’s capable hands. 
At last.
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