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ladyannemarie5 · 5 months

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Geraskier Mamma Mia!AU

I started reading a wonderful fic on ao3 with the Mamma Mia theme titled "It's a Game We Play" by BambiRex (Geraskier/ Yennskier/ Radskier) and remembered I had a similar idea in my drafts with Jaskier, Geralt, Eskel and Lambert, so here it is.

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Geralt, Eskel and Lambert live and run Kaer Morhen in the mountains, a residence for retired soldiers or those who simply can't find a home. The three brothers have been in charge of the place since Vesemir retired a few years ago and with them, the place has blossomed to welcome their brothers in arms in a calm and relaxed atmosphere.

Ciri, Geralt's adopted daughter is a lovely teenager whose love and devotion lies with her father, uncles, aunts, grandfather and of course, her favorite singer: Jaskier.

Ever since Ciri met Jaskier when she was in elementary school, her love and obsession for the singer grew more and more each day to the discomfort of her father and uncles.

Every year without fail, Ciri hogs the TV room to watch the entire award season wherever Jaskier goes and that year is no exception.

For some strange reason, Eskel, Lambert and Geralt always accompany Ciri to watch the awards. Their reason, they say, is to make sure the girl doesn't see anything inappropriate on TV. The teenager doesn't complain because she loves telling people about Jaskier and the meaning of his songs.

Jaskier wins the Grammy for Album of the Year for the third year in a row to the delight of everyone present, and his speech changes everyone's life in Kaer Morhen.

Jaskier gives the usual thanks to his friends, collaborators and others, and then thanks that wonderful summer love affair he experienced 10 years ago that was the complete inspiration for his winning album. He wishes the best to that man and says in a worldwide live broadcast that sometimes he still thinks about him.

Ciri, social networks and media go crazy. Geralt, Eskel and Lambert too.

And of course, Lambert opens his mouth to say that he can't believe Buttercup still thinks about him. The mouths of those present open wide and Ciri starts a whole barrage of questions. Lambert confesses and brags that he met Jaskier one summer 10 years ago and they spent a whole wonderful week together. But it doesn't end there, Eskel jumps in to say that if anyone inspired his Lark to write a Grammy winning album it's him, because apparently Eskel also spent a wonderful summer week by the singer's side. Last but not least, Geralt speaks for the first time since they sat down and confesses that he too spent a week with his Bard 10 years ago.

From there begins a friendly fight of who is the winning muse of the great singer Jaskier, everyone starts analyzing lyric by lyric claiming that they are inspired by one of them. Everything is a joke (let's not talk that the 3 morons remember to perfection every moment lived with Jaskier and that sometimes they stay awake until the wee hours of the morning trying to remember more), until Jaskier, the great singer, arrives to Kaer Morhen.

Ciri, fed up with their bickering and excited to be able to reconnect any of the fools with her favorite singer, contacts Jaskier to let him know that he is more than welcome to Kaer Morhen for more inspiration.

Of course, a series of events begins where Jaskier plays with his wolves to keep them from guessing who has been the biggest muse in his life and which songs are for whom.

Spoiler: In my mind and heart, Geralt is the obvious winner.

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As always, let me know what you guys think, if you want to add anything, if you don't like it, etc.

Also if you want to take the idea and write it, go ahead. Just remember to tell me so I can read it. The songs I imagine are entirely Taylor Swift songs, but if you have suggestions and for whom, feel free to let me know.

#Jaskier is taylor swift in my mind #guess the songs #jaskier #kaer morons #cirilla fiona ellen riannon #geraskier #geralt x jaskier #eskel #eskel x jaskier #lambert #lambert x jaskier #fanfiction ideas #fanfic #ao3fic

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naconaco · 1 year

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#the witcher #Lambert #Jaskier #lambert x jaskier #lambskier

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officerjennie · 1 year

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For a rainy day :)

Lambert hugging someone awkwardly? (3?) Whoever you want that someone to be 😉

No CWs. Lambert is a disaster. Lambskier. Taglist at the bottom!

Lambert didn't do hugs.

Namely, he didn't do touching. Of any sort. The thought made his skin crawl, his face twist into itself, and just the thought of all the gooey feelings that were usually attached to hugging made it all even worse.

That said, he wasn't sure what else he could do when Jaskier was giving him that look.

Somewhere along the way, the bard had attached himself to Lambert's side. A barnacle of a human, suction cupped to him, traipsing along the path in Lambert's wake despite the amount of times Lambert had thrown his boots at him. For all the years Lambert had made fun of Geralt for being stuck with him, destiny or karma or whatever bullshit must have been getting back at him, because Lambert could not shake the damned bard no matter how hard he tried.

And he mainly tried because he liked Jaskier's company. Didn't do for a witcher to get attached to a human, after all.

But he tried and failed, and hated every time Jaskier gave him that look - though there were a dozen 'that look's that made Lambert snarl or storm off away from the bard. Like the one where Jaskier's eyes lit up at whatever story Lambert was telling, or the one where Jaskier's face turned haunted and dangerous when someone said something snide about witchers.

Or the one where Jaskier's whole face softened, and his voice turned quiet, when Lambert stumbled back into their camp bleeding.

Right at that moment, he hated the tears in Jaskier's eyes, and he couldn't run away from them.

He'd caused them. Worst of all, he hadn't caused them by being mean. All he'd done was replace Jaskier's leather bound notebook, the one the damned idiot had dropped in the river the week before and had spent at least a good hour wading around in the water for. And it hadn't even been out of the graciousness of his heart, nor because he felt bad for him when all Jaskier had to scribble on were spare sheets of paper he picked up off of the streets when they passed through a town.

...okay maybe he had been trying to cheer the bard up. His moping was worse than his cheer, and it grated on Lambert's nerves in a way that was dangerously close to suggesting he was fond of him.

So he'd bought him a notebook. And Jaskier had started to sniff, and tear up, and barely managed to whisper out a hoarse "thank you", and Lambert didn't know what to do.

The first thing that came to mind was hug him. He didn't know why, he hated hugs, but it seemed like the right thing to do. Jaskier was tactile, always running his hands over soft things or worrying his thumbs over rough surfaces to feel their texture. Fuck, he'd hug a stranger if they were kind enough to him, and Lambert could see him squirming in place, hands clutching the leather notebook and his coat swaying behind him.

He wanted a hug. Was holding himself back from flinging his arms around the witcher because as much as Jaskier wasn't the greatest with boundaries he knew which ones to keep and which ones he could push.

And Lambert didn't know what to do except hug him. So he did.

Jaskier let out a small eep as Lambert put his arms around him, holding the bard loosely and glaring off to the side like the wall had personally offended him. He couldn't help but stiffen and grind his teeth, and Jaskier just held his breath, not moving an inch as they stood there in complete silence.

It was awful. Lambert hated every second of it. And then Jaskier slowly wrapped his arms around Lambert's back, and Lambert hated it for an entirely different reason.

"Thank you, truly."

Lambert growled, feeling heat building on his cheeks, and he wanted nothing more than to bolt and never see the bard again.

And also wanted to hold him closer, and wanted to kiss him until Jaskier lost his words and just shut up for once.

"Alright, that's enough, shut up about it." Lambert wriggled right out of the hug and bodily held Jaskier at arms length for a moment, glaring at him though it didn't even make the bard flinch. He then huffed and dropped his arms, turning on his heel and snatching up his swords to go find something to kill.

"Should I wait up for you?" Jaskier called out, his voice still touched with softness, and Lambert needed to run before that made him think too much on whatever feelings were rattling around in his chest.

"Don't make me knock you out," he snapped, and jumped out the window before Jaskier could say anything else.

He hated hugs. He hated touching. And he hated how Jaskier made him want to admit he was lying.

@fontegagrilledcheese @damnbert @mothmanismyuncle @geraltrogerericduhautebellegarde @jaskierswolf @oldandkinky @blooodymoon @kan0chan @silvermintnightprincess @flowercrown-bard @sharinalein @concussed-dragon @hayleynzlive @feral-jaskier @sweetiepieplum @stonedstargazer666 @deafeningnightcollection-things @luteandsword @kmuir1 @little-boats-on-a-lake @dani-dandelino @rurousha @renewlucifer

#lambskier #lambert #jaskier #the witcher #mywriting #fanfiction #witcher #lambert x jaskier #jaskier x lambert #lambert/jaskier #jaskier/lambert #witcher fic #witcher fanfic #witcher fanfiction #the witcher fic #the witcher fanfic #the witcher fanfiction

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quickficss · 2 years

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You Don’t Scare Me

I WANT LAMBERT TO BE COMFORTED AND CARED FOR GOD DAMN IT. THATS IT. THATS THE FIC.

Implied Lambert/Jaskier|Dandelion (and implied geraskier) as well as some family dynamic with the other wolves. Hurt/Comfort. 1,414 words. AO3

It was a shit day. A shit day at the end of a shit week, which was at the end of a shit month, which was at the end of a shit year, which was arguably at the end of a shit fucking life. It was all shit, and he was angry about it. anyone would be if they were in his shoes.

His brothers got everything. The fame, the respect, the women and men, everything. He had something once, someone. But he lost him as soon as he let him in.

It was the anniversary of Aidens death, and Lambert wasn’t handling it well. The first half of the day was spent in his room, destroying anything and everything he could get his hands on, and the second half of the day was spent throwing bombs into the lake while screaming. Or maybe crying. It was probably both if he was being honest with himself, which he was never going to be.

Now he felt like a shell. The only thing he felt all day was anger and grief, but now he felt nothing. It was late, around dinner or a little after that. His brothers and Jaskier were in the main hall probably drinking and laughing, unaware of his pain. They didn’t care. No one did.

At least, so he thought.

“There you are” a voice called to him from behind. a melodramatic voice that was unnaturally quiet, compared to the ballads he constantly belted out. Turning his head, Lambert saw the bard standing there, his hands clasped behind his straight back, his loud outfit especially offensive to his eyes in this dim lighting. He growled deep in his throat like a wild animal prepared to back up his bark with a bite. This only earned a roll of the bard's blue eyes.

“Hush now, Lamb.” He lightly scolded with a smile, making his way over without hesitance or fear. “There’s no need to act like that. Come and drink with me and your family, huh? You’ve been down all day.”

“What would you know?!” The witcher snapped, moving his shoulder away from the bard's open hand. “I have every right to be upset! You don’t know anything about me or what I’ve been through, so don’t fucking pretend that you do!”

The bard frowned, lowering his hand to his side as he looked up at the wolf. Lambert noticed that he didn’t smell of fear or disdain or even annoyance, but heartache.

“Lambert” Jaskier began, carefully stepping closer to the cornered wolf, not because he was afraid of being bitten but afraid he would scare lambert off. “Geralt... he told me what happened... he told everyone. Not Yen or Ciri obviously, but he told the people you... see the most often. The people who are here.” A blinding rage caused Lambert's vision to see red. How dare Geralt go behind his back to tell everyone of something so personal, something he trusted him with the knowledge of? He clenched his hands into fists, which caught Jaskiers attention.

“Don’t misunderstand!” Jaskier quickly added, putting his hands up in a stop position with an anxious smile. “He didn’t give any details or even names. He just told us that you had lost someone a couple of years ago to the day and that's why every time this date comes around you get... moody.” The bard winced at his own wording, probably aiming for something more gentle or poetic. The youngest witcher growled again before crossing his arms.

“So what? Are you here to mock me? Poke fun at me? Call me weak? Because I’m warning you now, I’m not in the fucking mood.”

“Gods no! Do I really come across as such a heartless bastard?” Jaskier exclaimed as he brought a hand up to his chest. Lambert couldn’t help the crooked smile that rose to his lips, which earned a huff and a muttered “Don’t answer that” from the bard. Rubbing a hand across his face, the younger man continued. “Lamb, I hate to see you like this, we all do. Just join us for a couple of pints, a few rounds of cards, whatever you want. We haven’t seen you all day and... we’re concerned.”

Lambert scoffed as he turned on his heel and began marching down the hall again. “Thank you but no thank you, I’m perfectly fine on my own, now get lost before I- Ack!” The man was stopped in his tracks when two arms suddenly wrapped around his torso, refusing to let go. He heard Jaskier coming up from behind him obviously, he just wasn’t expecting... that. “You don’t scare me, you fucking asshole,” Jaskier said, his words muffled from Lambert's shirt. “You are coming to be with us and that's final. It’s not good to process grief alone. Please let us...” he trailed off for a moment, “... let me help you.”

Something about the way Jaskier sounded so genuine, the way the smell of compassion rolled off of him in waves, caused Lambert to suddenly stop his train of thought. Jaskier tightened his grip around the man's chest, fist curling around the front of his shirt.

“Please” was all Jaskier had to add before Lambert caved. He could feel his eyes sting but quickly brought his hands up to wipe stray tears before the bard was any the wiser. “Fine.”

He followed the bard into the main hall, where his brothers and Vesemir sat waiting with an extra mug of mead spiked with white gull for him. It seemed as though this was planned. Thankfully, no one forced him to say anything, no one even brought it up. It was only when he was good and drunk when Vesemir draped a thin blanket over his shivering form, did he break. He of course didn’t say anything about his and Aiden's relationship explicitly, but the looks he received as he was drunkenly ranting and raving about the Cat witchers food preferences told him that they knew.

He didn’t even realize he was crying until a good three seconds after he started smelling the salt. He cringed at that fact, as it only brought to light how inferior his reflexes were compared to his brothers.

Despite all that, no one condemned him. No one made him out to feel weak or pathetic, they only listened and offered comforting words. He was also pretty sure Geralt let him win at Gwent on purpose, but he was too happy about the fact he finally beat the white wolf to care.

When the hour was late, or rather early in the morning, it was only him, the bard, and the bard’s muse. Geralt and Jaskier exchanged looks that the youngest wolf couldn’t quite read, but after what seemed like a staring match Geralt stood up and patted Lambert on the shoulder before leaving to go to bed.

And then there were two.

“... do you want me to write a ballad about him?” Jaskier voiced gently.

“No... Yes. I mean- fuck, I don’t know.” Lambert slurred, staring at the bottom of his mug.

“You should head to bed. It’s late and you had a long day.” The bard smiled at him from across the table. Lambert's mouth and throat became dry. He had the realization that he didn’t want to be left alone just yet, but he knew the human was probably tired. He wasn’t sure how long humans should stay awake, he never had one to take care of as Geralt did, but he was pretty sure they weren’t supposed to stay awake as long as Jaskier had.

“Could you...” Lambert began, tripping over his tongue, “I mean, can you... I just... I don’t....” He could feel himself getting flustered as he watched Jaskier’s grin grow, his cornflower eyes filling with mirth. “Could you just... spend the night with me? Not to do anything! I just don’t...” He couldn’t bring himself to say it.

“Sure” was not the answer he was expecting. They walked to Lambert’s room in silence, and the wolf learned four things that night.

1. Jaskier slept in his briefs

2. Jaskier was surprisingly buff under all that puffy fabric

3. Jaskier’s feet were cold

and 4. He fell asleep much easier when he was accompanied by the gentle smell of chamomile.

Jaskier wasn’t an Aiden. He realized he still needed time to heal. Maybe next winter, however, he could ask Geralt how open the relationship was.

#I wrote this at 12 in the morning btw #I was sad today can you tell?#jaskier/lambert #lambert witcher #the witcher fanfic #the witcher fanfiction #the witcher hurt/comfort #lambskier #jaskier x lambert #lambert x jaskier #the witcher #kaer morons #kaer morhen family #all my bitches love lambert

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ohwhoopsok · 11 months

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I’m still having fun making headers, so here is the unexpectedly very large???? one I made for my @fandomtrumpshate piece for thefisherking!

King... Bro you’re so cool, I’m glad we’re friends now and I get to be annoying in your discord at all hours. I hope you like your piece. 😘

Of course, flowers and confetti over comicgeekery who I met through the FTH Regiment of Fan Laborers. They were a big help to making sure this came out polished and coherent. 🎊

💣🎻

The Witcher | Lambert x Jaskier | Explicit | 13k | BDSM AU

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Summary:

Looking in Lambert’s eyes makes it feel like he’s standing near a hearth while the rest of the world is lost on the other side of a blizzard. His heart clenches for a moment and, even looking at the handsomely sharp angles of Lambert’s face, he doesn’t think it has to do with how attractive the man is.

Much less when his lip curls up as he spits, “Who’s the little prince?”

Jaskier, who has been called much worse things, smiles at him. “You think I’m princely?” he coos. “Handsome and a charmer, whatever shall I do with you?”

(Jaskier is a submissive masquerading as a dominant. It works for years. Until he meets Lambert.)

💣🎻

Heed the tags and continue reading on ao3! 🔞

#the witcher #bombard #lambert x jaskier #fth2023 #fandom trumps hate #My writing

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kueble · 2 years

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Last one for the night I think. @thepassifloradiscord

Explicit. Warnings: none. 100 words

Lambert/Jaskier (implied Geraskier)

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"Geralt said you had a mouth on you, though I doubt this is what he meant," Lambert says, laughing as he struggles to hold his hips I check.

"He knows better than most," Jaskier replies, smirking before swallowing him down again. He grabs Lambert’s hand and brings it to the back of his head, begging him to fuck him harder. He looks filthy on his knees, happily gagging around Lambert’s thick cock.

Lambert had reservations about letting the bard join them this winter, but as he slams his hips into Jaskier's hot wet mouth, he can't seem to remember them.

#the witcher #jaskier #lambert #bombard #my fic #drabble #drabble challenge #lambert x jaskier #jaskier x lambert

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dat-carovieh · 1 year

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Be a good Puppy

Ship: Lambskier (Lambert/Jaskier)

Rating: E

Wordcount: 2.4k

Tags: Jaskier/Geralt/Lambert/Eskel implied, Puppy Play, Dom Jaskier, Sub Lambert, Shibari, Bondage, Collars, Cock Warming, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Praise Kink, Orgasm Denial, Frottage, Porn with Feelings, PWP, Smut

Read on AO3

Jaskier closed his book, a piece of paper between the pages so he would find his page again and put it down to his lap, as he heard the hesitant knock at the door. “Come in,” he called and the door opened slowly. Lambert took a step inside, looking to the ground.

“You wanted to see me,” he said, fidgeting with his hands. Jaskier took his time, taking the Witcher in. He was only wearing a black shirt and a pair of black leather trousers with his usual boots. The black hair that was usually slicked back was hanging into his face, freshly washed, the way Jaskier liked it. Lambert had probably done it, because of that. Jaskier had to force himself not to smile.

“Close the door behind you,” he said with a strict voice. Hastily Lambert did as he was told.

“Do you know, why I wanted to see you?” Jaskier asked.

“Yes.”

Jaskier raised and eyebrow.

“Yes, sir.”

“So, why are you here?”

“Because I was being an asshole and insulted you.” Jaskier nodded and waved him closer, Lambert immediately followed and stood in front of Jaskier, who had still propped his book on his crossed legs.

“And are you sorry?” he asked. Lambert nodded.

“Excuse me?” His voice now slightly raised.

“Yes, sir, I’m sorry.”

“And are you ready, to prove, that you can get a good boy?”

“Yes, can be a good boy, want to prove it,” Lambert eagerly said.

“Good, get undressed and then bring me your collar and the rope,” Jaskier commanded with a dismissive wave of his hand towards the trunk. “And don’t forget to fold your clothes.”

“Yes, sir.” With a slight smile, Jaskier went back to his book, waiting for Lambert to finish.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a movement before him and looked up, Lambert was kneeling in front of him, completely naked, cock already half hard, in his hands the rope and collar, Jaskier had asked for. His own cock twitched a little in his trousers, but he ignored it for now. He moved his hands through Lamberts loose hair.

“Look, who can be a good puppy, if he just wants to,” he said with a smile. He took the collar and fastened it around Lambert’s neck.

“Is it to tight?” he asked. Lambert shook his head. “Words, puppy.”

“Not to tight,” he said. Jaskier put a finger under Lamberts chin and tilted his head up.

“Do you remember your word?” Jaskier asked.

“Yes, sir, White Gull,” Lambert answered.

“Good puppy.” Jaskier petted Lambert’s head and the Witcher closed his eyes. He took a moment to scratch the Witchers scalp. Lambert made a small humming sound at that.

Jaskier placed his book on the table next to the chair and got up, tugging on the leach, attached to the collar. “Come on, get up,” he said. Lambert hurried to obey. As they where standing, he pushed Lambert towards the middle of the room, grabbed his shoulders and turned him around. He took the rope, Lambert was still holding.

“Arms behind your back,” Jaskier commanded and Lambert moved his arms back, the forearms against each other and he grabbed the crook of his arms. Jaskier started to wrap the rope around the arms and made a knot, before he continued to wrap the rope around Lambert’s chest, making a couple of knots. Lambert was standing as still as possible. Jaskier knew it was nearly impossible for the Witcher to be completely still, so he ignored the little shaking of the body. He knew, he was trying really hard.

“Look at you, all wrapped up for me, like a present,” Jaskier said as he took him in. It truly was a beautiful sight. “Stay here,” he said and went to the bed to get a pillow. He put it down in front of the chair, then he led Lambert back to the chair and sat down. The Witcher didn’t need a prompt, he immediately dropped to his knees on the pillow.

“You know, the pillow means you will stay down there a while. Because I really need to finish that chapter, but I would really appreciate someone to warm my cock, while I do so. Can you do this?” Lambert looked at him with half lidded eyes.

“Yes, sir,” he said, his breath heavy, voice sounding excited. Jaskier opened his trousers and pulled out his already hard dick. Lambert licked his lips at the sight. He leaned forward to take the cock deep into his mouth. Jaskier moaned as he felt the hot warmth close around him. A tongue swirled around him. Jaskier grabbed his hair and yanked his head back.

“No! I said cock warming, you will sit here with my cock in your mouth, not moving, until I tell you otherwise,” he scolded. “Can you do that?”

“Yes, sir, I’m sorry, sir,” Lambert whispered. Jaskier let go of his hair and Lambert leaned forward again, taking him deep into his mouth. Jaskier nodded and took his book from the table, to continue reading.

Lambert had his eyes closed; he didn’t notice anything around him. Only the taste of Jaskier’s cock, he was not allowed to lick and the smell of arousal coming from the bard. He had to constantly remind himself to not lick or suck it. He wanted it so badly. And the smell of Jaskier from where his nose was buried in the hair around the bard’s cock. His own cock was straining and he arched to be touched. Maybe Jaskier would grant him that, when he was being a good boy. So, he tried his best, not to move. He was still shaking, he couldn’t stop it, but Jaskier pretended it didn’t happen. It didn’t bother Lambert to much, he had never been able to sit completely still. And suddenly a hand came down, stroking his hair, he nearly moved his mouth but he was able to stop himself at the last moment. Some drool was leaking out of his mouth, but there was nothing to be done about it and Jaskier didn’t seem to mind. He was reading his book and petting his hair.

Lambert was thankful for the pillow under his knees, as much as he loved this position, his knees would be hurting like hell by know if he was kneeling on the hard floor. He felt at peace, not having to think about anything except not sucking the cock in his mouth, not having to worry. Not having to be on guard the whole time, knowing he was safe right now, a hand playing with his hair, he felt completely at ease.

After what felt like a long time but also not long enough, he felt a tug on his leach and opened his eyes, to look at Jaskier.

“Aren’t you a good puppy? I think you deserve a little treat,” the bard said with a smile. He didn’t know, what that treat would be but yes, he would love, whatever Jaskier would give him. He was pulled back from Jaskier’s cock and let out a small involuntary whine at the loss. His jaw arched from being strained for so long but he would love to taste him some more.

With a finger under his chin, Jaskier tipped his head up and smiled at him, he brushed his fingers over Lambert’s cheek. Then he got up, the leach in hand, pulling him up as well. It was not easy to get up with his arms tied behind his back but he managed, Jaskier holding the leach short was helping him as he steadied himself. He was slightly shorter than Jaskier and because they where standing so close, he had to look up a little. Jaskier didn’t say anything, he just pulled him through the room, Lambert followed obediently. Jaskier stopped at the wooden desk, pushed him against it and made him bend over. He felt really exposed like this, naked, bound, bent over a table and not able to see, what was happening. But he trusted Jaskier completely.

“Stay like this, don’t move, until I’m back,” Jaskier ordered and he heard him walk around. But he didn’t take long to return. Jaskier fisted into his hair and pulled his head back, forcing him to look at him.

“Did you prepare yourself, before you came?” he asked. Lambert nodded.

“Yes sir, I did.” He knew, Jaskier wanted him to do it himself before. But he always checked, to make sure he was alright.

“Good boy,” he said, letting go of the hair. A warm sensation was spreading through Lambert’s body at hearing the praise. Jaskier was holding a small ring in front of his face, Lambert knew it, they had used the penis ring before. He felt Jaskier’s breath next to his ear.

“We wouldn’t want you to come when you’re not supposed to, right? We don’t want to forget; you are here to apologize. And if you’re good, I might allow you to come afterwards,” he explained.

“Yes sir, I will be good, so good,” Lambert said, biting back a whine. His fingernails dug in his arms as he tried not to move. He wanted to be good for Jaskier. Jaskier reached around him and placed the ring around his straining cock. He couldn’t bite back a little whimper at the touch but he managed to stay still.

He heard a bottle being opened and then a slick noise. Jaskier was about to fuck him and he really had to contain himself to not shift on the desk in excitement. Jaskier was holding the leach short, so there was constantly a little pull that reminded him of the collar he was wearing. He felt Jaskier’s cock push against his hole before he pressed deep into him. Quick thrusts pressed him against the table, he felt his orgasm approaching but couldn’t come.

“Let me hear you, puppy,” Jaskier demanded, panting. His hand on Lambert’s hip was digging into the skin.

Lambert opened his mouth and let out a long and deep moan which made Jaskier thrust into him even harder.

“Yes please,” he whimpered. “Please more… harder… oh gods… please.” He so desperately wanted to come but he knew, he wasn’t allowed to. And he would not disappoint Jaskier. Jaskier’s deep moans made shivers run down his spine, he wanted to come but he also wanted to continue feeling him inside of him.

Jaskier’s breathing got heavier and his thrusts faster and harder and with a loud moan he came inside of him. Lambert could already feel the cum leaking out of him. Jaskier pulled back out and Lambert couldn’t stop himself from whining again at the loss. It had felt so good having Jaskier in him. Jaskier grabbed the rope and pulled him up again, spinning him around. They were standing close to each other.

“You did good, puppy. You will be allowed to come in a moment,” he promised with a smile. He leaned against the desk himself, half sitting on the edge. He reached down and took of the cockring.

“Get on you knees,” he ordered and Lambert dropped down immediately, maybe a little too fast, he immediately felt pain shooting through his legs. But he didn’t care right now. Jaskier extended his leg.

“You may get off on my boot,” he said.

“Thank you, sir,” Lambert answered and moved closer, to get the leg against his arching cock. The cold, hard leather felt so good against his hot cock. Jaskier moved his fingers under his collar, to hold him in place. Lambert was thankful for that, since his hands where still bound to his back, so he couldn’t hold himself up too well. He looked up at Jaskier who gave him a small nod. More encouragement wasn’t needed for him to rut against the boot, finally finding the friction he had been craving. Getting closer to his release with every thrust.

“Come for me, puppy,” Jaskier rumbled. This was everything he needed and he spilled his release over Jaskier’s boot. Jaskier’s hand was in his hair again.

“Uh, I think someone made a mess, you should clean it up, don’t you think?” Jaskier said. Lambert nodded.

“Yes, of course,” he said and inched a little back so he could bend down. Jaskier had let go of the collar and was holding the leach again. Holding him up by it. Lambert felt a little choked and the sensation nearly got him hard again. It looked like Jaskier had just cleaned his boots previously, which Lambert was thankful for and Lambert dove in to quickly lick it clean again. When he was done, Jaskier took hold of the restraints and pulled him back to his feet.

“You did so good,” he said, as he began to loosen the knots. As good as it felt to be bound, the feeling of the ropes coming off were great and when his arms where released, he had to stretch them. Jaskier’s arm wrapped around him and he smiled at him.

“How do you feel?” he asked in a soft voice.

“Great,” Lambert answered, still lightheaded from their play.

“That’s good,” Jaskier answered. “Come let’s get you into bed.” Lambert dug his fingers into Jaskier’s shoulder.

“Are you…?”

“Yes, I’m coming with you, just need to get out of these clothes,” he explained and Lambert reluctantly let go of him. He turned around, getting into the big bed, pulling the blanked over himself and watched Jaskier getting undressed. He put his clothes neatly next to Lambert’s and the crawled into bed next to him. He pulled the Witcher into his arms and allowed him to settle his head on his chest. He seemed to fall asleep quickly.

A small knock at the door pulled Jaskier out of his thoughts. “Yes?” he said quietly, knowing there could only be a Witcher on the other side of the door who would hear him regardless. The door was pushed open and Geralt came in with a small smile, looking at them, cuddled together on the bed.

“Is he asleep?” Geralt asked.

“I think so,” Jaskier said, stroking the hair of the Witcher in his arms.

“He was a real little shit, today,” Geralt said. Jaskier nodded. “True, but he is our little shit,” he answered. “Are you just going to stand there or are you coming to bed?”

Geralt quickly moved away from the door and got undressed as well, before crawling into the bed on the other side, putting his arm around Lambert.

“Is Eskel also coming?” Jaskier asked.

“Hmm I think so, but he said something about looking after the goats, so he might be a bit later,” Geralt answered and closed his eyes.

#Lambskier #Lambert x Jaskier #Lambskier fic #my writing #my Witcher writing #The Witcher

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witchersgoldenbard · 2 years

Text

Caffeine and Forehead Kisses

It's been one of those months where it seems like the whole world needs Jaskier to be there, to listen and to fix their problems. And Jaskier loves it, usually, but it's getting out of hand and he desperately needs a break from everything. Thankfully, Lambert is there to save the day - and to send him pictures of otters in funky hats.

wc: 1.9k | tags: modern au, established relationship, protective lambert, jaskier has anxiety, slightly nonverbal jaskier

read on ao3 | for @karolincki my beloved 💛

Everything in Jaskier is longing to scream until his throat is raw enough to justify calling in sick for the next two to four business months. His anxiety is through the roof, his skin tingling every time his phone vibrates with another message, his laptop pings with a new email or his coworkers stop by his desk to have a little chat. He wants to scream, but the very thought of that makes his already shaking hands tremble even more, and he has to work himself through the sixth breathing exercise that day alone. It’s not even 3pm yet.

Reaching for his phone, he ignores all the notifications and instead goes to his chat with Lambert.

Jask [2:21 pm] - i want to go home

Jask [2:21 pm] - tell my mom to come pick me up

Jask [2:22 pm] - or better yet, you come pick me up 🥺☹️

It doesn’t take long for Lambert to come online and for Jaskier to get a text back.

Lambi 🦌 [2:24 pm] - I’ll be there at 4 with sugar and caffeine, yeah?

Jask [3:24 pm] - i love you more than words can express. but also please something with cinnamon? 👀

Lambi 🦌 [2:25 pm] - Done

Lambi 🦌 [2:25 pm] - Here, have pictures of otters in hats

Lambi 🦌 [2:25 pm] - 5 attachments

As Jaskier scrolls through the pictures and shakes his head at how wonderfully inept his boyfriend is when it comes to emotions while still managing to cheer him up each and every time, the itch under his skin subsides. He doesn’t want to scream anymore, instead all he wants now is to hug Lambert and to just exist in his arms for the rest of the day with nothing but caffeine, sugar and forehead kisses.

When 4pm finally rolls around, Jaskier all but jumps out of his chair, grabs his stuff without so much as a goodbye, and races down the stairs to find Lambert waiting for him. That wonderful, wonderful man with his ginormous coffee travel mug and a cinnamon roll the size of Jaskier’s fist, his arms opened wide in invitation that Jaskier only too gladly accepts.

“I love you,“ he tells Lambert, pressing a kiss to his cheek. „I love you, I love you, I love you.“

Standing out here now, the sun on his face, breathing in Lambert’s familiar scent, all the tension falls from his shoulders. It almost leaves him feeling hollow, but he tries not to think about that too much.

“Just admit it, you love the coffee more,“ Lambert sighs as he presses the mug into Jaskier’s delighted hands.

It is then that Jaskier realises he hasn’t eaten anything yet today, and that the dull ache just above his eyebrows might actually be caused by drinking too little. He’s not been great at taking care of himself between Essi’s broken heart, Yen’s latest mood swings, reminding Eskel of his worth and value, and just taking on everyone’s problems. He’s Jaskier, taking care of people is what he does. He shouldn’t complain that they love him, that they trust him enough with their deepest and darkest parts and value his input.

And the tricky thing is, he does love being there for them. Loves being the person they confide hin, loves existing in other people’s lives as the one person who always has the right thing to say, who can always solve their problems. A bit of sunshine on an otherwise dreary day.

But now the headaches are getting stronger, his anxiety is through the roof, he can barely focus on work, and even though there are so many things he wants to ask Lambert, wants to tell him, he finds that his throat is constricting. In fact, the very thought of talking to him makes his skin tingle again.

“You okay?” Lambert asks, and Jaskier only nods as he sips his coffee. “Come here.”

The words are gentle and Jaskier doesn’t even hesitate before he leans into Lambert’s chest, lets the other man’s arms close around him and his one wish of existing in his love’s arms with coffee and pastries comes true. A gentle kiss is pressed to his forehead, another to his temple, and Jaskier wants to cry.

“Wanna go home?” Lambert asks, and Jaskier nods hesitantly. Not yet, he thinks. Let me have this first.

Lambert hums and rubs his hands over Jaskier’s arms, replacing the tension there with warmth.

“In a minute?”

He nods again, relieved that Lambert always, always understands him.

“You gonna tell me what’s wrong?”

No. Can’t talk. He shakes his head.

“That’s fine,” Lambert promises. “Take your time. I’ve got you.”

They stay like that for another ten minutes before Jaskier has finished the coffee and the cinnamon roll, and has breathed in enough of Lambert to feel like he can walk without tripping over the weight of everything that’s pulling him down. Lambert’s hand at the small of his back is his anchor, and Jaskier kisses him deeply before accepting the offered front seat in the car.

He might be gruff, that love of his, but he never fails to hold open the car door for Jaskier, and it melts his heart every time. Even when they fight, even when one of them is pissed at the other, Lambert holds the door open until Jaskier is sitting comfortably.

I love you, he would say if he had any words left.

His phone vibrates.

Jaskier wants to cry again.

***

Lambert’s worried eyes rest on him heavily and Jaskier hates it. Doesn’t want to make him worry, doesn’t want to cause any distress.

His phone vibrates again and he sees it’s a message from Essi, but before he can unlock his phone, Lambert snatches it from him.

“You’re not here, Jask,” he says gently, holding onto the phone. “Is this what it’s about, what has you so completely exhausted that you’ve gone full nonverbal on me? Why you’re not eating, not sleeping?”

There’s no judgment in his voice, no disdain, but the worry is so clear that Jaskier can’t stop his eyes from filling with tears. He looks away, holding out his hand for his phone but Lambert doesn’t relent. Instead, he ducks his head to meet Jaskier’s eye again.

“You know you don’t owe anyone your time, right?”

It stings. It stings because no, he doesn’t.

“You don’t always have to be there for everyone, Jask.”

That’s easy for him to say, though, because Lambert is only ever on his phone for Jaskier anyway, barely talks with his brothers about heavy topics because these three men have a different way of communicating that kind of stuff, and Lambert never has to navigate someone else’s bad days and relationship with themself.

He frowns, demands his phone. This could be important, Essi could need him, Yen could be apologising, Eskel could be thought dumping on him about what it means to be aroace and Jaskier needs to be there to stop the self loathing before it can even start because in this world it is just way too easy to spiral out of control and he doesn’t want to be at fault, not when he could have stopped it, not when—

“Hey, breathe,” comes Lambert’s voice through the haze of his mind, and before Jaskier realises what’s happening, he finds himself in Lambert’s lap on their couch, breathing through the tears and failing, failing, failing. “Come on, love, in and out. With me. You’ve got this, come on. In. Yes, like that. And out. Hold it for a second. And in again. Yes, you’re wonderful.”

It helps.

It’s good.

Everything is fine.

It helps.

Until his phone vibrates again and Lambert growls, pulling Jaskier closer until his nose is tucked into the other man’s neck.

“I’m going to text them, okay? Whoever it is, I’m gonna tell them that you need a break. And then I’m gonna draw you a bath, get that tension out of your shoulders. Make you eat. And we’re gonna snuggle up right here with Midnight in Paris, alright? Then, if you have words, you’re gonna tell me what’s weighing down that beautiful mind of yours, okay?”

Jaskier only nods, wants to cry out in relief, wants to hide, to run, to not be so weak. Wants his skin to stop tingling, his lungs to stop aching, his mind to stop racing. He wants a world where there is only himself and Lambert and everyone’s problems disappear until Jaskier has learned to breathe again.

“I love you,” Lambert tells him then, fingers running through his hair, massaging his scalp until Jaskier feels like all that’s left of him is a puddle. “You get to take breaks. You’re too good for the world, man. I don’t know how you do it. You’re, like. The best person I know. The best. Because you care so much, because you always want to help, because you’re just… You. But you gotta believe me when I say that more often than you think, being you is already enough. You don’t gotta be everyone’s therapist, everyone’s saviour, everyone’s emergency contact. Hell, you don’t even gotta be everyone’s friend! You just gotta be Jaskier. My Jask. That’s more than enough. And if the world complains about it, I’m just gonna punch it in the face.”

That last part is said with an audible grin, and Jaskier sobs, laughs, doesn’t even fucking know what he’s feeling anymore.

But when he finally stills, when his mind feels empty like his tears have washed away every single thought, he reaches for Lambert’s hand and joins their fingers. Not a second later, Lambert raises their joined hands to his lips and presses one, two, three kisses to his knuckles.

“You back with me?”

Jaskier shakes his head, just to be difficult, and Lambert chuckles.

“Yeah, you’re back alright. Come on, let’s get you into the tub, yeah?”

He doesn’t budge an inch, but that has never stopped his boyfriend who unceremoniously gets up from the couch with Jaskier still clinging to him as though he wears nothing. Stupid muscly mechanic that can carry him around however he pleases. He loves him so much. Still, he punches him in the chest and revels in the laugh he gets for it.

In the bath, there is no phone to vibrate, no call to answer, no email to read. There are not expectations. Only Lambert with his wonderful hands, and Jaskier leans back and closes his eyes.

“That’s it,” his love rumbles behind him. “Just relax, baby, I’ve got you.”

Jaskier hums and believes it. Thinks of otters in stupid hats, thinks of car doors, of Lambert threatening to punch the world in the face if it won’t let Jaskier believe that he is enough. He thinks of coffee with too much sugar in it, just the way Jaskier needs it. Thinks of leftover lasagna and cuddles on the couch.

Knows that he wants this for the rest of his life. Maybe he should start looking at rings.

#lambert x jaskier #lambskier #lamskier #bombard #jaskier #lambert #the witcher #the witcher rare pairs #hellu i have found some words and all of them are for karo #nat writes

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restless-witch · 2 years

Text

varieties of exile - geraskier in drabbles - pt 6

Witcher 3 + Netflix / This part is rated M for non-explicit sex* and references to childhood abuse/trauma/scarring / Geralt & Jaskier, Lambert/Jaskier, Eskel/Jaskier

*as in, they’re 100% about to have sex.... but it’s not smutty, they’re talking

sort of a... three times witchers asked Jaskier about his scars

They all ask about the scars- most anyone who saw them did. There's a reason Jaskier likes to be on top, likes to have lovers crawl up between his legs, isn't caught unaware on his back. The Witchers ask with a bit more tact than most curious lovers, in a way.

Geralt saw them when they were washing "all our fucking clothes" in the Solveiga. It was their last chance for plentiful and clean water before they scaled one of the Fiery Mountains (the first time both had been so far from home, neither could name the peaks they scaled) in search of a stranded desperate basilisk. Jaskier weighed the consequences of insisting on wearing his small clothes versus Geralt's exasperation and having to possibly wear crunchy linen a week from then when he was also miserable from the hot and the dry-

well.

After all their clothes have been scrubbed and scoured and hung over branches and Jaskier is primly nestled on Roach's saddle blanket and asking about the properties of blowball as a reagent and stretching to see if he can still press his palms flat on his toes, and it only took those two seconds for Jaskier to feel the weight of Geralt's gaze slide over the zig-zagging red knotty flesh across his thighs that was looking so much better after years of salves and oils.

He couldn't even be that mad at Geralt: spotting flashes of color and movement constantly saved his life.

It was hours later, fully clothed again and unstringing his lute, that Geralt poked at the fire and asked how long Jaskier had been following him.

Jaskier hid his smile into her luscious pegbox, "Our fourth anniversary is in twelve days," he teasingly arched out a leg and unhooked a string from a peg, "a full fortnight into Blathe. I couldn't have guessed you'd come from my jumping-wish."

Geralt was silent and Jaskier coiled the string into a bag; he looked across the fire and saw Geralt's narrowed eyes, his grip on the stick white knuckled and Jaskier wondered if a lesser man would shake, "They would've been fresh when you followed me."

Jaskier pressed his lips together, searching Geralt's eyes which are mysteriously full of a strange untapped old rage that Jaskier cannot yet name. "Not so fresh," he said cautiously, picking his words carefully, "I was young and jumping over fires- I think that's well enough to follow a witcher."

Geralt's brow eased, softening with something Jaskier thinks is affection, "It's not. But you were."

Lambert is as Lambert does. He pounced between Jaskier's legs and was nosing behind his knees, eyes closed and moaning into the soft flesh. And his fingers really started digging into his thighs and when he looked down, saw the soft messy cords, there's no hesitation before he locked their fingers together (Jaskier's knees still on his shoulders) and asked, "who did this to you?"

Which is so utterly endearing and so Lambert that that almost makes Jaskier cry which only tightens Lambert's grip and the witcher is reassuringly nosing at the soft parts of his belly which is so stupid sweet-

Jaskier supposed there was a reason they were called the wolves of Kaer Morhen.

Jaskier rubbed their knuckles into Lambert's scalp, "does it make it better if I tell you they're dead?" he mused.

It must, for Lambert gave him a feral grin and rumbled into his thighs.

Eskel didn't ask.

Not with words.

He didn't even blink when he saw them the first time, merely kept mouthing his way up Jaskier's calves.

He doesn't pay them any special attention until Eskel was passing through Skellige and Jaskier was trying to charm his way into a Jarl's library and the witcher's approval was enough for Jaskier to scour the library with Eskel's chaperonage. Jaskier would have felt awful holding Eskel back, but the thunderous storm outside promised days of rain and lightning that he'd rather not subject Scorpion to (never mind that Eskel was the one who told him of the obscure tome).

It should have been a wonderful night to sleep: the stone walls of the castle keeping out the rain and letting the deep drumming sound lull the keep into rest.

But the swells of a true Skelligan squall are still enough to cause the scars to swell and burn after all these years, even as they've mostly faded to glossy pale stripes. The ache was bearable, but made him restless. Made him want to scrub at them until the sharp pain glossed over the deep ache or he tore the flesh away entirely.

Pressed up behind him, tip to toe, Eskel's lips brushed his hair, "I can feel them, like fire," he gently kissed Jaskier's ear, "it's a nice change for you to be the warm one, but if they're causing you pain- I could help."

In the darkness, it was easy for Jaskier to nod and Eskel gently guided his limbs until Jaskier was curved away from him and he carefully traced his fingers up and down Jaskier's flanks. After a minute, when the rhythmic touch melted Jaskier, he felt Eskel's hands change-

well, change wasn't the right word.

Eskel's hands felt the same as always- smoothly calloused and firm and gentle and familiar- but Jaskier felt something immaterial begin to hum along his hands. Dimly, Jaskier recalled Geralt having a weird rant about Eskel's strength with signs and his "literally magic hands" (well, if the shoe fits); all thoughts left his head entirely when Eskel's fingers started to knead into the scars, dissipating anything in the world besides the absolute relief he feels when the feverish skin starts to drain and mellow and calm and Gods he couldn't love Eskel anymore than this.

The tears came quietly, soft little shuddering breaths, and felt good and he shook his head when Eskel asked, "too much?"

The words drained out too- unbidden and raw, they dripped from Jaskier's lips.

"My family sent me away," Eskel's hand didn't slip, but soothing curls started to pepper the rhythmic pressing, "you've seen my ring, well-" Jaskier let the thick sob out with his breath, "Redanians don't kill bad heirs. They train them for battle."

Eskel pressed soft open mouthed kisses down his spine; in the darkness it's easier to tell Eskel about the temple school and the garrison, about other weak and disfigured and soft heirs sent to die from exhaustion or wanting, about those who made it through their military career unable to rule or sire an heir of their own. The magic eases from Eskel's hands when they're tightly coiled together and Jaskier learns of Deidre.

After the shuddering calms, they slept through the night and into the morning. The storm still raged and the castle was quiet and slumbering. Eskel brought warm chicory to bed and told Jaskier of the Trials.

Gods he couldn't love Eskel anymore than this.

A/N- Encouragement and kind words will always make me more excited to write stuff <3 and feel free to dash off a message to me! I haven’t really made any friends in the fandom yet :3c

Thanks for reading, friends!

Rough and tumble ragged drafts on tumblr here: actual fic varieties of exile

Polished chapters on ao3 here: Varieties of Exile

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