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longing-and-heartache-and-lust · 4 years ago

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Prompt: Size Kink Title (optional): Relationships (romantic/platonic/etc): Geralt/Jaskier Rating: Explicit Content Warnings: None Summary: Jaskier has a thing for men bigger than him. He especially has a thing for the witcher he’d been travelling with. And eventually, Geralt gets tired of it.

@sugar-and-spice-witcher-bingo

Crossposted on ao3 here -----------------------------------------------------------------------------

The first thing Jaskier notices about Geralt are his shoulders.

More specifically - just how broad they are.

The way his armour emphasizes them, the same way it emphasizes his narrow hips, creating a contrast that takes the air away from Jaskier’s lungs all the way back in Posada.

And countless times after that.

The thing is, Jaskier’s always had a thing for men bigger than him.

Men that could probably break him in half with one arm, without even paying it much thought, which is one of the reasons he’d always had a talent for getting himself in trouble, flirting with men that had a rather strong preference for women.

He just couldn’t help himself, really.

Naturally, said weakness turned travelling with Geralt into a nightmare.

Having to come up with excuses when the witcher would catch him staring wasn’t the biggest problem, for Jaskier had an admirable imagination and could get himself out of pretty much any situation. The biggest problem was the irresistible need to touch.

No matter what Jaskier did, he couldn’t fight the constant need to reach his hand out, run it over the witcher’s shoulders or chest or arms.

He’d gotten over his uneasiness with blood not only in order to be able to help Geralt mend his wounds but also to have an excuse to touch him. To run his fingertips over the man’s firm muscles, press a palm over them, pat him on the shoulder, trying to hide the quickening beat of his own heart.

After some time, Geralt got comfortable enough around Jaskier and then it became much, much worse.

The first time Jaskier had offered to help the witcher with his hair when Geralt was too exhausted to be able to deal with it on his own, he didn’t really think it through. And when Geralt just started undressing like the bard wasn’t even in the room, it was way too late.

He tried to, he really did, but he just couldn’t stop looking, greedily taking in every inch of pale, scarred skin, physically feeling himself blush when Geralt got to the buttons on his trousers, undoing them one by one, still paying absolutely no mind to the bard.

Jaskier had seen many men naked. He’d slept with humans, elves, half-elves, even a few witchers but Geralt... Geralt was impressive.

Enough to make the bard feel breathless at the thought of how it would feel to have him inside, how long it would take him to work himself open enough in order to even be able to take all of him in.

Running his fingers through the witcher’s tanged, bloodied hair, slipping down to his neck and shoulders every so often, finally allowed to touch, Jaskier kept thinking about how it would feel to wrap his lips around Geralt’s cock, wondering if he’d even be able to fit all of him in his mouth.

He knew that Geralt can feel his fingers tremble, knew that he can hear his heartbeat and breathing but there was nothing Jaskier could do to help it.

And the worst thing was that even though Geralt kept to his usual grunting, he didn’t protest.

Jaskier had barely survived that evening.

After that, controlling himself got much harder.

There were only so many excuses as to why he started keeping even closer to the witcher, always offering help with his hair or his wounds, why he started crawling even closer to him at night if they had to share a bed, why he kept looking and touching and caring.

A few months went by that way but eventually, Geralt had had enough.

It’s when they’re in their little shared room of an inn a little North West of Vengerberg, nearly at the door to head downstairs for a drink or two that Jaskier reaches his hand up to tuck a silver strand of Geralt’s hair behind his ear but, before he can do so, the witcher intercepts his wrist and pins the bard to the wall behind him, taking all air away from his lungs.

“Are you even going to stop touching me, bard?“ he growls, low and impatient.

Jaskier can feel his heart stutter at the feeling of Geralt’s fingers digging into the delicate skin of his wrist.

With just a little more force, he could break it.

That thought alone sends Jaskier’s head reeling and it takes his a few very long seconds to lift his gaze and meet Geralt’s eyes, the amber glowing dangerously in the low light of the fireplace.

“Touching you?“ he repeats, playing the innocence card. “Darling, you’re imagining things.“

Geralt growls at him and pushes Jaskier into the wall with his entire body, making the bard gasp at the feeling of the witcher’s narrow hips against his own. Oh, how he wants to run his hands over them, feel the strong muscles, the sharp V-lines that look so fucking tempting that they literally make his mouth water every single time he sees them.

“Imagining things?“ Geralt’s voice suddenly get’s even lower than it usually is, crawling right under the bard’s skin. “I can smell it on you.“

Oh. Oh.

Suddenly, playing the innocence card gets a lot harder but Jaskier is not a man that gives up easily.

“Smell what on me, Witcher?“ he enquires, deciding to test his luck and run his other hand down Geralt’s shoulder, nearly shivering at the feeling of the firm muscles under his fingertips.

Instead of answering, Geralt leans in even closer, pressing his nose to Jaskier’s neck, right under the sharp of his jaw, where his scent is the strongest, and takes in a deep breath, his other hand coming up to wrap around the bard’s waist and pull him closer, fingers digging into the fragile bones of his ribs.

“It’s been going on for months now, for years, even,“ he breathes into Jaskier’s ear, catching his other wrist without looking and pinning them both to the wall above his head, nearly making the bard whimper. “But you just don’t have enough nerve, do you? To tell me you want me.“

For what feels like an eternity, Jaskier is unable to breathe.

He just looks at the witcher with eyes open wide with both fear and lust, painfully aware of the colour spilling over his cheeks before he finally lets out a trembling sigh and averts his eyes.

“How long?“

Geralt chuckles, showing off dangerously sharp canine that had cost Jaskier many hours of sleep, and pushes his thigh in-between the bard’s legs, making him gasp and instinctively try to set his wrist free, feeling his mind go dark when that does nothing other than remind him that he’s powerless against the witcher.

“How long have I known?“ Geralt asks, touching his lips to Jaskier’s neck and tearing a choked, broken moan out of his chest. “Ever since I heard you call one of your lovers by my name.“

There is no getting out of this, Jaskier knows that perfectly.

Ever since they met, no matter who he slept with, he couldn’t stop thinking of Geralt. Couldn’t stop whispering his name under his breath when his lovers were too drunk to notice or simply didn’t care.

He did it much more than once. And he knows that Geralt had heard it much more than once, as well.

“If you knew, why not do anything about it?“

Geralt scoffs, his breath hot against Jaskier’s neck.

“I’m doing something about it now, am I not?“

Geralt rolls his hips against Jaskier’s, tightening his grip on the bard’s wrist just enough to make Jaskier shudder all over, arching his back to lean into the touch.

“You know, for someone who talks as much as you do, you’ve been awfully quiet about this,“ Geralt murmurs, nipping at the delicate skin of Jaskier’s neck and making him snap his hips forward without even realising. “I’ve grown tired of waiting.“

“Of waiting?“ Jaskier repeats, feeling his heart skip a beat. “What are you- you just told me to stop touching you.“

“No,“ the witcher retorts, letting go of Jaskier’s waist to tip his chin upwards, making him look at him. “I asked if you’re ever going to stop.“

“That’s-“ Jaskier starts, only to be cut off.

“That’s not the same thing, bard,“ Geralt says, softer. “You keep touching my arms and my back and my hair but you never go further.“

And then, before Jaskier can come up with an answer, Geralt is kissing him, hard and possessive and full of lust. He bites into the bard’s lips, runs his tongue over them, licking into his mouth to tear another moan from Jaskier’s lungs.

Painfully aware of just how hard he is, Jaskier rolls his hips against Geralt’s thigh, pleasure sparking up his spine. His lungs burn with the lack of air, and with his wrists still pinned to the wall above his head, he can’t push the witcher away and break the kiss.

Even if he could, he wouldn’t.

“Did you really think I couldn’t tell?“ Geralt breathes out, breaking away when Jaskier’s vision already starts to darken.

He lets go of his wrists, leaning into the touch when the bard immediately wraps both his arms around his neck to pull the witcher closer, until they’re breathing the same air, barely an inch left between them.

“I thought you didn’t want it.“

Geralt just hums, shifting to press his hips closer to Jaskier’s, and the bard can hear himself take in a shaky breath as he feels the witcher’s hard cock against his thigh.

“Does it look like I don’t want it?“

And with that, Jaskier is gone.

He’d thought about it for way too long, one fantasy after the other, for years on end, to hold himself back any longer.

So he just pulls the witcher into another kiss, just as raw and hungry as the first one, runs both his hands over his broad shoulders, down his back, rucking up the fabric of his worn black shirt to dig his nails into the small of the witcher’s back.

He wants to take his time, he really does, but not now. Not now.

“Always thought of you,“ he whispers, breathless, pushing Geralt away just enough to take a step away from the wall. “For the last seven years, it was you, you, you.“

Without thinking about it any longer, Jaskier sinks to his knees, undoing the buttons of the witcher’s trousers with trembling fingers and peppering smudged, wet kisses all over his abdomen, moving lower and lower as the buttons give way.

Geralt runs his fingers through the bard’s hair, gentle at first but then unexpectedly rough as he gets a fistful and tugs, making Jaskier gasp and throw his head back, looking up at him.

“All you needed to do all these years was take,“ Geralt says, holding the eye contact. “And we would’ve been here much sooner.“

Still looking up at the witcher, Jaskier slips his hand under the fabric of his trousers, wrapping his calloused fingers around the base of his hard cock, nearly moaning at just how good it feels.

“Same applies to you, Witcher.“

He doesn’t wait for Geralt to answer, doesn’t even listen to him, choosing to finally get the unnecessary clothes out of the way and run his lips over Geralt’s lower abdomen, following the V-lines that he’d been dreaming about for years and leaving a bite on the witcher’s hipbone, moaning softly when Geralt tugs on his hair in response.

He’s painfully hard by now, lust burning through him like a wildfire but he doesn’t think about himself, only about Geralt, stroking his cock in slow, even motions before finally wrapping his lips around the tip, his sigh breaking off into a soft moan.

Jaskier’s got a lot of experience in this kind of pleasure, he really does.

But there is no way he’s going to be able to take all of Geralt in, even if he chokes.

“Hold still for me,“ he whispers, looking up at the witcher for just a second before running his tongue over the entire length of his cock, following the throbbing veins.

Geralt throws his head back, resting it against the wall, loosening his grip on Jaskier’s hair but not letting go, brushing his thumb back and forth through the locks.

Making an effort over himself, Jaskier holds back from moving too fast as he opens his mouth just a little wider until he can take in the head, moaning softly at the weight of it on his tongue, at the slightly bitter taste of precome.

He never stops the slow movements of his wrist, listening to every sigh, every choked little moan Geralt gives him, as he moves his head, taking the witcher’s cock in deeper until he feels it in the back of his throat. And then, without even thinking, shifts just a little more, keeping his breathing as deep as he can as he feels the head slip into his throat.

Geralt shudders, biting back a choked moan that sends Jaskier’s head reeling even more so than before and though he knows that he won’t be able to go any further, it’s enough for both of them.

“Fuck,“ the witcher breathes out, running his fingers through the bard’s hair in a praising, almost gentle gesture. “You feel even better than I’ve imagined.“

Knowing that Geralt thought of him like this echoes in Jaskier’s body as a spasm of pure lust and he moans, sending a shiver through both of them. He knows what he looks like right now, with his lips stretched over Geralt’s cock - too big for him to take all of it in - chin glistening with spit and precome, and still, he can’t help but look up at the witcher before he can start moving again.

There’s nothing that he wants more than to be able to go even further, nose at the short winter-white hair at the base of Geralt’s cock, breathe in his scent, but even as he tries, he finds that he is just physically unable to and that thought goes straight to his own cock, nearly making Jaskier whine as he feels himself leak with precome.

“You can guide me if you want,“ he says, raspy and breathless, as he pulls away just enough for the string of spit between his lips and the tip of the witcher’s cock not to break.

He loves making his lovers wait, he really does. But not right now.

Right now all he wants is to please, to hear those gorgeous choked moans that Geralt is giving him and know that he’s the reason for them.

And it just so happens that Geralt doesn’t have to be asked twice.

For just a second, he cups the sharp of Jaskier’s jaw, tips his chin up, his eyes dark and devouring, before running his thumb over the bard’s lips and pulling him closer, the tip of his cock slipping into his mouth.

“Breathe for me,“ he says, an order more than a wish, before getting his hand back into Jaskier’s hair and rolling his hips, making the bard take him in deeper.

He’s not gentle as he moves, fucking into the bard’s mouth deeper and faster, keeping him close with a tight, nearly painful grip but he’s careful, keeping Jaskier’s limits in mind even as his moans grow louder with the building, sharpening pleasure.

Jaskier takes everything with a hunger that he would’ve been ashamed of if only he cared.

He runs his tongue over the veins, presses it closer to them as he moves together with the witcher, paying no mind to the tears in the corner of his eyes. His jaw hurts with the strain but he barely even notices it, moving his wrist in faster, harder strokes.

And it’s when the tip slips all the way into his throat again that he swallows, hard, making an effort over himself not to choke, and that’s enough to push Geralt over the edge.

He growls, gripping the bard’s hair even tighter before letting go and spilling all over his tongue, trembling.

He tastes just as Jaskier had imagined, and that makes the bard moan breathlessly as he pulls away and swallows, wiping at his lips with the back of his hand.

Geralt looks incredible like this. Half-naked, sated and still trembling, he looks ungodly.

“Gods, Witcher,“ Jaskier grins, getting up to his feet to press a kiss to Geralt’s lips, sharing his own taste. “If only you’d told me sooner.“

Geralt blinks slowly, his eyes focusing on Jaskier as he pulls him closer and gets both his hands under his shirt, burning the bard with his touch.

“I’ve told you now,“ he grins back, pushing Jaskier towards the bed. “But less talking, bard. I’m sure we can find a better use for my mouth.“

#oh wow can you believe I'm actually done with the first promt #only eight more to go #the witcher #geraskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #my writing #this turned out much longer than expected #calton writes

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kinthinia · 5 years ago

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My Songbird

“Tell me bard… do you sing prettily?”

Jaskier nodded eagerly. “I’m going to be the most famous bard on the Continent. Everyone will know my name.”

She caressed his cheek, smiling cruelly. “What a lovely dream.”

Jaskier beamed at her. “I could sing for you, if you like.” He’d sing even if she didn’t like, but everyone liked his singing.

“I want a song about heartache -that of a lover bidding his final farewell, unknowing.”

So he opened his mouth, and sang the prettiest song he could find. It was about lovers; the man sentenced to war, his lover engaged to another, their final embrace. And as he sang, he found he could not stop. Even as she un-clipped the vial at her throat, and silver threads wove through the air. When the song was over, when the soldier returned to find his lover married to another, there was no sound left in the viscount.

He never learned her name, but she would forever haunt his nightmares. She had stolen his voice, and along with it, every dream he’d ever treasured.

It’s not a curse, is the first thing Jaskier learns after he sets out on the road.

Funny, now, how he couldn’t remember her name or face anymore. Even in his nightmares, she was a faceless creature of horror.

He headed down the road, chasing after every rumor of witch or sorceresses he could find. The first he’d encountered, Keira, had looked at him pityingly and told him he wasn’t cursed. She barely even read his journal entry, where he described what he could remember of the night in question. She shook her head, necklaces jangling, and raced into Kerack like a devil was on her heels. Keira Metz was of no help then, and Jaskier continued down the road.

Bandits weren’t such a problem if you knew to stick to the well-traveled roads, managed to look like you knew how to use a weapon, and best of all, if you wore plain clothes and didn’t stand out. He kept his belongings in one bag, slung over his back. He stopped in every village to replenish his supplies, to bathe, and to inquire after any known witches or sorcerers in the area. He got a warmer reception than he was used to, considering there wasn’t a hulking, looming White Wolf behind him.

But learning to live with his muteness had a steep learning curve. He learned quickly to avoid the pretty girls, for he had no silver tongue with which to explain his situation; and he learned to avoid the men with furrowed brows and crossed arms, for they were looking for an excuse to throw a punch. He kept to the elderly matrons, opening his book and pointing at the words.

There was always at least one or two people in the villages who knew how to read and it was them he had to rely on. He hated it. He couldn’t stand to be in the same room as any bard or travelling minstrels, not without his ears bleeding. It was an open wound in his heart, ripped open any time he had to witness others playing his craft. He would have been the greatest. No. He was still going to be the greatest, once he tracked down someone with some answers for him.

So Jaskier spent the next year on the road, tracking rumors and whispers of witches and sorceresses. He met some that were more notable than others; the beautiful Lytta, who hugged him when she told him there was nothing she could do to help. but maybe he could try Yennefer -if she was in a good mood, she might even help (and there was no way he would ever go to Yennefer, not after the mountain). Then there was the tough Adrianna who had no interest in a scrawny voice-less bard; Felicia, who could not give him any information, but styled his hair for free in apology; and then there was tiny, sweet Nina. She read every word on the pages that he handed her.

“This is beyond my knowledge,” she admitted. “It’s not a curse; your voice was stolen. It sounds like a wittier problem to me,” she said, handing the paper back with a careless shrug. “I mean you could try asking Ida in the Blue Mountains, she’s an elven sage and likely knows more than I.”

Jaskier scribbled down his thanks. He would not seek out a witcher, even if it was his last resort. Besides that, if it had been a monster, he would have remembered. No, the person who had left him without a voice was human. She had to be magic, to take away his voice. He offered Nina the last of his coin silently, and continued on his way. This time though, towards the Blue Mountains.

“The elves are not known for their kindness to humans, not after the Great Cleanse. I cannot in good conscience consign you to death.”

Jaskier smiled at her sadly. Nina’s eyes widened in surprise, then softened with sorrow. “You can live a long, fulfilling life without your voice.”

Jaskier laughed silently. He could, but it wouldn’t have made for much of a life to live. He was going to become the most famous bard on the Continent; his songs forever immortalizing him. But he couldn’t explain how he knew it, nor could he explain the urgency he felt incessantly driving him down the road. It didn’t matter how many times he was told “sorry I can’t help” or “this isn’t magical” there was an answer out there somewhere. But for now, he was headed back towards Possada. Beyond that, into Dol Blathana itself, and the Blue Mountains beyond.

“If you won’t be swayed otherwise…” Nina said, sighing, her hands on her hips. “The least I can do is is wish you well, traveler. And strongly suggest you pick a witcher’s brain if given the chance.”

Jaskier waved her concern off. He was about as likely to run into a witcher as he was into a dragon. A real dragon, at that, not one of those wyverns that plagued merchants. What he didn’t count on, was attracting the attention of a pack of bandits who dogged his footsteps. He ended up having to abandon the road, realizing they were trying to corral him into an ambush. So instead, he slogged through marshland, past barren trees. He feared his feet would never be dry again. He’d been counting on having weeks more of dry ground, the relief of hot sunshine but instead he quickly found himself lost. No one in their right mind went mapping marshland, so his map wasn’t of any help. The first night, he didn’t dare light a fire in case the robbers were still on his trail. He didn’t think it was likely, but he could hear things splashing out in the dark. He didn’t sleep much.

He didn’t think about the White Wolf, or how much easier travelling had been with a companion. He hadn’t thought of the man since it happened. What good would it do? If Ida couldn’t help him, if he had to choose between Yennefer and Geralt he thought he was better off with the sorceress. Geralt would likely proclaim “good riddance” and go out of his way to be completely useless. He could live a life writing songs, but it wouldn’t be the same. It would never be the same.

#witcher #writing promt #i quit #this idea isn't what I want #time to start over #5 hours remain #geraskier #i actually hate it

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cherrywade · 5 years ago

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Anybody have any soft fic promts for Jaskier and Geralt that you'd like written? I'm feelin pretty good tonight and wanna write something sweet!

(I'll probably post them on my actual writing blog and then reblog them here cuz i dont change that url at all so the links won't get fucked up when i reblog and stuff but I'll tag and mention your urls unless you're on anon then I'll just paste the request!)

#gerakier #jaskier x geralt #geralt x jaskier #geraskier fic #geraskier prompts #fic promts #hit me up and I'll do my best!#mine

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awitcheress · 8 months ago

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😭😭😭😭😭

I need this!!!

When Nifflgaard ends up capturing Jaskier to try and get information about Geralt and Ciri from the Bard.

One of the first things they do is a curse (what the curse does can change depending on the writer). Jaskier, the kind of that can only be cured by a true love kiss.

During the torture, they convince Jaskier that no one could ever love him.

Even after Geralt rescues Jaskier, he can tell that something is wrong with the bard. Only Jaskier won’t tell him about the curse since he sees it as being pointless now that he thinks he's unloveable

#the witcher #geralt of rivia #geraskier #writing promt

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emilx311 · 5 years ago

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So, I’ve been lurking in the Witcher fandom for a while but have yet to write anything. I’ve also been on a bit of a general dry spell for writting anyways so send me Geraskier prompts please and I’ll try to do a little something ^_^

#Emi says #geraltier #geralt x jaskier #the witcher #promts #writing #geralt #jaskier #geraskier

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mischievous-thunder · 11 months ago

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Person B to A, after making sure that they're looking impeccably pretty and have got their water bottle, hand sanitiser, lip balm, moisturiser and a warm scarf in their backpack: I'm ready.

Person A, lazily getting up from the sofa and not even bothering to brush their hair: Yeah, me too. Let's go.

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king-finnigan · 4 years ago

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Hi, it's geraskier promt, 24 - right before passionate/first kiss and 35 - you wanna bet? character - Geralt Thanks!

This was supposed to be an easy hunt - just a griffin in the woods near a Redanian town. But turns out that the townspeople had severely miscalculated the amount of griffins residing in these woods, though Geralt finds that out soon enough, because the second he’s slain one griffin, two others emerge from their lair - an adult and an adolescent. Which means that Geralt has stumbled upon a little family. If he’d known there were three beforehand, he would’ve had the chance to get some potions into his system, but now he’s left to defend himself against two more vicious creatures, still tired from fighting the first one.

Jaskier was supposed to stay at the inn. Geralt only finds out he’s been followed when a rock bounces off the head of the adolescent griffin, drawing its attention away from the Witcher - but also effectively drawing Geralt’s attention away from the griffins.

He doesn’t manage to catch a glimpse of the person who’s thrown the rock, but he would recognize Jaskier’s clear voice taunting the griffin anywhere.

“Jaskier, stay back!” He shouts over his shoulder, pushing the adult Griffin away with an Aard that’s not as strong as it usually is.

“Hey! Fuckface! Birdbeak! Over here!” Jaskier shouts, throwing another rock at the younger griffin, drawing it away from Geralt.

“Jaskier, stop! You’re going to get yourself killed!”

“Oh yeah?” Jaskier shouts back. “You wanna bet?”

The Witcher curses, rolling to the side to avoid the older griffin’s claws, throwing his sword into the back of its head as soon as it passes him. He jumps up, snatching his sword from the now dead griffin, running towards the younger one, advancing in on Jaskier, who’s backed against a wall of rocks.

The second he’s close enough, he throws his sword again, through the griffin’s neck, watching as it falls to the forest floor with a loud thud, before he stalks towards Jaskier.

The bard has the fucking audacity to grin at him. “Ah, Geralt! That went well, didn’t it? Good thing I was here because-”

“You could’ve gotten yourself killed!” He can’t help the sharp snap of his voice, adrenaline turning the leftover worry into anger. “I told you to stay at the inn!”

“Well, yes, you did, but I wouldn’t want to miss out on a good fight. Besides, you would’ve been completely torn to bits if I hadn’t been there!”

“You have a fucking death wish.” He hisses, pulling Jaskier closer by his neck, kissing him deeply, relief flooding his system.

After a few seconds, Jaskier pulls back softly, panting slightly, hair tousled, blue eyes glittering in the sunlight. “Oh, my, if I’d known you would react to me being in danger like this, I would’ve almost gotten myself killed sooner.”

“Shut up, Jaskier,” Geralt mutters, and the bard smiles, pulling the Witcher closer for another kiss.

#sadpathologist #squish answers #geraskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #the witcher #drabble #short but sweet i guess???#anyways this is the last one #requests for the sentence + situation prompts are closed #though other requests are still very welcome

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crazy-fan-girl-c137 · 5 years ago

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This is sooooooo much better than what I've written. And much more heart breaking. My heart. 😭😭😭 ❤❤❤ This is beautiful.

Hi. I had reblogged your Maybe In Another Life art with the intent of writing for it myself. I just noticed that you wrote it yourself, and I'm wondering if I can still share the one I've written, too?

Omg! Sure!!! I would love to read it! I'm not good at writing stuff. 😂😂😂 I just tried to write this one because I really like the idea, and I though no one was ever going to write it. 😂😂😂 But THANK YOU! ♥💜💚💙💛 Yes. Please share the one you wrote! I'm looking forward to reading it!

#this is amazing #geraskier fanfic #geraskier imagine #geraskier #geralt x jaskier fanfic #geralt x jaskier #angst #geralt of rivia #geralt #jaskier #dandelion #witcher #the witcher netflix #the witcher #witcher fan fiction #witcher fanfic #maybe in another life #prompt #geraskier promt

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lutes-and-dandelions · 5 years ago

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Geraskier Winter Olympics AU

That no one asked for but I wrote anyway! Olympics AUs are by far my favourite tbh so here is an outline for one that flowered wonderfully in my head but that I’ll likely never write in full (if anyone wants to use it as a promt, knock yourself out). I hope this waters your plants as much as it watered mine <3

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Geralt, Eskel, Lambert and Coen are a bobsleigh team, Vessemir is their coach. They’re good, but they very rarely hit gold at the big events, usually placing between second and fourth. Jaskier is a male figure skater, and he’s fantastic, has won numerous gold medals. He is sometimes beaten by his rival Valdo Marx, they hate each other. It’s not for the camera’s, they genuinely hate each other. Geralt has had a crush on Jaskier since the last Winter Olympics and his brothers are constantly teasing him for it and trying to get him to do something about it but Geralt doesn’t because he’s Geralt. He’s old (“you’re not that old Geralt” “Shut up, Coen!”), with a kid and a divorce under his belt and a string of failed relationships, and unlike Jaskier he’s not out to the public, so why would Jaskier, a bright young twenty something, be interested in a grizzled piece of shit like him (they all have some gnarly scars from an awful accident a few years back when they came off the track). Jaskier is in fact interested, and has been for years, as Geralt and his brothers have been competing on the international stage since Jaskier was a young teenager, longer than Geralt had even been aware that Jaskier existed.

They meet, totally by chance maybe in a recreational area for the athletes, Geralt doesn’t usually go to them but Eskel drags him along because he’s seen Jaskier there before. Jaskier is his usual charming, sunshine self and is so excited to finally meet Geralt, Geralt is in a storm of a mood because their practise runs of the track have been going horrendously and he doesn’t know what to do. Geralt’s a little too sharp, too gruff and Jaskier stays sunny but is incredibly disappointed, they always say don’t meet your heroes. Eskel, watching the trainwreck from across the room, quickly moves in when Geralt has gone off the brood in his room and explains and apologises for his brother and then goes and chews Geralt a new one. “You have been crushing on this guys for years Geralt, and then the opportunity presents itself in a nice gift-wrapped package and you fucking blow it! I have apologised for you but you also have to go and apologise and use this and an opportunity to take him for something to it or SOMETHING! Jesus fuck, Geralt, I thought Coen was awkward!”

So Geralt goes and apologises, their practise runs get a lot better, he takes Jaskier out for something to eat as another sorry and it’s great, it’s wonderful, Jaskier is fantastic, funny, charming, enthusiastic, passionate. Geralt feels incredibly inferior, grunting and humming and just talking about Ciri and telling training anecdotes. But it works? Somehow? They meet a couple of more times between their hectic schedules. It turns out they live at opposite ends of the same city. They exchange numbers. Geralt is utterly smitten with Jaskier and Jaskier’s body language has been telling Geralt that this wonderful, beautiful, charming man is surely interested, but he doesn’t do anything.

Geralt’s races happen before Jaskier competes. Jaskier is in rehearsal and his coach tells him off because he’s trying to rehearse with the radio on, that’s giving bobsleigh commentary and it’s distracting him. Geralt and the boys win! Canada took a turn badly and Lambert, as their driver, seized the chance, took a few risks and it paid off. They’d won, at the Olympics, they’d fucking done it. Jaskier is ecstatic for them and goes to see Geralt that night to congratulate him. As soon as Geralt see’s Jaskier he grabs him and kisses him, they’ve only known each other like a week but he doesn’t care, he’s riding an absolute wave of euphoria. Jaskier is absolutely delighted that this seemingly very straight man he’d been hopelessly crushing is in fact a very bisexual man and kisses him back.

All the boys go and watch the ice skating and cheer Jaskier on. He’s beautiful, and Geralt, as always, is absolutely blown away with how Jaskier moves on the ice, he’s a breathtaking mix of captivating pure talent and hard earned skill. Geralt can’t look away from him. Jaskier also wins gold, blowing everyone out of the water that year, even Valdo can’t touch him. They walk side by side at the closing ceremony and then get rip roaringly drunk together that night, finally able to let loose after two glorious weeks of sport and representing their country. Geralt kisses Jaskier again that night, their gold medals clinking off of each other as they press their bodies together.

They arrange a date for when they’re back home, it goes very well. Sometimes it’s hard, they both have very rigorous training schedules, and they both compete internationally and when Geralt is home he wants to spend it with Ciri but they make it work because they want to. If Geralt has some down time but Jaskier is competing he’ll go with Jaskier and vice versa. Ciri loves Jaskier which makes it easier for Geralt to spend time with both of them when he’s only home for short periods of time. They do eventually come out to the media and everyone goes buck wild for it in a good way which is lovely and when the next Olympics role around they walk out together at the opening ceremony hand in hand.

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bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher · 4 years ago

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First off, I *love* your writing! So, I had this promt idea while listing to Just Can't Get Enough. Movies have told me prom night is the night when most teen loose their virginity (virginity is a stupid social construct & those movies were probably bullshit, I know) BUT I'd love me some fluffy (smutty if you're comfortable) Geraskier first time after prom fooling around? Maybe in a pickup-truck bed for peak cliché?

I like this idea and I’m saving it for later when I have more braincells.

#saved for later #yeye #80's au prompt

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valdomarx · 4 years ago

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Hi, so you only take geraskier promts or others too?

Hi, I generally mostly do geraskier prompts, but I am interested in yennskier too.

I’m currently horribly, terribly behind on prompt fills though, so if you have sent me a prompt recently, my apologies!

#i love getting prompts but i feel bad for not always filling them #inspiration strikes me very sporadically so sorry if i have not responded #but also THANK YOU for the ideas i always appreciate them #anonymous #george replies

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for-lovely-things · 4 years ago

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👇👇👇

50 Types of Kisses - Writing Prompts

Send in a number and a pairing!

Small kisses littered across the other’s face.

A small, fleeting kiss - which is immediately followed by a passionate, hungry kiss.

A breathy demand: “Kiss me” - and what the other person does to respond.

An accidental brush of lips followed by a pause and going back for another, on purpose.

Throwing their arms around the other person’s neck, hugging them close before kissing them passionately on the lips.

Wild, breathless kisses brought on by a heartfelt gift.

French kisses where they trace every tooth with their tongues as though trying to memorize them.

Laying a gentle kiss to the back of the other’s hand.

A kiss that lasts so long, they are sharing each other’s breaths.

A hello/good-bye kiss that is given without thinking - where neither person thinks twice about it.

Morning kisses that are exchanged before either person opens their eyes, kissing blindly until their lips meet in a blissful encounter.

Sneaking away to a hidden corner to share a secretive kiss.

Butterfly kisses against the other’s cheeks.

A kiss so desperate that the two wind around each other, refusing to let go until they are finished.

A fierce kiss that ends with a bite on the lip, soothing it with a lick.

One person pouting, only to have it removed by a kiss from the other person.

Tucking their hands beneath the other person’s shirt, just to watch them break the kiss and gasp in surprise at the sensation of cold/warm hands on their skin.

Teasing kisses where one person blows air into the other’s mouth and runs away.

One person stopping a kiss to ask “Do you want to do this?”, only to have the other person answer with a deeper, more passionate kiss.

Kissing in a stairwell, giving them an artificial height difference.

A chaste kiss given to each other because they are in mixed company.

A kiss that is leading to more, but is interrupted by a third party.

A kiss that tastes of the food/dessert they are eating.

Deep kisses where they have their hands tangled in each other’s hair to pull them closer.

Wet kisses after finding refuge from the rain.

Brushing a kiss along the shell of the other person’s ear.

Kisses exchanged while one person sits on the other’s lap.

One person tracing the other’s lips with a fingertip until they can’t resist any longer, tilting their chin towards them for a kiss.

Staring at each other’s lips for a moment before moving closer, as if drawn together by some unseen force.

Weak, sweaty kisses because it’s unbearably hot.

Pulling away from a kiss, whispering words of love against each other’s lips.

A kiss so passionate, so perfect - that after they part, neither person can open their eyes for a few moments afterwards.

An unexpected kiss that shocks the one receiving it.

Kisses that start on their fingers and run up their arm, eventually ending on their lips.

An awkward kiss given after a first date.

Starting with bunny kisses before moving on to soft kisses.

Cleaning the other person’s lips with a lick and a kiss.

Whispering “I love you” before a chaste, delicate kiss.

Kissing tears from the other’s face.

A gentle kiss that quickly descends into passion, with little regard for what’s going on around them.

Kisses shared under an umbrella.

Distracting kisses from someone that are meant to stop the other person from finishing their work, and give them kisses instead.

A kiss pressed to the top of the head.

Tentative kisses given in the dark.

Kisses exchanged as they move around, hitting the edges of tables or nearly tripping over things on the floor before making it to the sofa, or bed.

A lingering kiss before a long trip apart.

A kiss paired with a tight hug, knocking the breath out of the person being hugged.

One person has to bend down in order to kiss their partner, who is standing on their tip-toes to reach their partner’s.

Short and sweet kiss after meeting up for a date.

A kiss, followed by more that trail down the jaw and neck.

#U ALL BETTER SEND ME PROMTS TO MY ASK BOX SHIP X NUMBER #AND CONSIDER THESE DRAWING PROMTS #ppl do drawing requests! why don't i lol #i legally obligate u to send me drawing requests #or else i'll do these myself lol gsgsgs #at least be merciful to me and send me kerry x v for number 3 hshsgs please #i can draw kerry x my v; pavellan maybe and geraskier lol #or u can suggests smth else but dunno u can try #and for god's sake don't just like or reblog wo sending an ask🗿 i luv u all but pls don't lol #kerry x v #kerry eurodyne #pavellan #geraskier

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