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Now, this is different- a skeleton sewing machine for your goth or Halloween decor. I couldn't find it on Google, but I have been told that it's been seen at JoAnn Fabrics.

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Wilder and Diamond were precise writers. But when it came time to Some Like It Hot’s punch line, they were absolutely indecisive. They got as far as Lemmon ripping off his wig and saying he can’t marry Osgood Fielding III because, “I’m a man.” What comes next? Diamond suggested “Nobody’s perfect,” and Wilder said to keep it in so they could send the script to the mimeographer. But then they were really going to settle it. “We have a whole week to think about it,” Wilder said. “We thought about it all week. Neither of us could come up with anything better, so we shot that line, still not entirely satisfied.” Viewers felt entirely differently. “The audience just exploded,” Wilder said. “That line got one of the biggest laughs I’ve ever heard in the theater. But we just hadn’t trusted it when we wrote it; we just didn’t see it. ‘Nobody’s perfect.’ The line had come too easily, just popped out.”

Some Like It Hot (1959) dir. Billy Wilder

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I meant to make this meme ages ago when pride month was still on but yeah gé (pronounced gay) is the Irish for a goose.

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girl help my womb is wandering around upsetting my balance of humours 

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I love that @witchernetflix is offering a new content for Witchmas and half of the fandom immediately is like “we want Jaskier”.

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Yo! Could I please get a tattoo artist/florist au for Geraskier? I haven’t seen this anywhere, but it seems so fitting! Thank you!

“I did a floral design today,” Geralt said, apropos of nothing.

With his head in Geralt’s lap, Jaskier was half asleep, barely aware of the images on the TV or the fingers combing through his hair. “Oh?” he murmured, fighting a yawn. “What was it?”

“Begonia and rhododendron with a frame of abatina.”

Proud as he was of Geralt’s vastly improved floral indentification, Jaskier groaned as he forced himself upright. He pouted at his boyfriend in a way he intended as disapproving, though by the fond smile on Geralt’s face, he imagined he looked more sleep-rumpled than anything.

“This is why you’re supposed to consult me before doing floral tattoos! That poor client is basically walking around advertising that they are an asshole who can’t be trusted.”

Geralt didn’t seem abashed in the slightest. “Well, he did stiff the artist who designed it on the payment. Said he was an ‘influencer’ and she should be glad for the ‘exposure.’”

“Oh,” Jaskier noted, “well, in that case I approve wholeheartedly.”

He stretched his arms up over his head, but when he moved to stand up from the couch and head to bed, Geralt caught him by the wrist.

“I do have another design I’d like your opinion on,” he said.

Nodding, Jaskier dropped back to the cushions, resting his head on Geralt’s shoulder. He gasped with delight when Geralt pulled the paper from his pocket and smoothed it open.

“Did you draw this?” he asked as he traced his finger over the bright camellia blossoms in red, pink, and white; the spray of white yarrow; and the delicate sprigs of myrtle. “It’s lovely. For a wedding, I presume?”

“A proposal actually.”

Jaskier tilted his head back to grin at Geralt. “They must be pretty confident of the answer if they’re having their proposal tattooed on themselves.”

“Hmm.” Geralt tapped his fingers against his knee. “Yenn said proposing with the design was probably a better plan.”

“She’s a smart woman.”

This time when he stood from the couch, Geralt didn’t stop him, but when he tried to hand the paper back, Geralt just gazed at him with an intent expression.

“What do you think?” he asked.

“It’s perfect,” Jaskier replied. “Really. It’s beautiful work, Geralt.”

Again he tried to hand the paper to his boyfriend, but Geralt only glanced away.

“No,” he said after a quiet moment, and Jaskier frowned in confusion as Geralt slid to the floor on one knee. He stared up at Jaskier, his golden eyes soft and vulnerable.

“What do you think?” he murmured.

Jaskier’s breath caught in his chest. He glanced down at the paper in his grasp; as his hand began to tremble, the blossoms danced as if in a gentle breeze. Dropping to his knees to be even with Geralt wasn’t an entirely voluntary move.

“Where?” he whispered.

Geralt tapped a finger against his own chest, the space over his heart, one of the only spots on his torso not already decorated with ink, the place he’d always said he was saving for something truly important.

“Yenn will do it?” Jaskier asked. At Geralt’s nod, he grinned. “How soon can she start?”

#geraskier #witcher netflix #the witcher #fanfic

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day twenty-six - territorial

really, the bastards should have known better than to try and touch jaskier. it should have been obvious that he was claimed, if from nothing else than the way he was perched on geralt’s lap in the tavern, geralt’s arm looped firm about his waist. it should have been fucking obvious, and yet, as soon as jaskier had risen to go order them another round at the bar, the two men had pounced.

all it had taken was a low growl and the threat of castration to send first one and then the other retreating back to their sorry corners of the room, but the fucking point stood, and he was doing his damn best to impress this upon jaskier now.

“geralt - “ his bard is whimpering, squirming where geralt’s got him pinned to the tavern’s outside wall, “geralt, darling, they’re gone now, they’ve left - “

geralt growls, sharp and frustrated, as he sets his fangs to the fading marks on jaskier’s shoulder. he’s pushed his doublet down and pulled his chemise open, baring enough tempting throat and collar and shoulders and chest to have his mouth fucking watering as he laves his tongue along the bruises left behind. jaskier whines, squirms once, stills - yelps aloud when geralt bites down.

as geralt licks away the blood that beads beneath his fangs, as geralt grips him firmly by the hips and pushes a thigh between his own, as geralt runs the tips of his fangs up higher to rest against his throat, jaskier moans.

“i’m yours - a - always...”

#geraskier #witcher #witcher netflix #fanfic

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geralt: No Thoughts Only Bard Boyfriend

eskel: No Thoughts Only Goat

lambert: No Thoughts Only Thots

- @toss-a-coin-to-your-lesbian

#geraskier #witcher #witcher netflix #text

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Jaskier won his immortality in a game of Gwent while absolutely shit-faced so he doesn't actually remember.

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“The last thing I need is someone needing me” “Yet, here we are.”

Charm design, Store link in bio.

#geraskier #witcher #witcher netflix #fanart

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Had a dream about them so I drew it. I can’t believe they’re haunting me even in my sleep 😩

#geraskier #witcher #fanart #witcher netflix

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day sixteen - make love

geralt is gentle as he lays jaskier down among the sheets, climbing in above him - not that he could get away with letting go, as jaskier is clinging to his neck, grip light but no less firm. “darling,” he whispers, soft and urgent, “it’s okay...”

“i know,” jaskier replies softly, settling back with ease. he keeps geralt close to himself, leaning up to kiss the corner of his mouth. “i know, my wolf, these aren’t tears of pain - “

but it doesn’t much seem to matter, as geralt is already kissing them away, just as tender as ever, even as he runs his hand lower down jaskier’s chest and torso, down to slip beneath the waist of his trousers. jaskier’s breath falters over a laugh. “my wolf,” he repeats, pressing his hips up into the familiar touch as he cards his fingers through ashen hair.

“my lark,” geralt purrs in return, and his kiss is so soft, so sweet... he swallows jaskier’s moan, presses for more, curls his fingers in that wicked way that makes the bard’s voice break high on a moan. “my little lark...”

jaskier is very nearly broken by the time geralt finally grows tired of teasing, setting to work on divesting them both of clothing - but jaskier stops him with a hand against his chest before geralt can lean back down.

golden eyes glance up, inquiring, only to soften when jaskier leans up enough to press a kiss above his heart.

“i am yours,” jaskier whispers against him. he feels geralt reach for his hand, feels geralt lace their fingers together on the sheets at his side as geralt presses him back flat.

the metal of their rings chills his skin as geralt kisses his brow, whispers in return, “and i, yours.”

#geraskier #witcher #witcher netflix #fanfic

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day eighteen - size difference

jaskier is kneeling facedown in their rented bed, fists clenched tight in the sheets as he stifles his sobbing moans in his forearms, folded just beneath his head. his hips are drawn up high, held in place by his witcher’s grasp, and he’s all but shaking with every slow, deep, deliberate rock of geralt’s hips.

geralt leans down closer over him, and jaskier feels his hair falling soft over his overheated skin. “breathe,” geralt murmurs, speaking against his shoulder. jaskier shivers under the kiss geralt presses there. “breathe, my lark...”

jaskier can only whine.

he feels geralt’s right hand wander, straying from his hip to his abdomen - to pull him back farther onto geralt’s length, no doubt, but then...

but then geralt stalls with his hand pressed low to jaskier’s abdomen, but then geralt breathes in deep...

but then geralt moans.

“i can feel myself,” he breathes, and his voice has gone even deeper, even rougher. “i can feel myself inside you...”

jaskier gives a weak and shaky sound, shifting his stance until he can free a hand to reach under himself. geralt takes his hand, flattens it against his own abdomen, presses down - not hard, but firm - and rolls his hips in deep.

jaskier moans at the feeling of geralt’s cock shifting just beneath his skin, his hips bucking in reflexive response. “g - geralt - “

“my beautiful little lark,” geralt is purring, speaking the words like benedictions into his skin as he rocks in deep, as he grinds in until jaskier is sobbing with the pressure.

#geraskier #witcher #witcher netflix #fanfic

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Okay but just like,, imagine geraskier smut but this time geralt has 𝘧𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘴 (oh god 😳🥵)

Nonie what have you done to me??? this just took off at a full run???? if i had any sort of good girl reputation it would be ruined.

Warnings: S M U T. like there's not even any lead-up - just smut, biting kink, butt plugs, anal sex, if there’s any more you think I missed please let me know! I want this to be a safe blog and I'm still kinda new to sharing the smut I write!

aight yall, bitey smut under the cut oo that rhymed!

Geralt moaned into Jaskier’s neck and the bard rolled his hips over Geralt’s almost painfully hard erection. They had intended to use this rented room to rest, for once, but Jaskier did that thing with his tongue right after dinner and Geralt felt like he was on fire. So it was really inevitable that Jaskier would end up straddling Geralt instead of having a calm, relaxing night.

He sucked at the bard’s pulse-point, licking over the bright red mark and letting out a shuddering breath as he felt his fangs extend over his canines. 

“Oh, fuck. Geralt, let me see you.” Jaskier panted, practically petting the witcher as he ran his hands through his hair.

Geralt gripped the bard tighter and rolled back and over so he was nestled right between Jaskier’s legs on the bed. Instead of doing as Jaskier asked, he started making a trail of hickey’s down the bard’s bare chest, taking a slight detour to a nipple just for the delighted humming it elicited. 

He was doing his best to hide his fangs, they only ever extended during a hunt or, as he’d newly discovered last week, sex with Jaskeir, so it hadn’t been a problem until now. But Jaskier’s moans did something to his body and mind that made him claw for control within himself and as much as it made him nervous, he couldn’t help but chase it.

Jaskier’s hand reached down before he’d made it to his trousers and tilted his face up to him, nothing but adoration in his eyes, “Let me see them. I know what that gasp means.”

Geralt ran his tongue over his teeth, defensive anger bubbling from somewhere deep in his gut, “Don’t know what you mean.” he mumbled, not breaking eye contact in his stubbornness. 

“They come out sometimes when you sleep,” Jaskier explained, tracing one of Geralt’s eyebrows with the softest touch that was still somehow electric, “Show me.”

Geralt hesitantly pulled back his upper lip and Jaskier sucked his bottom lip between his teeth, stifling a moan.

“You’re not scared?” Geralt hesitantly ran his hand up Jaskier’s torso to rest over his heart.

He shook his head, resting his hand over Geralt’s, “Bite me.” 

Geralt frowned, moving so he was hovering over Jaskier with a hand holding hip up on either side of his head, “Nothing happens. It’s just a wolf side effect.”

Jaskier rolled his eyes and slid his hands down to rest over Geralt’s cock, “I know. Still want you to bite me. If you’re okay with it?”

Geralt thought about it for a moment, what it might be like to nibble at the pale skin of Jaskier’s collar bone, or hip crease, and his dick decided for him. He kissed Jaskier and ground his cock against Jaskier’s hand, letting out a breathy “Yes.”

Jaskier wrapped his legs around Geralt and groaned, pushing his head back into the pillows as he arched into his witcher’s touch. Geralt took full advantage of the position, peppering small kisses over Jaskier’s shoulder before he took a small bit of skin between his teeth to test the waters, keeping an ear out for the little flutter Jaskier’s heartbeat did when he was scared. Instead, he was gifted with a downright sinful moan as the bard’s nails dug into Geralt’s shoulders. 

“Fuck. More.” Jaskier panted, thrusting his hips up to meet Geralt’s as he begged. The witcher obliged, sinking his teeth into Jaskier’s traps and rolling his eyes back in his head when he moaned. Geralt released him, licking over the teeth marks and placing a kiss there before he moved to a sensitive spot at the base of the bard’s neck. Another moan that would make a succubus blush filled the room and Geralt couldn’t stand it any longer.

He sat back on his heels and fumbled with the laces of Jaskier’s trousers, “Do you still have it in?”

Jaskier, rather breathless, nodded, helping Geralt rid him of his clothing and frantically pushing at Geralt’s breeches.

“Thank fuck.” Geralt breathed, kissing Jaskier roughly before rocking back to kick off his clothes and grab the oil. When he turned back Jaskier was already gripping the pink glass plug but Geralt slapped his hand away.

“That,” he snarled, “is for me.” 

Jaskier whined impatiently, moving his hand to slowly stroke his cock. Geralt held one of his knees up at a higher angle and kissed down his thigh, leaving a gentle bite, more of a nibble, as he got farther up his leg. 

Jaskier’s fist squeezed a little harder around his length as he gasped, “Again.”

Geralt obeyed immediately, sinking his teeth in, a little closer to his hips and a little harder, as he wrapped his fingers around the polished glass. When Jaskier writhed under him he started to slowly tug, easing the plug out as he nipped at his bard’s thighs. Geralt pulled away and set the plug safely on the ground before he slicked his fingers with the oil and gently ran a finger over Jaskier’s sensitive hole. 

“How are you feeling?” 

Jaskier swallowed hard, his breath coming quickly as he looked down at Geralt with absolute fucked out wonder, “Amazing.”

Geralt grinned, enjoying the way Jaskier’s eyes flickered to his fangs now that he knew what they did to him, “But are you ready?”

“Fuck me, Geralt. Please.”

He didn’t wait to be told twice to insert one slick finger, meeting practically no resistance, and the one more. It wasn’t long at all before Jaskier was telling him to ‘get the fuck on with it, I’m fine’. 

He moved to hover over the bard, kissing him again, trapping his bottom lip between his teeth as he pulled back and shivering when Jaskier’s hands roaming his chest curled into fists around his chest hair. He guided himself into Jaskier ever so slowly, letting out a low hum of relief as he pushed in as far as he could go. The bard’s arms wrapped up around his ribs, holding him close as he adjusted, all gasping inhales and shaking exhales. 

“Mmmm, Geralt…”

“Hm?” Geralt really wasn’t capable of higher forms of communication anymore. 

“Teeth. Please.”

Without a second thought, Geralt was biting down on Jaskier’s other shoulder as he slowly began to rock his hips back and forth. Jaskier whimpered under him, whispering little praises when his breath would allow as Geralt covered his chest and neck with bite marks. Geralt’s thrust soon turned desperate, faster and sloppier as he chased those moans and his own pleasure. 

Jaskier’s hands’ reached down to grip at his ass, “One more bite, I’m so close.” 

Geralt moaned and latched his teeth onto the skin right under Jaskier’s ear. True to his word Jaskier screamed as he came, rocking his hips up to meet Geralt’s as he rode out his orgasm. 

Geralt only thrust a few more times before spilling into Jaskier with a sound close to a growl, snapping his hips forward at longer and longer intervals before he stilled, completely sheathed. He rested his forehead on Jaskier’s shoulder as they panted and came back to reality for a few moments before gingerly pulling out and collapsing on the bed next to his bard. 

“Holy fuck.” 

Geralt nodded, running his tongue over his fangs and tasting the sweat from Jaskier’s skin, “Agreed.”

Jaskier slapped his hand around over the edge of the bed looking for a towel, “So I really can’t turn into a witcher if you bite me? That would be kinda fun.”

Geralt laughed, feeling the slight sting of his fangs retracting, “No, no turning you.”

Jaskier finally managed to grasp a towel and swung it to smack Geralt in the chest.

Geralt took it and cleaned them up before tossing it back on the floor and curling around his bard, peppering kisses over all the little bite marks, “How do you feel? Do you want some water? The bruise cream we got yesterday?”

Jaskier wrapped one arm around Geralt’s shoulders and kissed his hair, “If you do anything to make these fade I won’t blow you for a month.”

#geraskier #witcher #witcher netflix #fanfic

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Lambert: *bursting in through the kitchen door* YOU LIED!

Geralt, looking up from his cup, blinking: What?

Lambert, slamming his hands on the table: You fucking lied!

Lambert: You brought your bard, all dressed in puffy shirts and high waisted pants. He looked so fucking small compared to all of us, which is okay.

Lambert: And then I saw him shirtless in the hall today and- WHAT THE FUCK???

Lambert: WE'RE PRACTICALLY THE SAME SIZE?

Lambert: WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME THAT THE BARD IS STRONG??

Geralt, smirking: I have no idea what you're talking about.

Lambert: You're a horrible brother.

Geralt: Okay, liste-

Eskel, bursting in through the kitchen door: YOU LIED