Şimdi arkadaşlarımın yanında en çok espri yapan konuşan kişiyim,ailemin yanında dünyanın en yabani insanıyım akrabalarımın yanında tamamen yabancı bir insanım
Ne çok kişiliğim varmış benim shkshdksh
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torturing sub feeders with my gluttony and bullying them with my weight yes pls. Watching them whimper while trying to keep up with my appetite and work countless hours to keep me fed + shoving my huge gut in their face and telling them I'm withering away from being so underfed, sitting on them and bouncing as punishment for keeping me waiting when they get home with a mountain of takeout... yes 💖
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I love posting like my own original story has a fandom, tagging stuff as my OCs, textposts, etc. I cannot be stopped
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I can't believe no one requested the hickey fake dating snippet yet.
So here you are, my knight in shining armor!
I gotta say, I have been looking forward to get this one done! It’s closing in on the end and uh 👀 I am gonna give you the mere beginning because the rest is juicy spoilers 🤭
Please enjoy!
Wip ask Game!
“I can’t believe you told them it is our honeymoon!” Jaskier hisses.
“I said I’m sorry. They were going to kick us out.” Geralt says tiredly, not for the first time that night.
Jaskier mutters some more under his breath, poking around in his stew. Outside the rain is pouring down, and Geralt has pretty much no regrets about his little lie, other than Jaskier’s obvious discomfort. He is doing that nervous thing he does with his hands, where he touches his fingertips to his thumb over and over again. It seems to be a soothing thing, so Geralt never stopped him, but he doesn’t like to be the cause of it.
It wasn’t his intention to lie. It was just… It was so very nice to shut up the usual comments about Jaskier being his whore, and unfeeling witchers, and all that stupid shit.
It also… possibly.. tickled a secret corner of his mind, where he might have imagined this before.
But none of that matters as he watches Jaskier, trying to smile through his frown, his cheeks red and his hands ever fidgeting.
Their eyes meet for a moment, and Jaskier sighs.
“Stop looking at me like that. That kicked puppy look. It’s just. You realize that for that act to work, we are going to have to be… close?”
Geralt looks away. He didn’t think about that. Of course the bard wouldn’t want that with him.
“Hmm. You don’t have to… We could pretend to fight? I could sleep in the stables.” Geralt offers, looking down at his stew.
“What? Wait, no. Geralt, I meant, you hate having people touching you.” Jaskier tries to catch his eye, and Geralt tries not to look like he is sulking.
He doesn’t mind per say when people touch him, it’s just that they usually touch him with a goal in mind.
Everyone but Jaskier.
“It’s alright.” He mutters, and Jaskier looks properly unimpressed.
“Really. So if I cozy up to you right now, you won’t get all stiff on me in the morning?”
Alright, so maybe Geralt is not very good at people touching him. Doesn’t mean that he minds it. Much.
“I’ll behave. My fault we are in this anyway.”
He tries to say it softly, well aware of the people in the bar watching them still. He lifts his left arm in invitation, and it only takes a second of hesitation for Jaskier to scoot closer, to press their sides together.
Now that Jaskier is this close, Geralt isn’t sure where to place his hand. This might have been a mistake.
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