So what if when Geralt fucks a person he kinda loses control a small bit and he just looks really animilstic and just overal savage so it scares a lot of people. He’s become really insecure over it and refuses to let people see him in any sort of pleasured state.
When he and Jaskier get together the bard is adamant on facing Geralt and the Witcher is helpless to stop him. So they often do it in the dark and throughout the entire experience Geralt pretty much hides his face because apparently his eyes glow as well (he doesn’t know, he’s never seen himself when he’s in the throes of passion)
Eventually Jaskier picks up there’s something wrong. Mainly when it’s cold and Jaskier doesn’t want to put out the fire so Geralt basically begs him to wear a blindfold. That’s when Jask stops him and just looks at his Witcher.
Geralt doesn’t want to come out and say that he’s scared that the bard will leave him if he sees him in that state. He doesn’t want to admit that he has any form of weakness but when Jaskier just looks at him and offers the softest, most open smile he can muster Geralt’s resolve breaks and he spills.
He tells him of everything and how he doesn’t want Jaskier being scared of him. It’s the last thing Geralt wants.
It physically hurts Jaskier to see his Witcher so scared and for the first time in a long time he wants to hurt whoever it was that made his Witcher so insecure.
The bard offers to stop if Geralt wants but when the Witcher refuses he instead offers to wear the blindfold. The Witcher wants to refuse that too but he’s still not quite ready. He still isn’t fully prepared to show Jask that side of him so he ties it around the bard’s head firmly.
They gradually progress. Most times Jask still wears a blindfold because Geralt kind of digresses or gets randomly insecure. Eventually they get to a point where Geralt feels alright. He’s feeling confident enough to go without any sort of cover and Jaskier is being as supportive as he can while getting the air knocked out of him with every thrust.
It’s just a litany of praise and comfort and compliments from the bard because it’s true. Whoever Geralt was with before must’ve been blind because the man looks stunning like this. His eyes are sharper and they do glow a little more, his mouth is pulled in a constant snarl and shows his slightly sharpened teeth (which turns the bard on more than he’d care to admit)
Jask loves it, loves how Geralt looks and how Geralt loses his cool every few thrusts because of him. The bard can’t get enough of it and tells the Witcher when they’ve cooled down a bit. Geralt falls a little more in love with the bard as he goes off on a tangent on how beautiful Geralt looked because apparently, “Geralt you look stunning. I may have to write a song about this but I won’t sing it to others. Can’t have them coming to try and take you away form me now can I?” And the Witcher can’t say he completely hates the idea of Jask writing a song about this. As long as the bard keeps it for himself.
For Anonymous: for the 500 followers drabble: geralt x jaskier + 29
#29: “Careful not to break the—oh.”
A/N: Another modern au that’s super fluffy? It’s more likely than you’d think.
Warnings: Not a single one
Word count: 1.2k
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“Geralt, would you calm down?” Jaskier drawled without looking up from his phone. Geralt paused his pacing to glare at his boyfriend where he lounged on the couch with an idle smirk on his face.
“I’m perfectly calm,” Geralt muttered, going and sitting by Jask’s feet. It was only with conscious effort that he kept his leg from bouncing, finger tapping restlessly against his knee. He went still as Jaskier sat up with a sigh, tucking his phone away and looking at Geralt with uncharacteristic seriousness.
“What is it?” he asked solemnly, reaching out to take Geralt’s hand. Geralt laced their fingers together wordlessly, struggling to decide what he wanted to say as he stared at their joined hands. Jaskier’s were nimble, long-fingered and elegant; pristine. His own were larger, rougher and scarred. “Are you nervous to meet my parents?” Jask continued, oblivious to Geralt’s inner spiral, “because I told you, you don’t have to if you don’t want--”
“I want to,” Geralt interrupted stubbornly, making himself meet Jask’s gaze. Blue eyes flitted over his face, drinking in his features curiously. Geralt set his jaw and a small, amused smile tugged at Jask’s lips as he squeezed Geralt’s hand.
“Right. Well, it will be awhile before they get home, and clearly you can’t sit still,” he teased, making Geralt flush with equal parts embarrassment and annoyance. He continued blithely before Geralt could argue, “How about a tour?”
“....a tour?” Geralt asked warily.
“Yes, a tour!” Jask enthused, bouncing to his feet without letting go of Geralt’s hand, so he let himself be tugged along. It was easier to just go with it when he got like this, his zeal turning him into a whirlwind that swept everyone and everything along in his wake. “What’s the point of acquiring all these trinkets and art pieces if we can’t show them off?” he asked idly, clearly not expecting an answer.
Geralt sighed indulgently, following Jaskier deeper into the manor. He was aware that his boyfriend’s family had money, but until now he hadn’t been aware of just how much. He was trying not to feel self-conscious as he followed Jaskier through the gallery displaying various paintings, sculptures and other curios. Geralt kept the hand not curled around Jask’s shoved in his pocket as he looked around.
Jaskier paused in front of a sculpture and Geralt looked at him curiously, studying his features. There was a certain tension in the lines around his eyes, his mouth a bit….pinched.
“Do you not want me here?” Geralt asked quietly. Blue eyes snapped to his, shocked.
Jaskier turned to face him, tugging his hand away to plant both on his hips. “Why on earth would you ask something so ludicrous, Geralt?”
Geralt shifted uncomfortably, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t exactly….fit in,” he muttered, staring at his shoes.
“Hey, Geralt.” Gentle fingers hooked under his chin, tipping it up until their eyes met. Jaskier’s face was soft, open and warm and it soothed something withered and anxious inside Geralt, allowing him a shaky exhale as his tense shoulders relaxed a fraction. “Love, if I wanted to date someone who would fit in with my family, I’d have picked up one of those ninnies at those stupid galas my parents drag me to, or my fencing class, or any one of the other dreadful activities I’m forced to endure.” Geralt’s eyes flickered over Jaskier’s face, uncertain, and the brunet offered him a small, gentle smile as he leaned their foreheads together. “I want you. Scars and brutish manners and all.”
Geralt closed his eyes and sighed, pulling his hands out of his pockets to slide his arms around Jask’s middle and tug him close. Jaskier hummed and stepped into him so they were pressed together, his arms winding around Geralt’s neck. They stood that way, quiet and serene as they held each other, for an indefinable span of time.
“Maybe we should go somewhere else,” Geralt suggested. Jaskier laughed, pulling back and tangling their fingers again, tugging Geralt along with him.
“It’ll be fine, as long as we’re careful not to break the--” He went silent as he heard Geralt stumble behind him followed by a crash and the unmistakable sound of shattering porcelain.
“--oh.” He bit his lip, laughter dancing in his eyes as he looked at Geralt, frozen where he’d stumbled to the ground after tripping over the edge of the stupid rug.
“I didn’t--the rug, I tripped--” he stammered. “Fuck. fuck fuck fuckfuckfuck--”
“Geralt, it’s okay,” Jaskier tried to soothe him.
“It’s not okay!” he snapped. “How much is that even worth?” he demanded.
“Mm….not sure,” Jaskier said idly, examining the shards with mild interest. “Maybe….quarter million? I doubt it’s more than that.”
Geralt blanched. “A quarter million?” he repeated, aghast. “Jaskier, I can’t afford to replace--”
“Geralt, it’s fine! It’s hardly the most treasured or expensive vase we have.”
“I broke it. They’re going to hate me--”
“You’re worried about my parents?” Jaskier raised an eyebrow and Geralt groaned.
“Of course I am!” He threw his hands up. “And I just ruined my first impression!”
“Geralt. Love. It’s a vase. It’s replaceable.”
“That’s not the point,” he nearly whined and Jaskier couldn’t help it, a laugh bubbled out of him. Geralt glared at him. “I’m so glad this is funny to you,” he growled.
“I’m sorry, it’s just--big, scary Geralt Rivi, tough guy, heartless and cold is….freaking out because he broke my parent’s vase, it’s just a bit ridiculous.” Jaskier chuckled again and Geralt spat out another slew of curses. “Geralt, what does it matter?”
“They’re your parents, Jask, that’s why it matters. I...I want them to like me,” he admitted reluctantly. Jaskier immediately sobered.
“What they think of you doesn’t matter, Geralt.” Geralt opened his mouth to protest but Jask continued without giving him a chance to speak, taking Geralt’s face in his hands and speaking seriously. “It doesn’t matter. I haven’t cared what my parents thought since they first dismissed my music when I was fifteen. So no matter what they say or do, I’ll still love you and date you and probably someday marry you, so long as you’re agreeable.”
Geralt stared at him with wide eyes, speechless. His hands had at some point come to rest on Jask’s hips, holding him tightly. Jaskier’s lip curled up, mischief in his gaze.
“Oh, what’s this? Have I rendered you speechless?” he teased.
“You love me?” Geralt whispered.
The sharp edges of Jask’s grin softened into a smaller, sweeter smile that had Geralt’s heart squeezing. “Is that so surprising?” he asked softly. Unable to speak around the lump in his throat, Geralt just nodded, his breathing shaky. Jaskier leaned in, and Geralt closed his eyes as their lips met. The kiss was slow, sweet and reassuring and leaving him breathless and a bit giddy as he clutched at Jaskier.
After a few moments Jask pulled away. “I’m actually glad you broke that,” he said as casually as he could manage with his breathless tone.
“Why’s that?” Geralt murmured, letting go of Jask’s hip to cup his jaw gently.
“I always hated it, thought it was terribly tacky,” Jaskier said with a grin, and then they were too busy kissing, laughing into each other’s mouths, to say anything more. But Geralt’s nerves had finally settled.
Whatever happened, he knew they were going to be okay, and that was all that really mattered.
