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queenxxxsupreme · 4 years

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I’m daydreaming and just imagining reader being self conscious of her body after giving birth and geralt just being fluffy and sweet and not liking her putting herself down and yeh

A/N: This makes me soft. I hope you like this babe!!

Warning: This fic does have quite a bit of mentioning of body image issues and postpartum issues many women face. I did my best to google things because I’ve never had a kid so I don’t know what postpartum is like but I hope I did somewhat decently with it.

You gazed into the mirror, admiring the way the deep red silk material of your dress hugged your chest. You brushed your hand down the material and over your stomach, frowning as your eyes settled there. The little smile that had been on your lips faded almost instantly.

You didn’t like the way the dress looked, the way the material seemed to amplify your slightly sagging stomach. Now that you were focused on it, your stomach seemed suddenly much bigger than it actually was and the thought of wearing that dress in public made you sick. You couldn’t go to Cirilla’s birthday celebration looking like that.

You turned your back to the mirror, biting back the tears as you shook your head.

You just had Bram not even two months ago, Y/N. You just need time to bounce back and everything will be okay!

No matter how many times you told yourself that, there was another voice in the back of your head that spoke up, growing louder and louder as it pointed out all of your insecurities.

The extra weight you’d put on. The way your arms jiggled when you moved them or the way a double chin formed when you looked down. The way none of your clothes fit comfortably, except for your maternity clothes.

You reached behind yourself to pull the ties on the dress, letting out a breath as the material loosened around your torso. You pushed the dress down and let the silk pool at your ankles.

The door to the room opened and you hastily moved to retrieve the throw at the foot of your bed.

Your husband stepped in, brows drawing together as he saw you move quickly, snatching the throw and using it to cover yourself.

“It’s just me, dove.”

You nodded but still kept the throw tight to you, holding it just beneath your chin.

He stood there for a moment, assessing what had just happened. Was something wrong?

“Are, um, Are you ready? Yennefer is growing rather impatient.”

You chewed on your bottom lip for a moment, dropping your eyes to the floor as you shook your head.

“I-I don’t feel good, Geralt. I don’t think I should go.”

“What do you mean?” Geralt took a few steps towards you but you shook your head, stepping away from him until your back bumped into the wall.

His breath caught in his throat, shoulders tensing up as he watched you carefully. Your eyes were full of too many emotions for him to decipher them all. Fear. Worry. Dread. Concern.

“Y/N.” He murmured your name.

“Just-Just go without me, okay?” You whispered, trying to force a smile on to your lips as you shook your head but the tears in your eyes swelled up and blurred your vision. “Take Bram. I-I know Eist and Calanthe would love to see him and-and Ciri adores him.”

“Please tell me what is wrong.” Geralt quietly begged. “You were so excited to go earlier today. We’ve been talking about going all week.”

“Yes, but I-I just….” You trailed off, unable to come up with a good answer, one that wasn’t necessarily the truth. You didn’t want to tell your husband that you were ashamed of your body, of the body he claimed to love so dearly.

“Cirilla would be devastated if you didn’t come.”

You closed your eyes tightly, shaking your head as your head fell forward. One hand clutched the throw to your chest while the other covered your face.

“I’m so sorry, Geralt.” You cried quietly. “I-I’m sorry. You deserve so, so much better.”

Wordlessly, Geralt crossed the room. You didn’t even notice this so when his hand took ahold of your wrist to pull your hand from your face, you flinched. He carefully pried your hand from your face and then hooked two fingers beneath your chin to tilt your head up.

He used the pad of his thumb to brush the tears from your damp cheeks. His liquid gold eyes were studying you, concerned, worried.

He had an idea about what it was that could be upsetting you. You were holding the throw to your body as if it was your life source. You were shielding yourself from his eyes, from your husband’s eyes. He’d seen you naked before. Hell, he witnessed you give birth to his son. There could only be one reason why you were suddenly hiding your body from him.

“Please tell me why you think that I deserve better?” He whispered, warm breath fanning over your face.

“I-I’m the size of a fucking cow, Geralt.” You dropped your gaze to focus on the wolf pendant. “My stomach is all wrinkly and there are stretchmarks all over me. I-I look disgusting.”

“Y/N.” He said your name with a scolding tone, though he was gentle. “You are not disgusting. You are the woman I love.”

“The woman you love died when she had a child.” You muttered.

Geralt took your chin in his hold once more and tilted your head up.

“The woman I love brought my son into this world.” He kissed your forehead. “I love you, Y/N. How you look doesn’t matter.”

“Yes, it does!” You couldn’t help but raise your voice, pushing against his chest but you would’ve had better luck pushing a brick wall. “You fell in love with me, why? Because-Because of my charming personality? Fuck that, Geralt! My personality is absolute shit!”

You were just angry with yourself. He didn’t deserve your outburst and you knew this.

“I fell in love with you, Y/N. With the stupid jokes you tell me and the way you smile when you see a cow in a field or a children chasing each other. I fell in love with how you treated me when we first met. I wasn’t a witcher to you. You didn’t treat me like some stupid mutant. You are kind and generous and I can’t imagine myself with another.” He shook his head.

“But all of that, all of you falling in love with me…. There’s a sexual aspect to it too.” You told him, adamant on getting him to admit that you were hideous. You wanted the truth. You didn’t want him to lie to you to make you feel better. “You liked me, my body, what I had to offer in that sense.”

He sighed heavily through his nose.

“When I fell in love with you, Y/N, I fell in love with all of you. This body, your body, made my son, and this body feeds him. Now is no different than before. If anything, I actually enjoy this.” He brought his hands up to your shoulders.

“You enjoy me looking like a cow?”

“Stop saying that.” He softly demanded, shaking his head. “No, my love. You are warm and comforting and so fucking sexy. This is bigger.” His hands trailed to your backside, squeezing you firmly. “And so are other things.”

His eyes shamelessly looked down at your chest, which was poorly covered with the throw.

“I enjoy every part of you, dove, and I am in love with you. With your thighs and how warm they are in my hands. With your stomach and how soft it is when I lay my head upon it, and how you carried my son for nine long months inside of you. Nothing could ever change my love for you, Y/N.”

You almost believed him, but then that voice continued to tell you that he was lying. You shook your head, eyes falling to the floor again.

He put his hand on the throw and tried to pull it away from you but you held it firmly.

“Dove. Let me.” He murmured.

You hesitated, still holding the throw with white knuckles. You finally let it go and held your breath, eyes squeezing shut tightly.

You expected a gasp or some noise of repulsion. You expected him to flee even.

But instead, he pulled you in for a hug, large arms wrapping around you and drawing you into his chest.

“You are the most beautiful being I’ve ever seen in all my years.” He breathed into your hair.

The breath you had held left your lips and cries shook your shoulders. You melted into his touch, burying your face in his chest.

“You are strong, Y/N. You carried Bram for nine months, and it wasn’t easy. I know it wasn’t. Watching you struggle with the aches and pains and with the loss of balance and the sickness…. I love you.”

“But I’m-I’m covered in stretchmarks. My stomach, it’s-it’s-,”

“It is beautiful, just like you. They make you who you are now. You’re a mother, Y/N.” Geralt pulled away to look down at you, tucking a piece of your hair behind your ear. “And the best one I’ve ever seen.”

You looked down at your stomach for a moment.

“You don’t…. You don’t think it’s gross?”

He gave you a little smile before leaning down to kiss your forehead.

“No, my sweet dove. I don’t think it’s gross. And neither should you.”

You closed your eyes and leaned into his touch.

“If you truly don’t want to go, then I can take Jaskier and Bram with me.” Geralt rubbed your back with one large hand. “You can stay here and get a bath, maybe catch up on some much needed sleep. Do you want to go?”

“I do.” You nodded. “It’d be lovely to see Calanthe and Eist.”

“Then let’s get you dressed.” Geralt kissed you softly and then picked up your dress that you had discarded on the floor.

Taglist: @pressedinthepages @MishaFaye @whitewolfandthefox @ayamenimthiriel @c-a-v-a-l-r-y @wolfyland07 @belalugosisdead @persephonehemingway @romancebibliophilia @keira-hulmaster @dinonuggs69 @greatestauthorofmygeneration @shadow-hunters-lover @dancingwith-thesunflowers @tedi-fach-las @thecomfortofoldstorries @raspberrydreamclouds @natkowaa @disasteren @weathervanes-my-oneandlonely @onlyhenrys @crazybutconfidentaf @wackylurker @criminaly-supernatural @magpie343 @permanently-exhausted-witcher @hina-chans-stuff @the-space-between-heartbeats @havenoffandoms @carriebee1 @ger-bearofrivia @naominami @thefirelordm @writingawaymylife @reaganjenelle @badassspaceprincess @theawkwardpedestrian @scarlettwitcher @badassspaceprincess @swimswimsubadivehelp @just-a-sad-donut @summersong69 @an--actual--human--disaster @rubyqueen819

#geralt of rivia x reader #geralt x reader #the witcher netflix #the witcher #geralt #the white wolf #white wolf #geralt fluff #kacey answers #geralt request

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pressedinthepages · 4 years

Text

Mysa

Swedish. verb. to engage in an activity that is comfortable and pleasurable, especially at home; being content and cozy.

Fandom: The Witcher

Pairing: Jaskier x Reader

Word Count: 2337

Rating: E

Masterlist

a/n: Reader Request: “Hey! Could you please write a oneshot, where the female reader is a talented healer but even after years she hasn't found a proper solution for her menstrual cramps and she get's so annoyed and desperate that she agrees to Jaskiers (who is a friend of her) suggestion to have sex with him (because he heard somewhere that that helps some people)? Where first she tries to just see it under a scientific issue but soon things get really hot and at the end fluffy? :3″ (this has also been posted to AO3 but I don’t wanna link to an outside site cause of the whole thing with the tags…we’ll see what happens)

Tags: @whitewolfandthefox @havenoffandoms @MishaFaye @criminaly-supernatural (There is a link on my page where you can be added to my taglist :D)

Warnings: smut, period sex, cramping, no graphic descriptions of blood.

You have reached the end of your rope, frustrated beyond belief, but Jaskier extends an offer to help you.

A fresh blanket of snow has settled over the town of Oxenfurt. A lit fireplace warms your little home in the residential wings of campus. You work as an instructor, teaching courses in alchemy and healing. You’ve even written several books on the topics, so you’d think that people would trust your opinion when you say that there is nothing that you can do.

“Are you sure that you’ve tried everything???” Jaskier’s voice rings through the air, walking towards where you are settled on the couch in front of the fire. You roll your eyes as he hands over a warm mug of chamomile tea, careful not to disturb the little pouch of raw beans placed low on your stomach. You’ve been in pain for two days now, your bleed has always been a source of horrible discomfort for you. You’ve been able to manage during those days, and have tried concocting countless mixtures to attempt to quell the pain. So far, however, nothing has proven effective.

You have also told Jaskier this several times already. You know he’s just trying to help, but it’s getting to be a bit much. He showed up at your door right at the beginning of winter, bashfully telling you that he was in search of a place to stay for the season. You happily welcomed him into your home, grateful to have an old friend keep you company for a while.

Now, Jaskier sits on the couch by your feet, the picture of relaxation. You’ve always held a bit of a candle for him, but you have long accepted that he only sees you as a friend. You adore his friendship, but in moments like this, you can’t help but wonder what could’ve been.

You watch the light from the fire dance across his features, licking tendrils of warmth down his neck and across his chest where a dusting of dark hair peeks from the open buttons of his chemise. The sleeves have been rolled up to his elbows, and his shoes have been kicked away in a corner. Even Jaskier’s hair seems relaxed, the chestnut locks gently disheveled as they fall over his forehead.

“You know,” he startles you out of your dream as you feel a cramp low in your stomach, as if someone had stuck their hand in your abdomen, grabbed a hold of your insides, and decided to give them a good squeeze, just for the fun of it. Jaskier notices the grimace of pain on your face and continues, his voice low and soothing, “There was a woman I once knew, lovely lady really, she had a similar problem and I actually ended up being able to help her!”

He looks over at you with a smile, boyish dimples in his cheeks, and his eyes shining like a clear sky on a summer day. You crook an eyebrow at him, skeptical to say the least. When you were at university together, Jaskier had never excelled at the sciences, his talents being more focused on the languages and arts. You were both miserable at maths, and would always end up sulking together after exams with a large bottle of wine.

“And how, pray tell, did you help?” you inquire, nudging the side of his leg with your foot. He looks over at you then, his bright blue eyes meeting yours as a blush climbs up his chest and settles on his cheeks.

“Ah-well, she had told me, uh, that she had, in the past, uh...had others, well other men-”

“Come on, Jask, spit it out already, I’m sure it’s nothing I haven’t heard before,” you cut off his stammering with a stern eye, sipping your tea as you wait.

Jaskier clears his throat, looking back at the fire as he murmurs, “She said that having sex, and reaching a climax, would help with the pain…”

Your eyebrows shoot to your hairline, the tea scalding your throat as you quickly swallow. “Well,” you cough, “I actually hadn’t heard that one before.”

You both sit in silence for a moment, your mind racing. What was he implying? Are there any books on this? Who was this other woman, and why do you care?

“Did it work?” you whisper, barely audible over the crackle of the fire. Jaskier huffs out a smile, still refusing to meet your eyes.

“Yeah, she said that it had helped immensely...besides, even if it hadn’t, she would’ve still enjoyed herself anyways.” Jaskier looks over at you now with a wink, his eyes glinting with mirth and hubris.

You gasp, mockingly astounded as you sit up, setting the mug of tea on the floor before you do. “Hmmm, the theory is intriguing...are you offering?”

Jaskier’s eyes widen, a small tremor in his voice as he speaks, “I would be happy to help you, if you wish.”

You bite your lip, mulling over your options. It’s not a difficult decision on your part, the voice in the back of your head screaming triumphantly as you hold out a slightly shaking hand to him. Jaskier looks down at your hand and back to you, seemingly making a decision in his head before placing his own hand in yours. He rises to a stand, pulling you with him as you leave the now cooled bag of beans on the couch.

“Shall we go to the bed, dear?” He whispers, gently pulling you back towards it. His hand is soft in yours, his fingers calloused from years of honing his craft. You both come to a stop at the edge of the bed, hesitating to take the next step.

“Are you sure about this Julian?” you ask, his true name slipping out from your lips. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to do this…”

Jaskier takes his free hand and brushes a stray piece of hair from your face. “Darling, I promise you that I only ever do things that please me, and this? This would please me more than anything.”

His words send a shiver down your spine as you feel a low ache in your core. Not a cramp, something deeper, sweeter, harder to ignore. He pulls you close, leaning his head down to yours as he closes his eyes. You close yours as well, meeting his lips as you rest your hand on his shoulder.

Jaskier’s lips are soft, a warm back and forth as you sink into his chest. He is a rock, steady against your rising sea. You can hear the blood rushing in your ears as you move your hand to thread in his hair, gripping his hand tighter with your other.

“Wait, wait,” you say, suddenly breaking away from the kiss. Jaskier has always worn his heart on his sleeve, but he looks truly open and vulnerable when you look at him. You move your hands up, feeling his heart pound against his chest under your fingers. His chemise is soft from years of wear, and he smells lightly of the rosemary soap that you keep by the tub.

“We should take these off,” you say as you tug at Jaskier’s shirt. He chuckles as he pulls back from you, lifting the chemise over his head. He then takes your hand and spins you around, his fingers working at the laces of your dress at the nape of your neck. You feel the fabric gradually loosen around your shoulders as he pushes it down, placing a hot trail of kisses over the newly exposed skin.

The dress puddles on the floor as Jaskier’s hands rove over your body, his chin resting on your shoulder as he admires your body. His touch leaves embers in its wake, up and down your hips and around your breasts as he kneads the tender flesh. He makes a small noise in your ear, something light but lined with wanting.

You turn back to him, your own hands traveling through the coarse hair on his chest. You feel him suck in a breath as they travel lower, swiftly undoing the laces on his trousers before he steps back and shucks them off. You take the opportunity to step out of your own underthings, along with the soiled rag that you use to protect your clothes, throwing them unceremoniously across the room.

You feel Jaskier’s eyes burn a trail over your form as he approaches you, placing his hands on your hips as he leans to whisper in your ear, “Lay down on the bed, love, let me take care of you.”

You do, resting on your elbows as you watch him settle over you. You can’t help but appreciate the art that has presented itself in front of you, shamelessly studying the planes of his body. Jaskier has always been lean, but seeing him bare like this exposes the strength that his clothes typically conceal. His shoulders are broad, arms lined with muscles built from years of traveling the continent with his lute in hand. His legs are much the same, long and sturdy as they straddle your own.

Now, you’ve never really been one for the arts. You tend to stumble over rhymes and prose, but by gods, just looking at Jaskier’s cock makes you want to write volumes of poetry. Jutting out from his hips in a hard line, with just the most delicious curve upwards, you can’t help when your hand moves to wrap around him.

He chokes a strangled gasp as your fingers circle his length, his hands tightening on your hips. You stroke him slowly, feeling the heavy throbbing as he starts to rut into your grip. You remove your hand and reach up, Jaskier whining as you bring him to lay atop of you. His weight encompasses you, secure but not suffocating as you feel him try to discreetly rock his hips where his cock now presses against your thigh.

“Jaskier,” you murmur, threading your fingers through his hair as you look into his eyes. They shine in the moonlight from the window, this corner of the room far enough away from the fireplace that the waves of fire only barely touch his figure. His eyes feel like they are staring into your soul, peeling back the layers that years of silent yearning have built up.

“Shh, love, I’ve got you,” he kisses you deeply, moaning into your mouth as you shift your legs to wrap around his hips. You feel the tip of his cock tease your entrance, sparks flying under your skin with the slightest touch. He moves slowly, pressing into your core and stretching you as your back arches off the bed. This feels so much more than the other times you’ve been intimate, the typically dull ache now a roaring fire that burns with pleasure as he stills once he is fully inside of you.

You rake your nails down the length of his body, reaching to grab handfuls of his ass where he is sheathed in you. Jaskier gasps into your mouth, a dark growl that sends vibrations through your veins. You begin to rock your hips against him, insatiable in the face of such strong pleasure. You can feel your climax already building, quickly becoming an approaching tide that you can’t outrun.

“Ah, wait, wait love, or this will be over far too quickly, I won’t be able to last long like this,” Jaskier’s voice is husky as his lips brush against yours with every word. His hips start to thrust into yours despite his words, snapping quickly as he builds your pleasure even quicker.

“Good, I-I’ll not last long either, please, Jaskier,” you murmur against him, trying to pull him impossibly closer as he spears deep within you. You can feel him groan into your lips as his resolve snaps, animalistic as his thrusts turn sloppy. He presses against a spot deep in your core with each movement, causing you to cry out with every touch. His lips move to suck a mark into your neck as you fall over the precipice of pleasure, your vision whiting out as sparks fly behind our eyes.

Everything is so much more intense like this, everything is so much more sensitive and he is over you and in you and mindlessly rutting into you and you cry out into the void as your climax overtakes you. You instinctively curl up around Jaskier, but he holds you open with his body as his thrusts speed up and he suddenly stills inside of you. He bites down hard on your neck and moans your name as he finds his release, hot and thick as your walls flutter around him, coaxing every last bit of his pleasure from him.

You stay like this for what could be minutes or days, neither of you wanting to move from the aftermath of bliss. Although, now that you are able to think about it-

“You know what?” you say, pulling his gaze back to you. His eyes are a bit hazy, still coming down from the mind-shattering that orgasm brings, though he seems intent on listening to your words. “I think it worked.”

Jaskier smiles and it is like the sun is shining into the little room in the middle of winter, warming you through in his embrace. He leans down and presses a kiss to your lips as he pulls out of you, your body shuddering at the sudden emptiness. Jaskier reaches around him and sets your legs down onto the bed as he moves to rise, only stopping when you reach out a hand to him to stay.

“I just thought of something else that may be quite nice,” he purrs, his eyes glinting with something so distinctly Jaskier that it takes your breath away. When you hum in question, still not moving, he threads his fingers through yours and pulls you to sit up.

He leans down, his mouth right next to your ear as he whispers, low and dark, “how about a bath?”

#jaskier x reader #smut #fluff and smut #period sex #cramps #jaskier just wants to help #how nice of him

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