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#soft geralt

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.

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This is a commission for @not-the-cavalry​, who asked for hurt Geralt being taken care of by Jaskier. Warning: soft boys incoming.

(You can also read this over on AO3.)

- - -

Geralt remembers stumbling back to where he’d left Roach to graze, feet unsteady and vision swimming. He remembers rifling through the saddle bags with clumsy fingers, fumbling with the vial of antidote and nearly dropping it twice before he’d finally managed to pull the cork free with his teeth.

He remembers;

Leaning on Roach when his knees had threatened to buckle. 

Sucking in too quick, wheezing breaths. 

Lungs burning. 

Limbs growing heavier and heavier and—

And then.

Nothing.

Keep reading

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unbetaed, bc late. smut, beware.

this is the missing smut from Beautiful & Damned’s latest chapter. 

@dreamwritesimagines@riviawitch3r

image

Originally posted by b-n-a-o

He was determined, focused, but so, so gentle. His hands were wandering over your body, his lips never left yours. He was completely covering you, your legs wrapped around his waist, your night shift bunched at your hips, and it was everything you ever wanted, It was safe; HE was safe. He shielded you from the outside world, from anyone seeing you like this. He kept you to himself, was the only one to see you this open, this beautiful; the only one to make you feel safe while being at the most vulnerable you ever were.

Keep reading

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Another snippet from my story Sacrificial Lark
Alternate universe-
Demon!Geralt Human!Jaskier

Chapter 12

“Geralt! Look what i found. Cotton! There’s some more up there, but if we can plant it somewhere and harvest it, we can make different clothes. Pelts will be warm in summer. I’ve seen some of the women use this. It’s pretty easy once you know how.”

Geralt wordlessly reached out a hand and Jaskier put the little ball of cotton in his hand. It was one of the things he had found somewhere further off at one point and tried to plant in that garden of his. There were many things that withered and died after he stopped taking care of it. This must have survived.

“There’s more up there. It looks like someone tried to grow more plants, but it’s kind of over run.”

“hmm. Tried.”

Geralt parroted in thought as he gave the cotton back to Jaskier. The boy’s eyes widened.

“You build it?”

The demon nodded. Jaskier seemed to frown and sat down beside him.

“uhm.. why… Why is it ruined like that?”

Geralt thought about it for a moment. Tilting his head while he searched for the right words.

“Hunters… saw… my home. They.. hmm.. attack”

Jaskier’s eyes widened again. But in shock this time, not wonder.

“They attacked you? Because they found out where you live? Because of the garden?”

Geralt nodded again.

“Well that’s just awful. To not even let a man grow his own food. Force him to be dependent on what people offer. No wonder things are the way they are. Is that the work of hunters? Did they ruin the garden?”

“hmm”

“I can’t fathom why they would. Unless they were scared it made you better than them. They probably couldn’t admit to themselves a demon can live as civilized as a human does.”

“No demon.”

Geralt bit back suddenly. Jaskier jumped a little but he stayed where he was. Geralt looked at him apologetically but Jaskier nodded.

“Sorry. That’s what i was taught since i was young. I don’t know what else to call your species. What… What are you exactly?”

Now there was a hard question. For centuries, demon or monster was the only word used for Geralt and his kind. It had been used so much he had forgotten what they were suppose to be called.

“hmm Obrońca… how to say… we… pro-protec.. keep…”

The demon gestured around him towards their surroundings. To the trees and the ground and the flora and fauna around their home.

“So… Sort of like guardians? Nature protectors. Keepers?”

Jaskier asked while he turned the ball of cotton over in his hands. The demon hummed.

“But there isn’t really a collective name? Like Humans.”

“Hmm”

Jaskier tilted his head.

“Well… Maybe to be named something isn’t really important. Sometimes i don’t want to be labeled as ‘human’ either. I like being different. So… Maybe that’s what we both are hmm? Different. That’s good enough for me.”

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I wrote some soft Geraskier things that make my heart happy 💕

(I have been nicely told off that it is not shitty writing, juries still out on that. Anyway changed the title so now it’s just all soft Geraskier)

(can they be called drabbles when they’re really small?)

  • Jaskier enjoys carefully brushing Geralts hair until it’s no longer an unruly mess. It’s not that he cares about what other people think; it’s because he loves how relaxed the man becomes, that his hair frames his face in the most beautiful way. Running his fingers through the fine strands and rubbing circles into Geralts scalp, once he’s done. Repeating the process until he has a content and almost purring Witcher in his lap. When Geralt isn’t hunting the monster of the week, Jaskier enjoys pampering him because he deserves it.


  • The bed sharing! Geralt curled around Jaskier protectively in the single bed they’d managed to pay for. One arm curled around the bard and his fingers sliding under the bards night shirt. Jaskier completely comfortable and blissed out at having Geralt pressed against his back. Geralt lazily placing kisses across his bards shoulder. Mapping his way up Jaskiers throat with his lips. Ghosting them over the younger man’s ear as he lowers his voice, “I love you my little lark” The words reverberate through Jaskier making him feel warm and completely loved.


  • Jaskier softly singing lullabys whilst carding his fingers through Geralts hair. Continuing even after he hears his witchers breaths even out. Tracing his thumb over the other man’s cheek which causes the constant wrinkle in his brow to slowly fade away. Until he sees Geralts face go slack with sleep. His song becoming a gentle hum in Geralts subconcious. Even then the witcher somehow can feel the gentle press of his bards lips against his own, followed by a whispered “Sleep well my white wolf”.


  • It’s his eyes. That’s one of the many things that Geralt loves about Jaskier. The way they light up when he takes an interest in the songs his bard writes. Or the way the corners of the bards eyes crinkle as he makes the usually stoic witcher flustered. He may not be able to wax poetic as well as Jaskier, but the way the man’s eyes go all soft around the edges when his bard is singing to him; it makes his heart beat just a little faster than its normally slow and steady pace.
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Rated: T

Notes: Happy Birthday @hannadant123! I hope you enjoy this drabble I wrote for you! :)

Summary: Jaskier has a nightmare and Geralt and Yennefer comfort their little lark.

“If life could give me one blessing it would be to take you out of it!” Geralt shouted as he reeled from the anger Yennefer left behind in her wake. Jaskier’s heart shattered as he watched his witcher turn his back to him, arms crossed and shoulders tense. The ghost of guilt crossed Geralt’s face, but the witcher refused to look at Jaskier. Heart wrenching pain curled like a fist around his heart as Jaskier shouldered his lute and straightened his back.

“Fine then,” Jaskier said, not even getting a grunt from Geralt in response. “I’ll go get the story from the others then, I’ll see you around Geralt.” He spoke, voice cracking as he turned and began the long winding path back down the mountain alone.

Jaskier startled awake, sandwiched between Yennefer and Geralt. The mage’s long curls tickled his nose as his witcher wrapped his arms around him from behind. Jaskier let himself bask in the soft morning light spilling into their room from the window. “Stay,” Geralt grumbled squeezing his arms tighter around both Jaskier and Yennefer. Jaskier tensed as the witcher’s harsh words echoed through his mind, if life could give me one blessing…

“I have things I need to do,” Jaskier said trying to untangle himself from between his lovers. Yennefer growled as he slid free of Geralt’s arms disturbing her rest. He yelped as Yennefer grabbed him by the waist and yanked him back into bed with them then she borrowed her head into his chest. 

“Little Lark,” Yennefer chided as he tried to escape from their arms. Jaskier sighed as the mage ran a calming hand through his hair, untangling it. He winced as Geralt’s voice continued to echo throughout his mind… It would be to take you out of it! Jaskier’s expression darkened as he wormed his way out from between the witcher and the mage. He watched as his lovers seemed to fill the space in naturally, Geralt wrapping his arms around Yennefer’s curves, and Yennefer burying her face into the crook of Geralt’s neck. Jaskier shook his head as he grabbed his lute and strapped his beloved instrument to his back.

“Where are you going?” Geralt grumbled half awake. Jaskier sighed then said,

“Away. I didn’t mean to get into the middle of… things… last night. I’ll just be on my way and… and leave you alone.” To his surprise Geralt growled and narrowed his eyes.

“Are you perhaps short of a marble?” Geralt asked him, Jaskier could see the smirk in his witcher’s eyes. Jaskier didn’t respond, deciding to stare down at his feet.

“You didn’t get in the middle of things Jaskier,” Yennefer spoke softly as she crossed the room and caressed his cheek with her hand. He resisted the feeling of being safe, and content. Geralt cleared the small room in three quick strides, then the witcher reached his hand out and slid Jaskier’s lute off his shoulder. Geralt leaned the instrument against the wall near the door, so Jaskier could still grab it and go if he wanted to.

“But I always fuck things up.”Jaskier said no longer being able to resist leaning into Yennefer’s hand. She smiled softly at him, which only made him want to stay longer. “I don’t… You don’t want me to stay.” He said looking at Geralt, the witcher muttered,

“Fuck,” before swallowing Jaskier with his arms. “I’m sorry,” Geralt muttered as Jaskier melted in his arms. Jaskier shook as Geralt whispered sweet nothings into his ear, reassurances of “I’m heres,” and “we’re not leaving yous.” Yennefer’s voice filtered through the cloudiness of Jaskier’s mind, he focused more on touch than anything. The familiar feeling of Geralt’s hands massaging his shoulders, grounding him. Jaskier took a shaky breath as Geralt and Yennefer laid back in the bed, curling into a tight ball. He began to absentmindedly humming a lullaby from his childhood as Jaskier basked in the warmth of the sun shining through the window.

“Thank you,” Jaskier mumbled into the nape of Geralt’s neck. He felt his witcher relax as Jaskier traced his fingers up and down Geralt’s arm. Behind him Yennefer cooed as she repeated a calming mantra of you’re safe now. Jaskier nuzzled closer to his lovers as he let himself feel at peace.

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Just half asleep, watching YouTube, thinking about the Witcher again. I remembered that one guy that tried to offer Geralt the Law of Surprise after he saved the guy in the forest, and Geralt was like ’ohpleaseno just buy me a drink and we’re square’

But what if the guy insisted

And Geralt gained a false reputation for accepting the law of surprise

Suddenly every other job he takes its the only way people will pay him, and every single goddamn time there’s a baby involved

Soon he has like 10 orphans following him at all times, Jaskier trailing behind like they’re his kids now too

“Geralt, we need to pull roach over again, Timmy stuck pine sap in Ciri’s hair and baby Pete is starting to smell a bit ripe if you know what I mean”

And he’s doing his utmost to ignore all of it because fuck he never asked for any of this, but then one day someone hands them over a kid without even bothering to name it, and now Geralt Jr. (Named by Jaskier) is cooing along up front on roach

And then they all go to the coast and be a family the end

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Since the Witcher is ser in the past, there was probably no eyeliner as we now it today, so imagine jasper creating her first kind of eyeliner and patents it, making stupidly rich

“you created this yourself?” geralt inquires,

they’re sat by the fire under a starlit sky - it’s quiet, with only roach’s soft snorts and chuffs breaking the silence. it’s a peaceful night, perfect for jaskier to finally get his way and decorate the witcher’s face with his paints and powders.

however, he had never expected the process to be so,

silent.

and honestly, having a quiet bard by his side unnerved him and so, geralt had been powerless to resist disturbing the peace. judging by his songbird’s unimpressed expression, he probably should have suffered with the discomfort.

jaskier narrows his eyes and bats at geralt’s shoulder - his adjusts his grip on his kohl-holder and sits back, “i thought i told you to stay quiet?” he admonishes, before he sighs at the sight of geralt’s smudged make-up. he laps at his thumb and presses it to the crease of the witcher’s eye.

“please acknowledge the irony of you telling me to be quiet,” geralt murmurs softly, blinking as the bard attempts to fix the little mistake.

“what was that?” jaskier cocks his head mockingly, blinking widely as he cups an ear, “you want to walk around with only half your face prettied up? you want people to laugh at your single raccoon-eye? you want to have the shame of–”

“cease,” geralt begs, shaking his head as he huffs out a laugh. he reaches out and tucks his irritable bard to his chest, pressing an apologetic kiss to the crown of jaskier’s pretty head, “i promise, i shall behave.”

“liar,” the bard snipes back, but he cranes his neck back and brushes his lips against geralt’s jaw, nipping at it before he pulls away, “now - sit still and let me finish. you are going to look divine after i’m finished.”

“so you keep saying,” geralt says with an indolent arched brow.

his words get him another light smack to the shoulder, so he dutifully sits back and closes his eyes. there’s a small moment of silence, of stillness, but then his bard leans across the space between them and presses the kohl to geralt’s eye again.

it feels strange, having something bluntly hard being dragged across his eyelid, but jaskier had promised that it was perfectly harmless - he had also promised a lot of life-changing sex once he had finished, so.

a lot of promises being thrown around.

“to answer your question,” jaskier begins quietly, one hand pressed to geralt’s cheek as the other slowly decorates the witcher’s eyes with black smudges, “i did create this, yes. i– i wasn’t allowed to use my mother’s belongings and, well. no one will sell me kohl either - who would want to be known as the vendor who sells to, ah, undesirables.”

his fresh floral scent becomes tainted and bitter,

geralt frowns and reaches across the blindly grasp at jaskier’s knee.

“if you want make-up, i can get you–” but his words are cut off with a swift kiss, soft and sweet, but full of appreciative affection.

“you’re sweet,” jaskier hums, pressing another kiss to geralt’s pursed lips, “but i don’t need to buy make-up anymore. i have quite the lucrative business in producing my own - if anything, those vendors should be begging to purchase my products.”

geralt hears the pride and smells the spicy-sweet joy which rolls of his bard’s body; his eyes maybe closed, but he knows jaskier is smiling broadly and his has him squeezing the bard’s knee with a pride of his own.

“i suppose that explains your ability to afford such an… extensive wardrobe,” he says, biting back a smile when jaskier flicks him on the ear.

“that better be a compliment,” the bard warns, before he withdraws his hand. geralt thinks he’s finished, but then he feels hesitant, gentle fingers trace his lips and he knows the bard is about to paint them next. he doesn’t think his own painted face will be as… pretty as the bard’s, but it seemingly makes jaskier happy, so again.

geralt is content to push down his own anxiety.

“of course,” the witcher replies warmly, which has the bard pointedly sighing and tapping at geralt’s mouth, “apologies.”

jaskier merely hums and there’s a small beat of nothing,

but then a paint brush touches geralt’s lips, sweeping cool paint across his lips. he… really wants to talk, to say something, to ask more about jaskier’s past with make-up and dresses and people who didn’t appreciate him enough. he wants to learn names, he wants to suture wounds, he wants the bard to never doubt his own worth again.

but,

he’s not allowed to move his lips,

and it’s inherently frustrating.

he wonders if this is how jaskier feels, when geralt asks him to hold his tongue. idly, he muses on whether he’d be more lenient in allowing the bard to babble in the future - but then, with sombre awareness, he realises that he most definitely will not.

it would probably unnerve his bard anyway,

jaskier doesn’t like it when geralt changes himself to make other people happy.

so he quells his urge to speak and he waits patiently for his bard to finish. the brush tickles against the bristles above his upper lip and the paint feels wet on his lips. geralt wonders how long the make-up will last on his face - although, chances are it will be instantly kissed away.

then he feels the brush leave his lips,

and feels the soft wisp of bristles against his cheeks,

against the tip of his nose,

before it drifts across his chin, his collarbones, down, down, down–

“i don’t think make-up goes there,” geralt says, his eyes flicking open as his lips slowly curl up. his bard impishly smiles and bats his own kohl-rimmed eyes, twirling the brush around nimble fingers.

“and what do you know about make-up?” jaskier purrs, placing down his brush to lean forward eagerly, his blue eyes roaming geralt’s face with undisguised desire.

“i know that,” geralt begins, before he averts his eyes awkwardly, hunching his shoulders slightly as his mulls the words over in his mind - he’s not used to giving compliments, especially ones to… special people, “i know that it looks,” he tries again, “good on you.”

and the bard gasps lightly, his hands pressing to his own chest as his cheeks flush; the colour is faint under the pink blush, but geralt can spy the natural colour in his songbird’s face.

“darling,” jaskier sighs happily, cocking his head as he leans on his haunches, “you wickedly charming man.”

which draws forth a shy smile from the witcher - he’s never been called charming from a human before. sure, vesemir used to bemoan his arrogant charisma when he had been younger, but… it’s still a new concept for him.

he flicks jaskier a heated look, considers the thought which floats to the forefront of his mind, and says, “what,” he pauses, shifts uncomfortably under the bare awed gaze, “what does it look like? on me?”

jaskier blinks,

wets his lips,

and leans forward to cup geralt’s face with revenant hands.

“my darling,” he says, his voice delicately hushed, “you are beautiful.”

the witcher blinks, snorts and ducks his head, “i’m hardly–”

“no, no,” jaskier is quick to interject, rising to sit on his knees as his fingers trace cheekbones and curl behind ears, “don’t you dare tell me i’m wrong - not about this.” and he shifts closer until his heated body settles against geralt’s, half-splayed across his lap with his arms looping around the witcher’s neck.

“jaskier,” geralt husks out, his eyes greedily eating up the brightly shining adoration in his songbird’s eye, “julian.”

“the dark kohl around your lids - it’s like the coal beneath a blazing fire,” jaskier says, his thumbs gently stroking the delicate skin beneath geralt’s eyes, “your gaze has never burned hotter, has never scorched my soul deeper. goodness, the odes i can write in honour of your golden stare - it’s pure, wild beauty. molten lava, liquid gold - fuck, nothing could compare to your stunning eyes.”

and geralt blinks, speechless and flattered and bashful.

but jaskier isn’t finished.

“your lips,” he says, before he bites his own as desire drips thickly from his words, “they’re practically carved from marble, so perfectly formed and deceivingly soft,” a curious finger traces the outline, careful not to smudge the paint, “this colour looks obscene on you - paired with your white hair and amber eyes, the sweet blush on your cheeks? oh, how this shade of red just looks– it honestly makes me want to ruin you. i want to see the colour smeared across your face, your throat, your chest. i want it streaked across your nipples, your cock - you would look positively celestial.”

“jaskier,” geralt murmurs as the bard presses their lips together again - the kiss is sweetly innocent, but he feels himself choke on the love which pours into him. he gathers the bard into his arms and allows their tongues to dance together, their teeth to clash and nip,

breaths are stolen,

fingers tangle into hair,

and his songbird purrs as their bodies slot together in the most enticing way.

“with or without make-up,” jaskier says breathlessly, between kisses and wistful sighs, “you’re the most gorgeous creature on this continent - i don’t know what i’ve done to deserve you, but i won’t ever cease earning you.”

the witcher hums, words fleeing him as his breath catches in his throat. he wants to tell the bard that he’s wrong, that jaskier deserves the world and more, and it’s geralt who needs to worker harder in earning the songbird’s love,

but… he doesn’t know how to communicate that. so, instead, he presses their lips together and allows his songbird to smear the red paint across his cheeks, allows jaskier to indulge in his little fantasy from before, and hopes that tomorrow, he will wake up with red smears across his whole body.

they tumble to the ground,

and the fire crackles besides them,

but nothing leaves geralt feeling warmer,

than jaskier’s all-encompassing love.

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"All their respective Geralts" Well NOW all I want is one Jaskier surrounded by a bunch of Geralts for the ultimate gangbang...

The other three Geralts yell at Netflix!Geralt for being mean to his Jaskier. But then they hug him and say “it’s okay tho. Feelings are hard. But be nicer next time” then they all go bang Netflix!Jaskier as an apology.

(But also please imagine all the Jaskiers teasing one Geralt who is just like !!!??!!??!?!?!!???!?!??!! Probably Hexer!Geralt cause he’s a big squishy softie and would be fun to tease >:3c hi my name is Brencis and I’m an evil bottom)

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Bro, I love you art and your style! The prompt from me is: draw Geralt sleep talking and Jaskier sitting next to him. (≧▽≦)
image

Jaskier: Daww… he looks so adorable when he is sleeping

Geralt, asleep: you fucker…. square up… i think the fuck not…

jaskier: *dreamy sigh*


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Ciri hums low in his chest, enjoying the vibrations shocking through his chest. They prick and hum, sending him into a new way of peace.

His eyes flicker closed, and he rubs the small piece of silk in his fingers over and over. The blankets around his stiff body cushion him, and the pillows hold his head softly.

He can hear Yennefer and Jaskier teasing Geralt about something, his parents giggling as his father tries to deny whatever they were saying. It makes him smile.

There aren’t many days of peace at Kaer Morhen, not with the war just ending and everyone needing some sort of help, but there are some. Some where Ciri can let go, breathe, and sleep.

Days where Ciri can live without fear or threats.

Days where he can just stay with his family or be in the comfort of his own home.

He smiles sleepily into his pillow, white hair falling down in front of his face. It’s been too long since he’s felt this content.

Soon, Ciri relaxes into the hold of sleep, and peace at Kaer Morhen resumes softly.

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