Geralt had a praise thing. It wasn’t necessarily a kink. It wasn’t even a thing he knew he had until Jaskier had come along in all of his unabashed glory. The Witcher had lived for nigh on a century without knowing about this particular thing. Jaskier didn’t take nearly as long to discover it. Even before they themselves became a thing, the bard would go around singing Geralt’s praise. He’d notice the Witcher would grow even quieter, would avoid eye contact and on some special occasions he’d even blush.
“That was really kind of you, you know Geralt?” The bard had said one night as they were getting ready for bed. The Witcher had gotten a job getting rid of a pesky monster on a farmer’s property but had refused the money once he had seen the state of his home and his sickly child. Geralt had startled at the compliment, dropping his bag accidentally. He simply looked away and grunted in response, bending over to pick up his bag.
Another grunt. Still no eye contact.
“Geralt,” Jaskier’s voice came out whiny, “look at me when I tell you you’re a good person.” He skipped around to face Geralt with a smile, eyes widening when he saw the blush dusting the Witcher’s features. “You’re blushing.” Jaskier said giddily.
“I don’t blush.” Geralt growled, still in fact blushing.
“You’re blushing because of my compliment.” Jaskier continued, the realisation dawning on him.
“I am serious though, Geralt, you’re good and you’re kind and you care about people despite always saying you don’t.”
There was a moment of silence.
The bard didn’t stop grinning for the rest of the night.
And so, it became a thing. While Jaskier had never been shy when it came to dishing out compliments, after all, he was a lover of most things, he made sure to praise Geralt especially.
“You’re looking very rugged today, Geralt, very handsome indeed.”
“Did you know that your hair shines like silver in the sun?”
“That was a very smart move back there, Witcher.”
“That monster was taken down in record time, very impressive.”
Geralt hadn’t noticed how dependent he’d grown on Jaskier’s compliments. He’d always said them like they were obvious, like it wasn’t a big deal to be saying it, like Geralt hadn’t had gone nearly a century hearing mostly hatred and cruel words.
Once they had reconciled after the incident on the mountain (with much apology on the Witcher’s part) Jaskier hesitated with his praise, unsure of the boundaries between them anymore. But even the bard had gotten used to his compliments, so much so that he hadn’t even noticed when he’d said “you’re a good man, Geralt, better than most” after they had passed through a particularly hostile town. He stumbled a bit after he realised that the Witcher had stopped. Jaskier turned around to find those amber eyes shining, an unusually vulnerable expression on Geralt’s face.
“Geralt?” He asked worriedly, afraid that he had crossed some unknown boundary before being pulled into a hug. He wrapped his arms tentatively around the man, heart fluttering at their proximity.
After they had gotten together, the praise only grew. Geralt had very many things he liked in bed, all of which Jaskier discovered and took full advantage of. As it turned out, not only did Geralt have a thing for Jaskier’s voice in bed, but he also had a thing for when that voice was showering him in praise, encouraging him, begging him. It was absolutely filthy and it would always garner a low growl from the Witcher, something from deep within his gut, as well as a particularly swift thrust.
They also became softer, sweeter. He’d say little things like “oh you look lovely today” or “I like it when you smile, Geralt” or “you make me feel safe” and Geralt would melt at the dulcet sound of the bard’s praise.
So yes, Geralt had a praise thing and Jaskier was more than happy to oblige. However it also meant that when they argued, all of it was swiftly cut off, leaving Geralt on edge.
And oh, did the bard know this and oh, did he use it to his full advantage.
He’d go complimenting others, turning to Yennefer and saying a very pointed “your eyes are gorgeous, Yen, like pure amethyst”, leaving a very stunned Yennefer and a fuming Geralt behind him as he continued on through the marketplace. Her surprise would quickly fade, of course, at the sight of the Witcher.
“You two lovebirds arguing?” She’d ask, earning a quick grunt from the man. “Well, take your time solving it, I don’t mind the compliments.”
Not only that but he’d compliment complete strangers. He’d tell the barmaid that her hair was “the colour of passionate flame” or he’d thank the stable boy for “his hard and dedicated work” and while Jaskier did frequently compliment others, he’d do this in a particular way, in a way Geralt knew was pointed at him. It would leave the Witcher huffy and pouty, as Yennefer had once pointed out.
Of course, once the two would reconcile, the praise would return as usual and Geralt would go back to feeling that warm, sweet feeling that he’d get whenever the bard complimented his eyes or his arms or his smile.
The thing was that he’d want to return the many compliments that Jaskier paid him. He’d think them, as he always did. Whenever the bard was around, his mind very rarely strayed from him, focusing on his laugh, his eyes, his hands, his voice, his absolutely everything.
Jaskier knew though, like he knew so much about the Witcher.
Occasionally, Geralt would manage a soft “I like your eyes”.
Once, Jaskier had received a “your voice is like honey” and he didn’t stop thinking about it for hours afterwards.
He didn’t need much praise though, instead finding affection in Geralt’s names for him. Sometimes the Witcher would call him things like “buttercup” or “my bluebird” and it filled the bard with such emotion, it was practically saccharine.
So yes, Geralt had a praise thing and Jaskier loved it.
