COMMITMENT ISSUES - JASKIER (WITCHER)
WARNINGS: smut, smut against a wall, Jaskier
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Dressed in finery and seated at the side of Princess Pavetta was not exactly how you wanted your night to go. Being the Lady-In-Waiting to Princess Pavetta of Cintra was never a walk in the park but it was made increasingly difficult when her mother was attempting to marry her off to a man she did not love. Numerous nights had been spent in Pavetta’s chambers, comforting her as she cried and complained about how unfair it all was. Sighing deeply, you grunted when your corset felt tighter and boredom settled in.
“Once again, I apologise for dragging you into this, Y/N. I honestly do not know how I would survive this night without you by my side.” Pavetta smiled at the woman she considered her friend, taking another deep gulp of her wine as her eyes shifted to the heavy double doors once again.
“Anything for you, Your Highness,” you smiled, eyes glancing over the suitors in the room. Hardly any of them would seem impressive to Queen Calanthe.
However, your eyes stopped on a familiar figure dressed in silk clothes. The lute in his hands was far finer than the one he had had the last time you had seen him. Clenching your dress between your hands, you resisted the urge to storm up to him and smack him across his handsome, smug face. Your eyes connected and you watched as realisation and fear crossed his face.
Retiring for the night with the excuse of feeling faint, you exited the banquet hall and rushed down the hallways. Footsteps sounded behind you as you turned the corner but you didn’t have time to see who it was before you were being shoved against a wall. You opened your mouth to scream but a soft hand covered it and a soothing voice was whispering reassurances in her ear.
“What the fuck are you doing?” You cursed, pushing him away from you. “What are you even doing here?”
“I was paid to play for Pavetta’s betrothal feast. What are you doing? And at the high table no less.” Jaskier shot back, his face still dangerously close to your own.
“I happen to be Pavetta’s lady in waiting - a fact you would know if you hadn’t run away four years ago.” You shot back, anger seeping into your tone.
“Y/N, are you really angry with me over that? I was chased out! I managed to piss off the wrong person and I needed to leave, you refused to come with me!”
“I had a job and a mother to look after! You should never have left me because you got afraid of commitment. You should’ve just told me that you didn’t want to start courting me.” You whispered, chest heaving with anger.
Jaskier attempted to defend himself and his actions but he knew there was nothing to excuse his cowardly actions and your breasts were attracting far too much of his attention for him to form a coherent response.
“I wasn’t afraid of courting you. I loved the idea of that. I was afraid of disappointing you when you realised I wasn’t good enough for you.”
Furrowing your eyebrows at his self-deprecating response, your hand rested on the side of his face, gazing into his grey eyes. Your eyes flickered between his eyes and his lips and before you knew it, you were being pressed against the wall and Jaskier’s body. The cold of the stone walls seeped through your dress, cooling down your temperature that had rapidly spiked due to the close proximity between you and Jaskier. He had missed how you moulded into the cage of his arms, how your scent had an immediate effect on him, and how you held your breath before every kiss in anticipation.
Patience wearing thin, you pressed a kiss against Jaskier’s pulse point on his neck, lust filled you when he moaned, pressing his length into you. Leaning down to kiss you, Jaskier smiled when you eagerly responded, sliding your hands into his hair.
“I love you,” he whispered against your lips. “And I promise I won’t run away again.”
“Why don’t I believe you?” You whispered back.
You gasped when his hands gripped the back of your thighs, lifting you up and wrapping your legs around his waist. Capturing your lips with his own, Jaskier deepened the kiss, brushing his tongue against yours and chuckling when you hands began unfastening the buttons on his pants. He allowed you to shimmy the trousers down his muscular thighs, helping you when you were no longer able to reach.
“Have you gotten more beautiful?” He groaned, pressing open-mouthed kisses down your neck before sucking gently on the swell of your breasts.
“Your lines won’t work on me,” you said breathily.
Jaskier opened his mouth to respond but let out a deep groan when you pulled down his underwear and pumped him slowly. Ripping your panties down your legs, he flung them over his shoulder somewhere before situating himself between your legs. You gasped as his hardened length pressed against your bare heat, the tip nudging its way inside you. Pinning your hands to the stone wall, Jaskier slowly pushed himself into you, revelling in the little gasps you let out as you adjusted to his thickness. Bottoming out, he closed his eyes at the warmth wrapped around his cock.
“I forgot how much I loved being between your thighs,” he grunted, thrusting in and out slowly.
His usually messy hair was worsened by you winding your hands in it, in an effort to quiet the small gasps leaving your mouth as pleasure coursed through you. His shirt gaping open at the top, sweat beading down his forehead and his mouth slightly agape as grunts poured out of them, mixed with curse words. Despite his fear of commitment, Jaskier would always be the man you loved and the one you always took back when he came running back to you.
Glancing down, he watched as he plunged in and out of you before kissing you passionately. No matter how many times he chickened out and ran away, Jaskier knew you would always be the woman he couldn't leave, the woman he couldn't escape. Feeling his orgasm nearing, he buried his head in your neck, cursing when your breathy moans spurred him on. Picking up his pace, he grunted, ignoring the way your fingernails dug into his shoulders.
Gently biting his shoulder as your orgasm hit you, your back arched off the wall and Jaskier had to wrap his arms around you, pulling you flush against him to prevent the pair of you from tumbling to the ground.
Thrusting into you particularly roughly, he let out a strangled moan as he came deep inside you.
“Marry me.” Jaskier asked, gazing deep into your eyes.
“I’m not afraid anymore. Marry me, Y/N.”
Footsteps echoed down the hallway and Jaskier placed you back on the ground, straightening out the skirt of your dress. Jaskier’s eyes widened when he saw your underwear lying on the floor on the other side of the hall but still in plain view.
“Seriously, I take my eyes off of you for two seconds.” Geralt’s deep voice echoed throughout the hallway and the tangled couple turned to look at the Witcher with flushed faces and flaming cheeks.
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