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pressedinthepages · 4 years

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Ashwagandha

noun. sanskrit. Also known as “Indian gensing,” ashwagandha is popular with herbalists for use as both a sedative, an anti-inflammatory aid, and an aphrodisiac.

Fandom: The Witcher

Pairing: Jaskier/Reader

Word Count: 2504

Rating: E

Masterlist

a/n: Reader Request: [Hello! First of all: I really, really love your writing, it's so good! Could you write a oneshot where the reader helped Jaskier after a bad injury and although they are friends and the reader helped gladly, Jaskier insists to return the favor in a special kind of way, aka fingering/going down on her, while they lay side by side? :3] oh my dear sweet nonnie, i love how your mind works

(There is a link on my page where you can be added to my taglist :D)

Warnings: smut, a bit of whump, hurt, comfort, oral sex

Jaskier finds a way to thank a talented healer after a bout of illness.

The scent of sage, mint, and coriander wafts through your home. Winter approaches, and this blend of herbs tends to be the most successful in staving off sickness that comes with it. You have laid out numerous little bottles, intent on filling your stocks for the coming months. The herbs are fine between your fingers as you sprinkle them into each glass. You top them all off with a high-quality spirit, having recently had a very generous dwarf trade with you for the recipe for your remedy for headaches.

Just as you put the stopper in the final bottle your door swings open, revealing a man flushed with sweat and a delirious look in his eyes. Not far behind him is another man, a bit taller and more than a bit broader, clad in armor with two swords strung across his back. The silver of his hair stands out in the earthy tones of your home, and the panic in his golden eyes fades, relief softening his features when you turn to them.

You recognize Geralt, having traded with him several times in the past whenever he would blow through town. His companion, though, is unfamiliar. You figure that he would be devastatingly handsome under better circumstances, chestnut brown hair sweeping just over eyes the color of a clear sky. Now though, he looks horrible, your chest tightening with worry as it does with every person who stumbles through your door.

You rush to their side, fitting your shoulder underneath the other man’s arm as you lead him to the cot along the wall of the room. You lay him down before setting to work, quiet as you focus on what you may need.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with him, his heart started beating quickly and then he just collapsed. I brought him straight here, I don’t know how else to help him,” Geralt sits in one of the chairs at your table, his figure almost comically large for the furniture.

“You’ve done the right thing, I think this is just the seasonal funk that hits this time of year. I was actually just making a little tincture for it.” You hum, grabbing one of the bottles and uncorking it. You sit on the edge of the cot, gently lifting the man’s head and tipping the medicine down his throat. He swallows, followed by a bout of aggressive coughing before falling back onto the pillow. His eyes fall closed as his breathing evens out, slow and steady as you stand.

“He wasn’t coughing before,” Geralt says, moving to crouch at his side. You smile a bit to yourself, glad that Geralt has found someone that he can trust and care for.

“It’s just the potion I gave him, it’s got a pretty strong spirit that tends to hit the back of the throat. He’ll be just fine in a couple of days.”

Geralt visibly relaxes, his head falling to his chest for a moment. He then rises, pulling a small coin pouch from his waist. He holds it out to you, but you shake your head and push his hand away.

“No, Geralt, I’ll not take your coin for helping your friend,” he smirks at the word, shaking his head as he moves towards the door.

“I saw a few contracts on the board in town, do you mind if he stays here while I work?” Geralt turns back to you, trusting you to take care of his companion.

“Of course Geralt, do be careful though,” you smile, straightening up the counter where you had been working earlier. “Actually, would you mind doing a favor for me while you’re out?”

He only hums, quirking an eyebrow.

“Coriander grows wild in the forests near here, would you mind picking some for me? That’s what really helps the fever.” You take the little bit that you have left and hold it up, showing it to the Witcher. You then tie a little string around the leaves and hang them from the ceiling to dry.

“Easy enough, but it’ll probably be a couple of days before I can get back here,” his voice always comforts you, low and gravelly. You think that if he wasn’t so emotionally constipated he would make for a good bed partner.

“That’s perfectly fine, Geralt. There’s no real rush, I have enough here for what I may need in the immediate future.”

He nods before turning to leave, closing the door gently behind him. You look over at the man laying on your cot, watching as his chest rises and falls with each breath.

You startle when your door suddenly opens once more, Geralt peeking back in. “Forgot to tell you, his name’s Jaskier. Not that he’d let you have a moment of silence when he wakes up, but he may very well forget to actually tell you.”

He leaves once more, leaving you shaking your head with a smile. You go to sit at Jaskier’s side, placing the back of your hand against his forehead. His fever has already started to wane, and he’s not quite as clammy as he was when he arrived.

“You’ll be just fine, Jaskier,” you whisper, brushing some of the hair out of his eyes as you let the calming scent of the herbs surround you once more.

…

After several days of healing, Jaskier looks much better. He has been a great help to you as well, seemingly unable to stay still if he’s awake. Within the first moments of him waking on the first night, he had attempted to woo you into the bed with him, called out for Geralt more than a few times, and almost hit his head when he tried to stand, looking for his lute. His knees had wobbled with the sudden change and he just barely caught himself on the edge of the bed.

Leave it to Geralt to stick you with a chaotic mess of a bard.

You couldn’t help but find him charming as you got to know him, especially since he seemed so keen to assist you in your daily chores. He turned out to be quite efficient at grinding herbs, which he said that Geralt would occasionally let him do in the evenings by a raging fire.

Now, he sits at your table, barefoot and clad in only a light chemise and a pair of navy blue trousers. Jaskier has a large array of bottles spread out in front of him, attempting to find corks that fit in them. It’s a bit shocking how quickly he can find a properly sized cork, it usually takes you hours of trial and error to get them finished and ready to be filled.

You slide up beside him, gently tilting his face to you with a careful touch of your fingers at his jaw. He looks up at you with those beautiful blue eyes, darting between your own and sizzling with energy that runs just beneath the surface. You place the back of your hand to his forehead, checking that the fever has finished running its course.

“How are you feeling? Still a bit tired?”

“Oh for you, darling? I would never tire, maybe only occasionally request a small water break.” Jaskier smirks up at you, abandoning the small basket that had been sitting in his lap.

“Jaskier,” you chide, unable to hide the smile that pulls your lips, “please be reasonable with me.”

“Hmm, and what do I get in return?” You feel his hand run along the length of your arm and down to your waist, pulling you just a bit closer to him.

“Depends on your answer,” you murmur, smoothing away an unruly bit of hair that had fallen into his eyes.

Jaskier huffs a bit, shaking his head before smiling back up at you. Your heart skips a beat at being on the receiving end of such clear adoration, even from a man you only just met.

“Fine, love, I’ll humor you,” the mischievous glint has returned to his eyes, and you’re sure that they never go very long without it. “I feel almost completely perfect, though I will say that I do still feel a bit run down.”

“Thank you, Jaskier,” his smile somehow grows wider at your thanks, visibly preening with even the slightest praise. “That’s expected, I’d say by tomorrow you should be well enough to continue on your travels with Geralt.”

“You truly are a marvel, my dear,” Jaskier turns to face you completely as he pulls you even closer, his face mere inches from your stomach. “I cannot possibly thank you enough for all that you’ve done for me.”

“Hmm, I’m sure you’ll think of a way,” you tease, your fingers dancing down the line of his neck. He visibly shivers with the touch, his eyes darkening with lust.

Jaskier brings his other hand to your waist, gripping you tightly and pulling you to sit astride him. You gasp at the strength with which he moves you, having greatly underestimated the capabilities of the man beneath you.

“Jaskier,” you whisper, a hair’s breadth away from his lips, “you’re still not fully well, I don’t want to hurt you.”

He only smiles, biting his lip as he brushes his nose against yours. “Well, I suppose I’ll have to come up with another way to show my thanks…”

You feel Jaskier’s hands trail down your hips, roving slowly over the curve of your ass before settling under your thighs. Faster than you can blink he stands, pulling you with him in his arms. You grasp tightly to the collar of his chemise as he walks you over to your bed in the corner of the room.

He sets you down gently before leaning over you, pushing you back to lay atop the quilt. His chest heaves a bit and the high points of his cheeks are a bit pink, but other than that you wouldn’t have been able to tell that he had just lifted and carried a grown woman across the room.

“My gods,” you whisper, running your hands down his chest, feeling the soft fabric of his shirt just under your fingers.

“Nope, just me,” Jaskier murmurs, leaning down to kiss along your neck. His mouth is warm and soft on your skin, and after only a moment you turn your head, chasing his lips with your own. When he finally slots your lips together you sigh into him, feeling like you can finally breathe after days of holding your breath. He still tastes faintly of the herby mixtures you’ve been giving him, and you find yourself winding your fingers into the fine silk of his hair.

Jaskier quickly undoes the ties at the top of your skirt, moaning as you lift your hips to his so he can remove the garment along with your smallclothes. His fingers bring goosebumps to the surface of your skin as he drags them along the outside of your bare thigh. Your legs fall a bit further open instinctually, inviting him to bring his touch to your core.

Instead, he parts from you, only enough to barely brush against you with each word from his lips. “Are you sure about this? I don’t want to push you into anything…”

“Please, Jaskier,” you whisper, pulling him back down to your lips. You feel him smile against you before he moves, kissing along your jaw and down the lines of your neck. He mouths at the peaks of your breasts through the fabric of your blouse, sliding down the slope of your stomach before settling himself between your legs, his face level with your heat.

“Just as stunning as I knew you’d be, love,” he hums as his finger slowly drags a line up the slit of your cunt, just barely circling the sensitive bud at the top. Your hips chase him, begging wordlessly for more, faster, slower, anything.

Jaskier slowly pushes his finger inside of you, turning his head to suck a mark into the soft flesh of your inner thigh. He hasn’t shaved since he’s been in your home, and his stubble scratches along your skin with every movement. Jaskier’s fingers move expertly with you, pushing a second finger to move beside the first as his thumb rubs lazy circles into your peak.

He moves his head to kiss up your thigh, closing the distance to your core. His mouth connects with your heat, licking a stripe up your cunt and sucking the tender spot where his thumb was. You look down and watch as Jaskier’s free hand moves underneath him, trying desperately to free himself from the confines of his trousers. When he succeeds his hand flies to your hip, holding you in place as his fingers take on a new vigor in your core.

They curl with every thrust, wringing wet, vulgar sounds from your body. Your mouth makes sounds of its own, moans and cries and pleas and curses, none of them bidden by any particular thought.

His fingers brush against a bundle of nerves deep inside of you, causing your back to arch off the bed and into his touch. He hums against you, vibrations singing through your veins as he thrusts relentlessly into that spot. Jaskier’s hips move of their own accord on the bed, chasing his own pleasure as he brings you yours.

Stars burst behind your eyelids as your fingers curl in his hair, holding him tight to you as your high takes over. You chant his name like a prayer into the night, praising any and all gods for bringing him into your life, even for just one moment.

Jaskier slowly works you through the peak of your pleasure, parting from you when you start to twitch with oversensitivity. He climbs back up your body, his cock resting heavy against your middle, flushed and weeping with how close he is to his own climax.

“Jaskier,” you mumble as he kisses deep into your mouth, “use me for your pleasure.”

He groans as his hips immediately begin their rhythm, fast and sloppy where he pushes against your flesh. His climax comes with a whisper of your name, warmth pooling between you with his release.

You hold Jaskier close as he comes back to himself, his eyes hazy and shiny with bliss. You roll the both of you to the side, leaving your arms around his neck as he nuzzles himself into your embrace.

“Okay love,” he murmurs, his eyes fighting to stay open, “now I really am exhausted.”

You chuckle, wrapping yourself around him as he quickly falls asleep in your arms. You know that he’ll be leaving as the sun rises the next day, but you’ll gladly hold him here for as long as you can.

And hopefully, he’ll know exactly where to return the next time he needs help.

#jaskier x reader #smut #whump #hurt #comfort

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