#jaskier x npc

[continentcakeshop]

Reverse casting time!!!! Cakeshop peeps as Witcher characters. Go!!!

ALRIGHT I spent like 2 hours on this and the shenanigans that happened with everyone laughing and helping out... BUT ITS LONG. So it's behind a cut. It's not complete, because oh man I gotta go do errands, but we did our best!

@on-a-lucky-tide is immediately our Eskel @hungarianbee as Erland @lookoutrogue is Coen @major-trouble is the best Valdo ever but countered with @sometimesiwrite as Essi (she LIVES THO) @trickstermoose67 is Ciri ... but @so--many-fandoms is Baby Ciri (from W3, with the freckles) @jayofolympus is Serrit @frenchkey is Auckes @tumbleweedtech I'm claiming Keldar thanks @angry-cajun-lady is Gaetan @lohrendrell is Ivo @thirstyforred is Jacques de Aldersberg @stellecraft is Nenneke @round--robin is Arnaghad @piranhaincaps is Gezras @greenbirddraws is Letho @anonymousblueberry is Ves @cylin-aka-ankamo is Emiel Regis Rohellec Terzieff-Godefroy @liaonyxrayne is Dettlaff @jlyarts is Kiyan @justhereforeskel is Lil' Bleater @justleaf is Iorveth @zzzett is Isengrim @whysowlowl is Philippa @heyriel-art is Vesemir @eyesofshinigami is Shani @lokibus is Geralt (complete with horse pics) @straysinfiltrator is Meve @iboughtaplant is Gascon (she has the BEST boy) @pressedinthepages is Angoulême @jaskiersvalley is Cahir Mawr Dyffryn aep Ceallach obscure potato is Reynard @Towelapocalyse is Aiden @andtosatvrn is Ivar @disaster-imp is Lambert @resident-beekeeper is the beekeeper that Regis thinks is a werewolf? sdorim is an npc who wrote punny letters to Geralt @winter-fir is a farmer NPC. Her rakes are not broken, and if you press X you get an 🍎 And who you've probably been waiting for? @skaldingrayne would be Jaskier.

[kueble]

The Edge of Something New

Jumping on the Sam the Baker train. (This one by @valdomarx , This one by @julek , This one by @samstree ). Not using my tags list, because I don’t even know what this is lol.

18+ under the cut, Warnings: none. 2,000 words

Jaskier/Sam the baker

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Jaskier knows when he’s being watched. He’s a bard for Melitele’s sake. He knows how to work the crowd and hold their attention, how to sway his hips just a little bit more than necessary, how to bat his eyes and crack a raunchy joke when the set calls for it. So it’s no surprise when one of the new faces in the crowd shows an interest. But the fact that Jaskier might notice him back, well…that’s certainly new.

Ever since Geralt left him on that fucking mountain, he’s spent more nights on a bender than he’d care to admit. Hell, half the whorehouses in town know him by name at this point. Half the nobility does, too, though they wouldn’t admit it if pressed. Jaskier has damn near fucked the thought of that blasted witcher out of his brain, has nearly killed the ember of yearning lodged in his gut, stoked for years by one friendly glace after another.

But none of his recent bed partners have looked at him quite like this man is tonight. No, he looks like he’s watching Jaskier and actually listening to him, actually seeing him, and it’s a bit unnerving. The man has a mop of dark curls that somehow dare Jaskier to find out if they look as soft as they feel. He looks sturdy, a bit soft around the edges, but there’s a hint of hidden strength as his shirt pulls tight while he raises his mug in cheers.

The man is softer than he normally goes for, chubby in a way that makes Jaskier feel warm, and he can’t help thinking that it might be good to switch things up for a bit.

It’s been years since someone has caught his eye quite like this, and Jaskier isn’t sure what he thinks about that. He lets the song trail off, his fingers stilling as he gauges the mood of the crowd. They’ve settled down a bit, and it’s clearly time for something more gentle. The first notes of an old love ballad start up, and before he realizes what he’s doing, he finds himself perched on the corner of the man’s table.

His gaze is no less piercing up this close, and Jaskier can see little flecks of gold in his hazel eyes. Somehow his mouth keeps moving, even though his breath seems caught in his chest. He jumps up from the edge of the table, but the damage has been done. He’s intrigued, caught up in whatever this stranger could be for the night, for the next few if he’s lucky, and he knows he’ll approach him after the set.

Only it turns out Jaskier doesn’t need to, because as soon as he ends his performance with a sweeping bow, the man is suddenly there, thrusting a mug into his hands. Jaskier takes it with a grin and gestures to an empty table at the back of the tavern. It’s too loud tonight, and he doesn’t feel like shouting over the din of the crowd.

“I figured we could both do with some peace and quiet after such a lively set,” Jaskier says, sitting down. He sips his ale, taking time to study the man over the rim of his mug. There’s a hint of blush across his cheeks, and Jaskier longs to see how far down it goes.

“Hard to think anyone would want the quiet when they could be listening to such a lovely voice instead,” the man says, tripping over his words a bit. His cheeks darken even more, and Jaskier dips his head a little, eyeing him up from beneath his lashes.

“A lovely compliment from a lovely man,” Jaskier replies. He’s torn between feeling excited to flirt again - to actually mean it - and not wanting to come on too strong.

“Oh nonsense,” the man laughs, “I know what I look like, no need to pretend otherwise.”

“Not pretending,” Jaskier tells him, wetting his lips just to watch the man’s eyes follow the slow slide of his tongue. “If I’m not to call you lovely, what can I call you then?”

“Sam,” the man answers with a smile. “Didn’t say I minded being called lovely, just didn’t agree with it,” he adds before hiding his face in his mug.

A spark lights up in Jaskier’s gut, the edge of something new coming to life, and he reaches across the table to take Sam’s hand in his. They both look down at their joined hands - enough to get a man locked up in some backwater villages - and Jaskier slowly strokes his thumb across the back of Sam’s hand. He shivers and sets his mug down with too much force, bits of foam spilling down the sides of it.

“I uh…I don’t live far from here. If you’d like to…keep the conversation going?” Sam asks, seemingly unsure of himself. And that just won’t stand, so Jaskier clenches his hand and smiles warmly at him

“I’ll do you one better. I’ve a room upstairs,” he offers.

And then they’re moving, both fumbling over themselves as Jaskier leads him up the steep steps and down the hall to the room he’s been renting. He hopes he left it in order when he went downstairs to perform, but cringes when he opens the door and finds his notebook and a few loose pages scattered across the bed.

“Sorry, wasn't expecting company,” he murmurs, but Sam doesn’t say anything, just looks at him shyly while he clears off the bed, tossing the papers on the desk in the corner.

“No worries,” Sam says with a laugh, “you should see my place. Always dirty aprons and stale rolls laying about.”

“Rolls?” Jaskier asks, quirking an eyebrow at him.

“Oh, I uh, I’m a baker. Not as flashy as a travelling bard, but I love it,” Sam explains. He looks so proud of himself that Jaskier just knows he’s going to follow him home and find out how good his baked goods are.

“Sounds delightful, actually,” Jaskier counters, stepping closer to him. He shrugs off his coat and lays it over the back of a chair, letting his hips sway just a bit as he walks over. “I have a bit of a sweet tooth. Are you sweet, Sam?”

“I think I could be,” he mumbles, and Jaskier smiles before reaching up to cup his round cheeks. They’re soft under his hands, and he lets his fingertips brush against the mess of curls before leaning in closer.

“I’d like to find out,” Jaskier whispers, and Sam lets out a slow breath, whining low in the back of his throat.

And then they’re kissing, Sam’s hands gripping Jaskier’s hips tightly while Jaskier licks into his plush mouth. He doesn’t taste sweet, but the way he sighs is so sugary that it doesn’t matter. He melts against Jaskier, kissing him back just as harshly, tugging on him until they’re pressed against the door. Jaskier nips at Sam’s bottom lip before turning to press open-mouthed kisses against his jaw line. He sucks on Sam’s earlobe, tugging on it with his teeth and drawing a broken moan from him.

“Can I suck your cock, Sam?” Jaskier asks, and Sam nods frantically, whining again as Jaskier slides down to his knees.

He stares up at him, keeping eye contact while he pulls at the laces to his trousers. Sam is panting, his eyes dark as he looks back at Jaskier, one hand coming down to thread in Jaskier’s loose hair. Shoving down his trousers, Jaskier comes face to face with the most beautiful prick he’s ever seen. Fuck, it’s so thick that he’s not sure how easy this will be. But oh how he wants to be good.

Sam deserves him to be good.

Sam looks down at him like he’s about to apologize for his size, and that simply won’t do. Jaskier shuts him up by sucking the head of his cock into his mouth, letting his eyes slide shut as the salty taste of it hits his tongue. He laves at the head, swirling his tongue around it before slowly working more and more of it inside his mouth. Sam is ever the gentleman, a litany of praises dripping from his mouth as Jaskier swallows around him.

Oh how he’s missed this! Sure, he’s spent months in brothels, but whores never ask to be sucked off. Jaskier forgot how much he loves this, lives for the musky scent surrounding him while he has a fat cock in his mouth, the heavy weight of it pressing on his tongue. He starts pumping Sam’s shaft, working what he can’t swallow down, and hums around him. Sam bucks his hips, clearly fighting it but too far gone to hold back.

“Close,” Sam chokes out, and Jaskier opens his eyes again, needs to see how he looks when he comes. He cups Sam’s balls, playing with them while he takes as much of him as he can. He knows what he looks like - lips ruddy and stretched wide around Sam’s gorgeous cock - and it’s all he can hope that Sam sees some kind of beauty in him, too. He wants to be seen, needs it even.

Sam comes with a grunt, hips stilling as he spills across Jaskier’s tongue. Jaskier eagerly swallows it down, sucking until Sam gently pushes him back with a whine. He rubs the soft head of his cock against Jaskier’s lips, shuddering as he stares down at him. “Fuck, Jaskier, you’re beautiful,” he whispers.

And Jaskier wants to cry, but he can’t because suddenly Sam is on the floor with him, yanking him into a sloppy kiss while he shoves a hand down the front of Jaskier’s trousers. He’s leaking so much his smalls are wet, and Sam’s large fingers wrap around him easily. He growls into the kiss, leaning into Sam as he feels his own orgasm building at the base of his spine.

Same pulls back and nuzzles his cheek, turning so he can whisper against his ear, “that’s it. Want you to come for me. I bet you look as pretty coming as you do with my cock in your mouth. Wanna see you fall apart for me.”

“Sam!” Jaskier shouts, voice hoarse as he tumbles over the edge, coating Sam’s hand as he comes. He fucks into Sam’s tight fist, hips stuttering as he spills in hot bursts. When it gets to be too much, he whines and hides his face in the crook of Sam’s neck. He takes the hint and slides his hand out of Jaskier’s trousers, wrapping his arms around his shoulders instead.

“Was I?” Jaskier asks after a few moments.

“Pretty? Yeah, yeah you were,” Sam tells him, smiling before kissing him again. It’s surprisingly chaste for a man who is covered in his spend, and Jaskier can’t help grinning against his mouth.

“Do you, uh, do you want to stay tonight?” Jaskier asks, the words falling out of his mouth before he decides to utter them.

“I can’t,” Sam tells him, and Jaskier’s heart drops in his chest. Of course, of course this isn’t anything more than a one-off. What was he thinking?

“Sure, uh, that’s good, too,” Jaskier mumbles, pulling back and trying to make himself presentable again. Before he can stand up, Sam grabs his arm tightly and pulls him back in.

“Fuck, sorry. I’m, I’m not good with words, not like you are. Not a bard, just a baker. Also, you just sucked my brain out of my prick, so I’m entitled to be a bit out of sorts,” Sam rushes out, cheeks bright red as he grins at him. “I can’t stay, because I’m a horrible bed partner. I get up way too early. Bread’s gotta be in the oven long before daylight comes. It’s a lot easier to crawl out of my own bed and downstairs to the bakery than find my way across town in the dark. But…you could visit me? Stay the night even if you wanted? I’m rambling. Please for the love of the gods shut me up.”

And so Jaskier kisses him again, already planning his visit.