#vengeance demon au

[kueble]

The Stars Above Us

This was written for Monsterfucking Week over at @thepassifloradiscord. Yes, there’s no sex, but monsterfucking is a vibe, a lifestyle if you will.

Part of my Cast A Spell For Your Demon.

Teen. Warnings: none. 1,200 words.

Geraskier.

---

“I think we have a misunderstanding,” Jaskier said, giving the innkeeper his most innocent look.  The man snorts and crosses his arms over his chest, stepping closer as he shakes his head.

“No, you heard me,” he grunts out.  “You’re more than welcome to rent a room for yourself.  We’ll have nothing to do with that demon you’re traveling with, though.  No good comes from that lot.”

“Well I sincerely hope you never find yourself needing the kind of services his lot provides,” Jaskier says quickly.  He looks out the dirt-streaked window and sees Geralt talking to Roach, letting her nuzzle his palm while he speaks.  He is without a doubt the sweetest person Jaskier has ever met, and this asshole doesn’t deserve his company.

“I’d rather let the village burn than hire a demon,” the man responds sharply.

“Well fuck you, too!” Jaskier spits back.  He throws his hands up at this useless man and then wags a finger right in his face.  “I hope you and everyone in this dreadful backwater town gets a pox, and I hope you lose a limb from it.  I sincerely hope your prick rots off,” Jaskier snarls at him before stomping out the door.  He slams it behind him and then scurries over to Geralt and Roach.

“Sounds like that went well,” Geralt says dryly, and Jaskier has the decency to look sheepish under his pointed gaze.  He honestly has no clue why people think Geralt is a problem, since Jaskier has more of a temper than anyone he knows.

“I, well, er, we best ride swiftly,” he mutters, but Geralt just shakes his head, an amused look overtaking his features.  Still, as dramatic as Jaskier gets, Geralt knows when there’s a truth to his theatrics.  He grabs Jaskier by the waist and tosses him up on Roach before jumping up behind him.  With a kick of his heels, they’re galloping out of town.

Jaskier does his best not to pout, but he was really looking forward to a night in a soft bed.  He supposes he’s let himself get spoiled by Geralt’s seemingly never-ending flow of magic.  It’s been a rough few weeks, though, and his reserves have run dry.  Seeing as they definitely won’t be picking up a contract in that hellscape of a town, who knows when Geralt will be able to replenish his magic?

“Don’t pout, it makes Roach feel bad,” Geralt whispers from behind him, and Jaskier tosses his head back with a giggle.

“Oh, Roach feels bad, does she?  No one else?” he teases.  Geralt snorts in his ear and holds him a little bit tighter.  They’ll be alright, even in the face of stupidity and hatred.

“I think we’re far enough away that any sort of mob sent after you would tire out and give in,” Geralt says before guiding Roach off the dusty road and into the edges of the woods.  The sun is starting to set, and Jaskier thinks it’s a bit romantic despite the circumstances.  He turns to look at his lover, admiring him in the fading light of the day, and Geralt just flushes in return, his gray cheeks darkening.

They trot in silence for a bit, Jaskier leaning back against Geralt and just enjoying having him near. He has no clue how anyone could miss what an amazing man he is.  He’ll spend the rest of his days convincing the demon he deserves happiness, deserves to be loved.  He’s found his true purpose in life, and it’s a damn good one.

Geralt is quiet while they set off camp, and Jaskier gives him space.  He knows his lover isn’t upset with him, but more than likely feels guilty about how they were treated.  As if Jaskier wouldn’t tell the whole wide world to fuck off in an instant just to make Geralt give him one of his secret grins.  Still, they’ve been together long enough for him to realize it’s no use talking to Geralt before he’s ready.  Jaskier gives him time by keeping himself busy fiddling with the fire and digging through their pack for provisions.  It’s slim pickings, but neither of them will starve.

They sit down to eat, the comfortable silence still surrounding them.   Jaskier hums softly, testing the waters, and Geralt scoots closer to him, tucking a wing around his shoulders.  The ink black feathers are soft, and Jaskier can’t help rubbing his cheek against them.  They sit tucked together and finish their meal.

“Jaskier,” Geralt says softly, stopping to clear his throat.  “I…I am truly sorry, you know?   You were looking forward to a proper bed, and I don’t even have enough magic in me to give you that tonight.”

“Don’t worry on my behalf. I’ve gone without a roof and a bed plenty of times before, and I’m sure it’ll happen again.  And before you start, I wouldn’t have taken the room without you, either.  So just put that out of your head.  We’re a pair, a matched set, I’ll have you know.  There’s no use in separating us,” Jaskier tells him, hoping the message gets across.  Geralt purses his lips, like he’s carefully choosing his next words, and Jaskier just smiles encouragingly at him.  They’re in no rush.

“You deserve nice things, and I wish I could provide them more often,” Geralt finally says.  There’s a sad look in his eyes, and that simply won’t do, so Jaskier jumps to his feet and reaches his hand down to help him up.  The demon quirks an eyebrow, but lets Jaskier pull him to his feet.

Night has truly fallen around them, and Jaskier figures they might as well turn in early.  He takes Geralt’s hand and leads him to their bedroll, gesturing for him to lay down on it.  Once he does, Jaskier sprawls out on top of him, propping his chin on his hands so he can meet his eyes.

“I love you more than anything, Dear Heart, and I would never choose the comforts of civilization over you.  That whole town can go up in flames for all I care.  The bed probably had bugs and a scratchy mattress to match the innkeeper’s foul mood.  I know you feel guilty for how we live sometimes, but there’s no other life I’d rather live.  All I need is the stars above me and your wings wrapped around me to keep me warm,” Jaskier tells him.

“You’re all I need, too,” Geralt mumbles back, tucking his face against his arm.  But his massive wings shift, hiding them both from the world, and it’s as perfect as anything ever could be.  Jaskier leans in and presses their lips together, sighing into the gentle kiss.  Though his desire for Geralt is always bubbling under his skin, there’s no pressure for anything more tonight.  He keeps the kiss chaste, pulling back and setting his head down on Geralt’s chest.  The last thing he feels as he drifts off is a lingering kiss pressed against the top of his head.  His heart feels full.

---

SFW Tags: @halerune @mayastormborn @dani-dandelino @jaskierswolf @littoraly-art @tothedesert @dapandapod @theweirdlynx @tedrakitty @sharinalein @theamazingdevilgivesmehope @iamaqt314 @silvermintnightprincess @rockysstupidity @live-long-and-trek-on @hayleynzlive @holymotherwolf @thesynysterunknown @rebard-main @larawrmonster @gryffinqueen-blog @lovelyscot @fangirleaconmigo @mothmanismyuncle @fontegagrilledcheese @thestarkwinter @geraltrogerericduhautebellegarde @allthequeenshorses13 @221birl1823 @strippiluolamies @concussed-dragon @aurelia-which-means-sunrise @clarebear66 @feral-jaskier @j-u-s-tmyself @hayleynzlive @thisislisa @firefly-party @officerjennie @theshapeofcool @flawney

Please let me know if you’d like to be added/removed. Thank you!

[miss-susan-stohelit]

More Full of Weeping

She was not a ghost. Not really. She had been alive once, it was true. She had watched over The Lady's children, kept them safe from harm and made certain they knew their recitations. She had dressed them and told them stories, and when they were naughty she had lectured them sternly.

Susan had been a good governess, and she had loved The Lady's little children. But The Lady had not.

She couldn't have. If The Lady had loved her little boy, her tiny daughter, she could not have blamed them for her husband's faithlessness. She could not have stolen into the nursery like Medea in the night and slit the girl's throat as she lay sleeping.

The boy had woken. Susan had heard his scream, cut so horribly short. She had flown to the nursery on wings of terror, but far too late.

The Lady was not mad. That, in the end, was the cruelest part. She was calm, looking down on them with detached chill in her eyes. And Susan had taken the iron poker from beside the fire place and she had struck her again and again and again, and she had collapsed beside The Lady's children and she had screamed out her rage and grief.

She was hung a week later, of course. On charges of murdering The Lady and her little ones. But it made little difference.

~*~

The thief was a dark silhouette against a darker night, a moving point of silence beneath the trees. He was still wiping the blood from his hands, the blood of the butcher's girl who'd come into the room while he was making off with her father's coins. And she would've screamed, and he couldn't have that.

Small price to pay. Her father'd been rich, for a butcher. And in the end it was a favor, wasn't it? One less mouth to feed in such hard times. Least he hadn't killed a son, then he might've felt a bit poorly about it.

His hands were starting to itch. He scratched them, and they burned.

After a while, he became aware that his weren't the only footsteps crunching against the fallen leaves. Someone was following him, and he hurried his pace. Still, the footsteps dogged him. He ran now, his hands on fire as he stumbled through the trees with the purse of coins growing heavier and heavier on his belt. A root snagged his foot and he tumbled to the forest floor, twisting onto his back to protect his face --

But no blow came.

He opened his eyes.

She was a streak of black in the grey night, long dress brushing the leaves without disturbing them. Her hair, shock white against the darkness, framed eyes that stared through him like a pin through a butterfly, and though he struggled he couldn't seem to move.

She was holding something long and slender in her hands.

"School is where we go to learn," she said, her voice slow and measured. She was reciting, and he swore and struggled in fear and confusion.

"Leave me alone, you cunt--"

"And heed our teacher, wise and stern." Her tone seemed lower now, and he realized there was an echo to it. One every child in school learned to fear, the kind of tone that made you feel as small and powerless as you were. "She teaches letters, numbers too."

...He knew this verse. He'd recited it as a child, and his blood ran cold as he remembered the rest. "No please, I-- It was an accident!"

"And tells us what we ought to do." She stepped forward, her feet making no sound against the leaves. "She guides us as we laugh and play..."

She raised the thing in her hand. It was long and black and came to a wicked point, like a stave or... or an iron poker. "She would've screamed! Please, I had to--!"

The poker swung down.

For a moment, silence reigned in the forest. There was nothing to suggest that the thief, now cold and still among the leaves, had ever been anything but alone.

Then Susan's voice floated through the darkness, almost singing.

"...And guards the little children..."

[kueble]

Does adding to your existing au count for monster march? lol.  Let’s pretend it does.  Here’s a little bit of worldbuilding from demon!Geralt’s POV early in their relationship.

Rated Teen, canon typical violence, 1300 words

---

Life has been rather chaotic lately, and Geralt only has himself to blame.  Well, he has the talkative bard walking next to him to blame.  Jaskier is currently rambling on about some festival he played at last fall, and honestly Geralt gave up focusing on the words hours ago.  But the tone of his voice is light and bouncy, and Geralt lets it wash over him and offers grunts or hums when it seems appropriate.

The constant chatter had taken some time to get used to, because Geralt has been on his own for so long.  Most demons travel on their own, mostly because it’s hard enough to stay fed when there’s only one of you around.  Anything else would be too risky.  

Of course they all regularly meet back in their own realm, because even demons deserve a home.  Geralt sees his brothers and adoptive father once a year at least.  Vesemir rarely leaves their realm anymore, just ventures out when summoned, but the rest of them travel the human world, picking up contracts and making deals as it suits them.

Lambert and Eskel have been known to team up and roam around together, since they are both willing to take on a lot of work Geralt won’t.  Eskel’s so well fed he uses magic for most everything, and Lambert is always up for helping pretty much anyone get revenge, even for the slightest of insults.  The two of them are able to carry on together and still keep their magic flowing and their bellies full.

Sometimes Geralt wishes he didn’t stick to the code he’d created for himself when he was younger.  He’s more likely to talk a possible contract out of their revenge than help carry it through.  Sure, he’s a vengeance demon, but humans bicker over the stupidest things.  No one needs to be murdered because they accidentally plowed their neighbor’s field - metaphorical or not.

He’d come to terms with the constant hunger years ago, had decided it was easier to travel by foot, easier to camp out under the stars, easier to do most things by hand than to carry the heavy weight of a deal he didn’t feel comfortable with.  No, he needed to believe in the justice he was delivering.  He wouldn’t let himself be used as a weapon for something he didn’t think was necessary.

And so he travels light and goes hungry more often than not.  That’s just his lot in life.

Only things are a bit different now, aren’t they?  He chuckles under his breath and turns to watch Jaskier.  He’s still talking, hands flapping around as he tells his story.  He’s young, even for a human, and he hasn’t lost the shine most of them have.  He genuinely thinks the world is a fantastic place, hasn’t been cut down by reality yet, and Geralt hates the fact that it’s only a matter of time.  No one stays this bright and untouched forever.  There’s a pause in the conversation, and Geralt realizes he’s been asked a question.  He looks at Jaskier and offers an inquisitive hmmm which doesn't seem to suffice.

“The inn, Geralt.  Honestly, you need more rest than you let on.  You must be dead on your feet.  Anyway, I was asking about the inn.  We might be able to barter a room if I offer my services for the night.  Shall I try?” Jaskier asks, face hopeful as he looks up at him.

“I suppose a bed would be nice,” Geralt shrugs, and they turn toward the building across the town square.  

Sadly, it isn’t meant to be, and a bulky looking man steps in front of their path and shouts out a quick, “Oi! Demon, we don’t need your kind around here.  Go peddle your trade elsewhere.  We keep a clean town.”

Geralt sighs and waits to see what Jaskier plans to do.  Geralt isn’t one to stick up for himself, because it’s not worth the trouble, but Jaskier simply can’t ignore idiots like this guy.  Sure enough, Jaskier slowly slides his lute strap off his shoulder and hands it to Geralt, who smiles as he takes it.

“Excuse me?  Are you saying my friend is dirty because he’s a demon?” Jaskier hisses out, already rolling up his sleeves as he walks over to the poor man.  Most people give up at this point, but this guy apparently doesn’t see Jaskier as a threat and just starts spouting off more anti-demon nonsense.  

He doesn’t duck the first punch, but manages to turn to the side and avoid most of the second.  By now a crowd is gathering, and Geralt steps closer just in case he’s needed.  Jaskier has an uncanny ability to look like this tiny lithe little thing, but he’s actually a sight to see when he goes feral like this.  His cheeks are flushed, his eyes wild, and he’s already breaking out in a sweat as they scuffle.

He’s quite stunning, actually.

Geralt freezes, looking around as if the gathering crowd could hear his thoughts.  Of course everyone has eyes on the fight, and no one cares about a demon having a mental breakdown on the sidelines.  He watches Jaskier throw one last punch, knocking the brute flat on his back, and realizes that he’s half hard in his trousers.

And fuck, he can unpack that one later, because he is absolutely not doing this right now.

Instead, Geralt calmly slides the lute in front of his body and lets his eyes fall closed.  He doesn’t need to in order to feed, but the crowd is noisy and it helps to block them out and focus.  The energy pouring out of Jaskier is intense, and he opens himself up and takes it in.  Lust demons might have more fun when they feed, but Jaskier’s justified rage is going to fuel him for weeks.

It’s actually nice to be able to feed without having to accept a contract.  Jaskier has been surprisingly good at keeping him well fed since they’ve been together.  The bard simply cannot stand to see any injustice in the world and will throw fists at the drop of a hat.  It’s not always about the way Geralt’s treated, either.  The other day Jaskier verbally attacked a handsy drunk and got him to leave the tavern owner’s daughter alone.  It had been a quick meal, but a filling one.

Geralt hasn’t had this much excess magic in years, and he’s starting to get used to it.  Still, he might need to at least try to avoid situations like this going forward.  As much as he likes having someone jump in to protect him, Jaskier needs his hands to play and he’d moped around for a week the last time he got hurt in a fight.  It’s a sight best to be avoided, if possible; altogether too much pouting and sighing for anyone to ignore.

No one in the crowd notices the flash of blue light that signals the creation of Geralt’s new cloak.  It covers his wings nicely, and will maybe give them some room to breath in the next village.  It’s much too late for tonight, though.  With a heavy sigh, he trudges through the crowd and yanks his bard up from where he’s currently kneeling and shouting down at his opponent.

“We’ll camp tonight,” Geralt grumbles as he makes his way out of town.

“Sure we will.  Wouldn’t want to stick around that cesspool any longer than necessary.  Backwards bunch of fuckers,” Jaskier cries over his shoulder, and Geralt can’t help grinning to himself as they walk away.

Yes, it’s nice to not be starving all the time, but he supposes the company is worth a little trouble, too.

---

Tags list:  @halerune @eya-trying-to-function @honeysuckletook @mayastormborn @dani-dandelino @feraljaskier @jaskierswolf @littoraly-art @lovesight @saphiramalbec @dapandapod @theweirdlynx @tedrakitty @sharinalein @theamazingdevilgivesmehope @iamaqt314

If you’d like to be added/removed, please let me know. Thank you!

[kueble]

I have been keeping this secret for a month now and I finally get to post it!  I worked on a collaboration with the amazing @journeythroughunknownlands for Monster March.  They didn’t just draw what I wrote, but we had some lovely back and forth and details of the fic were changed to fit the direction the artwork went.  I loved the process so much!

Artwork is here (nsfw).  Please go look at it (even if it’s after reading the fic) because it is gorgeous and I am in love with it.  Demon!Geralt is perfect in every way and Jaskier is as gorgeous as always.

The rest of the Vengeance Demon Au series.

18+ under the cut. Warnings: claws, tails, wings, 4400 words

On Soft Sheets Til The Dawn Comes

---

The day’s trip to Novigrad seemed like the longest journey they’d ever taken together.  After the short kiss they’d shared by their fireside last night, they seemed to come to some unspoken agreement that they would wait for a real bed before going any further.  It’s taken Jaskier two years to get this far, he’s not about to rush at this point.  They got an early start this morning, the promise of a city and an inn hanging in the air like a promise.  

Now they’re finally strolling into the Kingsfisher Inn, and Jaskier feels his shoulders lighten as he takes in the scene around them.  There’s a bard singing on stage, a guitarist accompanying her while she shakes a tambourine in embellishment.  They seem to be in the middle of the dinner crowd, which hopefully means they can grab a quick bite to eat as well.  He’s pretty sure they’re going to need all the energy they can get tonight.  For once the sight of Geralt’s black horns and demonic nature doesn’t have the innkeeper tripping over herself to deny them a room, so he hangs back a bit and lets Geralt take care of their accommodation, only jumping in to request use of the bathing chambers.

“Figured you’d be in a rush,” Geralt says, smirking at him after the innkeeper hands over a key and directs them towards the baths.

“As eager as I am to see you out of your clothing, we’re both caked in weeks of dirt and travel.  A little bit longer won’t hurt,” he offers with a wink as he spins on his heels and hurries to the bathing room.  

An attendant goes to hand him a hard bit of soap, but he waves her off, mumbling that he has his own.  It’s a bit of a luxury, but he found a soap maker in Oxenfurt who carries more subtle scents.  Geralt’s heightened senses make anything obvious too overwhelming, but he doesn’t seem to mind the softer fragrances.  He fiddles through his bag and pulls out his bar of almond soap, setting in on the small table next to the bath.  He sighs as he slides into the warm water and sets about scrubbing the remnants of the road from his skin.  

He can hear Geralt doing the same on the other side of the privacy partition.  A small part of him is giddy at the fact that after tonight he shouldn’t need to shy away from the demon when he’s naked anymore.  He intends to get his fill tonight and then do his best not to wear out his welcome.  Geralt is clearly attracted to him, but Jaskier knows he’s not easy to put up with.  Gods know countless lovers have happily reminded him of that fact, but he prefers to consider himself an acquired taste.  Hopefully it’s one that Geralt will enjoy for the foreseeable future.

But enough melancholy thoughts.  Jaskier shakes his head and goes back to getting himself clean.  He hopefully has a long night in store.

---

The sun is setting by the time he’s done, and he hurries back to their rented room.  Geralt beats him back, and he’s just standing there awkwardly when Jaskier walks in.  It’s kind of sweet how bad at this he is, so Jaskier just grins widely at him and shuts the door behind him before crossing the room and dragging him into a quick kiss.  It seems to calm his nerves and they’re both smiling when they pull apart.

“Dinner on the table,” Geralt tells him before gesturing over to where a plate of dried meats and cheeses sits.

“It looks like it’ll keep,” Jaskier says, smirking as he reaches up and tucks a stray wisp of hair behind Geralt’s pointed ear.  He gives Jaskier a sheepish look, and he’s pretty sure the demon would be blushing if he could.  Fuck, where did he find this gem of a man?  He must have done something worthwhile in a past life.

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,” Geralt offers, even as he settles his hands on Jaskier’s slim waist. 

“Please,” Jaskier scoffs, “I’ve wanted this for years.  Just took you a bit longer to catch up with me.”

“Oh,” Geralt pauses and studies him - really studies his face - and must see something that confirms what Jaskier is telling him, because his shoulders relax a bit.  “I didn’t know it had been that long.”

“I’ve been captivated since the moment I saw you,” Jaskier admits.  He can feel his face heating up, knows he’s probably turning a brilliant shade of red, but Geralt just flashes him a fanged grin and pecks him quickly on the mouth.  “Now how about we do something about these clothes?” Jaskier asks as he pulls back.

“Of course,” Geralt says before waving his hand.  There’s a dull blue flash and suddenly they’re both naked.  Jaskier giggles and looks down to where his hands rest on Geralt’s bare chest.

“Not exactly what I meant, but I’ll take it.”

“It’s been awhile since I’ve been with someone who wanted me for me,” Geralt offers slowly, his voice deeper than normal.  “I’ve forgotten what it feels like.”  He sounds like he’s in awe, and that just won’t do.  Geralt is the most gorgeous person Jaskier has ever seen, and he’s not about to let him stand here feeling shy or unsure.

“Hey,” Jaskier says, bringing up a hand to cup Geralt’s face and force his eyes to meet him.  “I’m here because of you, not in spite of it.  Can you show me?  Your true self?”

“You don’t-”

“I really really do,” Jaskier reassures him.  He leans in and captures his mouth in a soft kiss, trying to push every feeling he has into it.  Geralt looks a bit taken aback when they part, his eyes glossy and vulnerable.

“Only for you,” Geralt agrees softly.  Jaskier has seen him transform before.  Hell, he grew claws on the very first day they met, but he’s never seen anything quite like this.  His body twists, skin reforming as bones and muscles move into place.

The first thing he notices is how dark Geralt’s wings look.  He must use his glamour to keep them muted, but right now they’re a stunning pitch black.  It’s like someone spilled a pot of ink, each feather drowning in the color of the night sky.  Geralt is touchy about his wings, so Jaskier doesn’t push it yet, just looks down to take in the rest of him.

His short claws are out, a stark darkness against his pale skin.  He knows they’re sharp enough to cut, but has faith that Geralt will be tender with him.  He aches to feel them digging into his skin, just enough pressure to scratch but not to slice.  Jaskier lets his gaze fall between Geralt’s legs, focusing on his frankly intimidating cock.  His mouth waters and he knows he can’t let the night end before tasting it.

“Pretty normal looking,” he comments, and Geralt snorts at him.

“What?  Were you expecting spikes?” Geralt asks with a chuckle.

“Only demon I’ve been with was a woman, so I’m not overly well-versed in anatomy,” he says, laughing back.  But when he looks up to Geralt’s face, the breath catches in his lungs, forces him to swallow his next words.  “Your eyes,” he manages to choke out.

He always thought Geralt had beautiful eyes, but they’re absolutely stunning now.  They’re glowing, like molten gold, and Jaskier fears he could lose himself in them.  His pupils are actually shining in the dim light of their rented room, and Jaskier opens his mouth to tell him how striking they are, but Geralt cuts him off.

“I can tone it down,” he blurts out quickly.

“No!” Jaskier rushes out.  “Geralt, darling.  You are without a doubt the most gorgeous person I’ve ever taken to my bed.  Please don’t hide yourself.  I love it.  Adore it...adore you.”

“I’m already here, no need to flatter me,” Geralt mumbles, and that simply won’t do.  So Jaskier frames his face with both hands and turns him so their eyes meet.

“I wouldn’t lie to you,” Jaskier says softly, pleading with his eyes for Geralt to understand him.  The demon studies him for a moment before nodding sharply.  “Thank you for believing me.  Now...there’s a sturdy looking bed right over there, and I’ve waited ages for this.  I want you to wreck me.”

“Oh, I plan on it,” Geralt tells him before scooping him up in his solid arms.  He tosses Jaskier on the bed and crawls in after him, settling between his legs.  He runs a hand down Jaskier’s chest, lightly scratching with his claws as he goes.  Jaskier writhes under the touch, arching up into it.  “What should I stay away from?” Geralt asks, tilting his head as he looks down at him.

“It’s ridiculous how excited I am to feel your claws on me, but let’s keep it to light scratches tonight?  No blood?  Something we can negotiate later, but not what I’m looking for tonight,” Jaskier says honestly.  Geralt swallows thickly, and Jaskier has a vision of another night, his chest and legs littered with tiny lines of blood, but he shoves it aside to focus on the moment.

“Of course,” Geralt confirms before trailing his claws across Jaskier’s chest again.  They both watch as thin pink lines appear in their wake, Jaskier’s breath catching in his throat as he leans into it.

And then it’s like a dam breaks and he can’t not be touching Geralt.

Jaskier reaches out up and cups Geralt’s face, dragging him down into a sloppy kiss.  It’s too rushed and their teeth clash a bit, but he just laughs and adjusts his aim before trying again.  Geralt laps at his lower lip, begging for entry, and Jaskier nearly comes right at the moment he realizes Geralt’s tongue is forked.

“Oh. My. Gods,” he chokes out, shivering as he grins up at Geralt.  But the demon seems to have interpreted him wrong and looks mildly worried.

“I can-” he starts, but Jaskier surges up and shuts up him with a quick kiss.

“Don’t you even dare.  I fucking love it,” Jaskier tells him before sinking back down onto the mattress and pulling Geralt with him.  He catches his mouth in another kiss, sighing when the tension seems to sag out of Geralt.

And yes, this is a thousand times better.  He wraps his legs around Geralt’s hips, bucking up against him when Geralt licks into his mouth and deepens the kiss.  He runs his tongue over Jaskier’s teeth, across his pallet, and it seems like it’s slightly longer than normal, too.  Jaskier groans into his mouth and sucks on his tongue, swallowing down Geralt’s grunts.

Geralt nips at his jaw line, leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses as he works his way to Jaskier’s neck.  He bites a bit harder, not breaking skin, but Jaskier can definitely feel those fangs.  He laps at the sore skin, and Jaskier keens under his touch, writhing as he falls apart under Geralt’s skilled mouth.  

Jaskier lets his hands roam freely, mapping the hard planes of Geralt’s chest, brushing his fingers across his nipples, trailing down the sides of his body and digging his fingers into his hips.  He’s seen him naked, but never like this, never been allowed to feel his scarred skin beneath his hands.  Jaskier revels in the trust, sighing into the kiss as his fingers find purchase in the warmth of Geralt’s hips.

And then Geralt dips his head down and licks Jaskier’s nipple, and he cries out, arching into it.  Geralt shoots him a smirk, and Jaskier just flushes, aware of how sensitive he is there.  But instead of saying anything, Geralt just goes back to it, sucking on his nipple while his claws scrape gently over the other.  

It’s like his whole body is on fire, his skin lighting up as Geralt laps at him.  Jaskier whimpers and tangles his fingers in Geralt’s hair, holding him in place.  Geralt lets a fang scrap over his nipple, and Jaskier lets out a broken moan, his dick twitching against his stomach.  He can’t remember ever being this hard, this desperate to get some sort of friction on himself.

“Please,” he begs, tugging on Geralt’s hair, loving the way the demon moans in return.

“What do you need?” Geralt asks him, looking up at him through his dark lashes.

“Fuck, I don’t know. Anything...everything.  Just touch me,” Jaskier please, gasping when Geralt bites down harder on his nipple, pulling at it with his teeth.  Then he rests back on his heels and just stares down at Jaskier.

“Fuck,” He growls, eyes darkening.  “Look at you.  You’re so perfect for me, laid out so nice like this.”  His tail moves as he speaks, working its way between their bodies, hovering over Jaskier’s prick.  “May I?” he asks softly.

“Yes, please!” Jaskier says enthusiastically.  He watches with wide eyes as Geralt’s tail wraps around his leaking cock, twisting around the shaft.  “Fuck,” he whines, voice breaking over the word.

“So desperate,” Geralt laughs as he starts to pump him with his tail.  “I love seeing you like this.  Look at how wet you are, just covering your thighs for me.  Do you want to come like this?  Do you like knowing it’s me, a demon making you feel this way?”

“Yes, I love it,” Jaskier rushes out, bucking his hips against the air.  Geralt holds him down, one claw digging into his left hip, and just grins down at him.  “Please, I need,” he trails off into a high pitched whine when Geralt twists his tail again, working over the length of him.

“I know what you need,” Geralt tells him before moving his tail quicker, jerking him off fast and rough.  He brings his other hand up to play with Jaskier’s nipple, and it’s almost too much to handle.  He’s burning up, his dick dribbling pre-come and coating Geralt’s tail with it.  He’s not going to last, but he’s wanted this too damn long and Geralt is just way too sexy for his own good.

“Geralt...I’m close,” Jaskier pants out.  Geralt just works him faster, tail twisting as it moves up and down his shaft.

“You’re young.  You’ve got more than one in you,” Geralt chuckles softly.  “Let go.  Show me how pretty you can be.”

And that fucking does it.  Jaskier shouts his name as he goes over the edge, bursts of hot come splashing them both, hitting his chest and thighs, and making a mess of Geralt’s tail.  Geralt works him through it, tail moving as Jaskier spills between.

“Still with me?” Geralt teases and Jaskier just snorts at him.

“You sure you’re not a lust demon?” he asks between breaths.  His head is spinning still, and he’s pretty sure he’s never come so hard.

“Just for you apparently,” Geralt says almost shyly.  He moves his tail away and rakes his claws over Jaskier’s chest, brushing through his sweat-slicked chest hair.  He shivers under the touch, cock twitching in interest but nowhere near where he needs to be to go again yet.

“I think I like that,” Jaskier admits as he reaches up and drags Geralt on top of him.  “I like this just being for me.”

“Me too,” Geralt says softly before kissing him again.  It’s gentle, just a light press of lips as Geralt cups his face and slants their mouths together.  Jaskier sighs into his mouth and brings his arms up, sliding them around his back.  He’s avoided the wings so far, because Geralt has never let him touch them before, but now he figures he’s allowed.  Tentatively, he drags his fingers across the skin where the wings sprout from his back.

Geralt hisses, his body going tense, and Jaskier breaks the kiss with a rushed, “Sorry!”  He starts to move away, but Geralt shakes his head and presses back against his hands.

“No, that’s a good noise,” Geralt says, his voice completely wrecked.  He meets Jaskier’s gaze and licks his lips before nodding again.  “They haven’t been touched in so long,” he adds softly, trailing off as he looks to the side.

“It’s ok if I?”

“Y-Yes,” Geralt confirms, eyes falling shut as Jaskier tries again, stroking the skin between his two wings.  The demon lets out a squeak and bends beautifully into the touch, shaking as Jaskier tries it again with a bit more pressure.  

Suddenly feeling bold, Jaskier trails his fingertips across the top of the black wings, grinning when Geralt moans and bites down on his own lip.  Jaskier presses harder, really digging his fingers into the muscles beneath the feathers, and Geralt cries out and starts rocking his hips against him.

He explores the wings for a few moments, and finds out the areas where they meet Geralt’s body seem to bring the most pleasure.  Geralt writhes in his lap, moaning softly as Jaskier strokes the massive wings, runs his hands through the feathers, brushes against the curves of the top of them.  Jaskier loves seeing him like this, falling apart at such a simple touch.  

Geralt’s rutting against his thigh, blissed out as Jaskier caresses him.  He looks absolutely wrecked when he blinks his eyes open and pants out, “Not yet. Want to be inside you when I come.”

And fuck if that isn’t the hottest thing Jaskier’s ever heard.

He drags his fingers from Geralt’s wings, skimming his fingers down the sides of his body and digging them into the curves of his ass.  “I want to taste you first,” Jaskier tells him, smirking when he shudders and blinks slowly down at him.  “On your back,” he orders, laughing as Geralt scrambles to comply.  

Jaskier takes a moment just to look at him.  His eyes are glowing in the dark, his face shrouded in shadows.  There’s a beam of moonlight streaming through the window that highlights the muscles in his chest, and it sends another spike of need through him.  Geralt is splayed out like a feast, a mouth-watering contrast of pale skin framed by dark wings.

He settles between Geralt’s spread thighs, balancing on his elbows as he finally gets his hands on his cock.  It’s as gorgeous as the demon himself, long and thick, and Jaskier licks his lips before dipping down and lapping the bead of pre-come from the darkened head.  He moans as the salty taste hits his tongue and quickly sucks the head into his mouth.  Geralt bucks up, but Jaskier moves with him to avoid being choked and shoots him a look from under his lashes.

“Sorry,” Geralt mumbles, but Jaskier just hums happily and gets back to work, bobbing his head as he wraps a hand around the thick shaft.  He feels Geralt’s claws at the back of his head, tiny pinpricks digging into his scalp just enough pressure to be felt but not hurt him.  There’s a part of him that loves knowing Geralt could tear him apart with his bare hands and he doesn't know what that says about him.  But for the moment he gives into it, leaning into Geralt’s touch every time he pulls up.

He pulls back and swirls his tongue around the head before licking down to the base.  He licks at Geralt’s sack and then takes one of his balls gently into his mouth, teasing it with his tongue before doing the same with the other. Geralt lets out a broken groan and tugs at his hair and Jaskier shivers as he comes back up to swallow him down again.

Geralt’s leaking steadily, and Jaskier knows he has to be close.  Jaskier lets himself focus on the heavy weight of him on his tongue, the salty taste flooding his mouth, the musky scent of him rushing over him.  And then Geralt is tugging at him, pushing him back as he growls out, “I need you.  Want to fuck you.  Now.”

“Yes,” Jaskier moans out as quickly as he can.  “We need oil.  Let me-” he starts, but gets cut off by a bright blue flash and a weird feeling in his ass.  He looks at Geralt with wide eyes and reaches around to touch the rim of his hole, fingers coming away slick.  “Did you just magic me slick?” he chokes out, amused more than anything.

“It’s quicker,” Geralt says with a shrug.  “You’ll still need to prep yourself, unless you want my fingers back, but I figured it would be a welcome trick.”

“You figured right,” Jaskier confirms as he climbs into Geralt’s lap.  He leans down to kiss him, licking into his mouth as he reaches behind himself and presses a finger into his own ass.  Geralt holds onto his hips, claws digging into him in a way that sends sparks down his spine, and Jaskier shoves a second finger in.  It’s probably rushed, but he knows what his body can handle.

By the time Jaskier’s got three fingers twisting inside himself, he’s a mess, face tucked against Geralt’s neck and thighs shaking as he struggles to hold himself together while he gets ready.  Geralt whispers praise against the crown of his head, one hand clinging to his hip and the other running up and down his back, his claws taunting him.

Fuck, he’s never been more ready for anything in his whole life.

“‘I’m good,” Jaskier moans as he slides his fingers out, already feeling the loss of being full.

“Hands and knees,” Geralt tells him, but Jaskier shakes his head as he wipes his fingers on the bedspread.

“No, I want to see you,” he says, and Geralt grins back at him.  Jaskier wants to demand the names of anyone who���s ever made him feel less than he deserves, but that can wait for now.  He lets himself be moved onto his back and reaches up to pull Geralt to him.  Geralt hikes his hips up, pushing back his thighs as he lines up.

“Ready for me?” he asks in a low voice.

“Years,” Jaskier teases, but Geralt just rolls his eyes and presses in and then Jaskier’s mind goes completely blank.

Time seems to slow down as Geralt slowly - oh so slowly - slides into him.  He relaxes and lets him in, body stretching around his massive cock.  Jaskier whines, chewing on his lower lip as he’s filled.  When Geralt finally bottoms out, he stills, giving Jaskier time to adjust.  He takes a few deep breaths and wills his body to cooperate.

After a few moments, he nods and whispers, “Please,” and Geralt starts rocking his hips.  He goes slow at first, like he needs to make sure Jaskier is actually ready for him.  But then Jaskier bucks up against him, chasing him as he pulls away, and something in Geralt snaps.  He slams back into him, making Jaskier howl and cling to him.

Jaskier has never felt this gods-damned full in his whole fucking life.  He digs his nails into Geralt’s forearms, holding onto him as he’s plowed into.  He’s a mess, prick leaking against his stomach, bouncing with each of Geralt’s hard thrusts.  He doesn’t remember closing his eyes, but has to blink them open to look up at Geralt.  Their gazes lock and he loses himself in the feral look in Geralt’s eyes.  His pupils are blown wide, just a thin ring of glowing gold around the edges.

Geralt grabs Jaskier’s thighs and pushes them into his chest, nearly folding him in half as he fucks him.  Jaskier can’t get enough, just holds onto Geralt as they move together.  Geralt looks radiant, his sweat-slicked body framed by those perfect black wings.  It’s like some kind of ancient artwork came to life, and Jaskier can’t stop watching him, can’t tear his eyes away even as his body is nearing his release.

“Close,” Geralt grinds out, his rhythm faltering, “touch yourself.”  And that’s an order Jaskier can follow, he pries his hand off the bedspread and wraps his long fingers around himself.  He’s a mess, leaking everywhere as he starts jacking himself in time with Geralt’s thrusts.

Geralt shifts, placing a foot on the bed to get better leverage.  His next thrust hits his prostate and Jaskier cries out, back bowing as he rocks into it.  Geralt tightens his hold on his thighs and slams in at the same angle, once, twice more, and Jaskier loses it.  He comes with a shout, body going taut as he spills over his own hand.

Geralt’s hips stutter, growling deeply as he thrusts into Jaskier.  His hair hangs in his face, curling as it dampens with sweat.  Jaskier watches him fall apart, muscles tensing as he grunts Jaskier’s name and comes in hot spurts inside of him.  He rocks through it, fucking Jaskier gently as he rides his orgasm.

After a few moments he stills and slumps down half on top of Jaskier, careful not to crush him with his full weight.  Jaskier keens and pulls him closer, their limbs tangling as they lay there.  Jaskier lets his hands roam over Geralt’s body, caressing his cooling skin.  He hums happily and buries his face in Geralt’s neck, whimpering when the demon slowly pulls out of him.

“Well that’s settled,” Jaskier mumbles as he turns them to their sides, “I think I’ll keep you.”

“I think I’ll let you,” Geralt says, laughing as he curls his body and wings around Jaskier.  He grins and waves a hand in a quick flash of blue light, and then Jaskier’s thighs are no longer covered in come.  He snorts and cuddles closer, too worn out to complain much.

“Next time let me be dirty.  I want to remember it,” Jaskier tells him.

“Am I that forgettable?” Geralt teases, and Jaskier swats at him half-heartedly.

“You broke me.  I’ll have a snappy answer for you in the morning,” he says sleepily.

“Oh right, my witty bard,” Geralt says with a chuckle.

“I am, you know?  Yours,” Jaskier clarifies with a smile.  Geralt’s breath catches in his throat and Jaskier presses a soft kiss against his collar bone.  He’s too tired to move more than that.

“I think I can be ok with that,” Geralt tells him, tightening his hold.

“I can be persistent,” Jaskier mumbles, already losing the battle against sleep.  His last thought is how lovely it is to be pressed against Geralt’s hard chest and surrounded by his soft wings.

Link to the artwork if you waited.

---

Tags:  @mayastormborn @feraljaskier @allinthebones @selectivegeekwithstandards @lovesight

If you’d like to be add/removed please let me know.

[kueble]

Here is the next part of my Vengeance Demon au.  Some feelings finally come out.  I have so much fun with this verse. Previous parts in my Masterlist.

Geraskier, 1200 words, Teen

--

The first stars of the night are starting to appear by the time Geralt finally admits they should stop and set up camp.  It's been a long day and Jaskier is pretty sure he could fall asleep standing up at this point.  Geralt couldn't talk his way out of a contract that afternoon, so he ended up harming someone who didn't fully deserve it.  He was far from innocent, but Geralt didn’t like being used in such ways.

The self-hatred and guilt has been coming off him in waves all evening, but he refuses to talk about it.  Jaskier should be used to this, but he still wishes the demon would let him help work through things like this instead of bottling up all that rage.

Jaskier busies himself setting up their bedrolls while Geralt waves his hand and gets the fire going in a flash of brilliant blue light.  The easy way the demon wields his magic will never get dull, and Jaskier turns to watch him after getting their beds ready.

"Do we have any of that cheese from the last town left?" Jaskier asks, feeling too tired to dig through their packs himself.

"No need tonight," Geralt tells him with a frown.  "That contract fed me well and I've got energy to spare. What are you in the mood for?"

"Roasted chicken and potatoes?" Jaskier asks before sitting down near the fire.  Geralt smirks and waves his hand, a plate full of food appearing on Jaskier’s lap in a flash of blue.  His mouth waters as the scent of garlic and rosemary hits him. "Thank you," he says before digging in. 

He’s halfway through his meal by the time he realizes Geralt is brooding.

“I don’t suppose you actually want to talk about it tonight?” Jaskier ventures, because his friend never wants to talk about it.  The demon has a pretty shit lot in life, moving around at the whim of whoever summons him and being forced to fulfill contracts that he doesn’t think are righteous.  Still, Jaskier wouldn’t be himself if he didn’t at least offer.

“Hmm.”

“Right, I forgot you’re above letting us petty mortals help you,” Jaskier spits out, frustration hanging off his words.

“I don’t need help,” Geralt growls out and Jaskier just glares at him.

“Why? Because you’re an idiot?” he accuses.

“Because I don’t deserve it,” Geralt hisses out, and suddenly all the anger brewing inside of him dissipates.

“Oh, Geralt,” Jaskier sighs out before jumping up and rushing over to where he’s propped up against an old log.  Jaskier kneels between his spread thighs and studies him for a moment before offering a quiet, “Everyone deserves help, but especially you.  You’re a good man, Geralt.  You can’t control what others do to you.”  

“We’re tools of destruction, not people,” Geralt says with a grimace, and Jaskier just wants to reach out and smooth the wrinkles on his forehead and make him feel ok again.

“Be that as it may, I wouldn’t give my time and heart to just anyone.  You are full of goodness and I won’t accept any further arguments,” Jaskier tells him, the words tumbling out of his mouth before his brain catches up.  Well fuck.

“Your heart?” Geralt squeaks out, eyes going wide as he looks at Jaskier, “No, you don’t mean that.  You may want my body, but it’s nothing more than that.”

“Oh Geralt,” Jaskier sighs sadly.  Perhaps he’s been sitting on his feelings for too long.  Geralt deserves to know he cares about him.  “I hate the world for what it’s done to you.  Yes, you’re absolutely stunning, but you are also the most compassionate person I’ve ever met.  You may not be human, but that doesn’t make you any less.  I want you, your imagined flaws and all.”

“You can’t want this.  People don’t feel like that.  Not for us,” Geralt pleads with him, but his hands are hovering in front of Jaskier’s chest, like he’s dying to reach out and touch him.  Jaskier would give anything to take the fear out of his voice.

“I do, darling.  I really do.  Look at me,” he begs, meeting Geralt’s gaze.  He tries to convey every single emotion he’s had to shove down and hide; all the longing, all the pent up desire, all the admiration he’s kept to himself so he wouldn’t scare Geralt away.

“You actually mean it,” Geralt says softly, awe dripping from his deep voice.

“With every part of my being.  You’re all I’ve been able to think of lately.  How you’d look at me if you knew how I felt, how your lips might taste, how you’d feel beneath my hands if I were finally allowed to touch you,” Jaskier admits, not even bothering to tone it down.  

He’s done hiding.

“Kiss me,” Geralt whispers, and somehow Jaskier understands him; knows that he needs to be the one to take the first step here because Geralt still doesn’t trust that this is real.

He cups Geralt’s face in his hands and leans in, tentatively pressing their mouths together.  Geralt’s lips are softer than he’d imagined - and oh how he’d imagined - and he loses himself in the kiss.  Geralt reaches up and settles his hands on his chest, fingers clutching the fabric of his shirt as their mouths slant together.  Jaskier keeps it chaste, because it’s taken years to get to this point and he’s not about to rush it now.  He presses several quick kisses against Geralt’s mouth before he pulls back and smiles widely at him.

Geralt looks dazed, but he grins back, and Jaskier knows they’ll be alright.  The demon brings a hand up and traces Jaskier’s mouth with his fingertips.  He shudders under the light tough, eyes blinking closed as he leans into it.  Geralt lets out a soft chuckle and does it again before darting forward to kiss him quickly.

“You’re perfect,” Geralt whispers against his lips.

“Hardly, but I appreciate the sentiment,” Jaskier snorts.  “Though I suppose I’d accept perfect for you, because you, my dear, are perfect for me.”

“Perhaps one day I’ll believe that,” Geralt says dryly, but he seems to have lost some of the tension in his shoulders, so Jaskier counts it as a win.

“I suppose I’ll just have to keep repeating myself until you believe me.  But for now, let’s push our bedrolls together and get some rest,” Jaskier tells him, because they’ve both had an emotional day and morning will be here soon enough.

“You’re not,” Geralt trails off and frowns for a moment before continuing, “You’re not looking for anything else from me tonight?”

“I was hoping you’d hold me while we sleep, but if that’s not an option, I won’t begrudge you,” Jaskier teases, unable to resist dipping forward and catching him in another soft kiss.  “As much as I want you - and trust me I do - you’ve had an exhausting day and we both need rest.  You’re worth waiting for, my dear.”

Geralt nods and Jaskier takes that as his cue to stand and start getting ready for bed.  He barely makes out the whispered, “you too,” but it’s enough to have him smiling to himself when he rearranges their bedding.

---

Tags list: @eya-trying-to-function @halerune @honeysuckletook @dani-dandelino @jaskierswolf

If you’d like to be removed or added to the tags, please let me know!

[kueble]

Late in the day as it’s technically Saturday here now but for the Fanfic Writer Friday:

Can you give us a teaser about the instalment you are most looking forward to writing for the Vengeance Demon AU, or tell us a little bit about one/some of the other characters of The Witcher and what they’re like in this AU

Oh I love this question. So...I've started the first smutty part of this series. I'm going to hold it close to my chest because I'm at the point in writing where I've stared at it so long that I'm not sure if it's hot or weird. But I'm mostly excited for it. Since it's me we're talking about it's going to be sweet and soft, but I'm hoping it will end up being some nicely done smut, too.

For a not spicy headcanon, when we first see Geralt he has his wings out, not even bothering to hide them. Most demons try to pass as human as much as they can, but Geralt (being himself) has a lot of guilt over who/what he is, so he doesn't bother to hide. He figures he is what he is. However, once it seems like Jaskier is there to stay, he starts wearing a large cloak to cover them up. He still won't use his magic to hide them, but he doesn't want to bring unnecessary attention to them. Jaskier doesn't deserve it. So the wings will become a more private thing for them.

[kueble]

I’ve mentioned I love prodding at other people’s toys right? More Demon!Geralt and his Bard prompts!

Does Jaskier become immortal in this ‘verse?

Possible causes:

Looking at the space between realms when first visiting KM

That time he spent with the succubus mentioned in part 1, they loved him so much they wanted to make sure he would always be around

Shenanigans in his family tree

Residual effect from spending so much time around demons

So this one I actually have an answer for! I have a fic in the works that will tackle the aging issue. So while he won't be immortal, he will not end up aging like a normal human either. But...it's too long to type up quickly so unfortunately you have to wait for it.

Your suggestions are super fun though! In this verse he is going to have to work for it a bit, so it won't be a helpful heritage or Geralt just deciding to make him stick around longer. Sorry this isn't the greatest answer? I didn't want to sit on all on your questions/prompts though. Thanks for submitting them!

[kueble]

So...looking to expand my demon!Geralt au. I have a few things running through my head, but should anyone toss a prompt or question my way, it'd probably get pushed up my prompt queue 😊

[kueble]

Not sure if you want questions on your demon au still but- so you know how swans wings are basically clubs? Are Witcher wings similarly battle ready?

I do!  Thank you so much for this!  So I see the wings as mostly decoration?  Geralt still fights with his swords and magic, though his magic is obviously a lot stronger as a demon.

---

“You never let me come with you on the contracts you actually fulfil,” Jaskier complains.  He stops idly strumming his lute and looks at Geralt across their campfire.  The flames flicker and chase shadows across the demon’s face, but Jaskier can still see him frown at the statement.

“You don’t need to see that,” Geralt tells him quickly.  He’s extra prickly this evening, probably because he actually carried out a contract that afternoon.  The woman who summoned them needed to escape.  She lived in fear of the town alderman, who was apparently stealing children in the night.  Jaskier didn’t want to think too much on the why but after a morning of research, Geralt had discovered that the woman’s cause was just.  He’d left Jaskier her cottage while he went to deal with things.  He’s been silent - well more silent than usual - since he came back to collect him.

If Jaskier thinks too long on the fact that he did in fact come back for him, his gut starts feeling weird, so he’s been avoiding it.  “I can’t write songs about you serving vengeance if I’m not there to see it,” he mumbles grumpily.  Because that’s why he’s here, isn’t it?  That’s the reason he’s allowed to stay.

“No one’s asking you to,” Geralt answers with a pointed look.  Jaskier just huffs at him and rolls his eyes.  They’ve only been travelling together a few months, but it didn’t take long for him to realize the demon was harmless to him.  He carried out his own brand of vengeance when it was called for, but more often than not talked whoever summoned him out of it.  Geralt wasn’t one for false revenge.

“I mean, what do you even look like?  How do you fight?  Do you use your wings?  They’ve very intimidating,” Jaskier questions him.  And it’s true.  His wings are large and black, framing Geralt in a way that makes him seem like some kind of fallen god.  And fuck if Jaskier wouldn’t worship at his alter for the rest of his days.

“Why would I use my wings?”

“I mean...have you ever seen a swan?  Those beasts are viscous.  I’ve heard they can break bones with their wings.  They come at you all wings and beak and just,” Jaskier trails off, shuddering.  Personally, he’s never witnessed a swan attack, but he was on the wrong end of an excitable peacock as a youth and he’d like to never relive that.

“They can’t,” Geralt sighs out, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Come again?” Jaskier asks in confusion.

“Swans can’t break a bone.  They have hollow bones.  Still feral fuckers, though,” Geralt chuckles.  He pauses for a moment and studies Jaskier’s face before adding, “I fight with swords.  Two.  Steel for men and silver for monsters, though I don’t get summoned much for those.”

“Bullshit,” Jaskier scoffs, “You don’t wear swords.”  And he’d notice, because watching Geralt is one of his favorite pastimes.

Geralt snorts and shakes his head before waving his right hand.  A sword materializes in a flash of blue light and Jaskier just gawks at him.  “Demon,” Geralt says smugly.  

He turns the sword over in his hand, and it shines in the firelight.  Jaskier’s breath catching in his throat, because he looks so damn gorgeous like this.  Logically, he knows the demon could kill him without breaking a sweat.  But he can’t help wanting dangerous things.  And Geralt paints a glorious picture with his coal black wings bracketing his muscular frame.  The stark contrast of his white hair against the top curves of his wings makes Jaskier’s mouth water.

But Geralt is a flighty thing.

Jaskier has to remind himself that he’s an uninvited guest here.  Ever since that day he grabbed hold of Geralt and followed him on the contract with the elves, they’ve had a sort of unspoken agreement.  Geralt will do whatever he wants, and Jaskier will be allowed to come along if he’s not too annoying.  And he’s pretty sure blatantly hitting on the demon would be against the rules.  He can be patient, though, when he really wants something.

And oh, how he wants.

So instead of the flowery words that long to fall from his lips, Jaskier starts playing again, a beautiful and haunting melody that fills the night around them.  He can’t help noticing the way the edges of Geralt’s mouth turn up ever so slightly when he’s playing.  And that?  That he can work with.  If he can’t speak his feelings aloud, he’ll let the music do it for him.

[kueble]

Anyone got any questions/prompts for the vengeance demon!Geralt au I have going? My next fic to tackle is wing sex, but I wanna build it up a bit more before that 😂🤣😂

[kueble]

This is not what I set down to write today, but it’s what wanted to get written.  Here’s a prequel to the demon au prompt I filled the other day.

--

Scooping stale bread off the floor isn’t exactly how he’d imagined spending his time after graduation, but Jaskier wasn’t about to pass up a free meal.  This crowd is kind of shit, anyway.  No one appreciates true talent anymore.  He’s about to head to the bar to spend the last of his coin on an ale when he spots him across the room.

A demon.

Jaskier grins and saunters over, taking in his appearance as he goes.  The demon looks grumpy, but that’s never stopped him before.  Two small black horns stick up from the silver hair that’s half pulled back, the rest left to curl around his shoulders.  What’s really striking is the wings though.  Jaskier’s never met a demon who displayed them so openly; most kept them hidden with their own magical skill or a borrowed glamour.  This man obviously doesn’t care, just sits there drinking in the corner with his large black wings framing his figure in a way that was downright unfair.  The dichotomy of the pale hair against his dark wings made Jaskier’s mouth water.

“I love how you just sit in the corner and brood,” Jaskier quips as he reaches the table.  The stranger takes a long sip of his ale and glares at him.

“Fuck off, bard,” he growls.  And gods, that deep voice makes Jaskier shiver, caresses his spine like a talented lover.  He simply must have more.

“Let’s not be hasty, my good sir.  My name is Jaskier, and I have a proposition for you,” Jaskier tells him, sliding onto the bench across from him.  

“Plenty of lust demons out there if you’re looking to fuck a demon,” he grunts out.

“Obviously,” Jaskier agrees, waving a hand in the air, “I spent a long winter curled up with one in Oxenfurt.  She has the loveliest hands.  I kept her well-fed that season...” he trails off, remembering nights spent by a warm fire, tangled up in even warmer arms, before he remembers what he was doing and shakes his head.  “No matter.  One can only be told they’re an incredible lay- just made to fuck - so many times before it gets old.  That’s not what I’m after here.”

“Vengeance,” the stranger tells him solemnly.  Jaskier tilts his head, waiting for the demon to continue but he doesn’t look like he will.

“Wha?” Jaskier asks, gesturing for him to continue.

“I’m a vengeance demon. I figured that was your next question.  You have to summon me if you want my services, and I’m not giving you my name so good luck with that,” he says, chuckling into his ale.

“Very good to know, but also not what I’m after,” Jaskier tells him, grinning before he continues.  “You look like a man, er, demon, with a story.  Look like you’re chock full of them, actually.  And it just so happens that I am very much in need of a muse at the moment.  I’m done with lusty ditties.  I want an adventure - a ballad - and that seems like it’s right up your alley.”

“Again, fuck off.”  He chugs the rest of his ale and stands up, and that just won’t do.  

Jaskier jumps up and follows him out the tavern’s door, quickening his steps to keep up with his long strides.  Maybe he should rethink the whole sex thing, because the demon’s wings are curled up against his back, leaving just enough space between them for Jaskier to watch his tail sway as he walks away from him.  If the demon has even half as much skill with that tail as the lust demon did, he’s in for a real treat.  Jaskier shakes his head, because all in good time, and trots after him.

“I think you’ll find I can be very persuasive!” Jaskier calls after him.  

Suddenly the demon stops and grumbles, “fuck.”  There’s a dark cloud around his legs, and Jaskier has half a second to think he’s being summoned before he reaches out and wraps his arms around the demon’s chest.  His skin lights up, tingling in a way it’s never done before, and then everything goes black.

--

When Jaskier comes to, he realizes that his head hurts and he can’t move his arms.  He tugs at his wrists frantically before realizing that he’s tied up.  He looks around the room - cave? - and spots the demon talking to an elf.  His head is throbbing, and he has to focus to hear what they’re saying, but he’s alive so that must bode well.

“You didn’t have to break his lute,” the demon spits out, glaring at the elf.  “He’s just a bard.”

“Well sorry if I didn’t think dealing with demons would be this easy.  Didn’t know you’d have your own human either,” the elf states, and the way he says human makes Jaskier’s skin crawl.

“You’ll replace it,” the demon says, his tone leaving no room for argument.

“He can have mine.  Less to travel with,” the elf says, gesturing at one of the other elves, who scurries out of the cave.

The demon nods sharply at the elf, who seems bored with the whole affair.  Then he’s walking across the cave, grumbling under his breath as he stares down at Jaskier.  He squats down and holds up a hand.  Jaskier watches in fascination as his nails lengthen and sharpen into long black claws.  He reaches behind Jaskier and swipes at the ropes holding him hostage.  They fall from his wrists and Jaskier mumbles out a quick, “thank you,” before he’s grabbed under the armpits and hauled up to his feet.

The demon leads him to the mouth of the cave where one of the elves thrusts a lute into his hands before scowling at him and stepping back quickly.  Jaskier manages not to drop it and holds it tightly to his chest as he chases after the demon.  He waits until they’re a safe distance away before the questions start.

“What the fuck was that?” he asks loudly, spreading his arms wide.

“That was Filavandrel and his loyal supporters,” the demon says roughly.  “And you are a complete fucking moron.  Don’t grab me again.  You could have been killed!”

“But I wasn’t, was I?  So let’s move on to the part where you tell me about our thrilling adventure,” Jaskier blurts out hopefully.

“Our adventure?  You got hit over the head with a rock and tied up while I talked the king of the fucking elves into not using me to bring an end to the entire village,” the demon spits out.  He turns around to glare at Jaskier, but he’s so intense, so gorgeous in his rage, that Jaskier merely shrugs it off and winks at him.

“Isn’t vengeance kind of your thing, though?” Jaskier questions him.  The demon sighs and stops walking, turning to face Jaskier.

“I got a decent enough meal by feeding off their rage.  They have every right to be angry at the village, but I don’t like being used like that.  Not when there are ways to avoid it.  The villagers aren’t even the humans who took their land, they’re just the ones who moved in once the battle was over.  The elves are moving on, looking for land to start anew on,” he says, sounding off put by the whole thing.

“So you’re a demon with a conscience?” Jaskier scoffs at him.

“I’m a demon who doesn’t relish in being told what to do.”

“Valid,” Jaskier agrees with him.  “I think I’ll enjoy travelling with you!  I can’t wait to see the ballads you inspire.”

“I am not keeping you,” the demon argues.  Jaskier just grins at him, and the demon rolls his eyes and starts walking.

“I promise I’ll grow on you!” Jaskier calls out as he follows him.

“Like mold,” the demon grumbles. 

“See?  We get along already, demon of mine,” Jaskier says, falling into step beside him.

“Geralt.”

“Geralt?” Jaskier questions.

“Geralt, not demon,” he says quickly, the corners of his mouth twitching in what Jaskier thinks might be the start of a smile.

“Well Geralt, you better start sharing the details of your conquest or I will have to make them up myself,” Jaskier tells him brightly.  Geralt lets out what Jaskier assumes to be a negative hmm and keeps walking.  

Oh well.  He’ll just have to make sure he stays awake for the next adventure.  He tugs at the shoulder strap and brings Filavandrel’s lute to his front and looks down at it.  It’s a sexy thing, isn’t it?  All golden and fancy.  Jaskier starts strumming a simple melody and lets the words write themselves.

Cast a spell for your demon, oh valley of plenty.