#angel of death imagine

[righteous-r0de0]

perhaps a silly question but are angel and baabe’s unempowered familes invited to the wedding? that’s gotta be a huge covert breach

but imagine the silly hijinks that would ensue

“hey why’s the best man (gender neutral)’s boyfriend sitting under an umbrella? it’s supposed to be clear skies all day”

“oh um he’s just super goth”

“he’s wearing a cowboy hat”

“he’s…y’allternative”

“wtf angel”

[emptyjunior]

Okay we keep talking about "characters of all time" but Arthur Gordon Pym truly is THE character. He's an old man. He's the Pym reaper. He lies to cops. He owns the cops. He wears his funny little hat and funny little gloves. He is the most litigious, most untouchable, most ruthless lawyer in the corporate world. If you kill someone and call him to hide the body for you, that's TOO boring for him. He's probably a cannibal. He met death and she kneeled on the ground and held his hand and said he was a pleasure to know. He got outfoxed by a teenage girl. He travelled around the world in a glorious, terrible expedition and at the edge of the North Pole he brushed with forces supernatural in the shining lights. He writes a hell of a prenup.

He's just so, SO

[chalkblue]

Happy birthday to Zack!

What’s the first thing you need after having your guts stitched back up?

Froot loops and Coca-cola obviously…

[krotiation]

Feeling absolutely distraught over the face Rhys makes when he realizes just what he's gonna have to do to himself to cut Jack off

And Jack's face when he realizes that oh. This is actually happening. This is really it

[friendlyfatbee]

Damn bro what did you say to them

Referenced meme under cut

[dragonanon]

can you do a chapter based on your Death!Reader and God!Brother hcs where Death wakes up from her sleep and goes to Heaven to check up on her brother's children and everyone is obviously terrified of her?

Hmmm…I’m not typically one to do requests because the urge to write is so sporadic and random for me. BUT I have been thinking about the initial confrontation in Heaven for a while now, so here are some head cannons for that. >w>

——

- It’s a typical perfect day in Heaven…Until it isn’t. Having seen what had become of your realm and learning Heaven was to blame for it, you’re on your way to rip someone a new asshole.

- Screams erupt from the Angels as the ground begins to shake and the bright sky darkens. Sera and Emily rush out just in time to join the Angels in watching in abject terror as a massive pool of darkness forms on the ground, and from it slowly rises a menacing figure.

- The figure is massive, and it only continues to rise until even the tallest building barely reaches its hips. Its six long horns twist and arch toward the sky, only making the figure appear even taller. Upon reaching its full height, the figure spreads its six mighty wings, each one sporting a menacingly sharp claw and all as shrouded in darkness as the rest of the figure.

- As its wings blot out the sun further, the figure opens its many blazing white eyes; two where you’d normally expect to see eyes, a third in the center of its forehead, and dozens more scattered across its wings and body.

- Sera lost all color as soon as she saw the figure rising, and somehow lost even MORE color when the figure opened all of its eyes. She looks like she shit herself, and Emily is panicking, trying desperately to get Sera to tell her what’s going on; she’s never seen the older Seraph look so terrified.

- With this unimaginably imposing figure now looming over Heaven, Adam decides this is the PERFECT time to attack, having been dumb enough to think this was a Demon attacking Heaven.

- The exorcists fly up towards the figure, ready to attack. This only angers the figure further however, and with a rumble that shakes the ground itself, the figure merely flaps its wings; creating a gust of wind so powerful it knocks all the exorcists back onto the ground.

- It’s at this point Sera FINALLY snaps out of it, rushing to Adam in mad panic and damn nearly strangling him while telling him to call off the exorcists. Which he does, albeit with some reluctance.

- This doesn’t stop him from asking Sera what gives, and her response is “Adam you absolute fucking fool, that is DEATH!”

- Now it’s Adam’s turn to look like he shit himself. “Death? As in, “the big man himself’s younger sister” Death?? As in, “the baddest bitch you’ve EVER seen, but can kill ANYTHING by just touching it” Death??? THAT fucking Death????” Ignoring that last statement, Sera’s frantic nodding in confirmation confirms to Adam that he has indeed fucked up. Big time. Adam then proceeds to lose all color in his face and practically cowers behind Sera as she cautiously approaches you, mentally preparing herself to be reaped on the spot.

- Back to your perspective however, you’re fucking PISSED. So pissed that you don’t even notice or stop to think that most of Heaven’s inhabitants likely have NO CLUE who you are, and are likely legitimately fearing for their lives. Meanwhile for all the older Angels and Angelic beings who’ve been alive long enough to have known you before you went to sleep, like Sera, they’re all still very much afraid, but it’s more in line with the “oh shit mom’s home early and she saw the mess we made in the kitchen, she’s gonna kill us!” kind of fear.

- The fact that they sent exorcists at you makes you even angrier. Like for starters, how fucking weak do they think you are that you could be stopped by just some low level Angelic beings with pointy sticks?? And then the audacity to even attack you to begin with, like THEY weren’t the ones who fucked up and you’re just some kind of strange intruder needing to be slain?? The INDIGNITY of it all!

- Your voice booms throughout Heaven, making even the ground tremble at the sheer intensity of it. “WHO DID IT?” You’re met with only silence, so you ask again with more force. “MY REALM IS A COMPLETE MESS WITH MILLIONS OF DISPLACED SOULS RIGHT NOW. SO AGAIN I ASK, WHICH ONE OF YOU FLAT FOOT CHILDREN DID THIS?!”

- Sera replies, voice trembling slightly. “Are…Are you talking about the exterminations? “IF THAT IS WHAT YOU’RE CALLING THIS MOCKERY OF MY WORK, THEN YES.” Sera looks visibly confused and concerned. “But…That SHOULDN’T be possible!…The exterminations KILL the Sinners; their souls should be gone, not stuck in Limbo! There has to be some kind of mistake here!”

- Hearing this, you can’t help but let out a brief but harsh cackle, making the ground jolt from the abruptness. “DEAR YOU HONESTLY THINK A SOUL COULD BE SO EASY TO DESTROY? A SOUL IS A POWERFUL THING FOR A REASON CHILD, IF THEY WERE SO EASILY DESTROYED THEN NONE OF YOU WOULD BE STANDING HERE BEFORE ME NOW!…SO ONCE AGAIN, WHO. DID. THIS?! AND SO HELP ME, IF I HAVE TO ASK AGAIN THERE WILL BE CONSEQUENCES.”

- Whilst Sera is dumbfounded by this revelation, Adam sees a golden opportunity to save his ass and points at Sera. “I-It was her! Yeah it was all fucking HER idea! I-I tried to tell her it was stupid, b-but she just REALLY wanted to go down and kill those bast- Demons! Yeah she REALLY wanted to kill all those poor Demons, can ya fucking believe this shit?!”

- Before Sera can defend herself, the darkness seems to intensify, and she can just FEEL every one of your eyes glaring daggers into her. “SERA…YOU SIGNED OFF ON THIS?? YOU SHOULD BE ASHAMED OF YOURSELF, I EXPECTED SO MUCH BETTER FROM YOU! I LEFT EXPLICIT INSTRUCTIONS FOR HEAVEN AND HELL TO WORK TOGETHER TO SORT SOULS FOR THIS VERY REASON! AND NOW BECAUSE OF THESE BARBARIC “EXTERMINATIONS”, YOU’VE COMPLETELY DESTROYED THE BALANCE I WORKED SO HARD TO CREATE AND MAINTAIN. I HOPE YOU’RE PROUD OF YOURSELF, BECAUSE I’M CERTAINLY NOT!”

- It’s a strange and mildly amusing sight to see the head seraph get scolded like a misbehaving child by this massive dark entity. But here we are anyway!

- At one point during the tongue lashing you’re giving to your niece, Emily buts in and asks for an explanation for what’s going on; having not heard Sera’s previous explanation to Adam apparently.

- Your temper flares for a brief moment, and you just about launched into another lecture at the little shit who DARED interrupt you. But upon seeing Emily, you softened considerably, seeing that she was young and TRULY didn’t understand what was happening.

- “AH…I APOLOGIZE DEAR, BUT I DON’T THINK I RECOGNIZE YOU…COME CLOSER LITTLE ONE SO I CAN SEE YOU.” You slowly crouch down and lower your hand, offering Emily to climb onto it. Emily is hesitant, obviously a bit scared of you. But Sera encourages her to go to you, she knows that you won’t hurt Emily and it’s high time she meets her aunt anyway.

- With the small seraph in hand, you stand back up to your full height and bring her closer to your face. Now FINALLY able to see her properly, you speak. “YOU’RE FAIRLY YOUNG FOR A SERAPH…YOU MUST’VE BEEN BORN DURING MY SLUMBER, AND IN THAT CASE I APOLOGIZE THIS HAD TO BE OUR FIRST MEETING. TELL ME, WHAT IS YOUR NAME CHILD?”

- Her voice trembling slightly, Emily tells you her name and then asks who you are and asks if you’re a seraph like her and Sera. The innocent question gets a genuine laugh out of you, and despite it shaking the ground it’s a lovely sound. “OH CHILD, I AM FAR FROM BEING A SERAPH. THOUGH I CAN SEE WHY YOU WOULD THINK THAT. YOU WERE ALL MADE IN MY IMAGE AFTER ALL.”

- Seeing the visible confusion on Emily’s face, you elaborated. “LONG AGO, YOUR FATHER WANTED TO SHOW HIS APPRECIATION OF ME. SO FOR HIS FIRST SENTIENT CREATIONS, THE SERAPHIM, HE BASED THEM ALL ON ME.” Emily looks surprised, and follows up by asking how you know God.

- You give another genuine laugh at her question. “SWEETY I’M HIS YOUNGER SISTER, I AM “DEATH”, THE GODDESS OF WELL…DEATH. BUT YOU CAN CALL ME “D” OR “AUNT D”, MOST OF YOUR SIBLINGS DO.” Emily’s mind is blown “Wait! YOU’RE aunt D?! Sera told me all kinds of stories about you before you went to sleep, like the time you got into an argument with Father over his invention of the “Snuggie”. I never thought I’d get to meet you!”

- “IT WAS LITERALLY JUST A BATHROBE YOU WORE BACKWARDS, AND I STILL CAN’T BELIEVE HE THOUGHT THAT WAS AT ALL CLEVER.” You huff, feeling amusement and mild irritation at that memory.

- “SPEAKING OF YOUR FATHER, WHERE IS HE?” Sera speaks up, having managed to recollect herself, and explains that no one has seen or heard a word from God since before you went to sleep.

- The irritated snarl that leaves your throat sounds like thunder and shakes the ground, making everyone tremble with fear. “THAT LAZY BASTARD HAD ONE FUCKING JOB, WATCH HIS DAMN KIDS, AND HE COULDN’T EVEN DO THAT?! NO WONDER THIS ALL HAPPENED THEN, HE LEFT YOU ALL UNSUPERVISED!”

- Bending over, you carefully set Emily down before standing back up. “I HATE TO CUT MY INTRODUCTION SHORT, BUT APPARENTLY I NEED TO GO AND HAVE A LITTLE CHAT WITH YOUR FATHER.” You stare pointedly at Sera and continue. “DON’T THINK THIS MEANS YOU’RE ENTIRELY OFF THE HOOK EITHER. WHILE YES, YOUR FATHER’S ABSENCE IS MOSTLY TO BLAME FOR THIS DEBACLE, YOU ALSO KNOW BETTER THAN TO DO SUCH TERRIBLE THINGS. WE WILL BE DISCUSSING THIS MORE ONCE I FINISH WITH YOUR FATHER, AND IF I COME BACK AND FIND OUT YOU HELD ANY MORE OF THESE “EXTERMINATIONS” I WILL TURN YOU INTO A HOLLOW! DO I MAKE MYSELF CLEAR?” Looking at the ground, Sera nods and says “Yes Auntie D…”

- Satisfied with that response, you bid everyone farewell and slowly melt back into the ground, completely disappearing. Once you’re gone, the sunlight is back and it’s as if you were never there.

- Now the seraphim have to soothe the murmuring crowd while Sera starts attempting to get in contact with Lucifer to let him know that “Hey Aunt D found out about the exterminations and is NOT happy about it. She just got done yelling at me, and now she’s on her way to go read Father the riot act. Just warning you now because once she’s done with him, you’re probably gonna be next.”

- Lucifer receives the message and is now frantically trying to create peace offerings in hopes they’ll make you more amicable, while also preemptively planning his own funeral in case the peace offerings don’t work.

- Meanwhile in God’s palace, God is currently relaxing in an elaborate hot tub and watching American football on an absurdly large TV whilst drinking wine like it’s water. He’s pretty drunk and having a grand time yelling at the TV.

- His fun is interrupted through by you literally kicking in the door and storming in, you’ve shrunken down to your smaller size so all your features are actually visible now and not covered in darkness as you glare at your older brother with an intensity that could peel paint.

- God startled momentarily before seeing it’s you and giving you a dopey smile. He’s also in his smaller form, so that makes things slightly easier for you. “Ohhh heeeyyy Death!…You startled me thereee…It’zzzz beeen awhillle, huh?” You scoff at his slurred speech, in disbelief that he could be so drunk right now.

- “Yes, it HAS been awhile. Good to see that you still choose to spend your days getting completely wasted instead of tending to your children.” You answer tersely, and God rolls his eyes. “Zzstill the saaame old ssstuck up bitch…Tha kidzz are fahine Deee! Yyyoou should cohme haave ah drink wib meee.”

- You ignore God’s offer for a drink and cut right to the chase. “No, your kids are NOT fine! When was the last time you checked in on them?! Do you even know what they’re up to right now??!” God dismissively waves his hand and chugs more wine. “I juzzt checked on thhhem ah couple decades aghooo..They’rrre prohably makinnn neeewh liffe.”

- “God that is a load of shit, and you know it! I was JUST down in Heaven, and the seraphim told me that you haven’t seen or spoken to ANY of them since I left to take my nap eons ago! And furthermore, while you’ve been in here drinking the day away, your children have COMPLETELY destroyed the balance we created! They’ve been mass slaughtering Demons annually for millennia now, and Limbo is a complete disaster right now because of this!” Hearing this, God looks down at his bottle of whine, embarrassed, and mumbles an awkward “oh”.

- Silence hangs heavy in the air for a moment before God clears his throat and says. “Zzsooo…You’rrree NNOT gooing to drink wiff me?” At this you snap and snatch the wine bottle from God and chuck it at the TV, smashing the bottle and the TV. God shouts in anger but before he can ask you wtf that was for, you just lay into him. Calling him a deadbeat and pathetic excuse of a deity.

- “How can you just sit in here day after day, while your CHILDREN are out there causing such mayhem! Do you not love your children all??!” God is shouting back at you, his anger having sobered him up some so he’s not slurring as much. “How DARE you accuse me of not loving my children! I would giive ANYTHING for them and you know that!”

- “Then fucking ACT like it!! Don’t just sit in here and rot your mind with booze and TV!” God growls. “I don’t need you to tell meee how to handle my children! Why do you even care?! It’zzz not like they’re yours anyway!”

- “I care because they are part of MY family, and I want my family to be safe and happy, something that you couldn’t give less of a shit about apparently!” God throws his hands up at this point “Well what do you want from me Death, go hhhold their handz?! My children are ALL capable of thinking and being on their own, they don’t NEED me to do shit for them!”

- “That doesn’t mean that they don’t still need you there emotionally! But with the way you act maybe it’s best you ARE never there! After all, what use could any of them get from your pathetic drunk ass!!” This clearly struck a nerve as God points back at the door you came in through and roars at you to get the fuck out of his house. Growling, you give a harsh “Fine!” and tell him he can sit and be a drunk deadbeat all he wants because you’re done with him and his shit, and he’s NEVER to contact you again unless it’s in regards to his children or business.

- You stomp out of God’s palace and return to Limbo, wanting to start working on getting things cleaned up and cool off some before you go check on things in Hell.

- Once you’re gone though, God slumps his shoulders and hangs his head. With your venomous words echoing his head, he summons another bottle of wine and begins chugging it while he trudges into his bedchambers.

- He flops down onto the bed and picks up a framed photo and slowly brings it closer to his face. It’s an old photo, one taken shortly after God created the first few seraphim. You and God are both standing next to each other, arms around each other’s shoulders and leaning in close while the first seraphim all stand in between the two of you. Everyone is absolutely beaming, and God looks especially happy; so proud of his creations.

- Tears drop onto the photo as God remembers how things used to be back then, back when he was actually NEEDED by those around him and wasn’t just some brand figure who’s only job is to smile and wave. Even as he slowly sets the photo down, tears continue to fall and he holds his head in his hands. “…I’m sorry I’m so damn useless…Hopefully you’ll forgive me someday…Not that I deserve it though…I’m…so fucking sorry…” No one is there to hear God’s sobs, and eventually he passes out. He’d rather be dreaming of happier times anyway.

[acc--deactivated]

𝙗𝙡𝙚𝙚𝙙 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙢𝙚

„I can't hold back when you look like this.“

featuring: zack foster

cw: vaginal sex, blood play, praise, creampie, reader has a nose bleed mid sex and zack goes feral over it, zack can't build a single sentence without a curse word

18+ content - MDNI

───────────────────

The air around you is heavy, thickened by your harsh exhales. A thin film of sweat covers your skin while you move your hips in rolling, fluent movements and a moan leaks your throat as you feel that familiar bump against your g-spot again.

Hazy eyes slide down to your palms placed on scarred skin beneath you, trail further over collarbones and tensed muscles, eventually rest on Zack's face.

His breathing is as heavy as yours, lips parting with deep moans and hissed breaths while his hands rest on your hips, guide them while he moves his lower body along with yours, meets your thrusts halfway through, shoves himself even further up into you.

With a shivering sigh, you press your palms harder against his chest, feel his burn scars beneath your fingers. You cherish the feeling.

It took a while for you to be allowed to see him without his bandages, took a lot of trust for him to show himself to you without any cover.

By now he thinks that with every time you run your fingers over his damaged skin without hesitation, he falls even more for you.

Oxytocin pumps through his veins and straight into his brain, makes him high, makes him see nothing but you above him.

You are so perfect in comparison with him, flawless in his eyes, way too perfect for someone like him.

He hears a whine break from your throat and his gaze softens slightly as it lingers on your face, the aroused expression on it, the way your lips part and the glassy tears in your eyes.

He sees your skin glisten with sweat, sees the glow on your lips, your breasts, your stomach, your thighs.

It's like an aphrodisiac, makes him grab your hips harder, makes him tense his body while he tries to somehow pick up the pace, tries to ignore the burning exhaustion in his thighs.

He sees how you lightly arch your back above his thrusts, feels how your nails dig into the skin of his chest.

„ah- fuck- Zack-“

His name sounds so good when you say it. He wants to hear it over and over again, doesn't care if you moan, cry or scream it.

A groan leaves his throat as the sound echoes in his head, his fingers dig deeper into the skin of the upper part of your thigh.

He lowers his eyes down to the middle of your body, watches himself sliding in and out of you, sees the skin of his lower body glisten with your fluids.

He wants to make you come in this position, wants to see and feel you fall apart in despair above him, wants to catch you when you fall, wants to hold you before he starts chasing his own high.

While he estimates the right moment to put his finger against your clit to make you come undone, he suddenly hears a low „shit-“ coming from you.

He thinks it to be just a regular curse at first, caused by arousal and overstimulation, but when he feels your rhythm falter, slowing down, he furrows his brows, slows his own thrusts before raising his eyes.

He wants to ask what's wrong, slightly annoyed with the sudden disruption as he trails his eyes up your torso above him. But when they rest on your face, he chokes on the question, feels his mind stumble over the simplest thoughts.

There's a switch being turned in his head, further and further as he stares at you, watches how you hold your hand in front of your nose.

Blood slips through between your fingers, he watches how it runs over the back of your hand and down your arm.

His mind clouds, it's like he can smell you more intensely, can smell your blood, craves to taste it on his tongue.

A sharp gasp echoes from his throat when the first drop hits his chest. His bones shiver at the sensation, he feels his heart slowing down, feels like the world slowly stops around him.

Hunger grows inside of him. A rush he can not stop.

„Fuck, sorry.“

Your voice barely breaks through to him, gets partially lost in the clouds filling his brain, in the immense ache taking over his mind.

„I'll clean this up. Let me just-“

You want to get up from his legs, try to pull away, but Zack's fingers tighten like vices around the skin of your hips, keep you in place, push you further down his cock.

The questioning gaze you give him is met by his hypnotized stare, his eyes locked on the blood still running through the gaps between your fingers.

„Zack, what-“

He slowly shakes his head before you can finish, sits up and wraps an arm around your waist before he grabs your hand and pulls it away from your nose.

With an embarrassed expression, you allow him to pull your hand away, feel blood drip from your fingers onto his, see it trailing in a thin line down his arm.

You feel your cheeks heat up as you look at him, feel his eyes lay so heavily on you that you think you can feel it burn through your skin, feel the heat of his body now that he is so much closer to you.

Zack feels like he's going insane, watches how blood runs from your nose to your lips, from your lips to your chin, sees it trail over your neck, to the valley between your breasts.

His fingers tighten around your wrist, pull it towards him, his eyes still digging into yours as he lightly turns his head to push his lips against the lower part of your palm, into the warm red smeared on it.

He hears your shaky inhale, feels you shiver when he licks a long stripe over your skin, laps up your blood like it's the sweetest thing he has ever tasted.

Crimson coats his tongue, blurs in his mouth and he groans at the taste of copper and salt, feels like he's about to explode.

He wants more, wants to drain you, wants to devour all of you. His heart thumps so hard in his chest that it's numbing, trying to keep up with his rushing, racing mind.

With his other hand still on your hip, he makes you sink down onto him again, meets your movements halfway down, makes you whine out at the fulfilling feeling. His eyes follow the lines of red on your body, he feels heat spread through his veins as he licks up the trail of blood on your lower arm.

Through his clouded mind, he hears a low whine coming from you, something that sounds like „This is embarrassing.“

He shakes his head, barely knows how to speak, his breath completely snatched away by your appearance, by your taste, by the hunger roaring through him.

„No“ he breathes out, while his long fingers trail down your spine in a caressing gesture, make you lean your head back, make you arch more into him. „This is perfect, you're fucking perfect.“

He hears the moan you send to the ceiling, feels how you place a hand on his shoulder to hold onto him, feels how close your body is to his.

It's like he can feel your pulse, your heart beating along with his. When he trails his eyes to your neck, the blood on it, he feels like he can hear, feel, see your carotid beat through the skin, like it's calling him, begging for him.

Air gets knocked from his lungs every time you sink down his cock, every time he feels his tip hit your cervix and hears you whine upon it.

The rushing and buzzing in his head gets louder, takes him in and with a groan, he leans forward, presses his lips against your throat, licks up another stripe of blood.

He hears you whine, feels you squirm in his harsh grip as he bares his teeth above your skin, sucks and bites and bruises your flesh, groans at the way you taste.

Your other hand is released from his grip and you quickly slide it over the nape of his neck and into his hair, where you dig your fingers into the soft, black strands.

He groans at the light pressure, you feel it more than you hear it, feel the way he still sucks and bites your skin, can't help but shiver at the sensation.

Desperate and needy, you plan to pull his head back to kiss him, but before you are able to, both of his hands are on your waist again, in a tighter grip than before.

With a swift movement that doesn't leave you any breath or second to speak, you are thrown off of his body, your back hits the mattress and your mind gets lost in a small spiral for a few seconds.

A few seconds in which your wrists are grabbed and pinned down to the sheets, in which you feel Zack's legs slide between yours, his heated body hovering over yours, burying you in his shadow.

You become aware of the white sheets around you, the white textile that will be covered in blood once the two of you will be done.

But as soon as you look up, the thought quickly becomes secondary, utterly unimportant. Your brain seems to come to a halt beneath the gaze hitting you from above.

With his arms still pinning you down, Zack leans above you, darkened eyes and shivering, parted lips, tensed jaw and flexed muscles, fully taking you in and observing you, focusing on you like a wild animal ready to hare down towards its prey.

His breath is still going hard, you see a droplet of sweat run from his collarbone down his chest, right through the warm blood smeared all over the skin covering his muscles.

„Shit, what are you doing to me?“ you hear him breathe out, feel how his grip tightens a little around your wrists, to an extend that sends a shiver of pain through your nerves.

You feel your skin burn beneath his eyes when he trails them over your blood stained body again, feel adrenaline pump in your lower body when he pushes himself against you, slides his cock through your wetness and makes you gasp when his tip brushes your clit.

„I can't hold back when you look like this.“

You are not sure what to do, are not sure what he expects your response to be.

So you decide to be selfish, decide to put your wish to have him back inside of you above everything else.

Desperately, you choke out the few words your brain grants you to use.

„I don't want you to hold back. Please-“

Your voice falters for a second, shakes beneath pent up arousal and the insane ache for the man above you, who looks like he's about to devour all of you, everything you offer him.

This is insane, so, so, fucked up. And you love every second of it, love the way he holds you down, love the way he gets drunk of the sight of you, ache for his nails in your skin, his teeth in your flesh, him so deep inside of you that it bruises you.

„Use me, Zack.“

The pleading whine forces a deep growl out of his chest, makes him move one of his arms away from your wrist to push himself back into you, sink into your warmth with such a deep thrust that it makes you throw your head back with a loud moan.

The angle gives him a clear view of the smeared blood on your neck, warm red surrounded and underlined with his bites and marks.

It makes him lose more of his composure and his mind as he immediately sets up a ruthless, merciless pace of his thrusts, hitting you in such a harsh, fast tempo that it knocks the air out of you, makes it impossible for you to speak or beg, only allows breathy, high moans to slip out of your clenched throat.

„God, yes, make those noises for me.“

His deep voice shakes with each of his thrusts, you see the way he licks his lips as he looks down at you and you shiver beneath it, feel so much smaller and vulnerable beneath those bi-colored eyes.

„Such a good little slut, all mine to break.“

Through his heaved words, you hear the way his hips snap against yours, hear the wet sounds of your bodies meeting, feel how he slips so much deeper into you, how he rubs your walls in an even better way than before.

You are so close to coming, you want to tell him, but speaking still is impossible with his hard pace and you can only inhale sharper and sharper every time the knot in your lower stomach tightens, with each breath that comes out in the shape of a little whine or sob.

Feeling how his other hand releases your wrist as well, you let out a breath of relief, just to whine once more upon at the way he holds you by your hips, holds you down while he pounds into you.

It's like heaven, you feel yourself start to float, especially when his hand rises to massage your chest, purposely spreading more of your blood on your upper body.

Whining beneath his touch, you slowly lose your sense of reality, barely realize how he leans down until his lips find yours.

His kiss makes you sigh against him, makes you cradle his face in your hands and you hear him growl as he licks over your lower lip, makes you very aware that he is aching for more of your blood, licking up as much as he can.

It's vile and nasty and you love every second of it.

Upon pulling back, you feel your breath hitch in your throat as you see his face, see the blood on and around his lips, see that your bloody fingers stain his cheeks and his neck.

The sight steals your breath away, paired up with the glaring lust in his eyes, it's enough to make you slip so dangerously close to an orgasm that you have to dig your fingers into his shoulders, aching to find a hold as you shoot him a begging look.

„I'm gonna cum, Zack- fuck, I'm gonna cum.“

You notice the quick breath he lets out, feel how he tenses his body, how he keeps his pace as hard as possible while he still looks down on you, takes in every fibre of your appearance.

His hand steadying him on the mattress tenses, clutches to a fist around the sheets while the other one grabs the back of your thigh, makes you cry out as he pushes your knee closer to your shoulder and hits your g-spot.

You can only look up into his eyes, hold onto them as he pushes you closer and closer, eventually grabs you and pulls you down into sweet ecstasy.

A drained, sobbed and trembling moan leaks your throat when you feel your body tense and relax in a fast rhythm, when the peak of your arousal washes over you and melts your brain to a soft mess of nothingness.

You can only watch Zack's lips tremble, teeth clenching as his moaning gets louder and it fucks so much with your overstimulated brain that you feel close to crying, feel an overwhelming urge to be even closer to him, to be one with him.

„Come inside me, please, please“ you beg, voice high and needy, lost in the clouds of your high.

Seeing him gasp at your words almost makes you come again.

„Want me to fill you up, huh?“ he breathes out, right before he pushes a kiss against your cheek and then buries his face in your neck.

„Want me to make a mess out of you? Then beg more for it, beg for me."

His breathy mumbling makes the hair on your neck stand up, makes you whimper and whine for more as you wrap your arms around him, to keep him as close as possible as you feel him tense and shiver above and inside you.

With your eyes still unable to focus, your arms wrapped around him and your thighs still trembling beneath his thrusts and your orgasm, you drown in the sounds of his heavy breathing, the wet sounds of your bodies, all of it keeping you in your euphoric state.

„God, you feel so fucking good.“

A deep groan carries his words, you can hear pure ache and longing in the way his voice shakes, with a higher tone than usual.

You feel how Zack pulls his face away from your neck, feel how he pushes his nose against yours, feel his heaving breath against your lips.

He still looks at you like before, completely focused on you, only the trembling of his lips and light furrow of his brows an indication for the sheer amount of pleasure filling him in this moment.

You hear him whine out your name, over and over again, but before you are able to lean forward to kiss him, his breath suddenly stalls in his throat.

His lips part as he stills inside of you, pushes himself as deep as possible into you and the fulfilling feeling makes you gasp along with him.

The deep groan that rumbles from his chest echoes in your head as he holds your hip with one hand, while the other one balances his weight on the mattress, shakes beneath the orgasm rushing through him, beneath the shivers that make his muscles twitch and make short, involuntary whines slip from his throat.

You watch him in awe while he falls apart above you, watch his eyes flicker and his lips tremble and you whimper a little because you feel so full with him, can't help but shiver along with him.

The blood smeared on his face and his shoulders makes your head spin, makes something tingle deep inside of you, something that makes your lower body boil again.

Something primal, almost animalistic, something you never felt before.

A sigh breaks from your throat while your eyes still rest on Zack's face, the saliva glistening on his lips and the dark shade of red on the healthy parts of his cheeks only makes you more feral.

In a quick impulse, you hook your legs around his waist to keep him locked within you, hear a low, pleased groan from him in response.

“Shit, your pussy's so good-"

His voice still shivers as he leans his nose more against yours.

You draw in a sharp breath when he slowly pushes himself forward again, fills you to the brim, makes your eyes roll back in sweet pleasure while your arms wrap around his neck, fingers burying in his black hair.

Both of your breathing gets heavier again, more in sync, you whine as he starts thrusting into you again and your arousal spikes in your lower body as you hear the slick sounds of him fucking his cum deeper into you.

„Fuck-“

The word is only a gasp, a hiss through clenched teeth and it sets you on fire again, makes you so ready to take whatever he's about to give you.

“Fuck, I can't stop.”

His low words and the deep growl coming from his throat, along with the unwavering expression of arousal in his eyes makes you realize that this is far from over, that he'll enjoy this and the sight of you for as long as possible.

And you think you've never been happier as you rest your palm against his cheek, look up at him through flickering, tear stained eyes.

“Then don't.”

His lips part at your voice and what they carry, you can see how his muscles tense again.

And then you moan in bliss, throw your head back as he moves inside of you again, thrusts into you with a hunger that makes you breathless and leans in to bruise and mark the other side of your neck, neither of you bothering with the veil of sweat, cum and blood coating both your bodies.

You should probably think of a good explanation you could give to Ray in case she asks about the messed up sheets.

[hanzajesthanza]

geralt is also a most real depiction of good quality fatherhood and great girldad representation because EVEN THOUGH witchers don’t even experience aging at the same rate as non-GMO humans, EVEN THOUGH it would be “biologically impossible,”

geralt having had been raising a pre-teen girl for maybe a few months to a year already “gave the impression of having aged,” his “face slashed by wrinkles.” the emotional toll on this man from raising she-devil ciri

and this is only the very beginning of the saga. BEFORE everything goes to shit. the wrinkles have set in

[monstrouslyobsessed]

vile affection

concept: in which your guardian angel wishes nothing but misfortune for you—just to keep you. —momster

—a/n: well no one asked for a concept and I wanna post smth so here it is!! enjoyyyyy~

side note, i tried to be vague on what religion this story is referencing to so you yourself can implement your preferred beliefs, but unfortunately, catholicism still carried some weights in this one. sorry!! i tried my best dlfkfsdl

—tw / tags: gn reader, implied loved one(s) death(s), implied killing, heavy religious themes, grief, horror, body horror, teratophilia, exophilia, general yandere themes, sfw.

—featured character(s): the guardian angel / the angel, the (unfortunate) priest

A piercing wail erupted from the depths of your throat as you crumbled to the floor, shrieking into your phone, “No, no, nonono! No!”

Not another one…!

Sobs wracked your body so hard the sounds emerged as tiny high-pitched squeaks. Tears blurred your vision to near blindness, distorting the colors into blobs of grey. Your breaths came so harshly they scorched your lungs.

Curling into a ball, you lost control and hyperventilated. With wild abandon, you pounded your fist on the cold tiled floor and released inhuman cries of agony. Something throbbed where your knuckles had split open, staining the hard ceramic surface with your blood, yet you felt nothing. Numbness drenched the overwhelming misery and panic, and your world creased its spinning.

They were gone—every single one of them.

Distantly, a voice, laced with sympathy, pleaded with you not to hang up the phone. Without hesitation, your battered hand moved on its own accord to end the call. You sat there, head between your knees, as you let the device to slip away to clatter and crack against the floor.

Now, there was nothing left, nothing but the hollowing emptiness that gaped deep within your pounding chest, where the love of your life had once filled and kept it warm. Memories of their smiles faded as tears stung your swollen eyes. Wheezing sobs continued to fill the room, oblivious to a strange distortion perching on your bowed back to comfort you.

The funeral was a somber affair, a closed-casket viewing attended by strangers. You remained quiet throughout the priest’s recitation of the psalms, disregarding the whispered condolences offered your way. It took every ounce of your strength not to jump into that casket and howl your grief.

“Poor thing…” one attendant murmured to another, “this makes it the fifth loss in this year alone, doesn’t it?”

The other attendant responded sympathetically, stealing a brief glance in your direction. Anger flared within you, only to fade just as quickly when you felt something brush against your bare neck; feather-soft, cold and intangible. You tensed.

This was not the first time you had experienced these strange sensations—these invisible touches. At times, it would gently trace down your skin, soothing like a caress on the back of your hand, or enveloping you like an embrace around your waist. But, it always felt as though it was petting you with a sharp, scalpel-like claw, sharp and unyielding. These sensations left behind only cold goosebumps and an increasing sense that something was extremely wrong.

Once, you thought it might be the ghost of your loved one—but even you knew such possibilities were ludicrous. It could be your mind breaking apart under the weight of so many consecutive tragedies; less than a year felt like a lifetime of pain. And, by certain, their touches had never felt so…disgusting and inhuman.

There were moments where the hairs on the back of your neck bristled and you heard the faint disembodied crooning, words too indistinct for you to understand. Yet, it vaguely resembled a demonic chorus, singing some eerie song. The lingering echoes, you thought, was just an auditory hallucinations brought on by intense grief.

The phenomena worsened each loss you suffered though. These unseen presences grew more persistent and suffocating, clinging to you like a shroud of darkness. Your instincts would scream at you to flee—but how could you escape from something you don’t even know was there?

Rubbing unconsciously where the invisible entity touched you, you remained in your seat, fixated on the casket. As you waited for the priest to conclude his prayer for the departed soul’s safe passage to the afterlife, you lifelessly watched mourners rising from their seats to form a line to pay their respects.

Your mind was numbed by both exhaustion and sorrow to even count them all.

After the attendants withdrew for the impending burial, the priest motioned for you to join him. A gentle—yet strangely tight smile formed on his lips, as he spoke, “Would you mind returning here after the burial? I’d like a word with you.”

You furrowed your brows at the priest's unusual request but nodded, your agreement barely audible. Whatever he had to say couldn’t possibly be more harrowing than the lonely hell you were enduring. Quietly, you promised to return.

After the burial, once the guests departed for the wake, you found yourself alone in the cemetery. An ache gnawed at your heart as you forced yourself to walk back to the ever-looming church. As soon as you stepped inside the holy building, something strange caught the corner of your eyes.

Startled, you pivoted to see what it was.

But, there was nothing there, just the endless rows of gravestones scattered across the green grass. Your muscles taut with unease, you shook your head and drew a deep, heavy breath. Your sanity was fraying to a snapping point, you thought to yourself.

The weighty doors thudded shut behind you, the sound reverberating thunderously throughout the silent sanctuary, nearly jumping you out of your skin. Following the abrupt noise, you heard a voice beckoning you to follow, as the priest shuffled his feet down the aisle.

You couldn’t help but to notice the nervousness in his steps.

Closing the distance between you, he ushered you past the archway and toward the altar of the church’s fallen deity. Lightheaded and worried at the haste and anxiety he displayed, you allowed him to lead you to a room in the rear of the sanctuary. Rashly, he locked the door behind you and stood there stiffly, pressing his ear against the wooden surface.

“Father…?” You glanced at him, fear swelling up at his odd behavior.

His shoulders tensed upon your hesitant voice and he turned to face you, his eyes filled with unmasked horror. Swiftly, the priest made a sign of the cross and whispered a prayer. With a shuddering sigh, he returned his attention to you.

Before you could open your mouth to demand an explanation, he cut in with urgency.

“Tell me, my child, what do you know of the guardian angel?”

Perplexed, you blinked until his urgent words seeped into your mind. Swallowing thickly, you replied in a hoarse voice, stifling the swelling grief in your breast, “They are meant to protect and to guide you in the times of strife and tribulations.”

He fell silent for a moment, then parted his trembling lips, “Then tell me, my child, why has yours only destroyed? Why did it regard you with such a perverse gaze?”

“I…what?” You gaped, a cracked laughter escaping your lips in an unhinged melody.

Had this man lost his mind?

What could he possibly mean? How could this man assume that the loss of your family was the work of divine beings? How ridiculous—

But upon the stern and fearful look in his eyes, disbelief constricted in the pit of your stomach. An overwhelming urge to flee coursed through your nerves, propelling your legs toward the bolted door. You were disrupted by a sudden yank on the collar of your shirt.

An inexplicable dread settled beneath your skin, as the priest forcefully dragged you backward with unexpected strength. Before you could voice your frustration and demand an explanation, the door buckled.

The wood splintered and the shrieks of a demon reverberated.

A scream pierced the air, laden with terror—but you couldn’t discern whose voice it belonged to. Was it your own? Or was it the priest’s? You remained uncertain, as you transfixed by the sight of something great and dreadful emerging from the sundered door.

An angel.

Except, to you, it was not.

Trenched in crimson, the mangled remains of rotten bodies hung from its many jagged wings. Countless eyes turned toward you, each radiating with worship and desire. A seam split on its featureless face, forming a broken maw that drooled with hunger. Its tongue, as dark as oil, swept away the spattered blood on its pure white skin.

Numerous arms reached out for you, each finger tipped with claws, glistening with something pungent. Its resonant voice echoed your name, tainted with the same twisted desire mirrored in their manic eyes. It repeated those three words, like a disturbing hymn.

I love you.

Blood roared in your ears and fear seeped through your body, paralyzing you. You couldn’t move, your vision obscured by a sudden cascade of tears. Disgust churned within you, sickening you to your very core.

You couldn’t even discern the abrupt swing of one of its arms, releasing the lifeless body from its monstrous sword, as the abomination closed in. A flurry of limbs encircled your shivering form, some caressing while others coiled around your spine.

Its’ many eyes blinked at you and its rotting wings fluttered, its grinning face lovingly nuzzled yours. Against your ear, it moaned its proclamation.

I love you.

The slithering tongue smeared across your lips in a parody of kisses. Your skin crawled at the way it touched you, its embrace suffocating, yet sickeningly gentle. Its affection for you was vile. Unwanted.

Your hands beat its armor weakly, attempting to fend it off, and its crooning changed into something sharp and incensed. Snarling, frustrated that it was unable to indulge itself into its unholy pleasure with you, it grabbed your hands and held them tightly.

Sobbing, you knew you would never be able to escape. Desperate to appease it, your voice rasped out from your dry throat,

“I…love…you…too.”

Its painful clenches softened upon your trembling words.

Love swelled within those golden irises.

—end

[allthedrugsforcreativity]

Here comes the sun am I falling up?

[sketch-guardian]

For the anon who asked about Remiel's parents, I finally found some free time to do a quick messy sketch of them😌it isn't much, but it should be enough for a concept idea🙈for Azrael at least, since Death's design is from Darksiders. Anyway, here's Remiel:

While these are Azrael and Death, Remiel's parents:

Azrael usually calls Death "My beacon of light", while she uses "My miracle" for Remiel. Also, I added a small close up as well:

It's been a while since my last sketch, so I hope it doesn't suck too much🙈

[nightmareonpeachstreet]

I made this post before we knew Focalors and Furina were different people, and the fact I still find it accurate to Focalors but not Local Fatui Harbinger Fucker Furina is rly funny to me

It is my humble opinion that Focalors and Arlecchino WOULD argue about who is worse for Furina, tho

[triglycercule]

dust and horror angel and demon themes,,,, they could totally parallel each other...... :3

dust=angel of death described in the delta rune prophecy (self declared) (i DEFINITELY elaborated on this one waayyyy before but anyways dust with a fucked up savior complex SAVE ME SAVE ME.... death is a blessing ass guy. life is torment and he will be the one to liberate monsters from their bodies and with the strength they provide to him be able to take down evil evil creation of pure misery that is the human ✨✨✨ dont worry his evil cackles are to HIDE HIS PAIN of saving everyone....... trust)

horror=demon that dragged everyone in horrortale into hell (as perceived by everyone else) (i think it would be a cool hc if everyone outside of snowdin viewed horror as literally a demon. maybe undyne preaches that. anyone outside of snowdin might be WAYYY worse because they starve for longer and literally take part in cannibalism so they might not have the same sort of mild sanity that snowdin residents do,,,, besides he DID kinda bring them all eternal suffering. kinda. nobody but undyne knows what happened at the core so she could totally just paint the story to blame horror fully)

ANYWAYS i like the possible dynamics this could have :333

dust to horror (please let me kill you PLEASE let me kill you i can end it all so peacefully wouldn't it be nice??? i promise ill make it quick just for you),,, horror to dust (i want you to live and suffer with what youve done i want you to watch all of your choices hit you one day and i'll be there and laugh at you. i'll keep you alive just to keep you suffering ok?)

OR dust to horror (you dont deserve to die you dont deserve to even be hurt by me. not because youre the exception but youre the Exception i absolutely loathe you so youll never get the sweet release of death :3) and horror to dust (just let me die already i dont wanna be here. youre supposed to be a savior right??? an angel?? then why don't you save me already when i need it more than anyone else)

[vypridae]

it genuinely baffles me that people still think vox is some precious baby that needs to be protected and kept from val at all costs. are we like... are we watching the same show?

[justarandomhelluvablog]

sorry sorry last time I'm talking about huskerdust tonight but does it fuck anyone else up knowing that Husk and Angel basically lived at the same time but were on opposite sides of the country. But also Husk went traveling. Like these two could have met while they were alive and wouldn't even know it. They didn't even know the other existed until they met at the hotel

Like I have. so many thoughts about this.

[us-angels-together]

Imagine you're f/o being mortally wounded and falling down to the ground at your feet. They whisper to you as they bleed out that they love you and will forever watch over you.

For years after that you've been a depressed empty shell of your former self, the self you had been with them. But unbeknownst to you, you're f/o has followed their promise and has kept you safe. While you've been in this depressed fugue state you haven't noticed all the times you've nearly died- crossing the street, almost tripping down stairs, almost choking, and many more times. You've really been working your f/o hard as they keep you safe so when you two are reunited it'll be a happy one without the tragedy of you unexpectedly dying as well.