#heavenly barkeeper

[drconstellation]

No, that's not the Heaven's Dress tartan, that's the colour scheme for the tartan that Aziraphale gives to Jimbriel on the blanket. Its different. Its Jimbriel's Second Coming tartan, so its all about Gabriel there.

The green on the outside of the pub is for the resurrection and the yellow inside...yes, its the same yellow as inside the bookshop!

I started work on re-writing the colours but put it down again and haven't got back to it. Unfortunately yellow is a complicated colour, so I want to explain it properly in due course.

Angelic Bar Keeper. Why is the bar keep in The Resurrectionist is wearing the tartan pattern reserved for Angels?

[mhaynoot]

Joongdok Mercenary x Witch AU : a quick summary and excerpt

Tales coaxed in song and whispers and the lyrics of a half-tone bard. A mercenary in his midnight armour and heavenly demon sword, roaming the lands with a Witch cursed eye. Slaying monsters for a coin and the tail of a forgotten name.

The barkeep trembled in the corner, eyes darting around as she approached the hunched figure in shadows.

“Your ale, sir,” she said, dropping the heavy glass onto the table.

Dark eyes peered up at her, the slighest flash of gold trembled her hands. Silver flipped into them and she almost dropped it in surprise but instincts held true and she traced her fingers across the blemished but shiny surface. A whole silver coin. Her heart thudded heavier. He nodded and she nodded back, quickly retreating to behind the bar.

An undying merc chased by the kingdom? Fine with her so long as he paid.

-

These are tales of Yoo Joonghyuk the Cursed. A monster-slaying mercenary chased around by the Star Kingdom for whatever God given reason they’re spewing. He doesn’t care all too much, he just wanted to find the Witch who won't let him die.

-

Excerpt (this is pretty much the ending LMAO but its the only thing I’ve written tbh):

���But weren’t you happy?” the Witch of the End asked, face crestfallen. Shoulders tensed up almost to his ears and arms wrapped around himself. His heavy white sleeves falling down to reveal thin hands and thinner wrists. Looking always like the world was about to strike him down and he’d let it. Still the same as ever.

“Of course,” Yoo Joonghyuk answered, taking another step forward.

The Witch moved back again. He spat out, “Don’t you hate me then? For taking you away from your happiness? For that stupid, foolish curse I cast upon you?”

“No.”

“Liar. How could you not? For I am the Witch of the End, the watcher of the Oldest Dream.”

“I don’t hate you,” Yoo Joonghyuk said. “For I am love. The creation of love, the willing bearer of its curse, the undying and the devotion.”

“Why?” the Witch of the End finally whispered, tears falling down his face. “Why for someone like me?”

Yoo Joonghyuk smiled and watched as the Witch became dazed, eyes widening and mouth falling open. Always so shocked at affection. This foolish, lovable star.

Yoo Joonghyuk thought to himself: Of course, there were a million reasons to love the Witch. The way he talked, the twitch in his eyebrow, the distant gaze as he thought, the way he smiled. Yoo Joonghyuk could explain how endeared he was with the way the Witch read books, hoarded them like the worst of dragons but they’re never tomes of magic or priceless knowledge, simply the stories where he liked the protagonist. Else he could talk about the long gone memories they held together of just them or them and the world. That bright beautiful happiness and lifetime they shared. There were a million reasons Yoo Joonghyuk could say and none of them would matter. They could all vanish and he would still love this man before him. Because, in the end, does love deserve a reason? Is it still love if it does?

“Why not?” He answered easily and lifted his hand up to cup the Witch’s face, thumbs brushing away those pearly tears. He pressed a kiss against his brow and then another against closed eyelids. Said at last, “Why not for someone like you?”

“Idiot,” Kim Dokja, the Witch of the End, cried.

[plagueismovingagain]

@knife-drawer-rp

Caz had just rolled into town by the good graces of a generous driver they'd met along their travels. They left the driver with some double dollars as thanks for the ride, and scoped out the modest town for a place to get out of the sun and find something to eat. Hell, a drink wouldn't be too bad either--whiskey or water, it didn't matter to them. Whatever the town had would be just fine.

Fortunately, a saloon and diner wasn't too far from where the driver had dropped them. Stepping inside with their hat tipped low over their faintly glowing mask, Caz quietly headed for a barstool in the corner to have a seat.

"Whatcha' got fer drink and dining 'ere?" Came a raspy mechanical voice, filtered and laced with static from their mask. The keep looked up, stared at them for a moment, and shook his head.

"The usual booze an' water here, though it ain't very clear. Better than nothin', I reckon. Dinner today is some sandwhiches fixed up by the missus--don't like it, starve."

"Water and a sandwhich would be great, sir." Caz answered, sliding some currency across the counter. "An' a bottle o' whiskey would be jus' heavenly."

"You want a glass with that?"

"I'll jus' use the water glass--save yew trouble with dishes."

The barkeep took the payment with a nod, and hollered to the back where presumably where his kitchen and his wife was located to get a plate ready. In the meantime, he set Caz up with their glass of water and bottle of whiskey. They wasted no time lifting their mask up just enough to gulp the water down, and immediately refilling the glass with booze.

[ritunn]

A commission for @claefox of their characters, Aerwyn and Ignazio set in their own little part of Pathfinder's Golarion setting. If you read, I hope you enjoy!

Night at the Oilbird

A raven's feather of darkness clung to the walls of the tunnels where starlit lanterns didn't shine. Though such darkness was something Aerwyn was used to, the city of Hyewn had shadows as its companion after all due to being built in a cave. However, in contrast, Aerwyn's white cloak covering her mud brown shirt stood out in the shadows with its green flower patterns on one side, the pattern turning purple on the opposite part of the clothing. It matched well with her ophidian features, patches of scales turquoise green on her skin, eyes like a snake's, and a long slinking tail that constantly pushed up dust with it the fur at the end making a feather duster shape. Everyone thought her a ganzi, a child of chaos and change, this wasn't far from the truth, but that wasn't what was on her mind, a certain tiredness had gripped her mind instead after her work at the library. Emotions swirled around her mind like a maelstrom and she struggled to stay together, so she looked for a lighthouse in the cavernous town of Hyewm, a guild she was a part of called the Oilbird’s Nest. Soon enough, as she turned the corner of a rocky street, she heard the sound of revelry from a grand building worked out of the cave's stone into the structure it was now. The lanterns aglow with the avian oil that gave city its light made the guild house look as if it were surrounded by a heavenly halo, its yellow painted door like a celestial gate. Aerwyn perked up as she saw it, nearby lantern flames jumping with her sudden heightened emotions and dispensing the shadows of the stone path she now walked.

As she approached the heavy stone door that guarded the entrance to her safe haven, she sighed to herself, the once bright lanterns dimming behind her. “I hope he's here,” she said to herself. Then, she pushed open the doors.

The Oilbird’s Nest was lively, stonework people, humans, and a few other folk filled the tavern portion of the guild. An imposing man the size of a mountain was cleaning a glass behind the bar, an oread like many others who lived in Hyewn, people with skin of stone and a will just as sturdy. Aerwyn navigated through the cacophony of people to the bar to see him, doing her best to ensure her tail didn't disrupt any other guests by holding it to her waist. When she reached the bar, the barkeep smiled and put the glass down, stuffing the apron over a belt that wrapped around his heavy dark brown apron.

“Ah, Aerwyn, fun day at work? Can I get you anything?” the barkeep asked.

“No, I'm fine, Andres,” she replied glumly. Andres raised an eyebrow.

“In a rock and a hard place I take it? Don't seem yourself,” he mentioned.

“I just- where's Ignazio?”

“Elmo? Was just getting him some ale on the rocks, right over there,” Andres pointed across the bar to the end. There sat a glum looking elf. He had a mess of brown hair, the same color as Aerwyn's more tidy free flowing locks, a sweater vest over his tidy white shirt. The most striking feature however was a flower-like scar on his forehead, only healed just recently.

“Thank you, Andres,” Aerwyn said.

Aerwyn walked over to Ignazio and sat on the empty bar stool next to him. “Hey, Elmo.”

Ignazio looked up from the bar counter over to Aerwyn with surprise on his face. “Oh, hello Aerwyn. Is everything alright? You don't look well,” Ignazio mentioned.

“I… everything is fine, I just,” Aerwyn muttered.

“If you need to talk, you know that I'm always willing to lend an ear to you. That's what friends are for after all,” Ignazio interjected.

“But I can't talk about it. All these emotions rolling around, words can't express it. I just know I had to see you. You're the only one who'd understand.”

“Here's your drink,” Andres said as he put down a mug of ale with the likeness of molten gold. He then gave a wink to Ignazio and went back to his business. Ignazio sighed and took a swirl of his drink, as if mulling over some thoughts, then turned back to Aerwyn.

“Alright, I understand,” he simply said. He got up from the stool and looked at Aerwyn over his shoulder. “Let's go to your room, things will be more private there. Would you be fine with sharing things then?” Ignazio asked. Aerwyn simply nodded. “Alright, let's go then,” he said. He grabbed Aerwyn's hand and gently tugged on her to follow.

“What about your drink?” Aerwyn asked.

“You're more important right now.”

Understanding, Aerwyn got up and followed along Ignazio as they began walking towards the stairs to the recreational quarters, hand in hand. Aerwyn wasn't sure if this would fix things, but it was worth trying at the very least, as long as she could project these feelings outwards and just let them float away. Yet, Ignazio's insistence made her feel something new, though a feeling she was all too familiar with as well. Walking towards the stairs felt like a grand endless journey where time stood still, the feeling of holding hands with someone who cared deeply enough about her mow invading her mind. Though, unlike the other thoughts and feelings that swam like fish in the ocean of her mind, these ones made her warm inside, but all the still unwilling to talk. Suddenly, so caught up in her own mind, she stumbled and nearly fell, but with deft swiftness, Ignazio caught her before she hit the floor.

“Is everything alright?” he asked again. His blue eyes seemed like the most luminescent scales of a voidwyrm, bright and so full of life, as he stared into her own.

“Yes, I'm fine. Thank you,” she muttered out, totally enraptured.

“Is it okay if I carry you the rest of the way? I wouldn't want you to hurt yourself,” he stated. Carry her? Did friends carry their friends often? Was this normal? She wanted to say yes, but a part of her felt a crippling unease. Yet, she enjoyed holding hands with him so much, wouldn’t this be like a better version of that?

After a moment she simply replied, “Yes please.”

Lifting her up by her waist at first, Ignazio then switched his grip to her upper back and beneath her knees, cradling her like one would a cat. At first, Aerwyn felt the patches of scales on her skin gain a slight tinge of red, though Ignazio didn't seem to particularly notice. This was much more hands on than she expected however, she didn't dislike it, but she still didn't know what to say. So, she simply laid there, being cradled by her elven friend… or was he something more? Aerwyn’s thoughts were quickly interrupted by a question from Ignazio however.

“So, did someone hurt you?” he asked.

Aerwyn wasn't really sure how to respond and stared blankly at him. “You don’t have to give me a full answer, but some sort of answer would help.”

Aerwyn nodded and replied, “No.”

“No? Well that's good at least, I was worried someone had done something to you. Did something happen at work today?” he continued.

“Yes,” Aerwyn sighed.

“What happened?” Ignazio then proceeded forward. But, Aerwyn clamed up. “Still want to wait to share the full picture? That's fine. Is there anything else you want to tell me? We should be at room in just a little bit.”

Aerwyn shook her head while they turned around a corner on the stairwell. “Yes,” is all she said. Ignazio walked up the last few steps to the second floor of the guild, its halls lit by flickering lamps who's oil dwindled into the late night. He carefully helped her out of his arms so that she was standing herself, then put his arm around her with a comforting grasp. Warmth swept through her body once again, the kind that didn't come from a fire or lamplight, but from within, the same feeling as before. Part of her wanted to ask what this feeling was to Iganzio, he'd offered to learn about anything else on her mind after all… but would this be too much? Would telling him how his touch made her feel a warm joy be weird? How when he looked at her, her heart beat faster, thumping like a pulse of the Maelstrom. How him being around made everything in the world so much more colorful. So many feelings still swimming within her mind, but there was no was to truly express it in a way that mattered. In a way that-

“You good there, Aerwyn?” Ignazio asked. Aerwyn snapped out of her strange daze of feelings and looked around frantically for a moment before her eyes were drawn to Ignazio's.

“Y-Yes, I'm all fine. Was just a bit loss within my own head there.”

“You seemed to blank out there, glad things are fine. Let's head to your room though, get you to your bed,” he said in reassurance. His hand then moved away from her shoulder to her hand, gripping it tenderly in an almost soothing fashion that left Aerwyn feeling relief in her chest, any tense and chaotic thoughts abated for now.

As they entered the room, there was a slight chill that passed by them both that quickly turned to warmth as Ignazio went over and lit a halfway melted candlestick on the side table next to a worn bed with sea green sheets. A chest was at the end of the bed left unlocked, while a window looked over the top of the bed even if nothing but rock and stone was to see on the other side. Aerwyn walked over to her bed and flopped down, the bed creaking with age as she did so.

“Are you feeling better now?” Ignazio asked.

“Just a little,” Aerwyn replied.

“A little is better than nothing at least,” Ignazio replied. Awerwyn simply laid there looking up at the bare ceiling, nearly unblinking. Iganzio shuffled over and joined her, watching nothing with his friend.

“What are you doing?” Aerwyn asked.

“Keeping you company I suppose,” Iganzio chuckled. “What are you doing?”

“I'm watching stars,” Aerwyn smiled.

“Stars?”

Then with a whish of her hand, distant stars began dotting the ceiling, aglow with a radiant white light as the ceiling became a clear night sky. Each star twinkled and danced across the expanse with a gentle step, making shapes of animals and heroes from years past. Ignazio's eyes were wide with wonder as he watched Aerwyn's magic, the kind of wonder they hadn't experienced in many years. But, as soon as they'd appeared to began to fizzle out as the night sky gave way to the same stone ceiling as before.

“It's nice to imagine what the stars are like on nights like these, when things seem so dour. Don't you think?” Aerwyn asked.

Iganzio looked over with a smile. “I agree.”

“I think I'm ready to share how I'm feeling now though. At least fully,” Aerwyn sighed.

“Are you sure?” Iganzio asked. There was a warmth in his eyes as he turned over to look at Aerwyn. She almost second guessed herself but she knew she'd never feel better if she didn't confide in someone. Aerwyn waved her hand and the room began falling away until the floors and walls became naught but a black void of eternal emptiness. Only Aerwyn, Iganzio, and the bed the laid on being what was left. Then, a cacophony of noises roared around them, splotches of reds and blues coming into being with. To Iganzio, everything was so loud, like pots being banged together for no other purpose than to cause annoyance, though Aerwyn seemed to not even notice the sound. The colors then morphed into abstract representations of people laughing and talking amongst each other. In the middle of it all is a color which has morphed into the shape of strange looking reptile, using its hands to cover its ears as the other colors grow and grow and grow over it, laughing, talking, being so noisome, so… demanding, so. Then it stops, Aerwyn finds that warmth cloaked over her again, the warmth of an embrace, the warmth of Ignazio. It seems as if he was about to go for a kiss, but he simply pressed his head to hers. The colors then mix with each other into splotches of pinks as Ignazio holds her gently, soothing and quiet.

“You're going to be okay,” Iganzio said gently. For once, Aerwyn felt she was. She embraced Iganzio and looked him in the eyes.

“Why don't you tell me about something you like and I'll tell you about something I like?” she asked.

“I think I can do that,” he smiled. “There's a beautiful rose bush I'm taking care of. It's hard down here, but I've had a wizard set up permanent light magic to keep it growing,” he began.

Illusory images of red roses then began to fall around them, bouncing gently off Ignazio and Aerwyn's side on to the bed or emptiness below.

“With it is a lovely lilac, tree I plan to put outside once it's big enough. The flowers smell beautiful, like a gentle rain on a cloudy day.”

Then, around the bed began to grow small lilac trees in the shapes of storm cloud, raining the flowers down upon them in a gentle torrent of pink and purple.

“Though my favorite are the vegetables I'm growing actually. Potatoes, radishes, carrots. They do well with the rich soil in here so I grow them in a small garden outside. I have to make sure they get light and water of course just like any other plant, but they're much more hardy if you ask me and taste delicious once they're done growing as well. You have a favorite potato dish, Aerwyn?”

“I had soup once with it, it was really creamy, almost like milk!” she exclaimed excitedly. Suddenly potatoes popped out of the bed, liquefying into soup that gathered in wooden bowls that danced around, pouring their contents into each other in an endless loop.

Ignazio looked around the room and smiled. “This seems like a delightful garden you have growing in here,” he mentioned.

“It's all yours in the end,” Aerwyn replied.

“Well, you owe me one thing I don't have however. What is it that you like?” Ignazio asked slyly.

“Well, um, uh,” Aerwyn began. What was she supposed to say? She thought to herself for a few moments, she couldn’t tell him the feelings she felt deep down… but she should tell him something. “Well...” she paused, “you make me feel like, well, me. You being around makes the stars brighter and flowers that much more beautiful. You’re the best kind of friend to have around and I wouldn’t want anyone else at my side when we go do quests, slay monsters, and rest around the campfire.”

“I appreciate that, Aery,” Ignazio said soothingly. He brushed her cloud-like hair a bit with a repetitive motion. “I can’t imagine a day without you by my side either, you make those nightmares more pleasant to get through and there’s nothing more I could ask for,” he whispered. “Speaking of dreams,” Ignazio looked down and Aery’s eyes were shut tight. Sleeping soundly, she had cuddled up to him and wrapped her arms around his waist without him even noticing. Ignazio felt a smirk cross his face, it seems everything was fine now. Maybe he’d tell her one day about how he really felt, but a relationship like that would never work considering their standing in the divine hierarchy. But, this soothing love of bonding with each other, holding on to each, and comforting each other, that was enough and it always would be. The love they felt for each other didn’t need words when their friendship was just as deep, just as caring, and just as loving. Ignazio felt himself getting weary now, as if the godling’s oneiromantic magic was trying to drag him off to the Dreamlands… and he was more than happy to join her. Closing his eyes, he got comfortable on Aerwyn’s bed brought her closer, drifting off to slumber till dawn’s rise the next day.

[juelliuscaesarsalad]

How Many Cocks Does It Take To Screw A Dumb Knight?!

A Special Excerpt

A fun silly scene in Chapter 3 of HMCDITTSADK! Figured there's not too much point posting whole chapters here, but I still want to send as much love as I can to Tumblr. Enjoy!

AO3 Profile AO3 Work

DISCLAIMER: "How Many Cocks Does It Take to Screw a Dumb Knight?!" is an NSFW work of fantasy that contains triggering themes such as violence, gore, and non-consensual elements.

This is written for entertainment purposes ONLY. If any of the themes bother you, please refrain from reading, and thank you for your understanding.

𝓦hile the knightly himbo slumbered soundly, Declan slyly grabbed a warm towel - not the usual grungy one he used, but a fresh, soft one - and sensually ran it over Percival's curved body. The barkeep couldn't resist running his hands over every firm muscle, admiring the way they flexed under his touch. The knight's pecs quivered under the tiniest grasp and his toes wiggled from the faintest touch. Despite the heat already present on the rag, Declan could feel the cool temperature radiating off the knight. Rubbing Percival down felt tempting and seductive- his body was perfectly carved, somehow exuding suppleness and softness under his strapping frame. Despite being best friends, there was no denying the alluring beauty of Percival that Declan couldn't help but admire with desire.

"Alright, Percy. Now that I've cleaned you up, let's get ya’ back to speed, buddy," said Declan determinedly. The barkeep stood up and began rummaging through the cabinets on the wall, filled with various drinks of dull or dark coloring. But one bottle caught his eye, standing out with its clear appearance and white liquid inside. The fluid swayed gently in the bottle, emitting a fresh and light scent. Satisfied with his find, Declan retrieved the bottle and returned to Percival.

     Carefully positioning him on the couch, Declan turned Percival so that his back sunk into the cushions and his ass was hanging off the edge, offering easy access. With his sturdy forearms underneath Percival's thighs, Declan pushed against them, causing the knight's legs to open wide in the air, exposing his smooth, bare hole.

"Okay, Percy!" exclaimed Declan as he peered over Percival's butt, his eyes matching height with the knight's perky nose. "Just remember, this tonic has to stay inside ya' for a bit, but try not to lean into it. It's supposed to feel good and help, blah-blah, but what's most important is that the more aroused ya' are, the more... 'uncomfortable' ye're going to feel till it's out, so try to relax and not think about it too much."

     Percival let out a soft groan, which Declan interpreted as understanding. Declan poured the clear, lightly scented liquid into Percival's waiting hole with a gentle yet deft hand, likely honed from years of bartending. He covered every angle thoroughly with a generous pour, ensuring the slick substance coated the knight's insides. Once satisfied, Declan set the bottle down beside him and playfully wiggled Percival's ass in the air before massaging his cheeks and giving them two light, reassuring taps. Finally, he returned to his original position, poised above Percival's prone form as he knelt, his sturdy forearms spreading the knight open once more.

"Feeling good so far?" Declan asked, but Percival remained silent.

     The warm liquid flowed under Percival's flesh, bringing a sense of relief to his sore muscles. His entire body loosened and relaxed as the fluid massaged his inner walls, bringing a comforting warmth to his ass. But as he lay there, lost in thought, an image flashed through his mind - it was first a pleasing light, so stunning that it felt heavenly. Percival wanted to reach out and grasp it, but he was too weak to do so. It danced in front of him, almost teasing the knight before something new replaced the light- an image of his newly prepared hole being filled by a long, girthy cock.

     In an instant, Percival's eyes flickered with lust, and his cock began to leak a steady stream of pre-cum, glistening on his length. The teasing sensation of the liquid only intensified his arousal, causing his shaft to harden further and his body to ache for something more - the delicious feeling of being penetrated, of being filled to the brim. His hips started to flex uncontrollably as if seeking out that phantom cock, and soft, desperate moans escaped from his lips. Nipples perked up on his round chest, and his lips became moist with anticipation, parting slightly as he unconsciously licked them. As if overcome by his muscles, Percival threw his hands above his head and gripped the top of the couch tightly, his knuckles turning white. His body arched upward as much as Declan's firm hold would allow, desperate for more stimulation. And just as he reached the height of the sexual itch, a small amount of the white, slick liquid spurted from his beating hole and landed on Declan's face and beard. The bartender quickly licked it away from his lips with a concerned look in his eyes. 

"Shit, Percival! I said don't lean into it!" Declan scolded, using his thumb to rub soothing circles around the knight's eager hole. But it was no use - Percival was already lost in a sea of uncontrollable cravings, his body writhing with need. His hole begged for attention, clenching and unclenching as his ass reared up, nearly slamming into Declan's face. "O-okay, okay! I'm going in, buddy - try to stay with me here," Declan exclaimed with his naturally hoarse voice as he witnessed the white liquid seeping from the knight's ass.

     Hastily, Declan lowered his head and, with his impressively large and slightly drunken tongue, slid it upwards until he caught all the escaping liquid and could press his lips directly to Percival's quivering hole. He parted the smooth, supple cheeks and inhaled deeply, taking in the intoxicating scent of Percival's wet flesh. "Aw man, this is bad - you're really letting loose here," the barkeep whispered to himself as he shook his head. 

     Without further ado, Declan's talented tongue began to work its magic, gliding directly against the soft flesh of the knight's hole in long, sensual strokes. Percival gasped, his head thrashing back and forth as his needy entrance cried with joy at the attention, Declan's slightly cool tongue matching perfectly with his balmy, tonic-slicked ass. Each caress of that skilled muscle added even more unexplainable delight coursing through Percival's body, his toes curling and his abs flexing involuntarily. The knight failed to silence his vicious moans, the filthy sounds traveling through the tavern as he surrendered utterly. 

     Percival shifted his eyes down and watched dazedly as Declan ate his hole hungrily or desperately- perhaps both, his calloused hands kneading Percival's cheeks, pressing him closer to his mouth. Percival felt a surge of sensations soaring through his body, the barkeep's thick bristling beard tickling against the bare skin of his ass as Declan lapped up every drop of precum that fell onto Percival's balls and velvety taint. With each lick and kiss, Percival's ass clenched tighter, begging for more.

"Please, Declan- Oh fuck!" Percival groaned, his voice bouncing off the wooden walls as he slowly leaked from his cock, the semen flowing down to his ass.

     Percival's hips bucked forward, seeking release, but Declan was not to be deterred. The bartender dug his fingers into Percival's ass, holding him still as he took the knight's cock deep into his mouth, using his other hand to stroke it in a steady rhythm. The knight's body trembled with each passing second as Declan's flat tongue and mouth drove him closer and closer to the edge of climax.

     Percival screamed in awe as Declan began to pierce him rapidly with his middle finger, applying firm and steady pressure- his other fingers gently massaged and caressed the outside of Percival's hole. Declan pulled away from Percival's cock for a moment but then returned his attention to the knight's ass, continuing to stroke his dick. 

"Almost there, Percy!" Declan began, his voice muffled by the flesh pressed against his face. "I think I've got it now!"

     Their harsh, ragged breathing filled the air, punctuated by the obscene sounds of smacking lips and slurping as the white liquid continued to leak out and was eagerly lapped up by Declan. Gushes of the fluid would flow out, but the barkeep drank it all fiercely, not wanting to waste a single drop or leave any leftovers deep inside the knight's butt. Periodically, Declan would work his surprisingly soft mouth around the head of Percival's cock, tasting the thick, tangy, yet sweet pre-cum that coated it. His free hand then slipped beneath Percival, firmly massaging the knight's prostate in a firm motion.

     Percival cried out, his body shuddering from dizziness, both from the tonic and ass-eating. His butt gripped Declan's face like a vice, his muscles taut. With one final, desperate thrust, Percival's hips jerked forward, driving his rock-hard cock deep into Declan's mouth. The bartender's throat bobbed up and down on the shaft, his eyes watering. And finally, Percival let out a guttural moan as he shot a load of hot, sweet cum into Declan's mouth while the rest of the white liquid poured out of his ass, dripping onto the floor. His eyes shot open wide as Declan slowly pulled his lips away from the swollen, sensitive tip, ensuring he captured every last drop of the knight's release.

     Percival's body went limp as the intensity subsided. He lay there, chest heaving, sweat on his skin. Declan pulled back, a satisfied grin on his face...

[dvarapala]

while most - if not all - interactions are set post syzygy canon for the ease of rping. i'm placing the opla interactions around the 50% mark of syzygy. the first part of the story has already happened. the second part? it's happening as we speak. which means she is looking for a blade called the nandaki aka the source of joy to defeat svarbhanu.

without further ado, let's get into the opla of it all!

there are whispers, of course, about this weird girl, this weird woman, with her weird clothes and her weird way of speaking. most people are used to weird and quirky, though, so no one pays that - or her - any mind when she weaves in and out of the crowds.

(though there are people who think she has something to do with the heavenly yaksha aka doflamingo, because she, too, wields strings and threads despite not having consumed the string string fruit.)

the romance dawn trio meets her properly at the bar in 1x01. though to them, she's just a person who makes the little girl laugh. just someone who eyes zoro and his swords and who eyes nami, too, because nami is hot. she has clocked luffy as well (because how can you not?) and koby too. a marine hits on her and she pretends and insists she doesn't speak english/the common tongue while blatantly ignoring that she did just that zero point five seconds ago to the barkeep.

it is clear she has been through a lot; it is clear she is running from something. from someone.

she drinks something non-alcoholic because while she does love a good cocktail, she wants to keep her head clear if she needs to fight. the bar brawl scene happens and udy is activated. she is entranced and enchanted by the way zoro moves, by the way he fights, by his blades. everything about zoro is gorgeous and dangerous and beautiful, though when she hears his monniker of pirate hunter, she thinks twice. thrice, even.

udyati is wholly absent in 1x02 but bits and pieces of her story unravel after the romance dawn trio meet vena zaman (santhosh sreeram), omisha kaushal (ashley ganger) and ayush dahiya (josh heuston) after the circus fiasco: udyati was once kalindi zaman's puppet for years. made to do things she didn't want to. kalindi (aishwarya rai-bacchan) is long gone now, however.

in 1x03 and 1x04, udyati is also absent from the main plot but there are some scenes interspersed with the main plot. it becomes clear that udyati has taken a vachan - a verbal vow with physical consequences for mind, body and soul if not followed through and fulfilled. the thing is, though, she can't remember exactly what it is that she promised to the mahavidyas aka the great wisdoms.

1x05 sees udyati make her way to baratie, exhausted. the chef - sanji - finds her curled up in a booth in the corner and feeds her. she genuinely thinks he's kind and she also genuinely thinks he's hot. udyati has the currency to pay for the meal but it's not berry's, further cementing the fact that she's not of this world. before she can pay, though, mihawk appears and he and zoro get into an intense swordfight.

in 1x06, udyati debates the merits of staying but flees when no one's looking; she feels bad about doing this, however. (usopp probably sees her go, though. she also had at least one conversation at the bar with him in the previous episode.)

during 1x07 she makes her way to conomi island because she still feels bad for skipping out and part of her is just drawn to the straw-hat pirate crew. she arrives right when arlong starts attacking coco village.

and in 1x08 udyati helps fight off the fish-men together with sanji and zoro and usopp while luffy fights garp. after their victory, udyati apologizes to sanji for skipping out without paying for the meal. udyati tells them the truth and tells her she's from elsewhere. then, she says goodbye to the strawhats before the marines arrive.

post opla canon, udyati will pop up in loguetown where she is chased by vena and his colleagues who are still intent on extracting the information they feel they are owed.

the scene goes like this: in loguetown, we see udyati wander around. doing a bit of window shopping. she's still looking for a very specific blade called the nandaki which is commonly known as the source of joy. at some point, vena and omisha and ayush spot her and they give chase. udyati runs but loguetown is a busy place so she bumps into quite a few people. one of which is a lady who wants to buy a dress; the lady holds up two. one lavender, one green. udyati rushes past with a rushed apology and yells at her to get the lavender one as that one brings out her eyes. vena and his colleagues unintentionally end up chasing udyati into the arms of the straw-hat pirates once again and a fight ensues.

[torpor-and-ambivalence]

Character/Ship Tags

For Easy access

Character Tags

Airiss (Indigo Idol/Streamer)

Aitreo (Fuchsia Special Agent)

Alfadi (Teal Personal Assistant)

Amalia (Violet WIP)

Anthea (Pink Child Princess)

Anudal (Purple Businessman)

Artiri (Violet Ballet Student)

Athokk (Violet Special Officer)

Audrey (Purple Ringleader)

Balton (Lime WIP)

Bazani (Violet Gaming Streamer)

Cernos (Anon Oracle)

Chepre (Jade Secretary)

Crovin (Teal WIP)

Dulcie (Gold Ballet Student)

Ecifed (Jade WIP)

Edvari (Gold Influencer)

Elraik (Fuchsia Fashion Student)

Elyzia (Cerulean Nutritionist)

Escovi (Red WIP)

Etatio (Violet Band Bassist)

Ghalen (Red Art Student)

Hespar (Red Monster Hunter)

Ithora (Red Ranger)

Ivitas (Bronze DJ)

Kazmir (Indigo Unemployed)

Kiethe (Red Biker)

Kionya (Red Fashion Student)

Kuvani (Purple Security)

Luxsol (Bronze Chef)

Lyonel (Bronze Barbarian)

Magnit (Indigo Wizard)

Mlanee (Fuchsia Singer)

Myelee (Fuchsia Dancer)

Namkor (Teal Bard)

Niaell (Olive Band Guitarist)

Orvear (Purple Artist)

Praeda (Forensic Student)

Revenn (Anon Child Knight)

Ritrie (Indigo WIP)

Rodisa (Blue Actress)

Romida (Blue Slaver)

Rothan (Violet Barkeeper)

Salvis (Jade Builder)

Sintai (Gold Unemployed)

Skafio (Fuchsia Hemopunk)

Somera (Olive Slave)

Somnee (Olive Barista/Student)

Stives (Bronze Chocolatier)

Striga (Jade Druid)

Stryxe (Jade Druid)

Temero (Lime Chemist)

Tricia (Fuchsia Stripper)

Tybalt (Teal Cafe Owner)

Umbsol (Cerulean Security)

Untego (Purple Ticket Seller)

Veltin (Violet Child Prince)

Vincez (Bronze Art Student)

Vizlei (Jade Veterinary Student)

Xantia (Violet WIP)

Xiento (Violet Estate Manager)

Ship Tags

Me & GG (the brosties)

General Ship Tag (ship things I like in general)

Artistic Muse (Navika+Orvear)

Commitment Issues (Elraik+Ialvah+Salhus)

Contract in Red (Ecifed+Kiraro)

Disciplines of Friendship (Elraik Friend Group)

Fairy Melody (Alfadi+Nobayo)

Fish to Fish Communication (Aitreo+Lammek)

Friends till the End (Big Ass Nakaou Friend Group)

Heavenly Contract (Elyzia+Wicata)

Love and Desire (Elyzia+Milo)

Monsters and Fae (Alfadi+Vanmit)

Mourning Sun (Anudal+Travix)

Nuhbis Family (all Anudal+Travix kids)

Nuhbis Twins (Anudal+Travix Twins)

Obsessive Possessive (Akiira+Romida)

Pitch in a Ditch (Aitreo+Raenna)

Power and Control (Paeoni+Xiento)

Sniper Target (Aitreo+Ketana)

Starstrukk (Lammek+Rodisa)

The Red Undead (Aitreo+Nakaou)

Thread of Love (Athokk+Rocsi)

Tiny Queendom (Anthea+Revenn+Veltin)

Twinned Stars (Salvis+Travix)

Veterinary Assistance (Vizlei+Yani)

Water Lilies (Kazuki+Stryxe)

Wild Moons (Salvis+Tayashi)

Winged Waves (Etatio+Somnee)

Xahara Clan (all Salvis+Tayashi kids)

Xahara Twins (Salvis+Tayashi Twins)

[qapsiel]

                                IT'S ODD HOW HE FEELS SOME SORT OF INSTANT CONNECTION TO FRANK. It seems like this man gets it; sure, he didn't serve the heavenly host for millennia, and while Castiel was created to never question his superior's intention, humans were made with free will, but the similarities are there, and they make Castiel feel like he isn't the only one on this green Earth. 

                             "I'm — more a natural healer," he deflects. He usually doesn't have any qualms about telling people that he's an angel, but he's too tired to discuss with a non-believer today, and Frank looks like someone who wouldn't simply accept the truth of miracles. "Definitely better than first aid level, though." The barkeeper gives him the stink eye when Castiel waves at him again, and pointedly puts the tequila bottle on the counter. That's fine with Castiel. "Get rid of criminals? So, are you a police officer? A judge?"

Brow lifts as the man orders another shot, snorting out a laugh as he takes a drink from his soda. "You were?" It's catching him by surprise, the weird little similarities that he has to this random man in a dive bar in the middle of nowhere. "It's hard when you've a different vision to superiors. Drilled into us to follow orders without question. But sometimes you have to ask questions."

"I mean, the world could always use more medical workers. Are you trained in it? Or just operating on boy scout first aid level?" He swallows, taking a moment to figure out how to phrase it. Is he helping people? "Sort of. I help get rid of criminals."

[valdomarx]

Julian Alfred Pankratz, master of the seven liberal arts

The seven liberal arts: seven subjects from classical antiquity believed to be the foundation of wisdom and moral excellence.

Grammar, or the structural constraints of language

“And so cried the witcher, he can’t be bleat?” Geralt’s nose scrunches up. “What is that even supposed to mean?”

“It’s evocative,” Jaskier objects, pouting.

“It’s bloody nonsense,” Geralt grouses.

Jaskier scoffs. Geralt never did understand imagery.

Rhetoric, or the art of persuasion through words

“Toss a coin to your witcher, o valley of plenty!”

Jaskier is bored to tears with this gods-forsaken song and Geralt has always hated it. All the same, Jaskier makes a point of singing it at every tavern he stops in because by the end of the chorus his lute case is always heavy with coin.

And gods know they could both use a hot bath and a good meal.

Logic, or reasoned argumentation between opposing viewpoints

The barkeep’s face pulls into a sneer the moment he catches sight of Geralt. “We don’t want your type in here,” he snarls.

“Your type?” Jaskier’s eyes narrow to angry slits. “What exactly is that supposed to mean?”

“You know what I mean,” the barkeep spits. “He’s barely human.”

“Why don’t you go fuck yourself?” Jaskier bellows, launching himself bodily over the bar.

Before his hands can close satisfyingly around the smug arsehole’s throat, however, he is brought up short by a firm grip around the back of his neck.

“Not now, Jaskier,” Geralt grumbles, hauling him away from the bar and out into the street.

Arithmetic, or the study of numbers

“Well.” Jaskier empties his coin purse onto the inn table. “I’ve got five Orens, a lot of fluff and, for some reason, a single Mariborian crown.”

Geralt grimaces. “I’ve got seven Orens from that drowner contract last week.”

“Looks like we’ll be sharing a bed tonight then.” Jaskier shrugs. It’s a simple matter of economy. And if he isn’t exactly opposed to the idea, no one needs to know.

Geralt’s face does something which isn’t strictly a smile. “Fine. But if you get fidgety in the night, I’m lying on you.”

Jaskier isn’t exactly opposed to that, either.

Geometry, or the properties of shape, size, and distance

“Love is like a pear,” Jaskier muses, tapping his quill against his lips.

Geralt doesn’t look up from sharpening his swords.

“A pear is sweet and has a distinct shape,” Jaskier expounds, warming up to his theme. And then the flourish of genius: “Try to define the shape of a pear.”

Geralt grunts. “It’s fucking pear shaped, Jaskier.”

Alas, the depths of Jaskier’s artistic musings are entirely lost on his current audience.

Music, or the arrangement of sounds into pleasing forms

Geralt twitches, his skin sickly white, his eyes blown wide and surrounded by black veins but seeing nothing. Jaskier has cleaned his wounds as best he can, and now there is nothing left for either of them to do but wait for the potions’ effects to run their course.

It’s always like this after a difficult hunt, and Jaskier has learned both how he can assist and the limitations of what help he can provide. He settles Geralt on a bedroll and draws a blanket over him, then grabs his lute and perches on a nearby tree stump.

He plays quietly, barely more than tapping against the strings, creating a gentle melody which undulates back and forth like the swell of waves onto a calm shore.

The lullaby drifts through the night, soft and soothing, and some of the tension seems to seep from Geralt’s jaw as he drifts off to sleep.

Astronomy, or the study of heavenly bodies

“That’s the Hunter, right there.” Jaskier points to the seven-star constellation visible to the east. “And there,” he moves his hand across the sky toward the west, “there’s his prey, the Stag.”

“An endless pursuit,” Geralt says, voice softened by the impressive quantity of mead they’d worked through. He shuffles closer, resting his head on Jaskier’s thigh as they stare up at the clear sky and its blanket of stars above. “Always linked yet forever held at a distance.”

Jaskier unthinkingly cards his fingers through Geralt’s hair. It must be the warmth of the summer evening, or maybe all that mead, but Geralt doesn’t pull away. Instead he hums, quiet and relaxed.

“I like to think they’ll meet one day,” Jaskier says, hovering perilously close to veracity. “They’ll be together eventually.” Geralt’s hair weaves silver bands around his fingers. “When the stars align.”

[champagneandparacosm-archive]

The angel walked with such grace it was almost unbearable. Every step was an easy incalculable step of utter perfection. Embodied purity, eyes deep pools of decadent holy love. She walked with the confidence of all the heavenly skies had her back-

That would have been nice. It really would have. How she wished she could be so confident in her faith. Be the good angel she knew she should be. That her Father… would want. But something… something so fierce was dragging her inside the bar. It was dark and alluring. She didn’t know what yet, pacing outside the establishment for over an hour. Her silver heels clicking against the pavement like a metronome, on beat with the inability to make up her mind! She knew she shouldn’t. No good holy pure lovely thing could come from a bar. So why was this numb force enticing her so much to open the door.

“Coming in?” A voice asked. A woman held the door open for her. She froze, eyes wide and scared. So out of her element. It was dark, way past the holy hours of the day… nothing good could from the night. She needed to make up her mind. Hurry, kylie, hurry!

Finally, without her even knowing, she found herself stepping inside the building with a breathy inhale. She regretted it immediately, the stench of stale cigarette smoke and alcohol burning her nose. She sneezed, angels allergic to alcohol. It didn’t cause much of a reaction. She was just very sensitive to it. One sip would have her teetering. One shot.. she’d be plastered. But she didn’t know that. She never had to.

She looked out of context in the foyer of the bar. White dress hugging her form, hair tied up in white silk, two strands hanging around her face. She whimpered, terrified, but something inside her pulled her towards the bar counter. She toyed with her bottom lip, eyes frantically trying to take in everything. And then. She froze where she stood, realizing now what had her so antsy. Not what… but a who. A demon. She had never met one in real life. Her mouth dropped open like she’d seen big foot, lost in the allure of the inferno. Even from across the bar she could feel the heat of his forbidden fire. Kylie knew just how cunning and dangerous demons were. She should run. She should have already left. But something kept her in place, eyes dragging slowly across this mythical being. He didn’t look so scary… and the warmth… it- it actually felt kinda nice.

“Can I get you something or not?” The barkeep barked for what had been the fifth time, pounding his hand on the table. She shook herself from her thoughts, head snapping his way, looking like a kicked puppy.

“J-just water, please…” she said softly, moving to sit, shivering. She couldn’t believe she was actually sitting in a bar!!!

// @instant-angel-chaos //

[sobeautifullyobsessed]

for @fanartka - who truly appreciates the glory of the Cumber-back

(I wanted to add gifs to illustrate, but tumblr gif search sucks)

from my fic, The Secret of Salvation

...Fannie watched him remove his jacket and fold it carefully before laying it on the battered steamer trunk at the foot of the bed, marveling at his precision, at his calm despite the growing heat in the room.  Jamie’s back was to her, and the sight of the lay of his braces stilled her breath for several moments, for it accented not only the strong breadth of his shoulders and upper back, but also the very masculine beauty of the gracious curve of his lower back into his trim waist—all of it conspiring to awaken in her a frisson of unexpected lust.  There was no other word to describe it, as it roiled through her belly on downwards.  And she still barely breathed as he turned her way once more, overwhelmed as she was by his every detail.  No man had ever affected her so viscerally, and Fannie realized that tonight she would freely give him whatever he asked of her.  Without hesitation.

from my fic, The One That Got Away

...he stood at the bar, his back turned to her as he leaned in to speak with the barkeep. She watched him a moment, appreciating the strong breadth of his shoulders, and the tantalizing way the material of his bespoke jacket sculpted his back, from the subtle flex of his toned muscles to the shallow, perfect dip between his shoulder blades. The sight of him—and the knowledge that he was unaware she stood admiring him—filled her with a longing that ached to her core…and an astonished gratitude, that his heart was pledged to hers.  Never had the urge to touch, to kiss, to explore, the details of a man’s physique, possessed her so.  She could only stand silently and tell herself to breathe, breathe, breathe, gradually overcoming the heavenly weakness he stirred within her.

I have several more examples--but I can't recall right now, which fics feature the love for Stephen Strange's back.

[mrs-gucci]

The Forbidden Fruit {medieval priest!Kylo Ren x Reader}

anonymous:

Priest!Kylo + tavern + visiting his known mistress

author’s notes: hello, hello! ooo, priest!Kylo is a dirty man and I am very much here for it ;) thanks for the request! (post-writing note: this got waay longer than I originally intended lol)

warnings: a touch of fluff. smut. general filth. the incorrect use of the Adam and Eve bible story. oral sex (f receiving). a bit of religion-infused coercion. innocence kink if you really squint. hints of praise kink. virginity loss. 

tw’s: extramarital affair/sex (as was common in medieval times). (!!) dubcon (!!) **please let me know if I missed any warnings and/or tw’s!!**

word count: 1.8k

kylo’s taglist peeps! @goddessofsprings​ @icarusinthesea​ my general taglist peeps! @safarigirlsp​ @babbushka​ ​@mrs-zimmerman​ @dirtytissuebox​ @thepalaceofmelanie

[NOT my edit. full credit goes to sacklers_sack on Twitter]

Father Kylo walks into the Adam and Eve Tavern and steps up to the bar, ordering a mug of frothy golden brew. He takes a sip as he walks over to his usual corner table, fingers fiddling with the ring around his thick finger. 

Even though his wife already knows of his affair, he still feels a small twinge of guilt whenever he lies to her about his whereabouts. It’s a very slight feeling of remorse, though, considering the fact that she’s one of Satan’s disciples.

You walk in only minutes later, flipping the hood of your cloak off the top of your head. He looks over at smiles at the sight of you, admiring your pure and raw beauty. He’s almost sure you’re some sort of angel in disguise, too beautiful and pure to be anything less. Gods, he wants nothing more than to wreck you, split you in half with his cock.

“Hello, angel.” He purrs as you walk over and sit down at the table with him, eyes lingering on your bosom, which is accentuated greatly in this particular gown. “I am glad to see your beautiful face this eve.”

Your lips curl up into a small smirk. “No need for such flattery, Father. We both know why you summoned me here.”

“I’ve always loved how you get right down to business.” Kylo chuckles devilishly. “There are a series of rooms upstairs, the very reason I chose this particular establishment to conduct our...meeting. Step into the last one down the hall and strip bare, lay down on the bed. I will join you in a moment.”

Nodding, you stand and make your way up to the room, swaying your hips a bit extra for the Father. He smirks when he notices this, taking another sip of his beer as he feels his length twitch to life ‘neath his robes.

He waits a few minutes, finishing the mug of beer and leaving behind a tip for the barkeep before walking up to the room he’s reserved for the night. When he walks in, the sight of your nude body illuminated by the warm orange glow of the crackling fire greets him. Gods, is there a better sight to behold than this one?

Your chest rises and falls gently, rhythmically, breasts rising and falling along with your steady breathing. He’s hypnotized, momentarily, drinking in the angelic beauty that lays across the bedsheets.

His robes are swiftly removed and draped over one of the chairs, leaving him in only his undergarments. He points to your legs with his pointer and middle fingers, silently indicating that he’d like you to spread them. You do.

“Tell me, angel. Have you heard the Biblical tale of Adam and Eve?”

You shake your head, biting down on your lip when he takes a step forward towards the bed. “No, Father, I have not.”

He smirks, standing with his hands clasped behind his back. Remnants of his hot breath tease your bare skin, causing you to shudder.

“Adam and Eve were the first human beings created by God, and they inhabited in the Garden of Eden. They were given allowed to use or consume any of the other plants in the Garden, but they were told not to eat any of the forbidden fruit from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil.”

You gasp when his hands suddenly seize your ankles and pull you to the end of the bed.

“But,” The Father sinks to his knees, never breaking eye contact. “They failed to resist the temptation. The fruit...”

He pushes your legs as far apart as they can go, then lightly traces your glistening slit with his fingertips. Your breath hitches in your throat at his featherlight touch on your center.

Your eyes widen when his nose nudges your outer lips and he takes a long, slow inhale of your natural scent. He shudders, groaning under his breath before his tongue suddenly licks an agonizingly slow stripe up your cunt.

“The forbidden fruit was just too sweet.” Kylo says, licking his lips with a small smirk at the corners of his mouth. “It was so tender, so juicy; it just felt too right to be wrong, too delicious to be sin.”

You can’t stop the desperate whimper that escapes between your parted lips, insides clenching desperately against themselves. He notices the way your hole puckers, and his smirk grows a bit wider.

His mouth opens, then, and he encapsulates your entire core in a sloppy kiss. Your back arches and you gasp loudly, head pressing back against the pillows. The coarse hairs of his beard scratch your skin in the most delightfully pleasurable way, only adding to the sensations he’s creating with his mouth.

“F-Father--ohh!” Your feet plant and your hips lift up off the bed. “Oh gods, mmmm!”

He begins moving with more aggression, passionately slurping up each and every drop of the sweet nectar that leaks from your cunt. His assault doesn’t let up, not until his efforts bring you to the ultimate high.

“Father! F-Father, oh Christ!” You shriek softly, legs quaking as you hit your peak with an Earth-shattering intensity.

Kylo pulls away shortly after you’ve ridden out your high and he’s consumed every single drop of your sinful sweetness, upper lip and beard glistening with your release. He practically rips his undergarments off and wraps a large, veiny hand around the base.

“Lay up at the head of the bed, now. I shall claim your innocence tonight, angel.”

Your eyes widen and you sit up, chewing on your now-tender bottom lip. “I d-don’t know...”

The Father shakes his head, quickly pinning you to the bed, caging you with his large body. You watch his silver Holy Cross necklace shimmer in the dim light, reminding you that he is a man of God and that he would never ask anything of you that he didn’t think you were ready for.

“Do not fear it, my child; why would His Holiness grant us the bodies we posses, ones that can bring such pleasures, if we aren’t intended to use them? Trust me, angel, all will be alright.”

You’re not much of a religious woman, but he makes a reasonable argument...

“O-Okay.”

He smiles, reaching down to place a gentle kiss on your lips. “I will go slowly for you. It may hurt at first, but I promise it will get better.”

You nod. “I trust you, Father.”

His tip swipes all through your slick before settling at your entrance, ready to push in. He holds your cheeks, looking deep into your eyes.

“Are you ready, my angel?”

As soon as you nod, his pelvis pushes forward and his length pushes through your unstretched walls. You cry out, tears instantly burning your eyes as they instantly begin to collect in the corners.

Once he’s fully seated inside you, he remains still, jaw clenched so tight you’re worried he’ll crack his teeth should he clench any tighter. It’s taking every single ounce of his willpower not to fuck you raw, but he knows what he must take care of you this eve. There will be plenty of time for all of that in the future.

“You’re doing sssso well, angel. Taking me so well.”

His words of encouragement, his mutters of of praise reassure you that this was a good choice. You’ve never felt so stuffed in your entire life, not even after holiday feasts and the more your insides stretch in accommodation, the better it begins to feel.

You nod up at him, the first tear escaping your overflowing eyes.

“I’m a-alright now, Father.”

He plants a kiss on your forehead, still cradling your face as he draws back, then pushes forward once more. The noises that escape your lips are positively sinful and they only encourage him on, hips steadily gaining speed and force with each passing moment.

Soon, your body and breasts and excess flesh bounce in time with his hips’ sharp, forceful thrusts. By now, the pain has completely subsided and made way for the pleasure to build in your loins.

“S-So sssweet,” He grunts quietly in your ear. “So j-juicy and tender...and you’re a-all mine...”

Your small whimpers and gasps turn to scandalous moans and cries of desperation. You hold onto his arms tightly, fingernails digging deep into his alabaster skin, surely leaving marks.

“Please, Father, please...”

Kylo can feel his control, his restraint beginning to slip as he nears climax. He’s unable to hold it off, unwilling to deny himself this heavenly pleasure whilst his cock is stained with fresh virgin’s blood.

The thought of that alone thrusts him right up to the edge, looking over the cliff to the peak of bliss.

“Y/N, my a-angel, I...I will not be able to endure much l-longer.”

You nod, grabbing hold of his hair firmly. “It is alright, F-Father. Use m-me, use my body to bring yourself p-pleasure.”

Those words send him careening into climax and he quickly pulls away just as the first rope of his foggy liquor emerges. His hips still give half-hearted mock thrusts as he spills his creamy seed all over your puffy, used cunt.

He crawls off of you once he’s finished, beginning to redress immediately. You sit up, shakily and already you can feel the pain in your loins beginning to build from the Father’s hardened intrusion.

Your eyes catch sight of some red dripped down onto the bedsheet and your cheeks warm, acute worry flaring up inside of you. Is that supposed to happen?

Almost as if he read your worried mind, Father Kylo steps up to you and holds your chin up so that you can look into his eyes.

“Bleeding is typical for virgins, nothing is the matter, I promise.”

You nod, sighing softly in relief. “Thank you, Father.”

He smiles, bending down to place a chaste kiss on your lips. “It is I who should be thanking you, my child. Thank you for giving your innocence to me, for trusting me. You did so well for me tonight, angel.”

Your cheeks warm in flattery, smile splitting your face. But, your expression falls into a frown when you see him drape the cloak over his shoulders.

“Must you leave so soon, Father?”

Father Kylo nods as he pulls on his shoes. “I must get back to the convent, angel; I apologize for having to rush off so quickly. But, I promise I will make it up to you next time, yes?”

You nod, offering a small, disappointment-tinged smile. “Yes, of course, Father. I understand.”

He reaches ‘neath his robes and pulls out the small, silver Holy Cross necklace, draping it around your neck.

“Something to remind you of me, ‘till we next meet.” Kylo says, kissing your temple. “Farewell, my beloved angel.”

Your lips tug up into a genuine smile, fingers toying with the silver charm as he approaches the door and slips out.

“Farewell, Father.”

[hyetiny]

c// fem!reader, superhero reader, villain yeosang, lowkey enemies to fwb, top yeo, bottom reader, bodily scars + showing them to each other, mentions of violence, clubbing, drinking, dry humping, oral (f receiving), knifeplay, pain kink, choking, degradation, dirty talk, protected sex, yeo monster cock

please read the tags carefully, this may not be for everyone!

this is the longest thing i've ever written omfg. also i’m really proud of this, please don’t let it flop :’D

kang yeosang was the root of everything wrong in your life, you had decided.

he was like the annoying fly that wouldn’t stop buzzing around your ear on a hot summer’s day. no matter how many times you were certain that you had vanquished the city of the blight that was yeosang, the supervillain managed to come back unnoticed.

at this point, you were convincing yourself it was impossible to cease him from causing trouble. on shitty nights like this, you went down to the discreet nightclub, hidden away in a dark alleyway. whether you needed a good drink or a good fuck, the club was always there to provide.

“the usual?” the familiar bartender yunho asks, taking in your frustrated expression and slumped shoulders that he sees far too often. 

“yep, a slouchy susan.” you roll your eyes at the corny names yunho would come up with, your mind wandering to the silly names he must have had for the other patrons. it was always comforting to have a chat with the friendly bartender after a hard day - plus, you couldn’t deny he was absolute eye candy. 

“top it off, please.” you shift your glass back to him after downing it.

“put it on my tab, yuyu”. a familiar, deep voice comes from next to you.

you turn to see yet another unbelievably attractive man. he has blonde hair that grows just past his neck, his natural black roots starting to show through. from where you’re sitting on your rickety stool, you pick up on the hint of cologne that lingers on him. you’ve never seen him before, yet something about him seems eerily familiar, like you’ve seen him in a dream.

you shake off the feeling, instead deciding to chat him up.

“yuyu?” you giggle at his affectionate nickname for the barkeep.

“we go way back, it’s what his mother would call him when she’d drop him off to school. i guess it stuck”. the man smiles at you, visibly taking in your features and not breaking eye contact with you.

you’re taken aback by him, your heart thumping unusually fast for some reason.

“stop embarrassing me, yeo-”

the man clears his throat loudly. you must have missed something, because yunho immediately goes quiet and wordlessly hands your drinks - your “slouchy susan” and a whiskey for the man.

“so if he’s yuyu, what are you?” you ask him.

“you can call me ryusang.” he says.

“y/n”. 

the two of you lapse into easy conversation. you giggle at his lame jokes, and he does the same. you find common interests, funny anecdotes, blissfully letting the stresses of the day slip away with each word of the attractive ryusang.

soon enough, the dance floor grows crowded and the music gets louder.

“dance with me?” ryusang stands up, offering a hand. you take it gratefully, letting him drag you to the dance floor. it’s a mess of sweaty bodies, but you don’t care as you become part of it with ryusang. his hands find your hips, and you’re both falling into an easy rhythm, completely in sync with the trap music blasting from the speakers.

as expected, the space between you gradually gets smaller and smaller, until it’s practically non-existent. you’re shamelessly grinding against each other, joining the litany of couples who are completely up against each other. you pretend not to pay any mind to his noticeably growing bulge, instead deciding to tease him a bit by intentionally grinding up harder against him. this night was going right where you wanted it to.

“my place is near here.” he whispers right into your ear, making you shiver underneath him.

“then we’d better get out of here quickly, hm?” you say in response.

since you had both been drinking, you decide to take a cab to his place. the sexual tension is rife in the air. you deliberately, teasingly lay a hand on his thigh, oh so close to his crotch, his face glowing red as it clearly riles him up.

when you get up the flight of stairs up to his apartment, and he fumbles with the key for what feels like minutes, you’re all over each other. the first kiss you share is nothing but messy - all teeth and tongue, nothing but complete lust for one another. he’s gently guiding you towards his room, until your legs hit his mattress. you break the kiss, only for him to gently lay you down, straddle you, and get right back to sloppily kissing you.

he undoes the buttons of your blouse without breaking the kiss, impressively with one hand. he breaks the kiss once again to take in the sight of your newly exposed skin. his eyes engulf the expanse of scars on your skin, some older and some looking to be very much recent.

“who did this to you?” he whispers in what seems to be a mixture of awe and anger. hesitantly, he runs a finger across a thin line that spans from your lower belly to your ribcage.

“you did, yeosang.” you say, deadpan.

he pauses, his heart dropping to his stomach.  “excuse me?”

“did you think you were fooling me? seriously, why didn’t you pick a less obvious fake name?” you giggle. despite the vulnerable position you’re in, you clearly hold the upper hand, indulging in his shocked expression. you hadn't missed the bartender's obvious slip up of yeosang's name, and could never forget that deep voice of his that would always taunt you.

“you’re always screwing me over y/n. i didn’t think we’d end up like this”. he says as a smooth recovery.

you roll your eyes. “remember when you gave me this?” you tap at the scar. he shakes his head.

“two years ago. you were trying to get rid of all power in the city. i almost stopped you, so you pegged a knife right here.” 

“if i was trying to kill you, the knife would’ve stuck.” he says defensively. “you got away with a scratch, only because i wanted that.”

“well, thanks for not trying to kill me, kang yeosang. i’m flattered.” you say sarcastically. 

“well, you gave me something worse.” he strips himself of his shirt. to no surprise, his skin is similar to yours. a canvas for an array of marks and scars, most of which you recognize to be your own work.

you point to an especially long one on his collarbone. “that one was definitely me.”

“yeah, and it hurt like a bitch.” he says snarkily.

“well, now we’re both half naked.”

“nice catch.”

“well for convenience’s sake, we may as well get back to-”

his lips are on yours again, effectively shutting you up. you don’t protest - besides, it’s hard to when his tongue is in your mouth. 

what you don’t expect is the cold press of something against your throat, which then trails down to your collarbones. it isn’t pleasant, but not uncomfortable either. it’s sharp against your skin, and your curiosity gets the best of you.

yeosang begins to press open mouthed kisses against your skin, alongside what you now see is a familiar knife in his hand. you begin to feel more vulnerable underneath him, knowing he had complete power over you. yet somehow, you don’t feel afraid of the man who has your life in his hands.

he undoes your jeans, letting out a low whistle at the damp spot forming against your panties. the flat side of the blade presses against your clothed core, earning a whine for him.

"fucking touch me already". you say through gritted teeth, despising that your mortal enemy has you so needy for him.

"am i not already touching you?" he says with a shit eating smirk. fuck him, you think. but that was exactly what you wanted to do.

to your surprise, you hear the sound of fabric ripping, and a sudden cold against your core, as though-

"i liked those." you say frustratedly, finding yeosang pulling away the ripped remnants of your panties away from your core.

"you look far better without them." is all he says before licking an experimental stripe up your already wet hole, earning a breathy moan from you. you don't have it in you to be mouthy when his tongue continues to tease your labia, eventually meeting your clit in what is the most heavenly thing you've ever felt. all thoughts of how much you hate the man currently eating you out are out the window as the pad of his finger presses against your clit, his tongue messily lapping at your hole as if he was just licking for his pleasure rather than yours.

your hips subconsciously grind up in tandem with his tongue, earning small moans from him as well.

"so fucking wet. do you usually get this wet this quickly, or are you just that much of a slut for me?" he chuckles.

it takes every ounce of self control not to flick him on the forehead. the degrading name catches you off guard, yet somehow it makes your hole clench needily. besides, you want what's hidden under the confines of his black jeans far too much to be mean to him right now.

"just... just fill me up, yeosang."

"i like you like this." he says with a cocky smile. it gives you butterflies, even though you know it means nothing more than just a spur of the moment thought. "beg for me a little more, and i'll think about it."

oh, the urge to punch him in the face.

"fuck you."

"that's the plan."

you sigh in frustration. "kang yeosang, my mortal enemy, fill me up with your monster fucking cock until i can't think straight." you say sarcastically.

surprisingly, it's enough for him. it seems you weren't wrong when you said "monster cock" his cock far thicker and longer than any cock you had taken recently. or in general, for that matter.

he must notice the way you gape at it, giggling to himself.

"cond-" you start, but he cuts you off by leaning over to his bedside drawer.

he shuffles around before he finds what he's looking for, sliding on the first condom he finds and coating himself in lube for good measure.

"ready? are you okay?" he asks, lining himself up against your entrance.

you want to roll your eyes, but you know he's just looking out for you. you give him a nod, and it's all it takes for him to push, breaching your wet hole and filling you up perfectly. you can't stop the high whine that leaves your lips. it's embarrassing, but yeosang seems to enjoy it, groaning into your ear.

"you're so fucking tight. expected you to be all stretched out like the whore you are." he whispers into your ear, embarrassingly only making you clench more around him.

you barely need to adjust, needing nothing more than for him to ruin you. his hips set a steady pace, grinding oh so perfectly against you. the tip of his cock perfectly reaches that sweet spot inside you, earning a louder moan for him. you'd be embarrassed with what his neighbours must be hearing, but it's the last thing on your mind when you have such a perfect cock stretching you out.

"fuck, my perfect slut. so nice and tight around my cock, huh? it's like this pussy was made to take my cock." he growls, his thrusts only getting harder and sloppier the closer he gets to his high.

"o-only for you." you cry out, gasping as he fills you up impossibly deep, over and over again. the coil building up in your stomach only gets tighter when his fingers find your clit.

the breaking point is when his lips meet your collarbone, leaving more kisses and tiny bites here and there. the sensations all over are too much for you. you cry out when your orgasm hits you harder than ever before, leaving you breathless. your orgasm triggers his as well, indicated by the long, pleasured groan he lets out.

you can't do anything but catch your breath as he pulls out, taking off the condom, tying it up and throwing it away in the bin next to his bed.

"who knew that all it took was a good fuck to get you weak for me?" yeosang breaks the silence.

"shut up." you say weakly, still too breathless to properly argue back.

"maybe i will, if you make me."

needless to say, he keeps you up for a few more hours until you both fall asleep, the first rays of the sunrise peeking through the blinds of his window.

the next morning, you wake up groggy and exhausted, the drinks and activities from last night finally catching up to your body. to your disappointment, yeosang isn't there next to you, the other side of the bed empty.

of course, the asshole didn't have the decency to wait for you to wake up. reaching out for your phone, you find to your surprise that there's a sticky note on it.

“last night was fun, we should do it again. i've gone out to wreak havoc, so i know our paths will cross again soon anyway.” - your mortal enemy, kang yeosang <3

[sunshineinabowl]

When words Fail

Character(s): Venti, Traveler Genre: Angst Note: Venti is my comfort character and I think he needs to go through p a i n. Also I had so much fun writing this I might write a sequel later on ehe~

Being alive as long as he had, you learn many things. For Venti, he had learned the way to spin his words into an intricate story, had learned to compose song after song until the sorrow in his heart dissipated even just a moment. Venti isn’t human, though he tries his best to experience it, he knew he’d never truly achieve it. How could an immortal, a being made of wind, ever understand the importance of time?

It was improbable, leaving a cold feeling in his chest that never dulled. Growing even colder when his gnosis was ripped from him. Pitiful laughter crawls up his throat at this though, the loathing he’s all too familiar with, tightens his chest. In the end, Venti really was a no good archon. This time he had known that his rest had consequences, in his pursuit to make sure Mondstat upheld it’s freedom, Venti had lost grip on what it meant to lead his own.

Another soft sigh escapes his lips, the train of thought he was heading down leaving a bitter taste. Even the wine he drowned in could barely overcome the bitterness, such a shame too he had paid good money for it. Everything felt distant, the pang in his heart as the barkeep shot him a concerned look, the breeze brushing against him worriedly, even the warm rays of the fading sun could do little to bring him out of this twisted daze.

Venti has been alive since the very creation of Mondstat, he has lived to hear and tell tales to his people. Words are his element, speaking and weaving a tale into every sentence is what he does. Yet, in this moment where the song of Windrise did little to soothe his pain, words failed him. Nothing seemed to dull the aching in his heart and stinging that pressed at his eyes.

“Why do I always come here whenever I’m down on my luck…” Whispering those words as he presses his back against the comforting tree, Venti lets a sad laugh tumble from his lips. Closing his eyes, despite the painful memories that flash behind his eyelids, he lets himself drift. What ifs and should haves, banging through his head.

What if I hadn’t fallen asleep this time around.

I should have been stronger.

What if I hadn’t become the archon in the first place…

The nun he had met when trying to get his lyre was right about one thing, Venti had not been Barbatos for a long time. Barbatos was the name of the archon who brought with them freedom and hope, he was the archon who persevered...who never hid. When one thinks of Barbatos, they think of him with a fond smile and talk about him with respect and awe.

In this moment, where the chill of the night seeps in, where the wind sleeps even if only for a moment. Venti didn’t feel hope nor did he wish to persevere. No….Venti felt tired, a bone deep exhaustion that he couldn’t bring himself to fight. Sleep was tempting, the prospect of another 600 years of bliss sounding heavenly.

You don’t deserve to rest, face your actions...coward.

Laughter rips through his throat, mixed with a sob as Venti curls against his knees. Tears were crawling down his face, desperation for something...booze...sleep...anything that would ease the hell that was his mind. Vicious words were drowning him and for a moment he couldn’t breath, everything was becoming too much. Maybe if he was stronger he could escape the shackles of his mind, of the past that refused to leave him.

The traveler approaches…

A soft breeze warns him of the traveler, soon enough that with only a quick shift into the wind, he was hidden from sight. Like a beacon in the dark, it was the traveler's golden hair that he noticed first. Envy washes over Venti, Envy at how bright this outlander could be despite their circumstances.

“Huh, I don’t see that tone-deaf bard anywhere?!?!?” Paimon’s loud words tighten his throat, the tear stains growing more noticeable. Longing shoots through him, all he had to do was call out to them, to appear again and let his guard down.

“He should be here...Charles said Venti didn’t look so great and this is where he usually goes from what I remember.” Another silence falls over Windrise, Venti’s green eyes widening at Aether/Lumine’s words. Complicated emotions fell over him at this new piece of information, he was honestly surprised people were worried for him.

Maybe...Maybe this was the hope he was looking for…

All he had to do was speak, to reach out and take the open hand. To maybe be saved from the sea of his mind. Hesitation weighed him down though, rooting him to his hiding spot on the tree. It was easy, there was an easy fix to this...they were right there,

Just...he just had to...

“Maybe he’s somewhere else?” Paimon’s words bring another onslaught of tears, these ones fueled by frustration. Numbly, he watched as Aether/Lumine nodded hesitantly at Paimon’s words, watching as they left in a futile search for him. Venti was really growing tired of this non-stop crying, of how cowardly he was.

Sighing softly, he places a gentle hand on the tree, a soft goodbye blankly leaving him. Ignoring the way the wind sang in sorrow, Venti starts to walk in an unknown direction. Exhaustion clung to him mercilessly, his body begging him to sleep, fear was the only thing stopping him. Fear of sleeping for another couple hundred years, a fear of being undeserving of rest. Sleep wasn’t a necessity to him, only coming when he really needed to recharge, so he continued to walk. He knows that eventually the pain will dull just enough for him to slip back into being Venti the bard, so for now he’ll wander.

He’ll wander and question...question why words fail him...why when he needed them most they disappeared….and why his heart felt heavier than ever...

[sketchydodles]

Memories PT. 2 | RadioHusk FanFic

PLEASE MIND THAT THIS SCENE WILL CONTAIN DETAILS OF VIOLENCE, DISTURBING SCENERY, THIS IS NOT MEANT FOR THE WEAK HEARTED. PLEASE READ AT OWN RISK

---

Alastor snapped from his apparent reminiscing, finding himself in front of the front desk/bar of the establishment.

The layer of dust that was piling on top of the counter was visible for the naked eye to see, it felt empty and devoid of its purpose.

It felt useless without its barkeep to maintain it...

Alastor slowly traced a finger across the countertop, dust piling, and staining it as it creates a smooth and straight line. Alastor refused for anyone to even dare touch the drinking establishment, not even a light cleaning by the darling Niffty, but the cyclops didn't ignore nor deny the radio demon's request and simply passed by it whenever she had a cleaning spree. Alastor can sort of feel a bit relieved that everything will remain the same as it was before Husk left his post.

Although the pain remains in his undead heart whenever he would glance in the abandoned bar's direction.

It was a struggle to keep up his devilish grin whenever someone mentioned his wildcard's name.

Soon his inner anger and loss would cause him to be on a murderous spree.

Dooming his chances to even be redeemed.

Alastor didn't want to be torturing and massacring any hellians if his darling kitten won't be here to bear witness it. It's pointless to start arguments if none of the poor souls won't come up with snappy and drunken comebacks in return to his rant like Husker. Most of Hell's inhabitants will bear the same reaction of fear and endless pleading for life as opposed to Husk's apathetic attitude.

Nothing could be the same... It frustrated Al...

Alastor can feel a low rumble in his throat that was building up to be a snarl, his antlers slowly sharpening at his clawing anger that was threatening to unleash all chaos and destruction. His grin tightening as if it's being forcefully pulled on to keep that dastardly smile from faltering even a second. Alastor slowly makes his way out of the hotel and into the deserted city street, simply tilting his head upward at the sky as the sky darkens.

Then he hears a mocking laugh in the back of his mind...

He taps on his mic as static emits from him, humming a soft tune that he recalls Husk's always enjoyed in his early youth to drown out the unneeded irritation.

"I dedicate this broadcast to you, my wildcard..." Alastor announced as he watches a bright light shining across Hell's bloody sky, winged creatures spurring out from said light.

...

"You fucking shithead! Can't you see or are you blind as sh*t!?" Husk roared to the radio demon, snarling as a fit of laughter was his answer. "My dear Husker, you worry simply too much! It's no fun to simply have mercy on the game when it's more delighting to partake in the more violent approach..." Alastor retorted to the winged cat demon, while he did think Husk didn't have to hover over his shoulder (figuratively), he thought it was endearing to see the old veteran was caring about his wellbeing. Besides, he enjoyed the reaction Husker would have when Al comes close to being in harm's way.

"I ain't going to care for your ass if you so much have a broken limb..." Husk chided while keeping the angels at bay, quickly dodging and maneuvering around to grab their spear, taking this advantage to pierce it through its head. The blood quickly splatting out and staining his claws/paws, even a bit on his cheek as he dumped the body over the floor. Seeing the deer demon watching him with a softer smile and starstruck eyes, "Keep your eyes off me, bastard..." Husk simply called out as he briskly lunged the used spear towards the side of Alastor to which punctured through the skull of the approaching exterminator.

Alastor simply chuckled as he leaned against his mic, snapping his fingers to which tentacles quickly coiled around a few of the heavenly beings that attempted to stalk behind the alcoholic gambler. "Perhaps you should focus more around you than my state of admiration to you..." Alastor riposte as he waved his hands to quickly crush the angels of above to a nearby building, glancing as the building crumbled on top of them. Husk simply scoffed as he takes a quick scan over the area, hundreds of bodies was amongst them as he simply rubbed his tired eyes.

Sometimes Husk wondered how Alastor dragged him to play stupid charades like this.

"You seem tired, my dear..." Alastor cooed in Husk's ear as he had swiftly made his way over to his wildcard, although Husk simply swatted the approaching hand that wanted to rest upon his shoulder. "Don't act like you weren't the reason I had to miss my nap, fucker..." Husk hissed in a low volume as he ignored the hand that began to massage behind his ears although said ears simply lowered in content. "Alright then, would you prefer me to continue this game I have also kindly invited you into..!" Alastor proposed in his usual showman attitude, Husk rolling his eyes in response. "Let's just fucking go back..."

Although Husk couldn't exactly go-ahead as Alastor changed his hand to rest upon his hip, hugging him close as the smiling sinner simply nuzzled a top of Husk's head. "Oh, we don't have to rush my kitten! Enjoy the scenery!" Alastor acclaimed as he waved his free arm across the cityscape to show the corpses of their latest kills, feeling proud that he would share this wonderous feat with his wildcard.

"I much prefer it AFTER the extermination and when I'm rested, asshat..." Husk growled to his lover's praise.

Alastor simply chuckled as he escorted the winged demon to the hotel, humming a cheery tune as his mic begins to play an old song from Husk's time of lively hood. Husk normally would've told Al to shut the damn thing off, but he actually enjoys the song more than he likes to admit so he simply lets the song play out it's slow yet lively beat.

Although his ear twitches as suddenly his iris shrank, shaking as time slows.

Swiftly pulling himself from Al's grip as he uses his wing to shield himself and the deer demon, positioning himself directly behind Alastor.

Alastor turned his head towards the gambler as blood suddenly stained him over his coat as his eyes widen while his smile simply sharpen. Seeing a spear belonging to those from above, pierce cleanly through the red wings that matched with the blood staining the wound, and puncturing through Husk's lower abdomen.

Labored breathing acted by the cat demon as he slowly falls to his knees and onto his side, the heavenly weapon began to increase the pain and damage as the wound slowly glowed into that of soft light. Following along the blood and wound as if tracing his veins. Alastor suddenly let out a loud roared as he catches sight of the culprit, an injured angel who's ever grinning smiling mask mocked him. It stood there simply watching, knowing there was no chance of escaping but simply to instead gloat.

Alastor can feel his demon form manifest as quickly as one can snap their fingers, his eyes slowly becoming pools of black tar as some ooze down his cheek, his smile enlarging as the corners of his mouth began to tear and stretch to show rows of massive blade-like teeth, his body stretched and becoming withered with decay as his skin begin to meet against the bones, giving him a very slender like appearance as his horns grew in length, twists and sharpen points manifesting. His upper buddy becoming a bit bulkier despite his thinning build, bones protruding through his shoulders as his skin became more of ash grey while his legs twist and bend to that of an actual deer completed with hooves. Black tentacles cling and attach to his lower arms and hands along with his legs, giving his limbs a more elongated stretch.

An audible click was heard as his tone became deeper, demonic, and devoid of his usual radio filter. "YoU dARe tO HarM wHaT Is MiNE ThEn YOu WIll PEriSh!" Alastor let out a sickening combination of a shriek and a howl that rattled the near buildings weak windows and the ground shook, immediately pinning the heavenly being down to the ground although it wasn't struggling nor crying for mercy, but instead stare back into the empty eyes to which belonged to the infamous radio demon. This further fueled Alastor's fury and raises his long and gnarly claws to prepare to hack the angel that harmed his beloved.

Although what he heard was something that honestly threw off the demon that his anger suddenly was replaced to confusion and unease.

The being beneath him was giving a soft yet audible chuckle, to which began to grow in volume to a cackle, and soon the laughter echoed across the neighborhood to send a shiver down your spine. Alastor was beyond confused but at the light of moment took this action as an offense, a sort of mockery to him, knowing that this being of holiness gave no sheer fuck for what crime they committed. Instead, they took great pride and victory of their action with no remorse within their very being.

In just one quick swipe which began to claws and slashing left and right, the grotesque manner to equal the measure of Alastor's rage.

Breathing heavily as he slowly began to shift to his tame form, standing to his feet and giving a quick look over of the mutilated corpse beneath him. Although his attention quickly snapped and his full focus was his Husk, quickly making way as he gave to his buckling knees next to his darling wildcard who's breathing are soft and shallow as his golden honey eyes were now that of a dull and faded greyish caramel. Carefully pulling Husk's head to his lap as his smile was beginning to falter, struggling to keep pinned up. Tears forming as it blurred his vision, blinking to let them fall and mark his face.

Gently runs a hand through Husk's fur while the golden glow that accompanied his wounds was slowly taking forms of cracks over his body as if he were broken. The angelic weapon was taking effect and there is no way to reverse or heal its damage, so it was best to let it run its slow and agonizing course than to fight it...

"I... Never expected to see you this f*cking bummed out..." Husk quietly commented on Alastor's disarray state, his voice having no snarkiness or sarcasm to it but a genuine concern tone.

"Husker darling... I... I don't seem to understand... H-How can you let yourself..." Alastor questioned and stuttering over his words as tears continue to stream and let the tears fall onto the gambler's bloodied fur. He couldn't think of the right words to say, in fact, he lost the ability to think and speak.

"And I... Thought I've known you long enough... Yet you still surprise me..." Husk chuckled weakly as the sound of exhaustion overlay it, "For once you actually shut up..."

"You seem to take this too lightly, my dear..."

"To be fair, this ain't my first time being in a situation like this..."

"Yes... And I hoped it never had to repeat itself..." Alastor replied as he was referencing to Husk's death, while he wasn't alive to bear witness it himself, Husk once mental breakdown revealed the nature and cause of his apparent suicide.

Husk breathing was now that above a whisper as the glowing pattern soon reach his neck.

Knowing this is his ending, he put almost all his strength and effort to reach towards the hat that has fallen off of him just to his side, pulling out a dog tag that bears his own two from the war and also a ring that Alastor has proposed to him several months back. Clutching it in his claws as he brought it to where Alastor's other hand (which wore the other ring) lay on his stomach just near the wound, giving a soft but reassuring smile to Alastor to which the deer demon soon let down his own facade.

"Thanks, Al... For... Everything..."

Al quickly took hold of the gambler's claw that held the necklace.

The (not so) smiling sinner gently planted a long and yet passionate kiss atop the winged demon's forehead, watching as Husk smile stayed as he closed his eyes.

"Je t'aime..." Alastor softly whispered as Husk took his final breath as the glow soon brighten to near blindness. Once the scolding light dimmed to nothing, Alastor was soon met with loneliness as Husk no longer exists in his arms.

Alastor tightens his grip to still feel the dog tag along with the ring in his clutches, tears cascading as he let out a loud shriek full of pain and mourning, his hands covering his eyes as his holler reached almost several miles from where he was across the city. The clock striking loudly to mark the end of the extermination, hearing in the distance the fireworks that the princess has cast.

...

A year has passed since then... Alastor was no longer the same.

While the mannerism and his dark humor remained, the hotel crew knew it was forced and a mask to hide his scars of what he lost that day. The breaking of his heart couldn't be repaired if he could no longer have his darling Husk with him any longer. The atmosphere felt still and stiff since Husk's death, Alastor "requested" to her highness for no one to even be near the bar or to so much touch what lays with it. Charlie couldn't deny an obvious grieving man's wish as she enforces the rule out to everyone.

Months pass by like a stream as the vacant bar laid dormant, to never be used again.

Alastor can still hear the cackle that befalls upon him when he pinned heaven's winged vulture, it haunted him but deny any assistance or would never acknowledge it. The deer demon stopped drinking altogether as his impulses grew, more murderous, and blood coated broadcasts increased throughout the airwaves, each more grotesque and gnarly than the last.

This one was no different, although this sign off would forever be engraved to the sinners around.

Alastor murdering the angelic beings was obviously a sort of empty revenge knowing that no matter how many winged beasts he killed, Husk won't be returning.

...

Alastor laid on the floor as multiple spears of angels have pierced through him, his devilish smile plastered onto his face as blood seemed to pour out of his closed teeth, the mic broken by his side as it gave off an almost inaudible static before silence overcame it soon after.

In his hand, that accompanied his ring, held Husk's dog tags that also had the gambler's ring attached.

He never wanted to let him go, he'd never wanted to lose the one person he can feel this sensation again... He lost it once...

He promised to stay by his side... He refuses to break it again...

I'm forever here my love... I'm not leaving you again...

[asheewrites]

Pubverse IV - Pub now visited

A few steps into the ‘Vulcano’, Raphael realised not only the barkeeper eyed him suspiciously. Every single guest had their eyes trained on him. The expressions reached from disgust over curiosity to lecherous glares.

His outstretched wings didn’t seem to cause any outrage. Or questions. So, for now… he will assume a meeting place for art students or… possibly more field agents of the heavenly or… hellish kind than anticipated.

No one dared touching his wings, which was a relief.

Less of a relief was the sceptic-looking incarnation of this universes’ Metatron. He leaned forward on outstretched arms, sleeves rolled up, hair gelled back and spikey. He seemed to be working in this bar.

From his own experiences, this was an oddity. But who was he to judge, truly.

With a smile, he seated himself at the counter and rearranged his wings to take away less space, barely managing, but trying nonetheless.

“So, what can I bring you?” The king of angels said. And Raphael was genuinely perplexed for a second.

“A Ginger Ale, please,” he said and raised his brows, glancing over at the human ‘Felix’, that had accompanied him here. “The usual,” he said.

The Metatron nodded.

And continued to prepare the drinks. While Raphael sat there, the object of a colourful assortment of glares. And a judgemental side-glance from the ‘barkeeper’ of this place. Or… maybe an assessing one, it’s… perfectly reasonable to be suspicious of him. Not knowing an angel as the king of angels might be… unusual?

A glass was put in front of him. Another in front of Felix.

“… I think we should… talk. Would that be okay with you?” Metatron said, looking down at a glass he was polishing.

Raphael nodded.

Metatron, too. “Felix, would you bring him to the back?”

“Sure thing! Come on, stranger, we hang out a little more”

And so, Raphael took his drink out of Felix’ hand and followed him to the back, ignoring the glances that got ‘questioning’ added to all of their descriptions.

With a heavy sigh, he sat down and positioned his wings in an anatomically interesting way, prompting Felix to point a pencil at him: “Thank you, Sir. The bar closes at four, it would have been a very boring time”

“Ah. Still not trusting anyone to be of adequate help?”

Felix chuckled: “Not wrong, angel-friend, not wrong, but he is working on it”

“…without the Raphael residing here?”

“Oh, I think not, but you can ask him, if you want, I shouldn’t talk about weird angel politics”

“… you don’t know”

“Heh. That, too. And now, hold still, please” And the pencil was back on the paper.