I decided on a chibi style for this one bc I was strapped for time, and thought it would look cute. I think Chancellor is pissed at Draven for something. Which isn’t unusual.
Please ignore wtf is going on for Chancellor’s robe back, I couldn’t find any pics for him turned around, so I improvised.
Even if they should be beyond the bonds of flesh and bone, it's all they have and they will spend it insulting one another for the rest of eternity. @imagine-darksiders , looking at you because I know you appreciate these boney boys like I do. 🤣
Darksiderstober Day 27 " Flesh and Bone" is three days late, but here's both the conniving Chancellor and the Blademaster Draven sending threats. It helps to know you can't kill what is already dead, but I bet both wish there was a way they could to each other given the chance. Hope ya like, prompts are here , and stay tuned!
Art is mine
Draven and the Chancellor belong to Darksiders universe
Description: Draven is alone with his thoughts of you in the depths of the undercroft.
Draven knows these feelings are wrong, but the dreadful night around him is so uninviting compared to the wanton thoughts of you. They flood his mind like a haze and he sighs at the idea of your warm body touching his. He misses his lips when he thinks of kissing you, pressing your bodies together as he molds his mouth to yours, dragging your hips into his to lightly graze each other in ways suggesting something more… intimate. You'd be so warm. In his mind you actually want him just as much as he wants you.
The undercroft is dark and damp in the night and absently he trails his hand down to the slight bulge in his trousers. It’s been so long since he's touched another. Not since Lilith, and she was never as gentle as he imagines you to be. You'd be so soft with him. You'd stroke him while you kissed and he'd return the favor letting his tongue mingle with yours Slowly he’d explore your mouth and you’d buckle at his touch. He can almost hear your whimpers of desperation in the back of his lust filled mind. He could listen to them for hours if he had the time to devote to you. Hell, the two of you would have all the time in the world to explore each other once he’s sat on the Dead King’s throne. He’d take you on the throne every day, and no one would be there to stop him, especially not the horseman or that god forsaken Chancellor.
The deeper his thoughts travel the more deliberately he rubs. He thinks of you lounging over his bed with nothing to cover you, or maybe you’d wear your tight “modern day” clothes with the pants that hug your ass just the way he likes. His cock throbs in want and he bucks his hips into his palm. He wants you so badly. He wants to kiss you and feel you from the inside out. He wants to make love to you from the late hours of the evening to the early hours of the morning. You'd be so sweet.
Draven feels suffocated under his clothes, everything is too tight! He quickly unbuckles his belt and lets his member spring free. It stands at attention and he’s a little surprised. He hasn't had an erection like that since his days among the living. He didn’t even think he could get one completely. It's so hard it's almost painful to the touch. Gingerly he traces his cool fingers down the veiny shaft. It's chilled to the touch but he tries to imagine what your reaction might be. Surely you've never made love with a dead man before. He hopes you'd be excited.
You'd stare in amazement at his length and kiss his tip ever so lightly, letting your warm tongue sweep out to taste his precum. Maybe you’d stroke him while you sucked his tip or take him all the way down your throat. Even if you couldn’t manage that, the idea of you gagging on his cock makes his head swim. He brings his hand from the base to the tip and massages it until the entire head is slick. He imagines it’s your saliva. He knows that if you would ever suck him off in real life he'd hardly last two minutes. Your heat would melt him. He brings his hand down to pump himself at the thought. He watches the thin skin of his cock slip over prominent veins and he closes his eyes to think of you bobbing your head happily away on his length. Your hair would dance on either side of your face and he’d grip it to help you take him deeper while simultaneously getting a good view of his length slipping farther into your mouth. Your warm skin, the smell of your clothes, the softness of your hair, your voice.
"Ah, dammit-!"
Draven bites back a moan when he thinks of your voice. It's so wonderful when you talk to him and he could die happy each time he makes you laugh. The way you say his name has his rotted stomach doing flips. Your voice overall is a beautiful instrument and, if he had you here tonight, he'd conduct a symphony of your pleasure. You'd say his name, chanting it to the creator, wherever he may be, and he'd whisper you praises to the angels above for letting you be here with him!
"Oh (y/n)...." if only you were mine!
His thoughts tunnel vision into only thoughts of you as he pumps his cock, thrusting his hips to fuck his fist. Slick noises and grunts fill the air and he grips the headboard behind him with his free hand, a scratching of nails digging harsh gouges into the old wood. Faster and faster. Harder and harder with the passion of a mad man until…
There's a thudding of footsteps above. He can hear your angel's voice talking with the horseman.
Draven looks shamefully away from himself. He can't stop the cum indignantly pouring from his cock. He cringes at the white cream that seeps out and drips down his shaft to stain his hands. Here he is: a dead man dirtying himself with thoughts of you two pleasuring each other.
He's lower than trash and you deserve someone better.
