#forgottenarchangel

[buggeredson-a]

[buggeredson-a]

What *would* Crowley and Azrael's child even be? I remember human/demon children would be hellspawn...

[I would just be worried on principle.

Demon + Human = Hellspawn/Anti-ChristAngel + Human = Nephilim/AbominationAngel + Demon = something awful, i’m sure.

Maybe some new breed of awful, more powerful than a demon (yet susceptible, to some degree, to the normal weaknesses), with multiple Daddy Issues and a nasty habit—an agenda of eradication—oh, and thanks to irony, a supporter of Lucifer.

-shudders lightly-]

[buggeredson-a]

“I want you now”

Send me “I want you now” and my muse will share their reaction to yours pinning them down on a bed

He hit the bed with enough force to wind him—not that that was a difficult task to accomplish. At it was, he had been skating on the brink between suspicion, lust, and merriment, unsure of whether a flirtation or a joke was the right route to go.

Apparently, informing her she was more apt to be “the Angel of Modern-Day Sex and Baguettes than the Angel of Death” wasn’t an entirely ill-advised road to take, fraught with perils though it was. He brought himself to his elbows, chuckling, only to feel the obstinate weight straddling his waist lean over and push him firmly back down; the view was nothing at all to scoff at, and it conjured memories of another time—another angel, almost—huffing and puffing and adorably red in the face. The phantoms pants yet lingered hot over his face, and he smiled lazily up to the woman that face had become.

"Do you find something entertaining, mon roi?”

"Your King now, am I?" She smirked in reply, leaning over to nip his neck lightly.

"Only in the dark…."

He ignored the stipulation, shifting beneath her to remind her of the more pressing matters rising between them. “If I’m a king, luv, and not a throne….”

"There’s been a change in regime." He answered with an indelicate snort, and she smiled into his flesh, lifting up to see his face. "Too soon?"

"Until the bloody bitch is gone, yes.”

She made a small noise, part-apology and part-displeasure, before pressing another kiss into the corner of his mouth. He moved again, thinking to surge up and overthrow her—at least to situate himself so he wasn’t lying helplessly beneath her—but his wicked little angel kept her seat with ease, tutting at him.

"Is that how you tried to overthrow her, too? Your strategy needs work, mon coeur.”

He leaned up, going only as far as he could lift his head, and turned to supplication with clever lips, luring her face back down to rest his neck while enjoying the spoils of an audience with the angelic new queen. Divine right to rule indeed. And again, he could almost feel shakier limbs, flushed with excitement and nerves, borrowed sense sparking—pleasurably?—as she kept a seat in his lap, one of his arms hooked around her waist to help in the endeavour. "Will it hurt?" Why lie? Yes, but I’ll be gentle. That wicked smile she could never properly refuse back in place as he silenced her further protests with another kiss (she had been so new to the sensation, it always caught her off-guard, but she would melt into it, seeking more contact, opening up under him at the lightest of touches, glowing with her damnable trust as she did so). He must have smiled into their present exchange.

"You’ll have to share this grand new joke with me."

"Not a joke," he assured her, one arm coming up to stroke down her side, ribs to waist and back up again. "A memory; one of my favourites. There was this…stunning little angel who hurt herself preaching to the damned and saving their souls—naughty thing that she was—and ended up, secretly, in my care. She fell in love, if you can believe that.”

"I can," she replied solemnly, eyes drifting shut as she began to roll over his hips, Grace thrumming deep inside of her—not recoiling, as it should, from his touch, but building, burning brighter, for it—recognizing the soul-deep emotion connected to that hand, that voice, that creature beneath her.

"I hardly blame her. Given the chance, I think I would fall for myself as well." She chuckled, but didn’t respond, and his cheeky grin grew softer. "I was just recalling when that poor, trembling little creature decided to ‘taste of the fruit’, so to speak. So…young, innocent—"

"—Naive. But I was new to sensation, Crowley."

"—Refreshing, I was going to say, or perhaps ravishing. I can’t decide which was more flattering on you, the virginal nerves or the angelic determination.”

She smiled and leaned back over him, this time pressing his shoulders hard into the mattress as she did so. “Let’s use tonight to help you find out,” she whispered.

[buggeredson-a]

[Pool Meme] Dripping wet, Azrael treaded water, grinning. She looked up at Crowley. "Why not join me?" she asked. She propped herself on the wall of the pool and stared at him. "Just because there's an angel in here doesn't make this holy water, Crowley..."

My character just pushed yours into the pool! How does yours react?

He knelt by the pool side, grinning down at his little wet angel. It might have been a bit…uncalled for, the casual connection of his hand with her arm, the laughter at her face when she hit the water. Priceless. His little love was just getting her bearings now, and while he suspected some part of her was glad to be Up Top again, he knew all of her was happy to have him.

Happy to have connected with him.

"My, my, you are a vision, even sopping wet.” He reached out to tweak her nose. “But it wouldn’t do to get the suit wet, luv. Frightfully hard to find a decent tailor out here.”

[lostinthecarnival]

forgottenarchangel answered: ((Nice tags. Whatever will sate my Crowzrael feels gathered from my iPod jam sesh.))

Again, here so as not to bury.

Were they cuddly feels or angsty feels? You sent me an ask for both so I could try for either.

[lostinthecarnival]

forgottenarchangel said: ((… I don’t know what that gif means. I love you wherever you end up in the afterlife.))

I WAS BLOWING YOU A FAUX-SEXY KISS, DAMMIT.

[buggeredson-a]

[Deanna, you weirdo! XD

Come love me~? <3 I miss yo' purdy face.]

[buggeredson-a]

Kiss me, quick!

17- Shoulders

She took it like a true angel would—stoic. Alarmingly quiet. Unexpressive. There was the quiet promise of something worse than death in her eyes, even as the sticky red blood drooled down on them from the gash on her forehead. The demons had stopped tittering over the caged angel pretty quickly when they realised she wasn’t rattling her chains or snapping at them; she wasn’t some lesser form, after all.

She was an archangel. And even currently incapacitated, she was a wonder to behold. The imps were pale-faced and cautious now, attacking her from afar with cracking whips and heavy chains. They feared getting too close. The fury of her Grace would burn them to something less than ash, that they knew. It was understandably difficult situation, then, when the one being they had previously feared above all others made his grand entrance, circling his guest with a quiet smirk. He said nothing to them—and they flinched at his silence, and asked themselves if they feared the maybe-wrath of Heaven or the certain rage of Hell more.

"You look ravishing, sweetheart.”

She stared at him impassively. “So you are the imp that drove my brother from his throne.”

"It was a bit more complicated than all that." He mugged for her, dropping the expression a few moments later to survey his boys’ handiwork. "Mmm, they haven’t done much of a job on you, have they?"

"They fear the Wrath of the Righteous. As they should."

His look was black enough to send the demons shrinking back into the shadows. “If it’s wrath they fear, luv, then it’s wrath they shall have. But for now….” Turning a toying, teasing glance back to her, he began to circle her once more. “It’s my turn to have a bit of fun.” Behind her back, he pressed a slow, chaste kiss to each shoulder, running two fingers over the shoulder blade as though expecting to touch her wings, an obscene mockery of tenderness that promised the worst was yet to come. “I hope you’re into knifeplay, Az.”