skxrbrand - Tumblr blog

[skxrbrand]

Khazaan winced, gritting his teeth hard, grinding metal on metal. A sizeable hole had been ripped into his wing and black blood bloomed where there had once been intact flesh. But it wasn't a clean hit. Alphonse had lost blood to spill the Daemon's own, even if it was only a graze.

Khazaan changes tactics, shifting his axe to his jaws. He turns to follow his much smaller opponent, propelling himself forward by sheer force. Large he may be, but as is quickly becoming apparent, the Daemon is far from slow. With each beat of his wings, he is brought close to his quarry. Arms outstretched, Khazaan slams his hands together, aiming to crush Alphonse like the insect he'd written the Lumena off as being.

Failing that, the concussive force of the sound was weapon enough on it's own.

Alphonse watched as the Bloodthrister rose into the sky to meet him for their aerial duel. The proud, bulky creature flapped its massive wings while Alphonse calculated his trajectory. He knew Khazaan would rely on brute force, which became apparent when the Bloodthrister swung his axe, aiming for Alphonse's center. However, Alphonse didn't aim for Khazaan's center, as this wasn't a joust. Instead, he targeted the large, top-left leathery wing, slicing through it like the sail of a ship. Alphonse hadn't anticipated the force of the winds caused by Khazaan's interrupted wings, which slowed him down and caused the axe to slice deeply into his leg as he cut through the other's wing. An explosion of red glowing spray and sparks misted the air for the onlookers.

[skxrbrand]

Battle begets battle. Conflict begets conflict. Violence begets violence.

Axe laid across his shoulders, Khazaan doubts this battle between himself and the Lumena hybrid would be the last of such battles. Nay, he hopes it is not the case, craving bloodshed and the crossing of swords as a mortal creature might crave meat and drink. His daemons follow, but only to spectate. They know better than to intrude on a duel and steal glory from their four-winged master.

Bloodletters and Chaos furies bay to a blood-red sky, sighting the challenger before Khazaan properly does. The Bloodthirster grins, rubbing at his throat. Still raw and tender after dealing with Stan. Wings flare out and a powerful flap sends the massive daemon into the sky. His minions are knocked over by the sheer force of the limbs and a storm begins to brew in earnest, kicked up by the daemons massive pinions.

No talking then. Just battle, just bloodshed. The Bloodthirster, swinging his massive daemon-axe towards the Lumena with brutal force, wouldn't have it any other way.

What is it good for?

Alphonse breathed deeply as he shifted. It had been a while since he last assumed his full Creatura Lumena form. Unlike Stan, whose true form was Creatura Tenebra and who merely donned a human guise, Alphonse was different. He was human but with Lumena ancestry, which allowed him to transform into Lumena form. But was there really a good reason to use it now? He watched as his hands morphed into long, harpy-like claws glowing white-hot. White and gold feathers cascaded down his arms and over his shoulders, creating a stark contrast against the rust-red landscape behind him. He was here to confront a demon that had insulted his husband—an ostensibly simple premise that incessantly nagged at him. Was it too simple?

Stan had already fought his battle against Khazaan and his ridiculous nose ring, which ended in a stalemate with both parties wounded. He had made it clear that he didn't want Alphonse fighting his battles for him. Alphonse, for his part, decided that he wasn't battling on behalf of Stan or finishing what he had started. He was starting his own fight for his own reasons. After all, weren't they both trying to protect those they loved? That's what he told himself, at least. The bones in his legs caused him to bend as they too became more avian, the talons on his feet longer, thicker, and sharper than those on his hands. No matter how he framed the upcoming battle, memories of fruitless duels echoed in his mind—all of which he won due to the curse of immortality. What would he actually gain from this? Besides the respect of a few war demons, what was the point?

At this point, it didn't matter. The Blood Drunk Fool was waiting for his battle with "the wizard," and Alphonse ached to give Khazaan a few more scars. He picked up his sword, a blade with no magic except for its origin—it was crafted in the forge of Kha'xanzyr within this realm. Alphonse leapt off the cliff in a graceful dive, his wings unfurled, made of light. He looked like a falling star against the boiling red, stormy skies, headed straight for Khazaan.

@skxrbrand

@violeteyedkiller

[skxrbrand]

Impish Desires: Skull crushing issue.

Hellions and mischiefs, gather 'round! Our least adored skull-fancier, Skarbrand, has catastrophically clattered his last chandelier! That's right, darlings, the scandalous scamp met his diabolical demise in the deadliest of embraces with none other than thunder-thighed temptress N'Kari. Talk about a fatal attraction!

In a sordid spectacle of blood and passion, our bone-headed decorator found his noggin nixed—not by a rival, but squashed like a puny human melon between those notorious demonic legs! It's a crush that's left us all gasping—and not for air, but for more juicy details!

But wait, there's more infernal tea to spill! Cast out and scorned by Khorne himself, our skull-loving rogue has some 'splaining to do. And as if one brother turning traitor for another god wasn't enough to churn the hellish gossip mills, another sibling skirmish brews with a bizarre twist involving Earthly beings—one claims to be a "Fashion Designer"? Oh, the humanity!

Stay tuned, devilish readers, as we dig deeper into this abyss of drama. It's too deliciously wicked to miss!

@skxrbrand @slaanxsh

[skxrbrand]

[skxrbrand]

[skxrbrand]

-

There are downsides to insensate skin. The dulling of certain senses and heightening makes the registering of pain slow in the mind of the Reaper. All he can feel for sure is the pressure. Thighs locked around his head, constricting him, evidence of his competency, even at something so frivolous and flitsome as sex.

Or this impotent facsimile of it. He manages to muse dryly to himself. Aside from the occasional shifting of his weight, Skarbrand is more interested in the blood on his face and pulling more flesh off of his partner than anything N'kari might be doing to him. Not that the consequences of being with the Arch-Tempter aren't present: there's a mess at their hooves-- blood and spend and the occasional tremble of brass shoed hooves whenever the Keeper pulls another orgasm out of him.

Then he hears, and feels, the bone in his cheek give. Worse is N'kari's concern and perhaps that, and his own massive pride, is what keeps him from protesting. He growls against the wet, bloody flesh caught between his teeth.

Save your pity. It isn't blood you are spilling.

[skxrbrand]

“ Are you fucking kidding me. The daemons are at it AGAIN?

SKAR, FOR SOME BIG FUCK TALKING MAD SHIT ON SEX IS BAD, SEX IS NASTY, YOU SURE LOVE GETTING YOUR ROCKS OFF TO SLAANESH’S WHORE. MULTIPLE TIMES.

GO AHEAD, THROW ME, YOU KNOW I AM RIGHT. “

[skxrbrand]

-

There are downsides to insensate skin. The dulling of certain senses and heightening makes the registering of pain slow in the mind of the Reaper. All he can feel for sure is the pressure. Thighs locked around his head, constricting him, evidence of his competency, even at something so frivolous and flitsome as sex.

Or this impotent facsimile of it. He manages to muse dryly to himself. Aside from the occasional shifting of his weight, Skarbrand is more interested in the blood on his face and pulling more flesh off of his partner than anything N'kari might be doing to him. Not that the consequences of being with the Arch-Tempter aren't present: there's a mess at their hooves-- blood and spend and the occasional tremble of brass shoed hooves whenever the Keeper pulls another orgasm out of him.

Then he hears, and feels, the bone in his cheek give. Worse is N'kari's concern and perhaps that, and his own massive pride, is what keeps him from protesting. He growls against the wet, bloody flesh caught between his teeth.

Save your pity. It isn't blood you are spilling.

The arch-tempter of Slaanesh does not mind a little blood and pain during sex. Far from it. Especially when his beloved is feeding him so well with sensations.

The pleasure from both of them forms an endless loop, and N'kari becomes more rigorous in his ministrations. His hand knead the precious bollocks that the khornates holds so dearly. His legs hooks around the Skarbrand's head, pressing the red face harden against his entrance.

N'kari cares not for his own orgasms or those he wrings from his beloved, his only desire for more and more. Time has lost all meaning. His thighs clench harder against the reaper's skull and his teeth grazes the shaft inside his mouth.

A slight crack and a burst of pain from Skarbrand finally interrupts his carnal reverie. The legs of a keeper, especially the fastest of them all, is heavy with muscle. Skarbrand's scarred cheek bone had cracked under hours between N'kari's constricting thighs.

He barely had the mind to loosens the grip of his legs, and sends a muddled note of concern to the reaper's mind. He doesn't want to stop at all, but there are other positions they could switch to.

[skxrbrand]

-

Skarbrand tenses, seeing the daemon beneath him morph and shift in such a manner. Knowledgeable as he was about the Slaaneshi, the Reaper cannot help but find such a boneless ability loathsome, but he says nothing. The mouth on him quickly chases the unpleasant feelings away and for a moment, the Bloodthirster merely experiences the sensations of the other's mouth.

But eventually he reciprocates, all teeth and tongue. Mostly teeth. The slick of N'kari's desire is quickly joined by blood. A little at first-- accidental nicks from his teeth -- but as time wears on, the Reaper become ever more careless with his fangs. Even here, he gives credence to his title as a Drinker of Blood and Render of Flesh.

N'kari lays down on his back, since Skarbrand's idea of masculinity is probably too fragile to lay on the bottom . He remembers what a pain it was for Skarbrand to even lie prone for his injuries.

He mentions for Skarbrand to settle on top, only for to sigh in exasperation as the Krhonate lays on him face to face. Of course the reaper had not thought about the logistics of soixante-neuf. Instead of going through the hassle of repositioning, N'kari merely shape-shifts upside down. His mouth finds Skarbrand's hardening length and gets to work, waiting for the reaper to do the same.

[skxrbrand]

It's nothing they haven't done before, which is why Skarbrand doesn't react initially. That and there is something dampening his usually surly mood and enlivening his lower flesh.

He quickly identifies the Keeper's saliva as the culprit. The Reaper is unreadable.

This is your request? His eyes flick down to where he responds to the Tempter's ministrations. Pulling off the loinmail, the Reaper recalls the last time they did this. Chiefly, he recalls the blood.

Very well.

The loinmail drops to the floor, heavily.

N'kari does not leap for him, though he wanted to. Patience will reward him with greater indulgence. He crawls up to Skarbrand, still feigning deference.

He presses a kiss against the reaper's sheath before delicately teasing Skarbrand with his tongue.

Dearest to my hearts, I have a boon to beg of you. N'kari gazes up meekly, still working aphrodisiac saliva into Skarbrand's groin.

Would you pleasure me with your mouth while we play 'the maw game?' He almost snorts at Skarbrand's favorite euphemism for oral sex.

[skxrbrand]

@alphabitchnkari

Me if I were a dog

[skxrbrand]

describe your muse as shittily as possible in the tags.

[skxrbrand]

Thoughts on children?

" Food."

[skxrbrand]

If a child kills its mother in childbirth is that murder?

" Murder is intentional. An act undertaken in the grip of rage. No."

[skxrbrand]

Skarbrand looms, taking in the Tempter before him. Then, as now, he is unable to reconcile the submissive being before him as the daemon who nearly killed him when they first met. He grunts, contempt still lurking his gaze, even as he starts to remove his armor.

The Slaaneshi had more varied hungers than his kin did. Blood daemons could be sated with battle, but Pleasure-spawn...

You and your sisters are troublesome.

Pauldrons slide off of broad red shoulders. His chestplate follows suit, dropped carelessly alongside them. Skarbrand's hands go to his belt, beginning to pull this off as well.

N'kari presses his body onto the furs and tucks his tail between his legs. A submissive posture to please his beloved.

Sex with Skarbrand always requires so much ceremony. He shouldn't be surprised. The prize son of Khorne is as melodramatic as his father.

N'kari lets out a plaintiff whine, and stares up at the reaper with pleading eyes. Body language is always surprisingly effective against Skarbrand.

[skxrbrand]

um. anyways

zeuszilla trend got me actin silly

[skxrbrand]

Skarbrand's hotbar--