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  1. Public Bookmark 10

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    As a monster hunter at the peak of his career, Wyll has developed a rather broad arsenal of spells aimed at getting under his foes’ guard. He likes to use their own might against them, and he never does anything simply if there is a way he can do it with flair instead.

    His beard and his braids are starting to go gray now, but he so often acts exactly like that twenty-four-year-old fool Astarion first saw leaping from the top of the gates of the Emerald Grove with his sword drawn. Later, Wyll had confessed that he wanted to make sure the goblins he was murdering could hear his battlefield quips. In spite of himself, Astarion had found that rather endearing.

    It’s hardly surprising that Wyll has turned himself into a bard. Still, Astarion keeps finding himself surprised to see just how scary of a bard Wyll can be when he puts his mind to it.


    Wyll learns to cast the spell Dominate Monster, which allows him to control any creature he wants like they are a puppet on a string. Astarion is reasonably sure that he is more turned-on by this than he is terrified.

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    31 Jul 2025

  2. Public Bookmark *

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    Or: Is That Really All It Took?

    Crowley likes to give Aziraphale things. Food, drinks, rides, whatever, it doesn't matter. It's all worth the praise and the gratitude and those glowing angelic smiles.

    He cannot imagine that Aziraphale would want to return the favor, and doesn't think he should.

    Aziraphale disagrees with that sentiment.

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    17 Jun 2025

  3. Public Bookmark *

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    It's unfair. A joke of the universe, Crowley thinks, to make him the biggest bottom in the London area with a huge dollop of size queen to boot and then to turn around and give him eight inches of useless dick between his legs.

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    11 Jun 2025

  4. Public Bookmark *

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    I decided to expand on this throwaway line from An Angelic Disposition: 

    If he wanted to, Aziraphale could get Crowley ready for his cock in minutes. But on nights like this, he drew it out past all sanity and forced Crowley to feel every excruciatingly slow twist of his fingers, in and out, over and over again.

    Crowley had confessed how much he’d wanted this very thing from Aziraphale years back, after far too much wine. Aziraphale had listened to Crowley’s drunken yammering, a look of interest and contemplation on his face, before standing up and removing his coat.

    The four hours that had followed ranked among the best and most frustrating of Crowley’s life.

     It is sex and begging and feelings and hand jobs and that's it. That's the story.

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    11 Jun 2025

  5. Public Bookmark *

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    Crowley isn't sure how to ask for something when he doesn’t even know what it is that he wants.

    the following fic has not been modified from its original version. it has been transferred to a different account.

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    11 Jun 2025