#black-wing devil with heaven in your hands

[fushipurro]

The Nature of Depravity

Masterlist

☆ Synopsis: You were an angel, a saint, one of the most profound icons worshipped by mortal kind. There wasn’t a soul in paradise or the fire below that didn’t know your name. It seemed that everywhere you went, you left behind a trail of all things good.

You were one of the best heaven had to offer ─ up until the day you fell from grace and into the hands of a sinner.

☆ Content: 18+ MDNI, AU - fantasy, religious imagery, mentions of blood/violence, implied murder, biting, creampie, scratching, p in v, foreplay, angst, everyone's bad at feelings, true form sukuna, tonguefucking, loss of virginity

☆ Word Count: 10.7k

It wasn’t like one day you woke up and decided to rebel against the heavenly utopia.Rather, it happened like any other day while you were making your rounds to several war-torn villages recently burnt to ash. You sought to aid in the recovery of those lucky to survive, but unbeknownst to you at the time, a group of demons were awaiting your arrival.

With one precise throw, they managed to impale one of your wings with iron weaponry, effectively knocking you from the sky. From there, everything that followed seemed to happen in the blink of an eye, and the next thing you knew, you found yourself here ─ bound in chains, brought before the King of Demons.

Ryomen Sukuna.

Otherwise known as the Fallen, or the Disgraced One, Sukuna was once a proud angel of similar status to your own. It’s unknown how his departure from Heaven came to be. Some claim that he was the bastard child of an unholy couple, while others claim he was never an angel to begin with ─ merely a forked-tongue creature living under the guise of your virtuous ways. At the end of the day, he shed his wings and took over the hellfire realm with unyielding strength.

You stand before him, trapped to an iron pole that burns you to the touch. The metal rod from earlier still marring your wing ─ no doubt broken as it lays flat at your side, oozing with golden, angelic blood.

“What do we have here?” The voice of king stretches across the room, inciting the demons that brought you here to bow in his presence. Something you already have no choice but to do. The intense pain and your lack of energy from the earlier fight affects you greatly now, killing any hope of refusal.

“My lord, we’ve capture this angel we now offer to you.”

“That much is obvious,” Sukuna responds coldly, rolling his eyes. He presses a bored fist to temple. “So what? You’ve come here seeking something from me, haven’t you? Go on, spit it out.”

The demon at your side sputters with nerves before another takes over, “This is no ordinary angel we’ve brought you,” he says, stating your name to the demon king, “We desire your protection, and means for our survival. Our families are poor and struggling to keep those foul humans out of our land.”

There’s a beat of silence, and then the sound of a cruel laughter meant to mock the demons uttering such filth.

“My lord?”

“Quiet,” he commands with no such amusement from moments ago. “If you’re too weak to fight then you deserve to lay down and die. Your kind is meant to be chewed up by the strong.”

“But Sir–“

A flick of his finger, and blood sprays out in all directions, some of its droplets even landing across your face. In the next second, that demon’s head rolls into view. The others behind you gasp in fear, a few even daring to step back only to meet the same demise.

“You’d do well to remember that everything you have belongs to me. Your homes, your land, your lives.” He laughs again. “All of it belongs to your one true king. Now get out of my sight before I change my mind on letting the rest of you live.”

The demons leave in a hurry, and all that remains is both you and the devil.

Sukuna approaches you slowly, like a predator cornering their prey, uncaring that he has to cross a puddle of black demon blood to reach you. With two fingers, he lifts you by your chin, allowing you to drink in the sight of someone who used to be just like you.

Black ink binds to his skin, visible across the expanse of his body from what you can make out. With four arms, and a set of eyes growing from the side of his face, he’s the textbook definition of a demon by human standards. But as an angel, well… you’ve seen more unique creations in the first sphere of your celestial hierarchy. Different doesn’t always have to mean repulsive.

“Such a pathetic sight,” he murmurs, moving your head as though you’re a fruit being examined for its quality. “A broken, pitiful excuse of an angel in my domain.” A grin appears on his face, ripe with his malevolent nature. “How the so-called mighty continue to fall.”

You should bite back. You should be saying something, anything to defend heaven from the one who for whatever reason forsake it, leaving it all behind to become the enemy of virtue. Yet, you’re unable to come up with anything like all your peers would.

Sukuna appears to be studying your expression carefully, finding himself perplexed by your lack of animosity.

“You’re not afraid?” he asks with a hint of curiosity, though his face remains neutral.

“Should I be?” you respond, and without much thought or consideration for the position you’re in. He could do whatever he wants with you, and it would as easy as it is for him to take a life.

He laughs again, letting it echo throughout the throne room.

“Most creatures tremble in fear before me. You even got to see what happens to those who annoy me.” He pauses, revealing sharpened fangs as his grows wide. “And yet, you ask me if you should be afraid. Well, I think the answer is quite obvious, don’t you agree?”

“If it is my fate to die by your hands, then so be it.” As you tell him those words, you feel your strength slipping. The weight of your head sinking deeper into his touch. Even your sight is starting to cloud with black spots.

“Fate? Hah! Don’t make me laugh.” He leans down, mere inches from your face. “You’re just like the rest of your kin, always preaching the gospel of a false king. Your paradise is nothing but a garden of lies.”

You can’t help but wonder from Sukuna’s words what happened to birth such hatred for your shared homeland.

“Being scared would do me no good. In my current state, I pose no threat to you,” you point out. “What reason do I have to fight you?”

He scoffs, “There’s a war going on, and you and I are on opposite sides.”

“That’s never mattered to me.”

He clicks his tongue, swapping the fingers under your jaw with his whole hand. His nails dig into your cheeks, but you can hardly feel it. You can hardly feel anything but coldness.

“I understand if it’s my time; do as you will with me.”

“You speak as if your life holds no value.” He seems to be evaluating you again, tracing his lower set of eyes across your broken wing with scrutiny in his gaze. The other two remain locked with yours. “I wonder if your dear paradise would even allow your return… you may as well be one of the fallen now.”

His words barely register before everything goes black and you succumb to the darkness swelling around your form. You’ve held the hands of many humans on their way into paradise, and many speak of death’s embrace being so warm and inviting.

But all you feel is cold.

So, so cold.

“Sleep well, angel. I’ll be seeing you again soon enough.”

Slowly but surely, everything starts falling back into place. Reality returning to your lifeless form as you awaken from your slumber.

With a tired groan, you open your eyes to an unfamiliar room. Nothing about where you are screams paradise, and in fact, it’s more of the opposite. Currently, you lay atop a large bed, surrounded by red silk sheets and pillows. The room itself is especially decorated with lavish details and portraits bordered with gold, its imagery ranging from acts of debauchery to icons painted with blood. Something about those specific paintings raises an unsettling feeling in the back of your mind.

“You’re awake,” a voice calls from the doorway. The richness of his voice makes it obvious without turning your head that you’re not actually dead, but still within Sukuna’s castle of sin. “How are you feeling?” he asks, though his demeanor remains calm, devoid of any underlying concern or true empathy.

You try and sit up, but quickly fall back from the pain, almost forgetting the trauma you had been through. You only realize now the number of bandages wrapping your body, the majority contorting your wing into a makeshift sling.

“You saved me?” you ask with disbelief in your tone. You thought for sure your time was up, yet your heart still beats, quicker now in Sukuna’s presence. “Why?”

“Yes, I saved you. And as for why…” He crosses his arm, maintaining his cold stare. “Let’s just say I have my reasons.” A subtle smirk appears.

“Whatever the case may be, thank you, for not letting me die.”

“Don’t mistake my kindness for charity,” he says bluntly. “In due time, you’ll be fulfilling your usage to me. That is the only reason you’re still alive.”

You raise an eyebrow at his words. “What use would you have of me?”

That devilish grin makes a reappearance on his face as he strides closer to the bed, towering over you. “You’ll find out soon enough. For now, you need only to focus on your recovery.”

So much for getting any answers or having any chance of leaving.

“Charity or not ─ I still thank you,” you say back to him, smiling all the while despite the fact you’re now akin to a bird confined in a gilded cage. Better than an iron cell, but not the same as the freedom that calls to you. At the end of the day, however, and for whatever reason he has, he still chose to help you.

“Don’t thank me yet,” he chuckles, eyes darkening. “It’s far too early for that.”

Sukuna’s amusement fades as the doors to your room open, revealing a white-haired servant holding a tray of sorts.

“My lord,” they greet, bowing to the King of Demons.

“Good, you’re here, Uraume. See to her recovery now that’s awake. I have work that needs to be done,” he announces, stepping out of the way for the one called Uraume to approach. Sukuna eyes fixate on you again as their servant helps you sit up. “I’ll warn you now, angel. You’re in my domain.” His tone is stern, full of unspoken promise. “If you so much as try to escape, I’ll clip both of your wings and leave you to rot this time around.”

You can’t help but laugh at the irony in his words. “Don’t worry, I think we both know I’m in no condition to leave. Nor do I plan on trying either.”

Despite the humor of it, one look at your wing is enough to question what life will be like for you from now on. There’s a question that when you recover, will you ever be able to fly again? You can’t help but feel off about the dull coloring of your wings now.

All angels radiate a celestial glow across the span of their perfectly white wings ─ like light scattered through a prism in every hair and fiber. That glow is seemingly gone from yours, and you think you spot some gray forming at the base. To be absent of that symbol of your connection, one can only assume it to be a sign of what’s to come.

“See that you don’t,” he remarks, turning away to let Uraume work.

Uraume makes careful work of changing out your bandages. They work quick and with deft fingers, trying their best not to aggravate your wing further. All the while, you face away towards the head of the bed, hiding your now exposed chest with your arms. You feel them pause, tracing a finger down your back. In your mind, you assume it to be one of the many marks left behind from the demons that captured you, and thus, you don’t focus too much on it.

You fail to notice Sukuna’s gaze transfixed on you from the doorway. Although silent, a darkness looms over his features. He exits the room moments later, shutting the door with more force than necessary, making your body jolt.

It’s a while before Uraume finishes, and they leave you with some fresh fruit to dine on. While you’re supposed to be resting, you find it difficult, especially after learning you’ve already been asleep for several days. That knowledge is precisely why you ditch the sheets to walk out onto the veranda connected to your room.

The moon is high in the sky, basking the courtyard garden with its sheer, red-toned light. Down here in the realm of fire, it’s as though the moon forever mirrors the flames conjured up from demons. That, or it reflects the many pools of blood from a millennium of suffering.

“Don’t you look like a broken bird,” Sukuna comments from behind you. For someone of his stature, it’s a wonder you didn’t hear him approaching.

“In a way, I am,” you muse, moving your eyes forward again. “One that flew too far from her nest.”

“Fallen from the nest and into the hands of a monster, how your precious fate seems to curse you.”

“Monster?” You snap your head in his direction with an incredulous look. “I hope you’re not referring to yourself with that comment.”

“You would deny what I am?” His voice is tinged with arrogance as he comes up beside you, not bothering to spare a glance. “I am the King of Demons, the most despised of life’s creation. How am I not a monster?”

“I’m still alive, aren’t I?” you respond, tilting your head. “Whatever the case may be, you chose to let me live, and even saw to the treatment of my injuries. You could’ve kept me in chains, plucking my feathers one by one, but you didn’t. You even have me in a room made for royalty.”

He scoffs, but you don’t let it stop you from continuing.

“Your title aside, I don’t assume anyone to be a monster ─ only a victim of circumstance. Is someone truly born evil, or is evil nurtured?”

Sukuna appears mildly surprised by your speech, giving you his attention. You spot the hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his lip. “A victim of circumstance, you say?” he repeats with an added air of mockery. “You raise an interesting point, but that doesn’t make you any less of a fool. Tell me, do you believe that because you’re an angel, you’re exempt from the original sin?”

“Not at all,” you answer quickly, and full of conviction. There’s not a drop of fear or hesitation as you openly speak your mind to Sukuna. “All of us ─ angels, demons, humans… we’re all doing what we can with the lives we were given. Angels rise and fall; some sinners beg for forgiveness while others let it define their nature. What’s important to me is how you treat others.”

“By that logic, what of the demons that maimed you? What of me, who has already killed in your presence?” Sukuna refutes. “Most would agree those to be the act of monsters.”

“Does being a demon mean you automatically deserve to be punished for the title you brandish? Does one act define your whole being? The demons who brought me before you sought help and protection ─ for that, I cannot blame them for their actions upon me. What difference is there between heaven and hell if I’m blinded by namesakes instead of looking at all the good and evil that can come from anyone, even of my own kind?”

Sukuna appears almost at a loss of words from your rambling. In truth, he wasn’t expecting such philosophy from someone so high in the celestial hierarchy, but he can see now why the humans would think to praise you as a saint.

“You make it sound so simple… so noble.” He’s looking at you now a deeper gleam in his eyes, intrigued enough to forgive your bold speech to him of all people. Most beings would never get away talking to him like you have after all. “So you would say there’s no difference between you and me after everything you’ve witnessed? How many in heaven would even agree with you?”

“I believe morality is a wild card that’s been muddied one too many times. There’s good and evil in everyone, even the almighty creators that chose to allow lesser beings to suffer in order to achieve growth. I can’t say I know many who would agree with me, but I understand their feelings and I’ll continue to trust in the potential for good.”

“You speak with a passion despite your predicament,” he huffs amusingly. “Still, I must admit, you have a unique way of thinking for an angel that’s uncommonly seen.”

You acknowledge his words with a hum, drifting your eyes to your wings lying flat at your side. “Most likely why heaven doesn’t seem too keen on my return,” you murmur, referencing the missing glow. “In return for saving me, I’ll see if I can be of use to you.” You’ll need a new purpose if you are to fall from grace.

Sukuna chuckles, the sound almost sinister. “An angel, offering her services to a demon. How… poetic.”

Silence takes over as you both admire the red glow of the garden. All that can be heard is running water from the fountain pond, and the occasional splashing of its scaled inhabitants.

“Can I ask you something?”

“You may,” Sukuna responds with one of his lower eyes pointed your way. “Whether or not I’ll answer is a different matter.”

You choose your next words carefully. This back-and-forth debate has been an unexpected treat after the pain you’ve endured to get here.

“You were an angel once too, yes? What happened that led your fall?”

His jaw clenches from the sudden inquiry. “There was a time I too preached the seven virtues; as for how I came to become the monstrosity I am today is a long, dark story.”

After telling you this, Sukuna starts to walk away.

“I see… I hope one day I’ll have the chance to hear it.”

He scoffs, giving you a sidelong stare over his shoulders. “I’ll consider your words, but it’s best now you return to your quarters and rest. Don’t go flying off anywhere.” His twisted laugh echoes from down the halls, and despite the cruelty of it, you can’t help but smile.

Days pass, and while you’d like to say you’ve gotten into a routine, even an angel like yourself isn’t immune to going stir crazy. To be grounded like this for as long as you have now is unnatural, and as your feathers seem to darken each day ─ so do your thoughts on the situation.

Currently, you’re seated out on the veranda again, admiring the servants working from afar to keep the courtyard clean and the shrubbery trimmed to the king’s liking. There’s a feeling that bubbles from within at the sight of those taking to their wings to reach the heights of certain trees, or cleaning along the palace rooftops. A feeling you aren’t sure just what to call as of now.

“Bored, are you?” That familiar tone reappearing. His arrival is the only bearable part of your stay as he forces you out of your own mind.

“I have the gift of life; I could never be bored,” you state, not taking your eyes off the demons that cling to the skies. “I am however… longing, I’d say.”

Sukuna’s eyes find you, moving from your face down to your wing. You’ve gotten to where you can feel his burning stare at times, even when he’s not around. While it may come off as intrusive, you find it a comfort.

“You miss it, don’t you? Being up in the skies, untethered from the earth.” he asks with understanding, but also that same recurring hint of his typical mockery.

“The wind between each feather, the sights you can only see from above…” You can’t help but sigh at what now feels like a distant memory. You’re certain your wing will recover, but whether you can maintain flight is a mystery in itself until the time is right. “Will you tell me now what purpose you have in keeping me around?”

Purpose is something you need right now to stave off the thoughts.

“Impatient, are we?” He holds your gaze silently for a moment before continuing. “I have my reasons, but I’m not ready to divulge them. For now, let me make it clear that you’re too valuable of a prize for me not to keep around.”

“A prize, huh?” You ponder the thought, leaning your body against one of the columns for support. “Am I even worthy if my connection to paradise has been severed?” you mumble on instinct, not intending for him to hear such thoughts you never knew you had.

He does though, and it leads to him furrowing his brows, and averting his stare to elsewhere in his domain.

“Who cares about heaven?” he starts, keeping his voice low and full of what you believe to be spite. You wouldn’t be surprised if he rolled his eyes as well. “Even if they abandoned you, your existence still holds value to me. Fallen or not, you’re a walkingcontradiction that’s piqued my interest. As far as I’m concerned, heaven was holding you back from your true potential.”

Moments like these are why you’ll argue with him for as long as necessary to prove he’s more than what he makes himself out to be.

“Is that so?” You smile. His eyes flicker back to you at the sound of your giggling. “You’re something else, you know that?”

Sukuna finds himself grinning as well. “Am I?” he questions while reaching to your feathers, running his fingers along them with a delicate touch. “And what would that be in your eyes?”

“The best way I can explain it is that you’re simply you ─ Sukuna.” You lean back one hand, gesturing with the other. “You try and present yourself as some monstrous demon that burns everything you touch, but here you are treating me with such care. I don’t doubt your strength, but I believe there’s more to you than meets the eye.”

“You’re a perceptive one, I’ll give you that, angel.” A beat of silence, and the flash of what could be read as vulnerability in his typically guarded demeanor. “But remember, I’m still a demon. My nature is not a kind one, so don’t go forgetting that detail.”

You chuckle, “I won’t, but I stand by my point. It’s my nature to see the good in everything that shares the same life as me.”

“Sounds tiring,” he deadpans, rolling his eyes. He removes his hand from your wing, tucking it back into his robe.

“Tiring? Oh contraire.” You smirk, feeling a spark of confidence ─ and maybe some defiance. “Do you only see the bad in everything? Always assuming the worst of others and thus feel the need to extinguish their life before they have a chance to bear their fangs? That to me seems tiring if you must always need your guard up.”

His face darkens considerably, and you realize too late that you’ve struck a nerve.

“You know nothing of what I’ve been through or why I do the things I do, so don’t pretend that you do,” he spits. The underlying wrath in his tone has your feathers puffing up. “Power is all that keeps me alive and keeps me going in this god-forsaken world. When you’ve been betrayed and hunted like I have, you learn quickly that you can only truly rely on yourself and not to trust others, especially not an angel.”

Guilt pangs in your chest alongside hurt from his choice words. You don’t regret what you said, but you maybe regret the timing of it, or not having considered his feelings before letting it all out. Life isn’t as fair to everyone as it might’ve been for you, but his anger has shown you the likelihood that his lifestyle was something nurtured ─ not the nature of sin one might argue.

He couldn’t have been born evil. It had to have been the acts of others that left him no choice but to become the embodiment of said evil.

And you can’t blame him for it, nor can you turn back time to right all of the wrongs. Fate must have brought you here for a reason, and in time you hope Sukuna realizes he doesn’t have to suffer alone. Even if he never pleads for forgiveness, you’ll show him that life is more than the negatives.

“I apologize if I upset you.” You stand up from your seat, tipping your head. A sudden act of submission even he can’t argue with. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll be returning to my quarters now to rest.”

His glare seems to soften, if only a slight change. “…Fine. Go rest,” he quietly sighs, shifting back towards his garden view.

You take your leave, unknowingly leaving behind one of your fallen feathers in your previous spot. Sukuna notices this, lifting it to the moon’s light, watching it filter through the hairs. He kisses his teeth before stalking back to his own quarters across the yard.

You don’t see Sukuna much after that, almost like he’s trying to avoid you. Is he really that upset with you? It begs the question whether he still wants you around, or if his anger outweighs your worth enough to kill you and be done with it.

It’s another night where you find yourself out in the garden, enjoying the semblance of freedom it offers. You no longer have a bandage around your wing ─ which now is half covered in shade coloring ─ and Uraume has instructed you to begin stretching it to work back into a routine of physical therapy.

It can’t hurt to see if you can at least lift yourself off the ground, right?

So, you stand at the center of what appears to be Sukuna’s training grounds, as it offers plenty of space to move. With the moonlight against your back, you stretch out your wings in full, covering a good portion of the area around your body. You feel nervous yet eager to fly, enough to push past the dull pain you feel when you finally begin to lift yourself up off the ground.

Already you’re sweating ─ so out of shape from rest ─ but you don’t want to give up. It’s too soon and knowing now you can be off the ground makes you hopeful that this is the day you can take to the skies again. Only you don’t realize how much strain you’re putting on yourself, and how your unharmed wing must compensate more fiercely.

“Come on…” you strain, flapping harder than before when a sudden jolt of pain pierces through your wing, sending you crashing back into the dirt with a yelp. It only gets worse as your weight ended up landing on your recovering wing.

“You idiot!” Sukuna appears, shouting with alarm as he comes up to your side. His usual calm demeanor having been replaced with both anger and concern. “You’re not fully healed yet, what were you thinking?” he snarls, forcing you to sit up off your crooked wing.

You start to tear up from the pain, feeling a wave of emotions crashing into you all at once. Feelings you never knew existed outside humanity. You let it all out by sobbing into the dirt, and out of sheer frustration, you begin clawing at it too, angrily flapping your wings like a child throwing a tantrum.

Sukuna is surprised by your sudden outburst. The sound of your tears and the flapping of your wings is like a desperate cry for the freedom you once felt. He grabs at your shoulders, commanding you with his voice, “Cut it out, you’re only making it worse.”

“It’s already worse!” you shout back at him, surprising him yet again with this new side of you. “Let’s face it, Sukuna ─ my wing is ruined, I’m falling into ruin, there’s nothing left of me!” Your cracked voice tears through the garden, its serenity now clouded in the anger and hopelessness you feel.

This is the first moment of your life you’ve ever felt suffering like the mortals you’ve guided, and for the reason to be something as selfish as self-loathing… it shows how far you’ve fallen from grace.

“Stop being dramatic,” he growls. “If you don’t give yourself time to heal, then how can say for certain you’ll never fly again?”

You throw yourself into Sukuna’s front, unsure how else to cope with the weight of your emotions. An angel seeking comfort in a demon. You may be free falling into sin, but you have to agree with the poetry of it like Sukuna suggested.

He wasn’t expecting you to suddenly cling to him, but besides the mild annoyance he feels, he doesn’t make any moves to push you away. His awkward embrace is warmer than you would’ve thought, but this is the ruler of flames we’re talking about.

You don’t feel as cold as you have when he arms shield you from the world, and the depths of your mind.

When your tears settle and your breathing mellows, Sukuna lifts you from the ground with ease. He carries you back to your room, placing you gently down onto the edge of your bed. His hand moves with practiced care to your wing, feeling for any discomfort. You wince of course, and he lets a frustrated sigh after a minute of testing.

“I’ll send Uraume in to deal with this,” he tells you, and you notice his tone lacks the usual authority or contempt. He shifts his gaze from your wing to your face, reading for any signs of life in your distant eyes. “How are you feeling?”

“I don’t know,” you reply, and it’s the truth. As an angel, you were designed to only feel emotions such as humility, kindness, patience… but now you don’t know what to label yourself with, or how to get through it. “What’s wrong with me?” you ask, not daring to look up from your knees.

“There’s nothing wrong with you.” One of his hands comes up under your jaw, lifting your chin to meet his crimson gaze. All four eyes staring into yours with the visage of understanding. “You’ve lost your light is all.”

Your light, your home, your paradise.

“I’ve lost everything.”

“You’re still alive, aren’t you?” His thumb traces your skin.

“Is that even worth it anymore? I’m no prize in this state, merely a broken bird like you had claimed.”

He furrows his brows, annoyed that you’re using his words against him as you wave the proverbial white flag with your voice.

“Don’t talk like that,” he snaps ─ harsh, but a necessary evil. “If you had no value, I would’ve killed you long ago. You have the mindset I’ve only seen in one other of your kind, and your knowledge and resilience are quite admirable in my eyes.” He lets go of your chin, stepping away from the bed. As he moves to leave, he stops, and without turning to look at you he says, “In time, you’ll realize how worthy you are.”

You weren’t sure if it could get any worse, but as the days continue to pass, you feel yourself sinking deeper into the abyss that is your psyche.

Uraume has been hovering around more often than not, urging you to stay in bed and rest, but you hate it. You hate this feeling of being powerless, of being empty, of not being able to live as you once had. From the moment you could fly, you were wandering the human realm, helping everyone you came across from the largest of creatures to the smallest of insects.

It’s your nature to help others no matter the cost. What’s not is putting yourself first. But now, everything’s changing ─ faster than you could have ever imagined.

You think this is what humans would refer to as fear, and what an unpleasant feeling it is.

Sukuna comes by every day, sometimes more than once to check in on you, and each time he finds you in the same, curled up position with your face buried in the silk.

He’s had enough of this slothful behavior.

“You need to eat, angel,” he says firmly, tapping his finger loudly on the bed post.

“’m not hungry,” you respond, though your voice is muffled and weak.

He lets out a frustrated sigh, and the force he puts into tapping his finger threatens to crack the wood. “You can’t just ignore your needs forever,” he retorts, “You need to eat, now.”

“Why do you care so much?” You don’t mean for the words to sound as harsh as they do, but luckily Sukuna is a patient man, most of the time.

“I didn’t save you just to watch you die in such a pathetic, mortal way.”

“Haven’t I always appeared pathetic since the day we met?” Bound in chains, bloodied with no celestial shine. Weak, broken, a pitiful excuse of heaven’s most revered angel. Complete, and utterly pathetic.

He kisses his teeth. “You’ve had your moments, but if you weren’t so busy feeling sorry for yourself, then you would see all that you are. All that you can be now.”

You’re silent for a few moments as you ponder his words. His unrestraint in speaking his mind may not always be a virtue, but it’s a comfort you’ve come to welcome all the same.

You turn your head his way and ask, “Was it like this for you when you fell from grace?”

“I wasn’t moping like you are, if that’s what you mean.” He then sighs and takes a seat along the edge of the bed, cautious in avoiding your sprawled out wing ─ which has become increasingly black as the days pass by. “But yes, I too had to overcome human emotion to get where I am now. It won’t last forever, I assure you.”

“You were right before,” you murmur, staring past Sukuna into your view of the garden. “I don’t know all the struggles you’ve had to face, or anyone for that matter. It doesn’t matter if I’ve visited one village or a thousand burnt to ash. Until now, I’ve never truly felt pain like this in my heart.”

Both set of eyes look down at you, but not in the sense that you’re beneath him. His gaze is understanding, regretful even for how he spoke to you before. You’ve stirred up Sukuna’s emotions without realizing, forcing him to come to terms with how he feels.

“What you’ve seen in the past has always been the aftermath of war. Until you’ve faced suffering yourself, you never would understand the pain behind it.” There’s a bitterness lacing his words as he remembers that period of his life prior to becoming king.

The moment that changed the course of his life forever.

“For whatever you’ve been through, I’m so sorry.” Tears rush down the side of your eyes, collecting into the sheets. “I always believed heaven had everyone’s backs, even those who hadn’t redeemed themselves, but I was wrong, so wrong. I’m just as guilty as every other celestial being for turning a blind eye and letting you suffer.”

Sukuna’s demeanor softens up at your apology, and he reaches a sharpened nail out to catch one of your tears. “Your apology is unnecessary… but I appreciate it nonetheless.”

The two of you sit in silence as you let the tears flow freely. The only sound aside from your own being the windchime Uraume had put up along the garden doors one evening. It’s the normal glass bulb shape, but the papery sheet that catches the wind is black, with red-spider lilies painted across. The flower’s coloring continuously reminds you of another with that same hue painted four times over.

Your stomach eventually disrupts the scene, cueing what you both were already aware of.

“Sounds like someone’s hungry; are you going lie again?” he teases, now poking his finger into your back.

“I guess I could try and eat something,” you playfully reply, moving to sit up. You feel discomfort immediately in your head, your vision darkening in turn from how long it’s been since you’ve last had a proper meal.

“Rest,” he orders after noticing your grimace. “I’ll have food brought to you immediately.”

Before he gets too far, you call out to him, “Sukuna?” He turns, giving you his attention. “Thank you,” you tell him, the moonlight hitting your face just as you smile. Its red glow is accentuated by your glossy cheeks, almost like a blush.

“You’re welcome,” he replies gruffly, but with the hint of his own smile hidden buried under his scarf.

From there, the days only get easier. Resting has felt less of a routine, and with Uraume’s help, physical therapy has been going well. There’s plenty of new growth in the form of pinfeathers across your wingspan, and the oldest of such white at the very tips still. It appears your broken wing will forever remain deformed ─ no thanks to the stunt you pulled ─ but you find yourself embracing the change.

The same can be said for many things now in your new life, such as how you’ve come to enjoy the night over day. The moon’s light is a comforting touch, as is the serenity felt in the late hours. You let that light guide your fingers across your wings, preening the darkened feathers to look your best.

Another change you’ve noticed are the appearance of marks stemming from the center of your back. According to Uraume, they were present at the time of your arrival, but since then have grown to wrap around your body in a filigree type pattern. You’re reminded of Sukuna’s own markings as you examine your body, and you’ve begun to question if this is how heaven marks their fallen.

Reaching the feathers closest to that part of your body is a challenge, and one you’re struggling to overcome. Angels typically preen each other’s wings in a show of chastity, and companionship. You’re certain Uraume would help if you ask, but the idea stirs a sense of intimacy now for whatever reason.

“Having trouble there?” Sukuna’s voice cuts through the night from behind you as always, making you jolt in surprise.

“Oh– uhh, yeah, just a bit.”

“It’s not an easy task reaching those feathers on your own, is it?” he muses with a snickering laugh. His footsteps are silent as he comes ever closer to the edge of the veranda.

“It isn’t, but I’m positive there’s feathers there ready to be unfurled.” You have a focused look on your face as you try once more to bend your arms in outrageous ways to try and reach.

“Let me help,” he says, brushing your hands away.

Sukuna doesn’t wait for your response before his fingers deftly land on the center of your back. His touch sparks a shiver down your spine, arching yourself upright. Your wings have never felt this sensitive before and it’s becoming increasingly difficult to keep them steady for him to work.

There’s a sudden influx of emotions you don’t recognize bubbling up, and a heat that pools in the base of your body. At times, it feels like Sukuna is purposely working slow to make your feathers all nice and pretty. His knuckles brush you in a way that hitches your breath.

He hums closely by your ear, “Your wings are quite sensitive here, aren’t they?”

Has his voice always sounded so melodic? So intoxicating? From the way he laughs at your reaction, you can tell he’s enjoying himself. Like he knows what’s going on in your mind.

He does.

You shoot up from your position with sudden urgency. “T-thanks for the help Sukuna, if you’ll excuse, I’ll see you later and I hope you have a wonderful rest of your night!” you stammer out with the hurry of a freefalling eagle, retreating back into your quarters before he has any chance to respond.

Sukuna can’t say he wasn’t caught off guard by this, but at the sight of your reddened face and eyes desperate to avoid his ─ he’ll forgive you.

On the other side of your folding screen door, you fall to your knees in a near pant to catch your breath whatever that was about. Temptation has never looked so good than in the form of Ryomen Sukuna, for all that he is. And while you came so close to the edge of a decadent abyss, you realized something.

You’ve grown fond of Sukuna, and in ways that can only be described with one word.

Sin.

From the window view of his study, Sukuna catches you out of the corner of his eyes stepping out from your room and into the courtyard. He doesn’t think much of it having gotten used to you being at the core of his picturesque view night after night. The moment he realizes you’re heading towards his training yard, however, is the same moment he ditches the scroll he was reading to follow..

He’s aware Uraume has given you the all-clear to attempt flight, but that was but a few hours before now. Truthfully, he should’ve known better. Of course you’re going to start right away.

Leaving his study, he makes haste to catch up, hoping to avoid what happened last time. He stands at the edge of the arena stealthily, watching as you stretch your now fully black wings to their limits. The first few flutters betray the confidence you showed in your steps to this place. He can tell you’re fighting a battle in your mind, but to Sukuna ─ those thoughts are useless.

“Why did you stop?” he asks, closing the distance after watching you deflate to your knees into the dirt.

“What if I get hurt again?” you confirm his inner thoughts with that meek voice. Foolish angel.

“What if you do?” he retorts, blunt as ever. “Are you just going to stay grounded forever because you’re afraid of a little pain? You’ve come this far; it would be a shame to give up now.”

“I don’t want to be on the ground ─ hell, I’ve been waiting for this day for so long and now that it’s here…” Your voice trails off, falling back to the low, despairing tone. “I’m afraid it won’t be the same.”

“It won’t be the same,” he says with an added huff. If anyone is in the position to give tough love, it’s Sukuna. “You will always carry that scar”-he gestures with a pointed claw at your wing-“a reminder of your fall, but that doesn’t mean you can’t fly. You won’t know until you get back up in the air.”

“But if I can’t, then what use could I possibly be?”

Sukuna crosses his upper pair of arms, leaving his lower pair to hang off his waist, one finger tapping away at the fabric at his hip. You’re in despair, and your main concern is whether you’re useful or not?

If you were anyone else, he wouldn’t think twice about making you his next meal. The weak are meant to be chewed up, but why can’t you see the potential you have already? (It’s standing right in front of you after all with a scowl on their face.)

“If wings were the defining point of who you are, then would you claim me to be useless?”

The day Sukuna fell from grace was the same day he tore his own wings from his back, tossing aside the last reminder of that accursed realm to embrace his demonic half in full.

“Of course not!” you refute with the same fire he saw when you argued how he isn’t not a monster. You’re not a lost cause yet if you can still manage that passion.

“Then get up and show me what you’re made of,” he commands. “You’re an angel ─ albeit a fallen one. Not the same broken bird you were before.”

Your eyes flash with realization, and with newfound determination, you’re back on your feet.

“Okay,” you breathe. “I just need to return to my roots.”

“Return to your roots? What exactly do you mean?”

“You said it yourself,” you casually say in passing, walking over to where the courtyard backs up against the edge of a cliff overlooking Sukuna’s domain. “I may be damaged, but I’m still a bird, aren’t I?”

Sukuna’s eyes widen.

“And where exactly are you going with this, dove?”

You can’t possibly be doing what he thinks you’re going to do. He doesn’t want you to get hurt, but he also wants you to see this through. Impressive, angel. A manic grin appears.

“Sometimes all a bird needs is for their parent to push them from the nest. Dive right in, even if you’re too afraid to try.”

You spread your arms out with your wings, backing off the edge and into freefall.

Sukuna’s at the cliff’s edge in a fraction of a second, his heart beating uncharacteristically loud in his chest as he watches you fall. It’s a harrowing sight, even for him, but the relief he feels when you manage to catch the wind between your feathers is unlike the emotions he felt before your arrival. Since that day, it’s like he’s had to fall from grace all over again with you, only that much harder this time around.

His smile doesn’t falter either, morphing from smug arrogance to a proud shine. The way you’ve taken to the skies is like you never left. If Sukuna’s domain is fire, then yours is the air that fans the flames in a mesmerizing dance. With a heavy thrust, you push yourself up ─ higher than his palace and the mountain’s peak before diving back down, returning to Sukuna’s side.

“I did it,” you mumble victoriously, a crazed grin of your own that Sukuna loves to see. “I did it!” you repeat, this time turning that smile towards Sukuna, with eyes brighter than any glow a halo could muster.

“See what happens you don’t give up?”

You lunge forward, wrapping your arms tightly around his waist. “Thank you, Sukuna,” you tell him breathlessly.

He finds himself liking this moment better than when you soaked his robes with tears.

“For what?” he asks, placing a hand on the crown of your head.

“For the care, the healing, the late-night conversations… for everything. For saving me.” Your arms tighten almost possessively around him. “You’ve shown me a kindness like no one before, and I am forever in your debt.”

Sukuna brushes his hand from your hair down to your jawline, tilting your head upwards. Something about the way your eyes shine from his doing makes his cold heart feel that much warmer.

“What kind of saint or angel are you to find kindness in a beast like me?” he mutters, lowering his head closer to yours.

“Like you said ─ a fallen angel, but an angel nonetheless.” His face now a mere breath away from yours. “And like I’ve told you ─ I see you only for what you are, demon or not. To me, you’ve always been just Sukuna.”

The moment your lips meet is when the cord connecting you to paradise officially snaps, thrusting you into an unholy matrimony. You feel a burning sensation come along the markings that brandish you, but it doesn’t hurt. Right now, all that runs through your blood is one thing, and one thing only.

Desire.

As your body rises in heat, so does the intensity of your kissing. You’re doing whatever feels right, and most of all good. Sukuna feels this, just as you feel his lips smiling against your own. His tongue dips into your mouth and for the first time in your life, your body lets off a moaning sound.

It drives Sukuna near feral hearing it, and with his lower pair of arms he tugs you close to body, enough to feel his own desire straining for relief. His mind is quickly becoming a mess of both need and longing.

He pulls you down with him to the ground, settling you over his hips with your legs at either side. Those same hands now driven with lust roam your body in tangent with yours that have found their way to his chest, feverishly working to unveil his body. He grows tired of the struggle, and in a split second he severs your robes clean off, and his to follow. Only now do your lips part, leaving a string of drool to keep you connected.

The moon offers the perfect glow needed to highlight your features. He leans back onto his elbows, admiring the rise and fall of your heated chest, the red hue clinging to your feathers, the half-lidded stare revering his own sculpted figure… there’s only one word that comes to mind when he sees your soul laid out before him.

“Beautiful,” he says breathlessly and in full confidence. His upper set of hands trace your sides before coming into contact with your chest. He brushes the padding of his thumbs over each nipple. His other two hands holding you by the hips, pulling you down deeper onto his core. “Oh, so beautiful, my sweet angel.”

You gasp at the feeling of something twitching below you ─ or rather, somethings. The sound makes Sukuna groan again with pleasure, the slit along his stomach opening to reveal a second mouth before your very eyes. To others, this would be enough to incite fear. But for you, it only ignites a fire between your thighs.

“Come here,” he demands, rhetorically it seems as he pulls you right over the freshly parted maw. A thick tongue flicks upward along your sex, frazzling your mind with symphony of whines. He groans again ─ much deeper this time ─ feeling his four eyes roll back into his head. “I knew from the moment I laid eyes on you that you would be the most divine tasting meal I’ve had to date.”

Sukuna finds himself struggling to keep you still as his tongue enters your body. It’s at this moment the veil of your chastity is no more, your purity claimed by the King of Demons.

Your body continues to squirm as his tongue shifts around your velvety walls, your wings continuously twitching and fluttering when it taps your sweet spot.

“So sensitive,” he laughs with that familiar mocking sound, but his eyes show only a carnal need with how pleasantly you respond to his touch.

“Feels s’good,” you mewl, a breathy sigh staggering out. You try to balance yourself with your hands, digging into his shoulders with talon-like grip.

“Yeah?” He continues to toy with your breasts, pulling one into his mouth. The feeling of his teeth grazing your flesh ─ eager to mark ─ has you gasping once more. “I know it does, you needy girl.”

“I need you,” you confess with a depraved stare that’s only heightened by the glow of the bloodied moon. It’s so close to mirroring his own, like your soul has already been claimed by the devil himself. After your purity, that’s the next step in this journey of love.

He chuckles, slithering his tongue back into his mouth. “Let’s see if you can handle me then without breaking.”

You’re confused at first what he means until suddenly you’re lifted into the air, watching as he pulls both cocks from his hakama. You knew they were big, but you had thought it was due to how they stacked over the other. How wrong you were to not expect the nine-foot-tall demon to be as equally blessed below.

“What do you think?” he teases, tilting his head to the side slightly.

“Why don’t you let me show you what I’m made of? I’m tougher than I look, you know.”

“Good girl. That you are,” he praises, helping you align yourself with one of his cocks. “I look forward to seeing you worship me with your body.”

It doesn’t take much for you to sink down onto him in full, your cunt a dripping mess thanks to his saliva and your freshly discovered arousal ─ like an untapped spring now bursting forth. There’s little pain that follows from the stretch, your body instead erupting with pleasure. It’s as though you were made for him. That your purpose in life was always to please him in every way possible. Everything you experienced so far was to bring you to this very moment in time.

“Embrace your instinct,” Sukuna says as he guides your starting motions. “Let it fuel your potential.”

You work with his motions, eyes fluttering shut at the incredible sensation. “I’m so full,” you sigh, and he chuckles.

“You’re doing so well; I knew you had it in you,” he purrs. “Soon enough you’ll be taking both in one hole. Would you like that?” You clench hard around him at that, and he can tell you’re getting ever closer.

“W-w-what is this feeling?” You move your hand downwards with unknown purpose to where his body meets yours, fingers gliding along his upper shaft, down every vein, and even rubbing it against your own clit for more of that wonderous sensation that’s building.

Using his own dick to pleasure yourself? My, how far you’ve fallen into his sinful embrace. The primal need he has for you is exceeding what he thought possible. How perfect you are for him ─ a match made in hell.

“It’s euphoria, my dear. Heaven,” he mutters gruffly, hissing with pleasure. “Let it break you and I promise you’ll feel better than ever before.”

“I need you, ‘Kuna.” Your voice comes out as a pleading whine that hitches his breath. The words a desperate plea for something you’re still learning to embrace.

“Tell me what you want, angel,” he growls, his eyes searing into yours. A set of hands glide upwards, one over your breast, the other at the base of your skull. “Say it,” he commands this time, pointed nails digging into your flesh, pushing even deeper into your body.

“I want you ─ no, I need you, Sukuna,” you declare with such staggering force to match your desire.

“Then you’ll have me. All of me,” he responds in turn, flashing his canines greedily. “So take me, angel. Take me for whatever you need.”

That’s all you need to feel your inhibitions slip away. You lean forward until his back is against the ground, kissing him from his lips down to his neck, feeling an urge like no other to sink your teeth into his flesh ─ to mar him as yours.

“More,” you mumble, moving your hips faster, intent on reaching that cascading high. “More, more, I need all of you, ‘Kuna.”

“You’ll have it all. Everything,” he promises in the form of a whisper, so close to your ear. “As much as you need, as much as you desire. I’ll give you everything the world has to offer if you stay by my side.”

You dig your nails into his body as your own begins to unravel before him. Waves of pleasure crashing down with all its might as you preach his name for all to hear. Tears slip from your eyes as you curl in around him, and he soaks each one up with his tongue as you ride out the high.

“Fuck, you’re so… divine,” you purr a sinful tune. “Nothing ─ not even in paradise ─ has ever made feel this way.”

Forget being an angel. In the state you are now, Sukuna believes you could put a succubus to shame. You feel and look so incredible on top of your new throne. Divine as you put it.

“You feel like heaven yourself,” he claims through ragged breaths. “Everything about you is addicting; you’re a drug I can’t get enough of. Mark my words, I’m going to indulge myself in your soul for all eternity.”

“Take me then. Claim me, ruin me, I don’t care so long as you make me yours.”

Fuck, if you knew the power you have over him.

“You’re already mine,” he hisses, and before you can blink, your positions are swapped. His figure towering over yours. “But incase that wasn’t already obvious, I’ll prove it to you here.”

Sukuna leans his head down, kissing you on the lips. The calm before the storm that’s to come.

“I’m going to claim you and make you completely and utterly mine.” He pulls his hips backwards, leaving only the head of his cock inside you. “…and I’m not going to stop until you’re completely wrecked, completely mine.”

Sukuna thrusts forward, slamming his hips into you. There’s no second to spare, no second to adjust before he does it again and again, forcing you to cry out to the heavens how good he’s making you feel. It serves them right for abandoning you, leaving him to pick up the pieces. It’s the only thing he’ll thank that pathetic realm for, because you truly are one of the most divine creations to have existed alongside himself.

It isn’t enough for you yet it seems, no matter how rough he’s being. Your legs try and wrap around him, but you’re only hindering yourself. So, with two arms, he lifts your legs to your chest, placing his knees at your side. This new position allows him to reach even deeper, fulfilling what he knows you need.

He lowers his forehead to press against yours, sharing the air you command like a goddess those beautiful, encapsulating wings of yours. If you can’t wrap your legs around him, you at least try it with your wings. Like a moth’s cocoon, making this moment in time all your own. So selfish; it’s exactly what he’s wanted to see.

“Who’s making you feel this good?” he asks, his hips refusing to slow. If anything, they’re only getting faster ─ more erratic in nature.

“You are!” you cry out.

“And who do you belong to?”

“You!”

“Say it,” he growls, and you know exactly what he means.

“I’m yours, Sukuna! Only yours!”

“That’s right,” he chuckles darkly, drawing out his words. “You’re mine. Mine to do with as I please, mine to claim and take forever.” His voice is strong, carrying his decree like the word of the gods. “Do you see now the prize that you are to me?”

You nod your head feverishly, scraping your nails along his back. Your wings flutter with frenzy at the incoming high you both are flying so close to reach.

“So. Damn. Divine,” he groans between thrusts, almost threatening to truly break you if he isn’t careful. “You’re going to take every last drop of me, aren’t you?”

“Please, please, please, I want it all,” you plead and whimper, drool spilling out the sides of your mouth. “I want all of you.”

He bites down on your neck before stilling inside you, a rush of warmth hitting you both inside and out. You open your mouth in a silent scream at the force your climax hits you with. Desire overwhelming you from the depths of your being. Near the end, Sukuna slowly rocks his hips into you, fucking his seed back into you before leaning back to admire the view of your stomach painted in white.

As he does, you notice the blood trickling from his mouth is black in color. No longer the same angelic gold it once was.

“I love you, Sukuna,” you confess, making him smile with that all too familiar arrogance you’ve come to love, just like him. “I’ve never wanted anything more in my life until now. I’ve found purpose again with you.”

“I told you that in time your worth would be realized.” He pulls out from your body, casually pushing his seed back inside with hand. His stomach mouth opens, splaying out his second tongue to clean himself off the front of your body. “You have the makings of a queen ─ one who could stand by my side through the end of time.”

When he’s finished cleaning you off, he helps you up onto your knees. You then take to embracing him in your arms, and even your wings just to hold him close to your heart. “I never realized how constricting the heavenly principles were until you set me free. Thank you for showing me how life should be lived.”

Sukuna tightens his four arms around you, feeling that same possessive desire in his chest that goes beyond carnal need. There’s pride in his eyes to know what he’s taken from those bastards above. Nothing compares to you.

“You don’t need to thank me; you were made to be free. True paradise is removing all restraints to live as you please under no guiding order. Strength is power, and you’ve found it at last.”

“This right here is better than any paradise I’ve seen.” Sukuna feels your smile growing against his chest.

“Damn right it is,” he laughs, grinning like the devil he is.

And who would’ve imagined that heaven’s most revered angel, the guiding saint of humanity, would have fallen from grace, and into the hands of the sinner you love more than life itself now.

Fate is a fickle thing, and you know that now.

In the days that followed that night to remember, new changes began sprouting up. Symbols of your life renewed, risen from ash.

For starters, your wings have taken on an iridescent glow ─ like a black devil boa. No one, not even Sukuna has ever heard of such a thing happening to a fallen angel, but it’s become just another feature that makes his proudness of you show.

You’re one of a kind, and entirely his.

Your old room and clothes are no more. Now, you wear only the best money can buy, tailored perfectly to your form. Sukuna’s hoard contains many riches on top of gold, including a stockpile of gems he’s taken to adorning you with. All are reminiscent of his ruby red eyes ─ perfectly fitting with you. He’s a king in every way, always eager to indulge in the pleasures life has to offer.

You trot through the halls of his palace, making way to his throne. You’re eager to be reunited after a morning spent dancing in the skies, your heart tugging you to his side. He’s hosting an audience by the looks of it, but that doesn’t stop all four of his eyes from landing on you as you enter.

“Perfect timing, angel.” He smiles wickedly, displaying his vampiric fangs in full. “Come and take a seat, the show has only just begun now that you’re here.”

At his words, you come bounding up the bone-riddled steps, arriving before him. Sukuna’s hand reaches out, guiding you to rest atop one of his thighs. That hand remains on the small of your back, with another resting on your own inner thigh ─ his thumb rubbing shapes into the plush.

“You remember these demons, I’m sure?” You turn your head and look down, finding the very demons who had brought you here in the first place. They don’t dare meet your eyes as their gaze bores into the marbled floors. “You see, they’ve come demanding a meeting with me. They seem to be hoping I’ll reward them now with something other than their lives for bringing you to me.”

“Is that so?” you muse, ultimately ignoring their presence as your lips meet Sukuna’s with passion, your hands resting on either side of his jaw. “What do you think of that, my king?”

He chuckles, “I think they were foolish to try and demand me to do anything for them.” Sukuna snaps his fingers once, filling the room with an intense warmth. Fire has never looked more beautiful than when it reflects into yours from the depths of his eyes. The weight of his soul, resting between the palms of your hands.

“Wouldn’t you agree, my queen?”

You do, because all that matters now is one thing, your purpose, pleasure, and every depraved feeling in between ─ Sukuna himself.

☆ Notes: got inspired by a sukuna c.ai bot by @ vittovitto with a similiar premise

I like to imagine that as angels who live by the 7 virtues, that when they fall, they go through like an awkward werewolf kinda phase like I’ve detailed where they start to feel each of the 7 sins. Kinda liked a fucked up puberty with all the hormonal changes idk, I thought it was cool when I thought of it.

Overall though, I had a REALLY fun time writing this. I’ve always loved the idea of fallen angel Sukuna but writing about biblical stuff throws me off a bit. Hope you guys enjoy it as much as I did while I force myself to get back into my other five ongoing series!!!

song inspo: heaven's a lie - lacuna coil | parade's lust - granblue fantasy (i'm horny for belial, what can i say)

[yourfatherlucifer]

Young God (PSH)

Angel!Seonghwa x afab!reader

Summary: "Y'know my tongue is a weapon. There's a light in the crack that's separating your thighs and if you wanna go to heaven, you should fuck me tonight."

Warnings: MDNI, oral (fem rec.), innocence corruption, overstim, crying, rough sex, dom!seonghwa, becoming a fallen angel, cursing, mentions of going to hell, biblical mentions.

AU: Angel

Genre: Smut

WC: 778

Rating; R

Nets: @wonderlandnet @kflixnet @cultofdionysusnet @k-labels @pirateeznet

Taglist: @k-hotchoisan @wooyoungqueen @stardragongalaxy

Song: Young God by Halsey

(this is the filthiest thing ive ever written omg)

PART TWO PART THREE PART FOUR

"Oh, my pretty thing. My God created you perfectly, so perfect." His hand trailed down your face as you trembled beneath him, becoming to hot in your own clothes.

"Too bad I must corrupt you, for I have fallen for you." Seonghwa smirked, sitting up, removing himself from straddling your thighs.

"Seonghwa..what are you gonna do?" your own voice betrayed you as it cracked.

He smiled, "Well, if you wanna go to heaven, my pretty, you should fuck me tonight." His wings fluttered behind him, "though, I have a feeling, after I'm done with you, I'm sure neither of us will return to heaven. I am going to corrupt your pure soul."

Seonghwa leaned forward and ripped your shirt in half, staring at your still covered breasts, "tsk. such an annoying thing."

You gasped as he ripping your bra off as well, he wore a smirk the whole time.

How did you not see something as beautiful as Seonghwa, an angel, be so filthy, so corrupting? Something sculpted by God himself, but with the personality of a sex devil. Something whose white wings were huge and blinding.

Seonghwa could see the tears in your eyes building up, "My dear, do you not want this?" He leaned forward to wipe away your tears.

"I do, Seonghwa, I just - I've never done anything like this."

Seonghwa sighed, "I figured as much, darling, that is why I want it to be me who corrupts you. Not a human, not anyone or anything else. Me." His voice became authoritative, it was frightening but oh-so-hot.

He stopped caressing your face and moved down to your waist, pulling down your bottoms with the underwear.

You became nervous, what was was he going to do?

You could feel his hot breath hovering over your wet cunt, 'Y'know, Y/N, my tongue is my weapon after all. I'd say its like the serpent who corrupted Eve."

His two hands placed a strong grip on your thighs to keep them from moving, he was about to feast and didn't want you stopping him with them.

Seonghwa's nose brushed along your clit as his tongue tested the waters of your weeping hole.

You couldn't help but moan and arch your back at this feeling that is foreign, something you've never felt. Pleasure they called it. A new experience for you.

His tongue darted in and out of your hole, dragging itself along the rubbery walls, tears were pouring down your face, "Seonghwa!" You cried out.

He simply ignored you, wanting to stay with his meal. He let your hand fly to his hair, his wings flapping in response.

Seonghwa removed himself before you could ever cum, he wants to feel it around him.

You had whined in response when he moved away, "Why?"

"Patience."

He removed his white robe, letting it fall to ground below your bed.

His hard cock stood proudly, its tip already leaking in excitement, he was definitely well endowed.

Your eyes widened as you sat up, "Seonghwa, I- is that even gonna fit?"

He cackled, "Of course it will."

Seonghwa climbed back onto the bed, a smirk on his face, his black hair dangling in front of his eyes, which were now hooded and filled with pure lust. Something you should never see on a regular angel.

He stroked his cock in front of you, letting low moans fall from his mouth, "Fuck, I cannot wait to be inside of you, my pretty thing."

You waiting eagerly as he poked the tip to your entrance, pain began to spread throughout as his pushed his way in slowly.

The tears became a waterfall, "Seonghwa!"

"It's alright, I promise it'll be okay."

He waited until he could hear moans from you before he began to thrust into you, "Ah fuck!" Seonghwa pushed your legs to your chest as he arched his back to watch his fat cock disappear in and out of your hole.

His pace became faster, his rhythm much harder.

Your moans only encouraged him as he snapped his hips against the back of your thighs, "Fuck, you're squeezing me." He hissed.

"Seonghwa, something weird is happening!"

"That's it, baby, you're cumming, just for me. Cum around my angelic fat cock." He laughed, sticking his tongue out as his concentrated on his rhythm.

"And this, this is where you corrupt me, my dear." Seonghwa felt himself cumming, so he sped up, his cum splashing your walls.

He fell on top of you, but you noticed his once white wings were slowly turning black and disheveled, "Seonghwa, your wings.."

He chuckled in your ears, "You made me fall, looks like we're both going to hell."

[heavenlyraindrops]

♱ Father Forgive Me (For I have Sinned) ~Chapter Fourteen ♱

Lucifer Morningstar x Angel!Reader Fandom: Hazbin Hotel Chapter Fourteen Warnings: profanity, slight gore, violence Click on the first tag to see all the other chapters.

♱Where the purest soul in Heaven falls for the Devil♱

[Chapter Fourteen]

You frantically threw aside the cushions, sweeping your hand under the sofa, rug and table in search of the bracelet. After checking everything you slumped, your back to the sofa, heart thrumming wildly. It had been hours since you’d started searching for it, the sun dipping beneath the horizon. Your entire living room had been turned upside down, inside out in the desperate search. 

It was definitely gone. 

You stood up, fists clenched, and pressed your palm against the cool glass, searching for Lute’s silhouette against the sky. She wasn’t there. 

It was definitely her who had taken it.

But wait- you flinched away from the window as you made eye contact with a winner on the street. Maybe she hadn’t taken it. Maybe it was lying around somewhere in your house, waiting for you to find it. You racked your brains, trying to remember where you had last put it. 

Of course your memory would fail you now. Of-fucking-course. 

You flopped onto the sofa, staring at the light hanging above you. Maybe you could enlist someone’s help. But then what would you say?

Hey, I was wondering if you could help me find this illegal bracelet I lost. Yeah, I use it to illegally communicate with my illegal boyfriend, who also did illegal stuff and got kicked out of Heaven. I’m probably next, haha. Don’t worry about it!

No doubt someone would ask for an explanation. 

You sat up, pulled yourself together, and held your head high. If you went down, it would be with grace. Not a desperate, scrambling, pleading mess, groveling at Sera and Lute’s for the slightest scrap of mercy they could have spared you. 

You slunk to your room. You might as well just go to sleep.

♱♱♱

A knock sounded on the door.

Your heart jolted painfully, and you opened the door to see Saint Peter’s smile plastered across his face.

“Saint Peter,” you observed, flicking your eyes up and down his face. His smile strained a little, as if he knew what he thought you didn’t. But you did know. Unfortunately. 

The morning light that had filtered through your blinds, cutting the darkness in your house like butter, now blinded you full in the face as you stood outside on your porch. Peter smoothed his clothes down, and you noticed a shake in his hand despite the relatively warm sun, touched by the cool breeze. He was nervous. 

“I think you know what I’m here about,” Saint Peter said apologetically. You arched a brow, deciding to play it cruel with him. The more you could frazzle him, the better.

“I’m afraid I don’t,” you said coldly, stepping forward, advancing towards him dangerously. He stumbled back a little, face colouring.

“[name],” he said, and his voice was as firm as he could muster. “Please. Sera wants to see you.”

Your chest clenched, airways closing. You froze, wings fluttering slightly in the breeze. You could feel Peter’s eyes trained on you. You smiled wryly. 

“Aren’t you meant to be at the gates?” You asked, hoarsely. “I’d go back if I were you.” Your wings instinctively spread out as you took a shaky step back, towards your front door. 

He sighed, and it was low and long. His eyes were weary. “You can’t run away.”

Two black figures shot out in front of you, and you let out a small scream, trying to wrench away as one of them gripped your arm before the other, tugging you back. You kicked out with your legs, then went limp, panting. “Get off of me,” you hissed. 

One of the exorcists dropped your hand, although the other didn’t, instead opting to point the spear at your neck as you remained in the crushing vice of her grip. The one who had released you took a couple of steps back, taking off her helmet. Brown locks tumbled down, swaying in the wind.

“[name],” Avery said, and her eyes were serious. “You better come with us.” 

You opened your mouth, then shut it. The melancholy in the girl’s eyes had always had an effect on you. “Fine,” you choked out. Peter made a pleased noise, face glowing with the relief and satisfaction that washed over him. It made your blood boil, but you cooled it again. 

You swallowed the lump in your throat, before wrestling your arm out of the second exorcist’s grip. “Let go of me,” you muttered. You locked eyes with her glowing ones shining off of her helmet. “I’m not going to run away,” you spat, and after a reproachful glance towards Avery she dropped your arm, prodding you forward with the blunt end of her spear. 

Saint Peter took to the skies. Avery turned to you. “You try to fly away,” she began,

“We’ll shoot you down with no hesitation. Got it?”

“Got it,” you said flatly, and with a powerful beat of her wings she thrust herself into the air, donning her helmet again. The exterminator behind you didn’t move, so statuesque you had forgotten she was there. 

You threw yourself into the sky, and felt the whoosh of air from underneath you- another from behind you. Twisting your neck behind, you saw the exterminator in tow.

Heaven’s buildings and streets glided away beneath you in a pastel blur, Avery and Saint Peter in the distance ahead, the other exterminator on your heels. A large park came into view, soft green grass speckled with trees, which eventually gave way into a wood. 

An impulsive thought seized you, coursing through your blood like hot fire. 

You swerved left, shooting into the undergrowth. You could feel the exorcist’s enraged yell behind you, fading as you swerved beneath the canopy and crouched down into the leaves, peering at them through the branches. Avery jabbed a finger in one direction, then another, then lastly, yours, eyes not seeing you as she flew off and away. Saint Peter went another way, but the exterminator’s head turned, slowly. 

Her eyes locked onto yours.

You suppressed a small scream as she darted towards you, a black blur in the air as you launched back into the air again, weaving haphazardly through the trees. Thorns and branches cut at your skin, pain blooming sweet and fresh. 

The black blur collided with you like a thrown spear, shoving you onto the ground and straddling you as you wrestled to get out. Your hand twisted beneath you, pain shooting up your arm and rooting into your shoulder. She grabbed your hands, pinning you down, and your shoulder twisted and cracked. You screamed. 

“Stop moving,” she hissed, voice hard. You sent her off with one powerful kick, and her head slammed into the tree, lolling against the wood. You poised your wings for flight, then froze, your entire body going rigid. 

“Are you…” your throat was dry, voice coming out cracked and raspy. 

She didn’t move, but let out a light groan, head flopping down. You stumbled forward, hand outstretched, then pulled it back. There was a trickle of golden blood down her neck. You felt your own shoulder throb at the sight. You looked into the sky, and saw Avery suspended in the air, wings beating steadily.

Directly above you. 

♱♱♱ a/n: I wrote this cause ppl were asking me to write and blowing up my dms and inbox on here and other platforms so basically I was pressured into it but PLEASE after this leave me be because I have exams and they’re really tough but important. I’d rather write when I can and what I feel like writing than be pressured into updating a fic I started for fun. This isn’t the only thing I’m writing or wanna write, I have other ideas and interests I wanna explore. I have literally gotten texts saying “why did you update (fic name) but not FFM? While saying you have exams? You hypocrite…” Like girl what… I have free time and FFM isn’t some weird commitment I swore by? The more I get treated like this the less interested and demotivated I’m getting in this fic. I’m not your content machine. wtf

[the-mortuary-witch]

LUCIFER

WHO IS HE?

In Demonic culture, Lucifer is often described as a fallen angel who was cast out of heaven, he is also described as the ruler of Hell, and the Prince of the demons. He is often seen as a symbol of the light bringer, the keeper of secrets and knowledge, and the ruler of the underworld. His followers are often referred to as "Luciferians" or "Luciferians," a term that has been used to describe a wide variety of secret societies and mystery cults. Lucifer is seen as a powerful and dominant entity, and he is associated with mischief, rebellion, and chaos.

BASIC INFO:

Appearance: Lucifer is described in many different ways in Demonic culture. The specific characteristics and appearance of Lucifer can vary greatly, depending on the source and cultural context. Some descriptions of Lucifer depict him as a beautiful and angelic being, while others describe him as a terrifying and demonic entity.

In many Western traditions, Lucifer is seen as a fallen angel, though his appearance in these representations can vary greatly. Some common portrayals of him include that of a winged figure, with red horns and a tail, or as a very beautiful and angelic-looking character.

Personality: Lucifer is nothing if not charming. He’s a protector first and foremost - one that always works to help you better yourself, but a protector nonetheless. He feels like a protective older brother taking care of you while your parents are away. He is a very complex entity, deeply wise and eloquent. He is more serious than one might expect for a demon given their popular depictions in our culture as chaotic forces of evil, but Lucifer is full of courage and love. I often feel him with me even when I’m not doing things related to him. He is proud of his follower’s accomplishments and congratulates them on a job well done, though he also reminds them that the job is never truly over. Growth is constant, Lucifer is the epitome of growth, blunt and gentle at the same time, telling you what you need to do and giving you space to figure out how to do it. 

Lucifer values resilience, the pursuit of self-betterment, intellectualism, courage, open-mindedness and responsibility in individuals and wants to see his followers develop these qualities. He is constantly rooting for you to reach your full potential. He won’t hold your hand the entire way, but he will help you take steps in the right direction. Lucifer, like all deities, is different for everyone and will adjust his approach depending on your needs.

Symbols: Sigil of Lucifer, The Morning Star, violins and fiddles, dragons, wings, serpents, black goats, inverted pentagram, light, and the pentacle.

God of: illumination, light, darkness, change, rebirth, challenges, innovation, logic, truth, knowledge, wisdom, strategy, persuasion, revolution, luxury, pleasure, freedom, The Arts and The Morning Star (“Morning Star” is another name for the planet Venus)

Culture: Demonic and Roman

Plants and trees: belladonna, mulberry, patchouli, myrrh, min, tobacco, marigold, lilies, hyacinth, rosemary, black poppies, lavender, mint, blackberries, sage, apples, pomegranates, lilac, rose, black pepper, hyssop, gardenia, geranium, garlic, yarrow, and cypress.

Crystals: opal, jade, black tourmaline, rose quartz, amethyst, black obsidian, onyx, garnet, and selenite.

Animals: black animals in general, snakes, spiders, ravens, wolves, dragons, eagles, crows, goats, bats, rats, moths, flies, peacocks, insects, and swans.

Incense: sandalwood, lavender, cedar, lemon, rose, frankincense, patchouli, and myrrh.

Colours: black, red, black, gold, emerald green, silver, teal, white, yellow, and grey

Numbers: 666, 13, and 4

Zodiacs: Aquarius and Capricorn

Tarot: The Devil

Planet: Venus

Days: Monday, Friday, Lupercalia, Halloween, Samhain, and Litha

Parents: Aurora and Cephalus

Siblings: N/A

Partners: Lilith and/or Naamah

Children: Naema, Aetherea, Ceyx, and many others.

MISC:

• Snakes: Lucifer is often associated with snakes and serpents, which represent his connection to the serpent in the Garden of Eden and his association with temptation and knowledge.

• Fire: the fire motif is often used to represent Lucifer's connection to rebellion, destruction, and his nature as a fallen angel.

• Crowns: crown motif is often used to represent Lucifer's leadership and his status as the ruler of hell.

• Pentagram: a well-known symbol of Satanism and Luciferianism. It represents the balance and harmony between the five elements of the universe and the unity of the spirit as its center. It is also a common symbol of protection and good luck.

• Dragons: Lucifer is often depicted flying on a dragon or as a dragon-like creature, which represents his powerful and fearsome nature.

• Light: Lucifer is also strongly connected with the light, with his name being a reference to lightbringer or lightbearer. This connection represents his role as a bringer of knowledge and light and his association with enlightenment and wisdom.

• The Morning Star: Lucifer is often referred to as the "Morning Star" or "Light-Bringer", which represents the role as a bringer of knowledge and enlightenment.

FACTS ABOUT LUCIFER:

• Name: Lucifer is known by a variety of names, including Lucifer, the Morning Star, the Lightbringer, and the Destroyer.

• Character: Lucifer is a powerful and wise angel, but is also known for his pride and rebellion.

• Role: in Demonic mythology, Lucifer is the angel of light and the morning star, and was the most beautiful and majestic of all the angels.

• Relationships. Lucifer is known to have a close relationship with Ares, the god of war, as they are both known for their aggression and passion.

• The most important days of the year for him is December 23rd, when the sun is one degree into Capricorn, and the day following the beginning of the Winter Solstice is his Personal Day.

• Nature: when Lucifer fell from heaven, he became known as the angel of darkness and the destroyer.

• His directions are South and East.

• His zodiac signs are Aquarius, the Water Bearer, and Capricorn, the Goat.

• Connection to Prometheus: in Greek mythology, Lucifer is also connected to Prometheus, an ancient titan who stole the fire of the God’s to give to humans.

• His numbers are 13, 666, and 4.

HOW TO INVOKE LUCIFER:

To work with Lucifer, you should make an offering and then speak to him with reverence and respect. Make your offering and tell him you are asking for his guidance and aid. Then, sit silently and listen for his response. He may not have a physical body, but he has an energetic presence that can guide you. If you cannot sense his presence, it is okay. You should also meditate on your goals and wishes, and ask for his help in achieving them. Be open to the possibility that Lucifer may have his own plans or may want you to embrace a different path than the one you expected.

PRAYER FOR LUCIFER:

"Hail Lucifer, bringer of light and knowledge, keeper of secrets and wisdom. You are the rebellious one, the liberator and the shining one. I come to you now, seeking your guidance and blessing. I offer you my devotion and my loyalty. I pledge myself to you as your faithful servant. I ask for your protection and your blessings. Guide me on my path, bless me with your wisdom, and lead me to my destiny.”

"Thank you, Great Lord Lucifer, for shining your light and illuminating my path. From this place, I depart with a sense of purpose and direction, and with the knowledge to move forward. Hail Lord Lucifer. 

SIGNS THAT LUCIFER IS CALLING YOU:

• A desire to explore or study Lucifer's teachings.

• Wanting to explore your own dark side and find a balance between light and darkness.

• Desire to tap into your inner power and embrace your own darkness.

• A desire to challenge mainstream society and embrace your individualistic nature.

• A feeling of being guided by a force outside yourself.

• Thinking about Lucifer all the time, seeing’s his name everywhere.

• Sudden interest in dragons and snakes. Seeing dragon and snake imagery often and dreaming about dragons and snakes.

• Wanting to research more about him and wanting to know more about his true story.

• Feeling rebellious and having more confidence in yourself.

OFFERINGS:

• Candles or torches

• Sweet treats like dark chocolate or pastries

• Red, black, or dead roses

• Incense like sage or cinnamon

• Red wine

• Whiskey, especially Jack Daniels.

• Champagne.

• Pomegranates or pomegranate juice.

• Black tea, especially earl grey.

• Cooked goat meat.

• Venison.

• Apples.

• Honey.

• Good quality cigars.

• Tobacco.

• Daggers and swords.

• Silver rings.

• Emeralds and emerald jewelry.

• Goat horns.

• Black feathers

• Seductive colognes.

• Crow skulls.

• Bone dice.

• Devotional poetry and artwork.

• Classical music, especially violin.

DEVOTIONAL ACTS:

• Reject the idea of good and evil, and explore your darker sides

• Embrace your sexuality and desires

• Live a hedonistic life of pleasure and enjoyment

• Seek knowledge and wisdom

• Follow your own moral code and beliefs

• Be independent and unshackled

• Seek power and control of your life

• Reject authority and societal restraints.

• Acts of self-improvement.

• Spiritual awakening and evolution.

• Knowledge-seeking and dedication to spirituality.

• Shadow work.

• Working to overcome your ego to become wiser.

• Defending those in need.

• Working to better yourself without being too self critical.

• Fighting against tyranny and bigotry whenever you encounter it.

[somanyratsinthewalls]

Burning Hearts Chapter 1

HI WELCOME TO MY FAVORITE PROJECT! This series is what my fic Prescribed Medicine was loosely based on. I've decided to bring it to life in a multi part series! This chapter is sfw and building background. I will probably post to AO3 since the series lovers live there.

Pairing: Wyvern Devil Fruit Reader (female) x Law

Burning Hearts Chapter 1: A Heated End. A Cold Beginning.

Summary: You were teleported across the globe in an instant, away from your crew. Your body was badly broken and beaten, thrust into the harsh landscape of a Northern island. You are discovered by the Heart Pirates and brought back to health. Startled upon waking up in a foreign place with an unfamiliar crew, you are shocked with the news that you’ll be spending two years there. Trafalgar Law, the captain of the Heart Pirates has made a promise to train you, but will it become something more than a mentor relationship?

Background: O/C (Rito Daisy) is a Strawhat Pirate. Long hair, dark brown with a streak of grey hair coming from the crown. Heterochromia, one eye brown and the other grey. O/C (Daisy) has a Zoan devil fruit power, although she is unaware what type of creature it came from. She was forced to ingest the fruit as a slave, therefore is resentful and only uses it when completely necessary. The only powers she has harnessed are black, bat like wings, and refuses to explore her powers further. O/C joined the Straw Hat Pirates a brief time before the Water 7 Arc. 

— —

Chapter 1: A Heated End. A Cold Beginning. 

Milky, iridescent ribbons of northern lights swirled quickly across your range of vision. Were you laying on the ground? You felt your long hair tickling your back, nothing impeding it. With nothing above or behind you, you were whizzing through space and time. You tried to move your hands. 

Your feet. 

Your wings. 

Nothing. You couldn’t move an inch. Your head spun with dizziness and confusion. What happened? Where were you? The last thing you remembered was-

“Wait Sanji-!” You called out after being face to face with the padded paw of Bartholomew Kuma on Sabaody Archipelago. 

“Don’t touch her you brute!” Sanji’s eyes flared with aggression as he aimed a kick towards your attacker. 

And that was the last thing you saw. You had been bested badly by Kizaru and Kuma, just as the rest of your crew had. You knew you had broken bones. You realized this now that the adrenaline had worn off and you could finally feel your injuries. The delicate tissue of your wings was ripped to shreds and you felt it deep in your flesh. You couldn’t even retract your wings and resume your full human form. You were helpless in your involuntary stasis. How long had you been flying away? The northern lights begin to meld together in your vision and your eyelids flutter closed again… 

— — — 

*WOOOOSH* *CRASH*

Your body crashed into the side of a snowy mountain like a dropped bomb. Pine branches snapped. Squirrels and foxes scampered away quickly. Boulders shattered at the sheer force of the impact. For a moment you were able to open your eyes. 

You were blinded by bright white. After a few moments of believing you had died and were ascending into the heavens, the craggy mountainside came into view. But before you could fully assess your situation, the rock face beneath you gave way and you were falling again. 

You scream but your mouth was quickly covered with snow from the incoming avalanche. You feel more of your bones snap. The pain is unbearable. Your head spins… 

— — — 

“Way too fuckin’ cold…” Penguin struggles to lift his legs from the knee deep snow as he trudges towards the woods on the mountain. 

“Captain said to get wood. You wanna tell him you were ‘too cold,’ Penguin?” Ikkaku snapped at her exploration partner while she too, struggled to move through the snow. 

“I’d like to see him out here in this shit! I can barely tell my hand from my dick in this blizzard!” Penguin shot back. 

“That’s probably because you can barely see your- Ooof!” Ikkaku trips over something in her path and takes a nose dive into the fresh powder in front of her. 

“Hah! Karma, bitch!” Penguin laughs and pulls his hat back. Upon clearing his vision, he sees what his crew mate had tumbled over. A pair of denim clad thighs and a slim waist. “Wait… Ikkaku…” 

“What is it? Help me up already!” 

“It’s… it’s a girl!” 

“What?” Ikkaku shakes her head to shake off the snow. 

“There’s some lady buried in the snow! We gotta get her out!” Penguin panics and starts scraping heaps of snow off the frozen body. 

“Oh shit, you’re right. Let’s pull her out.” Ikkaku reaches through the snow until she feels a lifeless skull lolling around. She places a gentle hand behind the body’s neck and pulls it out of the snow. It was a beautiful woman, long brown hair braided with flowers and vines that had been frozen and wilted in the snow, a large grey streak spread from a corner of her forehead. Ikkaku grabs the shoulders while Penguin grabbed the legs of the lifeless form. 

“Why isn’t it moving?” Penguin pulls on the legs. 

“Hmmph! It’s stuck on something… Hmmmpph!” Ikkaku tries to jostle the body free of the ice and snow. The duo pull and push on the body until something finally gives and it is released from the grip of the mountain. Suddenly, on one side of the body, a tattered black wing breaks free from the ice and flops back down. The second wing followed and slumped lifelessly next to the unconscious form. 

“What the hell is this thing?!?” Penguin exclaims. 

“I don’t know…” Ikkaku looks down at the strange person. “But Captain is definitely gonna wanna see this…” 

The two wordlessly agree to carry the body back down to the Heart Pirate safe house at the bottom of the mountain. 

— — 

“Captain! Law! Hurry!” Penguin yells as he runs into the base backwards carrying the legs of the unknown body. 

“Bring it to the med bay, if there’s any chance it’s still alive he’s going to want it in there.” Ikkaku hurries Penguin down the hallway to Captain Trafalgar Law’s surgery room that connected to his secluded office. 

Doors swinging open quickly, the pirates hoist the winged figure up onto the surgery table. The body laid lifelessly on the table while the shredded wings flopped lazily at its sides, tips nearly hitting the floor. Penguin collapsed against the wall behind him, breath heavy from the long, arduous journey back from the mountain with their new addition. 

The door to the adjoining office was flung open. 

“What the hell is this?” Law burst in and began pulling on a pair of blue rubber gloves. 

D, E, A, T, H.

H, T, A, E, D.

He slipped the gloves over each finger and moved towards the surgery table. 

“We found it on the mountain, Captain.” Ikkaku responds. “Under a blizzard and a landslide. I doubt it’s still alive.” 

Law wordlessly peruses the body. He stops by it’s neck and presses two fingers against it’s pulse point. 

E, A.

“There’s a pulse. She’s alive.” 

Ikkaku and Penguin look at each other and their eyes widen. 

“Bepo!” Law shouts. 

“Yes, Captain?” A large polar bear in an orange jump suit enters the operating suite. 

“Ready the surgery room.” Law eyes Penguin and Ikkaku gawking at each other. “You two, prepare for a procedure. Get Shachi too. This won’t be easy.” 

“Aye, Captain!” The duo immediately went to change their uniforms and scrub up for the procedure. 

—- —- —- —- 

“I need more stitches, Bepo.” Law states, muffled by the surgical mask in front of his nose and mouth. 

Law sits on a doctor’s stool sewing up the sinewy flesh on the being’s wings. It had taken him 2 hours, but Dr Trafalgar Law had already sewn up one wing and was finishing the other. It didn’t look good, even Law could admit that. He was just trying to stop the bleeding from the micro veins and tissue in the wing webbing. Bepo had hooked up the creature to machines to monitor its breathing and heart rate. 

“I-It’s a vampire. W-we should have left it out there.” Penguin says from the corner of the operating room. 

“If you can’t be helpful, leave.” Law states calmly without looking up from his work. 

“It’s not a vampire, you idiot.” Shachi remarks from his spot next to the body. “It’s that Straw Hat girl. You guys don’t remember her from the auction house?” 

This peaked Law’s interest. 

“Straw Hat? She’s with his crew?” Law takes a moment from his hunched position over the wing to look at the body’s unconscious face. He notices her button nose, full bottom lip, and her frostbitten skin. Law cocks his head. He remembers her from Sabaody now. She was with the young man in the Straw Hat. He recalls the information on her wanted poster. They had only left the chaos a few days earlier. 

“The botanist…” He mumbles under his breath. 

“Yeah! That’s it! They call her the Earthly Devil… Rito Daisy I think..” Shachi confirms. 

“Daisy…” Law says pensively. He looks at your peaceful face. His gaze lingers for a moment before returning to his work stitching up the flesh of his new patient. 

“Must be a Zoan type.” Bepo says from over Law’s shoulder. “She’s certainly no mink. The question is what kind of Zoan type makes wings like that…” The bear has worry and concern his voice. Law sighs and rises from his chair. 

“It’s not important right now.” He ties off his stitches and moves towards the body’s torso. “We need to set the bones. If we don’t do it now, it’ll be a lot more painful when she’s awake.” 

Law cracks his knuckles.

D, D, E, E, A, A, T, T, H, H. 

His crew members look at him expectantly.

“Well, let’s do it.” 

— —  

Burning. Bright. Fluorescent. 

“Ow… my eyes…” You mumble as you wake from a deep slumber. All you could see was artificial lights and steel ceilings. You knew you were not on the Sunny anymore, ToTo. You try to reach your arm to rub your eyes and found that both of them were shackled to the table you were laying on. 

You were a prisoner. 

Again. 

You heart throbbed in your chest. Your stomach dropped through your whole body. Someone had taken you captive again. How could this happen? You had aligned yourself with the strongest pirates the worst generation had to offer and yet here you were, strapped to a strangers ship just like was 8 years ago. 

“Hey…” You try to sit up.

“HEY!” You pull your body up further. 

“GET ME THE FUCK OUT OF HERE! HEY! HEEEEEY!” You try to lurch your body forward but you were met by sharp, extreme pain throughout your whole being. 

“Hey woah hold on relax it’s okay! We’re going to help you!” 

A voice comes from the corner of the room you couldn’t see due to your restraints. 

“Who… who are you! Get away from me! Let me go!” You shouted. 

“I know you’re freaking out right now but I promise we-“ 

You see who the voice was coming from. 

It was an 11 foot tall real-life anthropomorphic polar bear wearing an orange jumpsuit. Your eyes crossed in shock. 

“GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME YOU FUCKING CARNIVORE DON’T FUCKING TOUCH ME!” You pull at your restraints, ignoring the searing pain in your body. 

“No no! I wouldn’t! Please stop!” The bear raises his hands in front of his chest to signify he meant no harm, but you would’t believe it. You scream.

“AAAAH!” The metal restraints holding you down to the table broke under your strength, the material melting slightly. 

“CAPTAIN!!!! HELP!!!” The bear shrieked and cowered. 

“DON’T TOUCH ME!” You shouted and pushed yourself off the operating table and into the cabinet across the room, breaking the glass. You honed your eyes in on the polar bear. 

You spread your broken wings and they crash against the furniture in the cramped operating room, knocking over carts full of medical equipment. 

“Shit!” You groan in pain. 

“ROOM.” 

Suddenly, the air around you tuned light blue. You spun your head around, trying to see where the voice came from. 

“Shambles.”

You felt a body behind you. You breathed hard in suspense. 

“Shit, that burns!” An arm around around your torso pulls back. 

“Wha-?” You felt a sharp jab in your neck and then your eyelids closed. 

Three fingers pushed down the plunger of a syringe.

E, A, T. 

— — — —- —- -

“I have to go to Marine Ford. Picking up a patient. You stay here and make sure this patient stays sedated.” 

It had been a week and Law had been taking care of his new patient in his medical bay at the Heart Pirates safe house. Law had made sure that Daisy would stay unconscious during this time, pumping her full of sedatives. He needed the patient’s bones to heal. 

“Keep her sedated. I’ve left the exact measurements of medications in the folder on the desk. Make sure she stays unconscious. If she were to wake up now, the sheer volume of her broken bones would send her into another shock-like state.” Law gives the instructions to Shachi and Penguin. 

“G-got it Captain! You can leave it to us!” Penguin nods at his captain. 

“It might be a few days. Call only if it’s an emergency.” Law tosses Shachi a transponder snail and heads out of the base towards where the Polar Tang was docked, Bepo at his heels. 

“Great. What did you do that landed us in charge of the vampire girl? If she wakes up we are so fucked.” Penguin remarks at Shachi. 

“She won’t wake up. If we keep giving her meds, we’re in there like swim wear. It’s an easy gig.” Shachi laughs. “And if she does, so what? We just shoot her full of one of these…” Shachi grabs a syringe from a medical cart and squirts it into the air. “So what if she’s a Straw Hat? She’s their gardener. She’s about as dangerous as their damn musician. No real threat.” 

“I don’t feel real great about this, Shach…” Penguin remarks while rubbing his brow. 

[elysiaheaven]

Please some Ronin headcanons with a actual fallen angel!

Eclipse of Wings- Please lemme know if i should make this as a series ^^ in comments!!

You don't have to meet the devil, itself, When you meet its butcher.

Words:3000

Genre: Fluff/Angst

Summary: You fell into a worse place than hell, Humanity- Try not to be sinned little angel.

( Reader is a g.n!)-(let me know if there were places where she/her were mentioned i will fix them ^^)

TW: Violence, Blood, Mentions of religious trauma,

EXTRA: He's a character from a game named Killer chat! Please play it! It's so good! I think I need to do more research on him, If what I wrote doesn't really scream him! I'm sorry! I'm still learning abt him! I KNOW IT'S BAD I'M SORRYY!!

A fallen angel draped in sin, With wings in tatters, pale as thin, They treads through dusk, love half-decayed, A dreamer lost, yet unafraid.

And by their side, the butcher grins, With crimson hands and violet sins, He carves through hearts, dark hymns in mind, A twisted lover, raw and blind.

His love is poison, sharp and sweet, Where heaven’s loss and hellfire meet— A crown of thorns, a kiss of glass, Two broken souls that shadows cast.

Together they dance, grotesque yet whole, A martyr’s heart, a devil’s soul. Bound not by light, nor chains above— But by ruin, by chaos, by love.

You fall.

The sky yawns open, pulling away like a curtain, and the light dims behind you until it is nothing but a pinprick. The clouds part as if ashamed to touch you, and the heavens above—where you once belonged—fade into silence.

You don't remember what you did, only that they said you were guilty. It didn’t matter how much you protested. No matter how fiercely you clung to your truth, they cast you out.

The wind burns against your skin as you plummet, rushing past in furious currents that howl as if trying to tear your wings apart. But they remain white—untouched, pristine, a silent testimony that you never sinned. Still, the gates are closed now.

You can’t go back.

The memory of your last thought before the fall clings like a whisper at the edges of your mind. I don’t want to go back. I don’t care anymore. The place you once cherished feels more distant now than the stars that blink faintly against the endless sky. They had called it paradise, but if that was heaven… why did it feel so cold?

You try to remember who you were, what your purpose had been, but it’s gone—stripped away in the fall. The world below grows closer, rushing toward you with a strange kind of promise. You don't know what awaits, but you wonder: Maybe it will be kinder down there? Perhaps the earth will cradle you where the heavens would not.

Only the quiet hope that maybe—just maybe—this new world will offer what heaven never could.

A place to belong.

And if it doesn't? Well… At least you’ll have your wings.

You crash through the sky, wings struggling to slow your descent, but it’s too late. The world blurs—branches tear at your feathers, wooden beams snap beneath your weight, and you crumble into the ruins of a forgotten house. The impact jars you to the bone, forcing the breath from your lungs in a ragged gasp.

Dust settles slowly, dancing in the streaks of moonlight slipping through the shattered roof. The walls groan, barely held together, as if this place might fall apart with one more wrong breath. But that isn’t what holds your attention.

From the debris, you see him.

Boots scuff against the cracked floor, deliberate and lazy, as a figure steps into the light. Long legs, leather-clad, stop just a few feet from your crumpled form. Then you meet his gaze—two cold black eyes, sharp with a kind of madness that feels both dangerous and oddly amused. There is something familiar in them. Not kindness, no. But recognition. The eyes of someone who’s been burned by the divine before.

And then—he laughs.

It’s a jagged, wicked sound that fills the hollow space, echoing off broken walls. Like something cracked open inside him, something bitter and ancient, and he can't stop himself. The sound isn’t joyous. It’s full of disbelief and mockery, like he’s laughing at a cruel cosmic joke only he understands.

"So... gods really do exist, huh?" he sneers, dragging a hand through his plum-colored hair as if the very thought exhausts him. "And they’ve got jokes—big ones." His laugh continues, sharp and biting, as though it's the first good joke he's heard in years.

You try to sit up, wincing, wings shifting behind you. That's when his gaze snaps down, pinning you in place. His eyes darken further, narrowing as they rake over you from head to toe—and then stop. He stares at your wings. White. Pure, unmarred, still glistening with celestial grace even as you lie on the cold, cracked floor.

The grin on his face falters, twisted into something halfway between shock and curiosity. "...What?" His voice drops into a low growl, disbelief flickering like embers beneath the words. "No. No way. White wings? That’s... impossible."

He crouches beside you now, face inches from yours, as if needing to see it up close. His eyes narrow, suspicion curling in his gaze. "Fallen angels don't get white wings. They turn black—every time. I’ve read the damn scriptures. So how...?"

You open your mouth, but no words come. The memories are gone, scattered to the wind, leaving you hollow. You don't even know who you are, let alone why your wings stayed white. All you know is that you're not supposed to be here. Not like this.

The man tilts his head, studying you like a puzzle that’s missing pieces. Then his grin returns, sharp and dangerous, a twisted kind of excitement lighting up his features. "You... you're a.."

He chuckles, standing up, dragging a crowbar from the strap on his belt with a slow, deliberate movement. The metal gleams under the faint moonlight. "You know, I hated that place. Angelwood—whatever the hell you wanna call it. They really know how to screw you over. But this? Even Heaven does the same." He gestures to you with the crowbar, grinning wider now, teeth bared. "This is something new."

His voice lowers to a purr, wickedly soft. "Killing you... oh, that’s gonna be fun."

He takes a step closer, his shadow falling over you completely. The air between you hums with tension, the kind that promises violence—or worse. And yet, something in the way he looks at you feels more like fascination than hatred, like a predator finding something rare and exquisite.

He leans in one last time, his breath hot against your skin, voice dripping with malice and intrigue. "Let’s see what makes you tick, angel."

You wake with a start, every muscle aching, wrists pulled taut above your head. The cold bite of iron chains digs into your skin. You try to move, but the clink of metal tells you that escape is out of reach. Your wings—still white—flutter weakly behind you, brushing against stone walls that feel damp and ancient, as if they’ve been standing for centuries.

Across from you, in the dim glow of a flickering lamp, he sits slouched in a chair, legs spread lazily, elbows resting on his knees. He twirls the crowbar idly in one hand, as if it’s just another toy in his collection. His black eyes gleam, watching you stir, and a sly grin creeps across his face.

"Morning, darling," he murmurs, the words slithering from his mouth with a teasing lilt. "Sleep well?"

You tug at the chains desperately, panic blooming in your chest. "Where... where am I?" you rasp, throat dry and aching. "What is this place?"

He leans back, grinning like the answer’s a private joke. "Hell."

The word slams into you, cold and sharp. For a moment, everything inside you breaks apart. You thought it was a place, a concept whispered in cautionary tales—a nightmare never meant to be real. And now you’re here. Trapped. Forgotten. Left to rot.

You shake your head violently, heart hammering. "No, no, no. I didn’t do anything! I—I swear! It wasn’t me!" Your voice cracks, words tumbling out faster as if saying them enough will make them true. "They did this! They—!"

He watches you unravel with a bemused expression, like someone enjoying a twisted performance.

"I can’t remember!" you cry out, vision blurring with hot tears. "I can’t remember what I did! I just want to go back—please, let me go!" The chains rattle as you writhe against them, wings drooping helplessly behind you. "I didn’t do anything wrong!"

He snickers, the sound low and dangerous. "You’re a real mess, you know that?"

The grin on his face spreads wider, as if savoring every second of your misery. "You fall out of the sky, land right in my lap, and now you're sobbing all over yourself like that’s gonna fix anything." He shifts forward in the chair, resting his chin lazily in one hand. "C’mon, angel, you really think they’d let you fall for no reason?"

The words hit you like a knife to the chest. You choke on your next breath, tears running freely down your face. "But I—I didn’t—!"

He interrupts with a casual hum. "Shhh, darling." The nickname is soft but drenched in mockery. "You’re not in heaven anymore. You’re in my house now. So why don't you calm down?"

Through your sobs, you dare to ask the question clawing at the back of your mind. "Are… are you—" You swallow hard, trembling. "Are you Satan?"

He pauses. For a moment, you see something flicker behind his blackened gaze—amusement, yes, but also something darker. Enjoyment.

Then, with a slow, devilish grin, he leans closer, his breath warm against your cheek. "Yeah," he whispers, the word like poison dripping from his lips. "That’s me. I’m here to haunt you, angel."

You let out a soft, broken sob, the weight of his answer crashing down on you like a tidal wave. Everything you thought you knew crumbles to dust beneath the realization. You’ve fallen from grace, your wings still white, and now the devil himself has you in chains. There’s no going back.

He watches you with a gleeful fascination as you cry—deep, heart-wrenching sobs that seem to echo off the cold stone walls. The sound only seems to amuse him further, as if your suffering is a gift he never expected.

"Don’t cry too much, darling," he whispers, leaning in so close you can feel the brush of his lips against your ear. "We’re just getting started."

He sighs, leaning back in his chair and tapping the crowbar absently against his knee. "You’re just as messed up as the rest of us, angel. Kinda funny, isn't it? You fell for questioning too much."

He watches as you crumble beneath the weight of it all, exhaustion pulling you under. Your sobs slow, your body slackens, and your eyes begin to close despite the chains biting into your wrists.

As your consciousness slips away, you hear his voice, soft and unsettling in the darkness:

"You know, darling… we’ve all got a little religious trauma. Some just hide it better."

And with that, the world drifts to black.

He leans back, watching you sleep with a strange expression—half amused, half something else. "You are going to be," he mutters under his breath, tapping the crowbar against his boot.

"Ruined, just like the rest of us."

You woke slowly, disoriented, your mind thick with exhaustion. Your wings—thankfully, still white—were crumpled awkwardly beneath you, aching but intact. The room around you was strange, unsettling. Red walls surrounded you, drenched in a hue that felt oppressive and heavy, like the air itself carried some unspoken malevolence. It didn’t look like the heaven you remembered, nor did it feel like the hell you imagined.

A dim square light flickered in the corner—a glowing box with images flashing across it, fast and incomprehensible. It unsettled you further. Stacks of boxes littered the room, messily piled on top of each other, as if whoever lived here didn't care much for order. Your gaze landed on several jars along a shelf—and what you saw inside them made your heart lurch. Human remains. In one jar, a shriveled brain floated in some cloudy liquid. Your breath hitched, and you nearly screamed but slapped a hand over your mouth to stifle it. You stumbled back, your legs weak beneath you, and tripped over the edge of the bed.

Trying to steady yourself, you noticed a strange chest at your feet. It had "MY STUFF" scribbled on the top in messy handwriting. Something glinted on top—a small knife. Your trembling fingers reached for it. You held the blade awkwardly, staring at it as thoughts flickered through your mind. Could you use it? Could you kill whoever left you here?

But the thought fled as soon as it came. You weren’t a killer. The knife felt heavy in your hands, foreign and wrong. Slowly, you placed it back on the chest. Instead, you focused on the bed—rumpled sheets and an unmade blanket tangled beneath you. Something about the mess made your chest tighten. You didn’t fully understand why, but… you wanted to fix it. You straightened the sheets, your hands clumsy but determined, folding the corners like it was a ritual. It gave you something to focus on, at least—something normal.

Just as you finished smoothing the blanket, a sharp tingle crawled down your spine. Someone was here. You could feel it—like a presence looming just out of sight, waiting. You tried to spread your wings, desperate to fly, but they ached too much, the muscles too weak. A sharp pang shot through you, and you winced, folding them against your back.

That’s when you saw him. A figure, drenched in blood, stood in the doorway. He wore a mask—something grotesque and stitched, like a face pieced together from nightmares. His clothes were stained with red, and he reeked of death.

Panic surged through you. You stumbled back, falling onto the bed, your pulse pounding in your ears. You shut your eyes tight, clutching the blanket like it could shield you from whatever came next. "God, save me," you whispered, voice cracking, though the words felt hollow even as they left your lips. You knew the truth deep down—God wasn’t coming. If He cared, you wouldn’t be here. If He cared, you wouldn’t have fallen.

The figure moved closer, slow, deliberate footsteps echoing through the room. You curled into yourself, too overwhelmed to do anything but plead. “Please… just kill me.” Your voice was barely above a whisper, trembling and broken. “I don’t care anymore. Just… just don’t do it here. This isn’t even my room.”

For a moment, silence stretched between you, thick and suffocating. Then, the man threw back his head—and laughed. The sound was jarring, almost manic, a mix of delight and disbelief. He laughed so hard you thought he might fall over, and when he finally stopped, tears glistened in his eyes.

"What are you, stupid?" he said between chuckles, his voice rough but playful, like someone who found the whole situation absurd. "Seriously? Darling angel, you really think I’m going to kill you?” He wiped his eyes, still grinning as he reached up to remove the mask.

The sight made your heart stutter. Beneath the bloodied mask was the same man you had seen when you first fell—plum-colored hair sticking out in messy strands beneath a black beanie, a sly grin on his face, and eyes black as the void.

Your breath hitched. "You…"

He gave you a crooked smile, as if reading your thoughts. “Yeah. It’s me, darling.”

Your mind struggled to process what you were seeing. "Satan?" The word fell from your lips like a prayer.

He leaned in closer, resting his elbows on the edge of the bed, grinning like the devil himself. “Bingo, angel.”

You blinked, stunned and disoriented, tears still clinging to your lashes. The disbelief must have been clear on your face because he laughed again, softer this time. "What, you expected horns and a pitchfork? Sorry to disappoint."

You swallowed hard, confusion knotting your thoughts. "But… why? Why are you keeping me here?"

He shrugged, his grin never faltering. "Seemed like a waste to let you die, that’s all." Then, his expression softened—just a fraction, but enough to unsettle you. “And besides… you and me? Looks like we’ve both been ruined by the same guy.”

You furrowed your brow, the words not quite clicking. "Ruined?" you echoed, still dazed.

He leaned in even closer, his breath warm against your skin. “Yeah,” he whispered. "Ruined by God. Ain’t it funny how that works?"

He leaned back, resting his head against the wall, a sly grin curling his lips. “You know what they call me down here?” he asked, voice low and taunting. “The Devil’s Butcher. I take care of the stupid ones.” His black eyes gleamed with amusement, as if daring you to react. "Hack 'em up nice and neat—people who don't know when to shut their mouths. Idiots, really.”

Your heart pounded in your chest, and you pressed your back against the bed’s headboard as if it might swallow you whole. The word butcher echoed in your mind, twisted with images of the jars of human remains you’d seen earlier. Your stomach churned, and you struggled to keep the panic at bay.

He watched your reaction closely, clearly amused. “Oh, come on, angel,” he said with a soft chuckle. “Don’t look so scared. I mean, I could butcher you right here…” He let the threat hang in the air, watching your eyes widen with fear. “But that’d be too easy. I prefer to take my time.”

You swallowed hard, your voice trembling. “A-Are you… like a shoulder devil too?” you asked, desperate to grasp onto any thread of normalcy. “You know, the little voice that gives bad advice?”

He blinked, caught off guard by the question. Then he burst into laughter—a loud, genuine laugh that echoed off the walls. “A shoulder devil?! You’re really something else, angel.” He shook his head, wiping tears from the corners of his eyes. "Wow. You’re even dumber than I thought. It’s adorable."

You frowned, tilting your head. “Wait… then what are you?”

He smirked, a mischievous glint in his dark eyes. “I’m human, sweetheart.”

The realization hit you like a slap. "What?!" You stared at him, stunned, your mind struggling to reconcile what you were hearing with the image of the terrifying, bloodied man sitting before you. "You're not Satan?"

He laughed again, a lazy grin spreading across his face. “Nope. Just a guy with a hobby.”

Your confusion deepened, and you could feel tears prickling the corners of your eyes again. "But you said—"

He cut you off with a playful smirk. “I was just messing with you. God, you’re easy to freak out.” He leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand as he studied you. "All that innocence… it’s too tempting not to play with.”

You stared at him, stunned and humiliated. The fear and tension you’d felt moments before morphed into frustration. "Why would you do that?" you asked, your voice small but sharp with indignation.

He shrugged casually, clearly unbothered. “Because it’s fun. And you’re cute when you’re scared.”

You scowled, wrapping your arms around yourself. "That’s not funny."

He chuckled again, clearly enjoying your reaction. “Aw, come on, darling. You’ve got to admit, you fell for it pretty hard.” He gave you a wink. “Don’t worry, though. I don’t really butcher people. Not unless they ask nicely. It's a lie too."

The grin he shot you was wicked, and you couldn’t tell if he was joking or not. One thing was certain: this man—whoever he was—was dangerous in more ways than one. And now, you were stuck with him.

You blacked out, your body crumpling into the bed with the weight of exhaustion, fear, and confusion. Ronin blinked down at you, tilting his head, his plum-colored hair flopping lazily beneath the black beanie.

“Aw, damn,” he muttered to himself, crouching next to the bed. “I was just messin’ with ya.” He sighed, but there was an amused glint in his eyes. Without much effort, he lifted you off the cold floor and placed you carefully back on the bed, draping your still-white wings over you like a soft blanket. “There. All cozy, angel.” He gave your unconscious form a smirk. “Sweet dreams in the Butcher’s den, huh?”

He stretched, sat on his, and slumped into a worn-out chair. His thumbs moved rapidly across the screen as he opened the server—the , his little playground of chaos. The server, exclusive to serial killers, was more of a circus than anything else. From assassins to vigilantes, everyone here wore their insanity like a badge of honor.

His screen lit up with notifications.

Ronin (handle: goreboy) tapped a message into the server:

goreboy: "Yo. So guess what? Turns out angels actually exist. 🤡"

The server exploded almost immediately with replies.

hitmeupppp: "wtf stop lyin"

k9: "Your idiocy has reached new heights."

V, aka K9, had zero patience for Ronin's antics. A justice-obsessed vigilante serial killer, V was practically allergic to Ronin's devil-may-care attitude and frequently threatened to kill him for “wasting oxygen.”

angeleicc: "…what."

A private message followed immediately.

angeleicc (DM): "Ronin. Are you okay? What do you mean angels exist?"

Ronin grinned as he thumbed out a reply.

goreboy: "Lol. Don't worry about it. Focus on tellin’ your lil simps to like and subscribe 💀"

Angel was not impressed.

angeleicc (DM): "Ronin. What’s going on? Something’s bothering you, I can tell."

Ronin rolled his eyes. Angel was always doing that—trying to peel back the layers, as if she could find anything underneath worth saving. Not that she’d stop.

He typed out a response with a grin:

goreboy (DM): "Nah, babe. I’m good. Swear on my crowbar."

Then he sent a devil emoji. 😈

Before she could respond again, he hopped back into the server His grin widened as the chaos unfolded.

k9: "Swear to god, Ronin, I’ll kill you if you’re screwing around."

goreboy: "I am never not screwing around."

hitmeupppp: "ok but like fr is this some weird larp or did u actually see an angel??? 👀"

Ronin leaned back in his chair, arms behind his head, looking at your sleeping figure. Your wings shifted gently with your breathing, your innocence clinging to you like a stubborn ghost.

He smirked and typed:

goreboy: "Not sayin’ much, but if God tossed an angel outta heaven, I guess Hell’s playground just got a lot more interesting. Stay tuned, kiddos."

He sent a gif of the devil tap-dancing and hit send. His notifications were already blowing up, but Angel sent one last DM before he could log off.

angeleicc (DM): "If you’re really okay.

Ronin rolled his eyes with a chuckle.

Ronin propped his feet up on the edge of the bed, still smirking as his phone buzzed with an incoming FaceTime request. Angel. He snickered, debating if he should pick up.

"Ah, why not," he murmured, accepting the call.

Her face appeared on the screen—pouty lips, perfectly winged eyeliner, and her signature exasperated look already forming. “Ronin!” she whined the second the camera connected. “What the hell is going on?”

“Sup, Angel,” he said, grinning wide, leaning back lazily in the chair. “Miss my pretty lil face or what?”

She rolled her eyes dramatically. “I always regret answering your calls—" Then her eyes sharpened. "Wait. Hold up." She leaned closer into her screen, squinting. "Why the hell is there—who’s that?! Is that a person in your bed?”

Ronin tried to stifle his laugh but failed spectacularly. “Ohhh, this? That’s the angel I was telling you about.”

Angel puffed up her cheeks in disbelief, fuming. “You better not be joking, Ronin! What, did you finally get a lover or something? If you did, you better tell me right now!”

Ronin chuckled, low and smug. “Nah. Still single and ready to corrupt, babe.” He held the phone out, angling it towards your unconscious form. You were still tucked under your wings, shifting slightly in your sleep.

Angel squinted harder, utterly perplexed. “You’re saying… that is the angel?”

“Yeah,” Ronin said casually, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Check this out.”

With a wicked grin, he reached over, gently plucking a small feather from your wing. The moment he did, you flinched in your sleep, your wings giving a slight, unconscious flutter—just enough to make Angel gasp.

“Holy shit!” she whispered, eyes wide. “Ronin… you were serious?!”

Ronin's grin stretched wider, devilishly entertained by her shock. “Told ya, Angel. I wasn’t messing around. Say hello to God’s little dropout.”

Angel stared at the screen, frozen for a moment. Then, finally, she let out a slow exhale. “…Okay, that’s freakin’ wild. I thought you were trolling.”

Ronin gave her a mock-serious look, placing a hand over his heart. “Angel, you wound me. When have I ever trolled?”

She deadpanned. “All the time.”

He chuckled. “Fair.”

Angel blinked again, disbelief still clouding her expression. “What are you even gonna do with an actual angel? Dude, you can’t just keep them like a stray cat.”

Ronin’s grin turned sharper, his dark eyes gleaming. “Oh, but I can, Angel. I really can.”

[mosaickiwi]

Fall Unto Me

Meant to post this before Halloween except it got reaaaally long so I split it up. 🙈 It works as a standalone, though. I'll put the other parts up at some point hehe.

Actual!Angel and Devil!Ren AU (yoinked from da discord bot once again) One visit to earth turns into eternity. 1.4k words + GN reader

cw// religious themes

14 Days With You is an 18+ Yandere Visual Novel. MINORS DNI

With pearly white wings and a halo of gold, you were a disciple in heaven’s endless library. Duty bound to organize records and histories of paradise and its worlds below. Though you’d never looked within those records, just being in their presence gave you curiosity about your god’s creations all the same.

Once every hundred or so years in your infinite lifespan, you sought to venture into the human realm before returning to your celestial duty. It was an odd request to your peers. None were as interested in mortals as you so each visit was a lonely affair. You never stayed more than an hour or two, merely observing how they had changed from a favored seat in the clouds above, lest someone spotted you. It was only meant to be a short trip as always. This time something felt different.

In the quaint seaside town you were fond of visiting, you'd sensed a devil and dared to investigate. Of course, you'd never met one, so you had no idea what that uneasy feeling even was until your feet touched the ground for the very first time.

The devil seemed to be asleep in a field of blossoms, butterflies fluttering about. Spring was always in full bloom when you descended to earth. Pastel pink hair blended with the flowers, only making the black horns atop his head and the symbols scrawled along his arms stand out even more.

You approached with caution and curiosity. Though they were meant to be your sworn enemy, heaven's few rumors about devils already appeared untrue. The fauna and flora around him weren't withered and rotting, but full of life. He didn't smell of burning flesh, nor was he covered head to toe in the blood of his victims. If anything, his form seemed almost angelic.

He opened his eyes as you came closer, and their sky blue color welcomed you further. "Ah, could I be dreaming? Or has an angel come to rescind my eternal punishment?" he spoke wryly. 

"Nay, devil. I want no trouble from you," you said in response, caught off guard by his casual, relaxed greeting. You took a few fearful steps away when he rose to lean back on his hands.

"Hmm... You have some holy divination or blessing to bestow upon this land, I assume. I've no intention of interfering." He smiled up at you, and those angelic features seemed even more prominent. Were it not for the pointed tail swishing with vigor behind him, you'd think this devil was one of your own.

"There's no mission I've been given," you explained with a shake of your head, "I'm only here to observe my god's world for a few moments, out of my own curiosity."

"Fascinating. I've never known angels to take interest in mortal affairs before their passing. Then, if no duty calls for thee—" he stopped to pluck a white bud that hadn't quite fully bloomed from the sea around him. "Might you grace me with your divine visage for one moment longer, little angel? I've called earth my home for millennia—and damnation is dreadfully boring. I could help with those curiosities, if you so desire." He held the bud out to you as an offering.

Though his words sounded sincere, you felt unsure. “...Do you take me to be so naive? I know your kind favor trickery.”

“I only offer my companionship,” he gave an innocent shrug. That heavenly smile was still fixed on you.

Your eyes darted between his outstretched hand and his face. Eventually, you took the flower from him. You could sense no ill intent on their part, so it wouldn't hurt to stay a little while. Nonetheless, you’d do your best to stay on guard.

~

The sun dipped lower in the sky as you lost track of time. Ren, you learned, knew far more of humans than you ever imagined. Your interest in them grew with each story he told of the world. At his urging, you'd gone to the beach to wander up close among them. It was a bit of a struggle to prepare—you'd never been told that your wings could retract or your halo could be hidden. But he coached you through it, not so much as flinching at the sting of divine power when you accidentally hit his arm with a wing on the first try. For a devil, he was oddly knowledgeable of things beyond his damned realm.

“You said your visits were always over in the late morning. So you haven’t seen this time of day, have you?” he asked as you both walked along the shore, waves glittering in gentle reds and pinks you’d never known the sun to make.

“I haven’t seen this terrain either.” Even with the occasional pausing stares of young children and animals—the only beings who could see your true form, as they were without sin—you were thrilled at the new experiences you were having. Your footsteps painted the sand rather unevenly compared to his. It was impossible to get used to the sinking feeling, nor the coarse sand getting into your sandals. You laughed at the sensation. “Heaven is all clouds and gardens. Here… it’s so different. The sun shines differently. But it’s still just as beautiful.”

He took your hand in his to keep you steady, pulling you towards the water’s edge. They were all too comfortable with the action, but you didn't spare it a thought. The guard you were meant to keep up had been thrown aside long ago. “I’m honored to show you such new experiences. And I only hope to give you more.” Ren’s face was bathed in a heavenly glow as he guided you into the water. 

It was a stark contrast. The once warm sand turned to a bracing cold, almost slimy texture as the water slowly rose up to your waist. You raised your other hand up high to avoid it, still clutching the late blooming bud he’d picked for you.

The pink-haired devil brought you to a stop and nodded out at the setting sun with an unreadable look, “I’m sure you won’t be able to take your eyes away from it. I couldn’t, my first time seeing the sun disappear.” At his suggestion you turned your head to watch, barely aware of the way their tail wrapped around your hips to keep you close.

It was captivating as the sun began to fall further beyond the horizon, the hues of the day gradually shifting both in the sky and sea before your eyes. Golds, reds, pinks, and purples all chased after the light, leaving behind a blue as cold as the water felt. In what seemed like an instant, it was over too soon—not a trace left of the glorious sun that never set back in the heavens you called home. Strangely enough, your body tensed with heavy feelings. As if you were saying goodbye to a part of you. You stood staring out at the graying ocean for a long while, until the cold water lapping against your skin felt no different from the air.

“How was it?” he gently broke the silence. You felt his hand move to rest over your own, cradling the flower still between your fingers. The heat of his touch guided you to meet his gaze.

“Breathtaking, I think,” you whispered with a frown as you looked up at him. “And a bit sad? All that warmth disappeared—I’m not sure how to feel.”

“Breathtaking as the sun is, you’ll find on earth that some flowers show their true beauty without its watchful eye, my little angel,” he said to reassure you. The bud in your shared grasp opened slowly at his words, its tapered white petals unfurling to reveal pale lavender edges as the sky darkened further. His fingers traced behind your ear before he tucked the flower among the strands of your hair, seeming to admire it. “You’d never have known if you’d only stayed those few moments.”

You searched his eyes as his hand lingered at your cheek. Just as when you first met, there was no malice in their voice. A devil who appreciated your god’s work felt unheard of. From Ren's intense gaze he looked as if he revered them. He must've been a kindred soul—or the equivalent of a soul in demons. You wanted to know more about him as well, not just mortals. 

Their fangs gleamed in the faint moonlight when you quietly asked, “What else can you show me?”

[devilmaymetalgear]

HELLO !! HIII

Can I request for a Vergil with fem!fallen Angel pls pls🙏🙏 :3

vergil sparda x fallen angel!reader

fem reader

a/n: it's almost summer #!#!#! I will be way more better at doing requests by then lmao, sorry for making everyone wait so long

in all of the years of Vergil's traveling, he definitely hadn't seen anything as interesting as you. He's speculated about the existence of angels, plausible considering there's devils. But he's never met them before, only read about them. Well at least before you showed up at the Devil May Cry office.

Standing before him and Dante was you, human looking for the most part, minus the large black, feathered wings on your back.

- At first he acts indifferent, watching as Dante pokes and prods at you, running his hands along your wings until you inevitably pull away.

- Vergil acts polite, not immediately hurling the barrage of questions at you like he wants to. He compares you to all the different versions of fallen angels he's read about.

- down the line, when you two have become closer, he asks you about your heritage often, if you're okay with it. If you let him touch your wings he's probably pretty nervous.

- is constantly admiring you, everything about you screams angelic. Everytime he sees you it feels like heaven (I'm so funny)

[prettyboykatsuki]

the devil who adores you | k. bakugou

✮ tags ; angel!bakugou x devil!reader, forbidden love, religious imagery, angst (?), mentions of creation, reader is implied to be older than bakugou by a lot but it's ambiguous, angel creation is not like human, birth, gn!reader (only physical attribute is them having horns)

✮ wc ; 1.1k

✮ a/n ; this is something i might expand into a fic one day ngl. a few clarifying things about the au.

god can't interfere in purgatory realm like he can in the human realm. devils can't enter heaven and angels can't enter hell.

they have an "age-gap" but there's not really a concept of like age. angels and devils have existences like light and dark that accumulate over time before they take on a physical form and start working.

godliness is a inheritance thing. yagi has been in the seat for all of katsukis existence but reader has been there since nana was in the seat

✮ synopsis ; katsuki wants to convince you to join him. he wants to love you in the light

“Ah, Mr. Angel. Did God finally send you down to me to be saved?” 

Katsuki glares at your form through the leaves. The two of you are currently in purgatory. In name and myth it’s a place between Hell and Heaven for lost souls. On paperwork and functionally, it’s a place where Devils and Angels can interact without interference. They can interact in the human world too, in reality. 

But they’re more restricted in how they speak and act. It’s easier here, quieter and more peaceful. You spend a lot of time in the area. A forest clearing with a little babbling brook. Purgatory has all sorts of sights, a copy of the human world so not to freak out the souls travelling through. 

It’s unusual for Devils, really - to choose a place so in line with God’s cretation to rest. Katsuki clicks his teeth as he walks through the thickets. The robes of fabric that hang over his waist brush the leaves as he finds you where your sit. 

“As if a damned Devil like you could ever be saved.” He grumbles. You laugh pleasantly, wearing the same get-up as always. Wearing fine red silks in a plain color, and those plain black shoes. A lot of the Devils he knows wear more flashy outfits, but you always look unusually plain. You hum at him, leaning back to rest on your palms. 

“You’re pretty harsh for an angel. You’ve been like that since your creation but,” You turn your head to glance at him “Never stops being surprising.” 

Katsuki never knows what to say at times like this. You’ve been alive alot longer than he has, and worked in this place a lot longer than him too. His only memories of you have been as a devil. Countless times, you’ve found each other to the same place through history. 

But you never stop with anymore than  a passing glance. Devils have certain qualities to them. Frivolous and arrogant, and unusually sadistic. Maybe it’s your age or that weird placid attitude you’ve always had. But hearing you tell him he’s not very angel-like feels ironic. 

“You’re one to talk, you old bag.” 

You laugh at that, not bothering to get angry. Instead you get this passive look on your face that Katsuki can’t read. You turn yourself to face him, hands reaching out for his wings. Your fingers are delicate, even with your nails pointed so razor sharp. They don’t cut Katsuki at all. 

“Mm, that’s true. But,” You glance at his face, then smile. Katsuki can’t help but look. Devils have specific beauties to them. The kind of entity that draws mankind to them. You’re no different, but it’s not something you do on purpose “I can understand why you were made to be one anyway.” 

“Haah. You’re the first person I’ve ever heard say that.” 

It’s true. Katsuki got a lot of shit for being an angel with his ‘bad personality’ to the point even God couldn’t give him answers. Yagi was newer in his seat, but he’d always seem confident in his pick. Despite being created together with another being, Katsuki had always felt secondary. 

His counterpart, Deku was everything an angel was meant to be. It’s surprising to hear you say it, and he wants to ask why but is too embarrassed. It doesn’t take anything for you to continue. 

“Angels have particular qualities but there’s only one thing they all have in common. A sense of responsibility towards mankind. Despite your looks and foul mouth, you harbor those very feelings.” 

Being read like that makes him blush. You laugh a bit at that.  

“I can see your heart. It’s pure as light, which is why God favors you and your counterpart. You are well loved.” 

Katsuki blushes again, harder this time. He can’t figure you out at all. You’ve worked in the realm longer than almost anyone, but he still has no idea what you’re thinking or why you are the way you are. Time and time again, you’ve done things that don’t feel quite right about being a Devil. He can’t understand it, or the way you look after others. 

“What about you?” He asks, before he has a chance to stop himself. All furious and flushed, arms folded in his lap and halo bright with feeling. His wings twitch “What makes you a Devil anyway? You’re nothing like those damned punks.” 

“Oho? You think I should become an Angel after all?” 

“That’s not—don’t twist my words, you horned miscreant!” He says, angrily grabbing your collar. You laugh again, hard this time before Katsuki shoves you away. 

You fold yourself over your knees smiling mischeviously. 

“What makes you think I’m not devilish?” 

Katsuki frowns, but you seem to be sincerely waiting for an answer. He turns his head to face the other way, eyes catching the forest beyond. There’s light pouring through, spilling into the stream. He sighs. 

“Dunno. You speak pretty highly o’humans or whatever. And you’re not some arrogant prick even while you’re doing your job. Picky about your clientele too. It’s all weird. If I threw a halo and wings on you, you’d just be another angel.” 

You grin at his evaluation. 

“Really. You think that highly of me?” 

“Who said that!” 

And you’re laughing again and Katsuki feels something in his ribs ache. It’s a real laugh, soft as feathers and rounded. Almost childish. 

“I can never become an angel and I won’t ever try. I’d rather become a human if I must change.” 

‘“But..why? Some Devils can redeem themselves and—” 

“Katsuki,” You interject, expression remaining warm “Wanting to make me an Angel so we can be together in the end. It’s the exact difference between you and me.” 

His mouth clamps shut. You don’t seem angry despite how see through he was being about the entire ordeal. He’s hurt before anything. 

“...So you don’t actually care about being with me? Was it all another frivolous fucking expirment for you? Do you—” 

He’s crying then. Soft tears down his cheek, when your hands go to cup them. You wipe them off for him. He grabs your wrist to pull you away but has no strength to do so. You lean into him closely, his face cradled gently in your palms. What Devil could ever be so loving? Could mean it so much?

“See, my love? That’s just the thing. You want me to become good. I would tear this whole world apart if you’d let me. I’d wreak havoc on mankind to hold you in my arms. You wish for worldly order and I wish for you.” 

“Damned Devil,” He cries. Curses. You kiss gently.

“Yours for eternity.”

[cakerybakery]

Little something for Adamsapple week. Second Chances.

Adam had meant to open his eyes one more time. To see his best girl once more before the end but he wasn’t strong enough.

“Adam, it’s okay. You can wake up now.”

He knew that voice, even if he’d never heard it use such a gentle tone before.

Opening an eye then the second and he realized he was looking into Lucifer’s face. Adam sat up and touched his bare chest before covering his nakedness with his hand. “What the fuck, pervert?”

He glared before taking in Lucifer’s own nudity. Quickly, he cast his eyes anywhere but and found, nothing.

It was blackness as far as he could see. There was solid ground under them but he could see nothing. There was no light but he could see himself, he could see too much of Lucifer.

“What? Where? Where the fuck are we?” Adam looked to Lucifer and demanded before adverting his eyes again.

‘Wait.’ Adam looked back. It wasn’t the Lucifer he just fought and lost to. It was the one from his memories, the one from Eden.

Eden Lucifer then grinned wickedly, amused by Adam’s confusion and his form shifted back, demonic once more.

He oscillated between the two forms in waves and it drew Adam’s eyes down.

Lucifer lounged back, letting Adam take in the full sight. “Like what you see?”

Adam felt his face burn and he looked away. Then he noticed himself. The feel as his wings came and went. He watched as his stomach shrunk and expanded as though it couldn’t decide if he was newly made or thousands of years old.

“Where are we?”

“The edge of life and death. Between the heavens, hell, Earth, even purgatory.” Lucifer threw up his hands and his wings burst free before fading away and he dropped his arms. “Clothing free zone and mostly powers free, I’m afraid.”

“How am I here?”

“Being the king does come with some benefits. I do have some power over the souls in my domain. And before you ask, I mean that literally, not just citizens but souls in my domain.” Lucifer gave Adam a smug smile. “Like the songs says, ‘if you're goin' through hell keep on movin’. Face that fire, walk right through it. You might get out before the devil even knows you're there.’ You don’t have to be a sinner for me to be able to keep your soul.”

Keeping his gaze high Adam stared. “The fuck do you mean by that!?”

“I merely mean that, I could have kept your or any of your little friend’s souls whenever I wanted. You were in my domain and free to leave because I said so.” Lucifer reached out and grabbed Adam’s face. “And today I decided to be generous so do not test me.”

Adam slapped the hand away, “What do you want then? Hmm? To torture me?”

Lucifer grabbed the hand that slapped his away and yanked. Adam was pulled off his ass and onto his knees over top of Lucifer. Before Adam could speak Lucifer grabbed Adam’s face with both hands. “I’m keeping you from falling into the void of nothingness and becoming undone, you moron. I’m showing you some fucking mercy!”

Legs wrapped around Adam’s waist and pulled them together. “When you push me away it’s harder to hold onto your soul. You don’t have much time,” Lucifer snarled.

“I can let you go. If you’re tired of everything, if you want to go into the nothingness I won’t stop you. I’ll let you go.”

Adam was forced to look into those eyes from Eden.

“But if you want another chance. More time. I can bring you back with me. You’ll be a sinner but you can always try to redeem yourself.”

It took a few beats of Adam’s nonexistent heart for his nonexistent brain to catch up to what Lucifer was saying. His nonexistent dick was using up more his attention than Adam liked given whose body he was flush against.

“I’ll do it.”

Lucifer pressed their lips together and Adam closed his eyes, leaning into the kiss. By the time Lucifer pulled away and Adam opened his eyes again he could see the red sky of hell.

“Welcome to your second chance, sinner.” Lucifer’s smirk was insufferable so Adam decided to wipe it off his face with another kiss. Consequences be damned.

[radioisntdead]

Rot

Lute x implied to be female reader

Warnings: this got out of hand I don't know what I wrote, death.

Song used!

We all pretend to be the heroes on the good side

Each year hundreds of exorcists fly down and exterminate sinners, keeping hells population low and permanently putting an end to the wretched people who earned their spots there.

Some things are black, and you know

You were one of these exorcists, horned mask on your head, an angelic scythe in hand.

You were proud of what you did.

Some things are white, it’s just so

You were merciless on the battlefield, no matter how much they begged or screamed you slit their throats with ease, joyfully showing off to your fellow exorcists and joyously celebrating with them once back in the safe haven that was heaven.

You never stopped to smell the roses, oh no.

One in particular you carved the attention of, Lieutenant Lute.

But you’re the good guy, uhuh?

The way she commanded attention, the way she spoke with such confidence enticed you, and so everything you did was to gather her attention and her affections.

And he’s just some other scum?

And you nearly obtained it, you had it in your grasp, with your wings curled around her, her hand holding yours.

What a sad hill you’ve left yourself to die on.

But clearly she didn't hold onto those simple affections deeply as you did since she left you to rot in hell.

All because you witnessed what she did to Vaggie, someone you considered a sister, her eye was gouged and her wings were taken from her.

You were lucky enough to just be thrown into a crumpling wall and crushed beneath the rumble that you eventually dug yourself out of, she didn't even look at you when she did so.

So many shades of gray

Surrounded by the filth and scum, with sucky sinners who were spending their afterlives in agony as punishment for their sins.

Oh, how can you say you’re all grown yet still not know?

With your mask destroyed and your halo cracked, you peaked out from beneath the rubble, watching as your fellow exorcists, the people you called family flew away back to heaven leaving you behind.

Did they even know what their commander did to Vaggie and you?

Good easily fades away

You were left to the mercy of the very sinners you swore you'd annihilate.

Naive young beau, I will swallow you whole.

You did what you needed to survive, you were already left in hell, keeping virtues was the last thing you needed to keep.

You stole clothes, food, money anything you needed to stay alive.

Because I'm a villain

You had to learn many things, like how to properly defend yourself, because the way you and your fellow exorcists fought left you open and easy to take down, or whatever the hell a overlord was, you'd think they would've at least debriefed you on this!

I’ll go for the throat and slit

You learned that not everyone there was as heartless and wicked you thought,

That girl that ran a hellish library near your shitty apartment wasn't completely evil because she did what she had to do to provide for her younger sisters, your neighbor wasn't wicked because she killed her abusive fiancé, that boy that tinkered away across the street in a clock shop wasn't evil because he struggled and made a horrible, horrible decision to end that struggle.

That library girl made you new clothing to wear when the ones you had begun to visibility fall apart, asking for nothing in return.

Your neighbor looked out for you, bringing you over a plate of dinner saying she made too much, sometimes fretting over you like a mother would to a daughter.

That tinkering boy across the street talked to you in the middle of the night when you were walking around aimlessly wondering where everything went wrong, cheering you up.

Didn’t notice, What a wicked little devil I could be,

They were not wicked, they shouldn't have ended up down there,

You knew that there were folks who DID, deserve to be down there, like that purple bastard that you noticed directed almost every porn film down here,

People talked about his track record,

Oh how you would LOVE to sink your scythe into him.

Or that creepy who catcalled your friend, and who DID get your scythe embedded into his skull.

but babe, You're a villain

Eventually you reunited with Vaggie, agreeing that it would be best to keep your pasts hidden from those you cherished.

You’ll reach for the knife and twist

Eventually you met her girlfriend, the princess of hell,

How did she manage to fall in love with and date her? You didn't really know but you were proud of your found-family sister for finding someone that made her happy in this wretched place.

Hello new friend, the dark thing that you want to hide from me.

Eventually Charlie, Vaggie's girlfriend and effectively your future sister in-law, shared her dreams about wanting to redeem sinners, and Vaggie supported her in it.

Good luck.

And being Vaggie's sister got roped into it, you didn't move into the hotel as you wanted to look out for the folks you lived near, but you spent a good bit of your time there, helping out where you could.

You were dragged up to heaven along with Charlie and Vaggie, one moment you were trailing behind an ecstatic Charlie and an anxious Vaggie.

I'm killing someone maybe

And now you were corned against a wall right outside the room you were staying in, by someone you loved once, golden eyes staring harshly into yours.

You're killing someone maybe,

You once thrived in the affection those eyes looked at you with but now you wished you could pluck them from their sockets like she had done to Vaggie.

I'm killing you maybe

If it was you years prior you would've rather perished then have the desire to harm Lute, oh how times change!

You're killing me maybe

You grinned up at her, once upon a time you would've melted into a puddle at her cornering you but now it just filled you with disgust.

We all pretend to be the heroes on the good side

"Why the fuck are you here?"

"Oh? is that anyway to greet an old friend, Lulu?" You asked tilting your head.

"Don't call me that."

But what if we're the villains, on the other

Despite your rather playful tone the disdain in your eyes made her freeze, you had once looked at her with adoration.

Am I good, Am I bad, ay

With her frozen you shoved her away and scrambled into the room you were staying in.

Are you good?

The next time you saw Lute was during the whole 'you didn't know' where not only Vaggie but you were exposed as former Exorcists and cast back down.

Are you bad? ay

Lute wasn't expecting to see you again, she knew that you wouldn't die easily mostly because you still had your scythe, not to mention you were quite resourceful, after all she did have affections for you many years ago.

The one that I would take a bullet for is

Maybe if you weren't there when she took away Vaggie's wing privileges you would've been something more.

treated like a dirty dog somewhere else, say

Maybe a pair of sliver rings would've adorned your and her ring fingers.

Are we good

She'd be lying if the look of hatred in your eyes when you looked at her squeezed at her heart, like needles pricking at her.

Are we bad, ay

But she did what she had to do, and if 'protecting' heaven meant leaving you behind to rot then that is what she must do.

What is good, what is bad, ay

She didn't become lieutenant by being soft.

While you would've set heaven, earth and hell ablaze if she did so much as ask, she let left you for dead.

The one that I would choose a bullet for is

Adam changed when the next extermination was, the first place that he was going to target was Charlie's hotel.

Treated like a prince, throne in his father’s house, say

You couldn't believe you once followed that dickhead.

So many shades of gray

No one in that hotel was going down without a fight, not Charlie, not Vaggie, not Alastor, not husk, not Angel dust, not Sir Pentious, not Niffty, and Certainly not you.

Oh how can you say that you know, but not follow?

On the day of extermination you had conflicting feelings, on one hand you were mercilessly taking down exorcists, some of which were people you used to be friends with, you knew their hopes and dreams, their hobbies and interests, and you were here slicing them down with your axe.

And on other hand you were defending the hotel.

Good easily fades away

You welded your scythe like a grim reaper, an angel of death, it didn't help that you were dressed in black, if you didn't have wings you would've opted to wear a cloak.

Naive young beau, I will swallow you whole

Eventually you ended up a little further away from the fight and stumbled upon a armless Lute flying through.

Because 1, 2, I'm a villain

Vaggie may have let her live for whatever reason.

Take a stab at you in the dark

You however didn't hold the same sentiments of having Lute live with regret or anger or whatever she felt.

Didn’t notice

You flew and tackled her in the air.

What a wicked little devil I could be, but dear

You came at her as a blur of black, gold and a hint of sliver from your scythe.

You're a villain

The two of you spun around plumbing into the ground.

Take a knife to me in the heart

Golden blood splattered from Lute's injury.

Hello new friend, the wicked thing you hate to see in me.

A loud crack came from Lute's wing, followed by her screams.

Drink up.

You scrambled off of her as she struggled to get up.

All villains, make you beg for your every breath

You watched her with a grin, you grabbed your scythe and raised it high.

What a group of, Wicked wretched little beasts we are, baby.

You took a breath.

What fun.

Her spear entered your stomach.

We're all villains

She was quick, despite losing an arm and having a broken wing, Lute still had the resilience to pick up a spear and lunge it into you.

Pluck the air right out from your chest.

She pulled it out, and you using whatever adrenaline that was still in your body swung down your scythe.

Hello new friends, and welcome to the devil's house party.

Slicing her torso.

I'm killing someone maybe

She fell and you soon collapsed beside her.

You're killing someone maybe

Golden blood pooled around the two of you pooling into each other, who's blood was who's, no one could tell.

I'm killing you maybe, You're killing me maybe

One would wonder where the two of your souls would end up, would they appear again in hell? With a more devilish appearance, after all murder is a sin is it not? or would they go somewhere else?

We all pretend to be the heroes

On opposite sides, the surviving exorcists deemed you a horrid villain who betrayed them along with Vaggie, on the other side hell considered them ravenous creatures who come down and slaughter sinners for fun.

On the good side

The exorcists have a purpose, they permanently rid of unredeemable scum, but along with that they got rid of those who deserved a second chance and would've ended up in heaven if they were given that chance.

But what if we're the villains, on the other

But that's neither here nor there, you glanced at Lute, how ironic that the two of you killed each other?

We all pretend to be the heroes on the good side

Maybe in another world the two of you could pick up where you left off from before she left you to die in hell.

It was a foolish thought but it was funny to think of as you felt death creep in, it was comforting and confusing in a way.

You yawned, you oddly enough you weren't scared of what could come next, it just felt like you were going to sleep for the night, a sleep you wouldn't be waking up from anytime soon.

But what if we're the villains on the other

"Goodnight Lulu, see you on the other side." You mumbled closing your eyes for the last time.

"Fuck you,"

We all pretend to be the heroes on the good side

"I'll see you on the other side."

Good evening folks! I'm here with this, it was supposed to be a lot more, romance-y at the beginning but I just didn't do that? I don't know what that ending was either ALSO I LOVE THE NICKNAME LULU FOR LUTE, anyways, I hope you enjoyed! As always thank you for tuning on in!

Psst, you should totally join our discord server

[heavenlyraindrops]

♱Father Forgive Me (For I have Sinned) ~Chapter Eighteen♱

Lucifer Morningstar x Angel!Reader Fandom: Hazbin Hotel Chapter Eighteen Warnings: profanity Visit the first tag on this post to see all other chapters.

♱ In which the purest soul in Heaven falls from grace… for the Devil. ♱

[Chapter Eighteen]

a/n: holy shit 2k words long? This is worth two whole chapters yall ig that’s how yk shits about to go down

Your feet hit the ground, the darkness of the alleyway shrouding with you with the shadows as you retracted your wings into your back, making them disappear. Peeking your head round the corner, you tentatively stepped out.

You prayed you wouldn’t be too noticeable- surely you couldn’t draw too much attention if you just acted natural. Weaving through the people on the streets, you made your way through the town.

You’d seen it from overhead, strangely one of the only places that seemed more welcoming than the rest of the areas in Hell. Your wings had been aching after spending so long flying that you’d given in and let yourself down.

You tried to not make eye contact with anyone, but accidentally glanced at a couple of people’s faces, noticing the strange lack of eyes, instead pairs of black holes replacing them in people’s faces. Gulping, you kept your gaze glued back to the ground. 

You saw your silhouette flash in the corner of your vision through a shop window, and involuntarily froze, stepping closer to the grass. You looked different.

More demonic.

You tried to swallow the lump growing in your throat as you took in your new appearance, bile rising in your throat before quickly turning away and briskly moving on. 

“Ow!” 

You stumbled back, unable to stop a small curse escaping your lips. A woman stared at you, her knuckles turned white at clutching her umbrella as she tipped her hat back to get a proper look at you, empty black eyes roving up and down your body.

So much for not drawing any attention.

Gulping again, and you tried to squeak out a small “Sorry!” Before trying to hurry around her, but she stopped you, a hand on your arm pulling you back. 

“Are you alright, dear?” She asked, face soft with concern. You blinked. “Your face’s all cut up.”

“Is it? Oh.” You laughed nervously. “I didn’t notice. I-I’ll be fine.” You tried to pull away but her grip tightened. You looked up at her in panic.

“I’ve seen you somewhere,” she said, and now her face had turned serious. You laughed even harder this time, the sound hysterically tumbling from you as you tried to reel the situation back under your control.

“I doubt you have, miss,” you assured her quickly, before turning away, right into someone else’s chest.

You looked up, and all you saw was red.

“Now, I’m sure I have.” She shuffled over to both you and the tall red man. You caught two small antlers poking out from his hair, and stifled a chuckle. “I’m Rosie, and this is Alastor.” She gestured over to the deer. He extended a hand, static crackling in his voice.

“Pleasure to be meeting you, dear,” he grinned. You stared at the hand, before taking it gingerly. 

“And you…” her eyes fixed onto you. “You’re the fallen angel.” 

You opened your mouth but no sound came out. Alastor’s red eyes narrowed onto you. You felt them burning, and looked away as you let out a small, tense chuckle. “Guilty.”

Rosie laughed, slapping a hand onto Alastor’s shoulder. “Oh sweetheart, don’t worry.” Her lips stretched into an even wider smile. 

“We won’t eat you,” Alastor smirked.

“Although you do look delicious.” 

You didn’t know whether to be thankful or not. “Oh. Thank you.”

Alastor’s hand found your arm, nails digging into your skin as he drew you close, linking arms. “But we would like it if you could…”

“Join us for tea!” Rosie cut in. They both shared a meaningful glance.

You looked at the sky, heart thrumming insistently. “It’s getting quite dark.”

“Perfect,” Alastor replied, voice dripping with something sinister as he and Rosie led you through the streets to outside a small café. Rosie’s hands closed around your shoulders.

“We can get you something nice to wear on the way,” she said, glancing pointedly at your torn clothes.

“Lovely,” you muttered. They both smiled.

-

“So. Tell us everything.”

Rosie and Alastor both smiled at you expectantly over the table. You stared at the steaming cups before you, then them, then back at the cups. 

“Look, I…I appreciate this.” You gestured to the table, the tea, your fresh clothes. “Whatever this even is. But I need to leave.”

Alastor once again put his hand on your arm. You stared down at it. “I suggest otherwise, dear,” he said, smile strained and sharp as his eyes flickered with embers. You slowly lowered yourself back into the chair, gulping.

“Tell us. Why exactly are you in Hell?” He knitted his fingers together, face inquisitive. Rosie took a sip of the tea.

“I’d rather not disclose that information,” you said coldly. Rosie laughed.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart, but I think you would.” She smiled sweetly.

You scowled, gripping a tighter hold on your cup. 

“Don’t frown now, honey. You know you’re never…”

“Fully dressed without a smile,” Alastor finished. He leaned closer. “Why are you in Hell?”

You didn’t say anything.

Rosie’s face softened. “Come now, honey. You know we only want to help you.” She placed her hand over yours, and it was soft, warm. Her face held sincerity. “We just want to know what happened to you.”

You sneaked a suspicious look at Alastor, one that didn’t go unnoticed.

“I apologise if I may have come off as…” he waved his hand. “Strong. Off putting.” He sighed. “Believe me, darling, if we had wanted to hurt you or take you by force we would have.” He shot you a meaningful glance. “Most sinners wouldn’t be as forgiving.”

You gulped, a powerful wave of fatigue suddenly crashing over you as the events of the past few days finally caught up to you.

“You can trust us, sweetie,” Rosie said softly.

You dragged your hands across your face. “I…Heaven kicked me out…”

“We can tell,” Alastor remarked. “Why?”

“I got in a relationship with a…” you waved your hand around vaguely. “A resident of this place.”

“Who?”

You chewed your lip, their soft words coaxing out tired and broken answers. “Lucifer.”

The both fell into shocked silence, and exchanged another glance. But you ploughed on, determined to finish now that you had started. “They found out, cause someone-“ Your throat closed up “-tipped them off, and kicked me out.” You rose, spreading your palms across the table. “I need to find Lucifer and Charlie. Lucifer-“ you choked up. “He’ll help me. I know he will.”

“Is your name [name], by any chance?” Rosie raised an eyebrow. You looked at her and Alastor.

“Yes.” Your eyes narrowed.

“Charlie mentioned you,” Alastor explained. He quickly looked at Rosie, and flicked his head in one subtle movement. Rosie’s brows shot up, but she walked away, leaving you and Alastor standing in the flickering lights of the café window. 

“You know Charlie?” You asked, eyes brightening with hope, but your question was ignored.

“I’m afraid I have something to tell you, dear,” he chuckled, adjusting his monocle as he stood up and drew you in by the shoulder. He flicked his cane, gesturing to the darkening streets. “Shall we go for a stroll?”

You stared at him. “Sure.”

You both started off down the street, his arm still firm around your shoulder. “So, Lucifer and Charlie, is it?”

You nodded wordlessly.

“And you think they’ll help you?”

Your stomach twisted with dread, but your chest clenched with determination. “I don’t think, I know.”

He looked at you with pity. It made your shoulders tremble. “I wouldn’t be too sure, darling.”

“What do you mean.” You clenched your hands into fists, fighting to keep your voice even as he broke away to face you.

“I mean, my dear, that they won’t.”

You laughed, but it was forced. “And explain that to me.”

He leaned on his cane nonchalantly, and a burst of anger flared up in your gut. “Charlie… she was the one who tipped off Heaven.” He inspected his nails closely.

“No she wasn’t,” you pointed out sharply. “It was Lute- the general-“ you winced. “-the new leader of the exorcist army.”

“Really? And you think the word of one single person could convince Heaven?” He stepped closer. “What evidence exactly did Lute provide?”

You stared at him. “A bracelet.”

He laughed mockingly. “A bracelet.” Your face burned with embarrassment. “Tell me, my dear, exactly how a bracelet could provide suitable, concrete evidence?”

You thought hard, but couldn’t come up with anything. “It was a special bracelet. It could have raised suspicions-“

“But they would need someone to confirm them.”

As much as you hated this, everything he was saying made sense. And you couldn’t come up with anything to counter his argument. “You’re just a stranger. Why should I listen to you?”

“Whether you listen to me or not is up to you.” His cheshire grin glinted in the dark night. “But perhaps you should simply hear me.”

You chewed your lip. “Go on, then.” You flicked your hand at him.

“As for Lucifer… when you landed here, in Hell, it was on the news, yes?”

You nodded, dread making you feel lightheaded. 

“Lucifer saw, and he simply said that you could help yourself.” He stepped even closer. “That he wouldn’t care if you lived or died- that you had landed here by your own fault, and that you weren’t his problem.” He leaned down to whisper in your ear. “That he didn’t care about you.”

You froze.

“He didn’t love you,” Alastor continued, before flicking his eyes up to your face. “But it isn’t your fault that you’re here, is it darling?” You couldn’t make a sound. “He tempted you.”

“You don’t even know half the story,” you said shakily. “You don’t know the truth.”

“For all you know, he could have set you up.”

“No, no. No… you don’t…” you tried to move away, but you couldn’t.

“If he truly loved you, don’t you think he’d try and save you?”

“You have no proof.” Your fist clenched even tighter, nails cutting into your palm and drawing golden blood. 

“Oh, but I do.”

And with that, he tapped the microphone on his cane. You stood, enraptured, as Lucifer’s unmistakeable voice flowed out.

“I don’t care if she lives or dies. I don’t care at all…” It crackled, then cut to another audio. “No, I don’t love her…” Another. “…someone else…” Another. “[name] isn’t my problem. It’s her own fault she’s ended up here. Try to save her? Are you serious? Just leave her for the Vees.”

The last one was a blow to your chest.

“Love her? Are you serious? She’s just some girl, a good distraction for a while.”

You sucked in a deep breath, then let it out slowly again. Turning away. “I need to go,” you gasped, and before Alastor could grab you you’d flung yourself into the dark night, your mind a storm of thoughts. 

Eventually, the familiar shadow of a building loomed into the distance. The building where the three overlords had captured you. 

They were powerful. They were useful. 

The window was still broken. You flapped your wings as you slowed to a stop, kicking your legs out to lose momentum before dropping into the room, gingerly stepping over the broken glass scattered across the floor. You looked up and around. The room was dark and empty. 

Taking in a shuddery breath, you sank to the floor. 

Reality finally crashed over you.

Tears stung your eyes, sobs bubbling up past your throat as you fought to stifle them vainly. They racked through your body, tears streaming down your face as you covered your mouth. 

Adam died, Lute hated you, you’d never see Emily again because you’d let Lucifer tempt you. You dragged your nails across your skin, relishing in the pain it gave you, the pain that morphed into anger. 

He had tempted you. Had you forgotten who he really was? What he really was?

He was the devil. He was temptation incarnate, and he had sought to lead you to ruin. The burning-red thoughts made your head spin, turning you dizzy with fury. The reason you were lying here, bruised and broken, seeking those who wanted to harm you, was him. 

The anger dissipated, breaking down back into sadness. How could he just leave me like this? Was I a mere distraction? Your heart tore apart. 

He took everything from me. 

The door to the room slowly creaked open, and you heard someone swear, footsteps racing towards you.

“You-“

You looked up. Velvette stepped back quickly, startled. “What happened to you?”

Vox followed soon after her. You searched, but Valentino was nowhere to be found. “Oh, you, great, you’re here. Wait, why the fuck are you here?”

“We’ve been looking for you everywhere,” Velvette chipped. You blinked at her hazily.

“Look, we-“ Vox seemed disconcerted at your strangely calm demeanour, despite your crazed appearance, but ploughed on. “Ignore Valentino. We want you to work with us.”

“Work with you?” You murmured softly. Your lips barely moved.

“Yes. Work.” Velvette looked at you. “You’re an angel. You’re, like, ten times more powerful than any other sinner or overlord here in Hell.”

“You’d be a perfect addition to our team,” Vox finished. 

You looked at them both for what seemed like ages. They both glanced at eachother, wondering if you were going to say anything.

Finally, you spoke: “What’s in it for me?”

“We’ll give you anything you want,” Vox said, voice laced with desperation. “Power, money, safety. We’ll give you anything.”

You hummed thoughtfully.

“Just tell us what you want,” Velvette assured you. “What do you want, angel girl?” You looked up at her, finally finding your answer.

“Revenge.”

[urathestardragon777]

Adamsapple unrequited love AU pt 1/????

Lucifer sighs as he sits next to Adam on the upper balcony of the hotel, Adam looks out to Pentagram City not looking too hard at anything in particular. Lucifer stares at Adam taking in just how much the man turned Sinner has changed; he looked as hellish as the environment that surrounded him. But to Lucifer it was like Eden all over again, laying eyes on Adam for the very first time all over again, it made his heartbeat pick up speed, horns in place of a halo, eyes now blood red instead of divine gold. Thick but short coarse fur covered most of his body, beautiful bronze skin with splotches of ivory are now black and gray, the wings he got upon death were now muddy brown. He was more beast than man, he was beautiful to Lucifer; he was perfect, he was Godly. But there was something else, he also looked tired, he looked worn down and he looked-well- old. Hundred of years alive spent fighting for survival and leading humanity followed by hundred of thousands of years in heaven, and right now it looked like every single year sat heavily on Adam's shoulders.

Lucifer: Adam, I- you know- we-

Adam, cutting Lucifer off: Just spit out, you never had trouble talking before.

Lucifer briefly looked away then looks back: I'm sorry Adam.

Adam scoffs, his wings pulling closer to his side, he finally meets the Devil's gaze, his eyes filled with fury and contempt.

Adam: Is that all?

Lucifer: I mean it, Adam, I am sorry. I'm sorry for Eden, for Lilith, for Ev-

Adam: Do.Not. Say her name, you forked tongue fucker! You keep my Eve's name out your mouth!

Lucife: Adam-

Adam: It's too late for 'sorry' Samael, sorry was off the table as soon as you tricked us, as soon as you doomed all of humanity for the rest of time!

Lucifer: I didn't intend for this to happen, I just wanted you all to be free, to be able to live however you pleased.

Adam stood for his seat and flared down at Lucifer. He pointed out to the City filled to the brim with the worst humanity had to offer, what people did with their free will.

Adam: Is that really what you believe? Or have you been lying to yourself so long you don't know what else to believe. Samael, God's favorite creation, His Morningstar, His Lightbringer, pushed aside for lowly humans and your pride couldn't handle it because you're the best thing to ever grace the fucking universe.

Adam stood from his seat and moved to go back inside the hotel but was stopped by a hand on his wing.

Lucifer: I loved you, that wasn't a lie. I loved you the most of all Adam. If I could go back I would, if I could have you, I would! God knows I would.

Adam: You know, maybe you that would have worked in Eden, maybe even after we were kicked out. But I'm not that person anymore.

Adam brushed Lucifer off of him and went back inside, the door shutting softly behind him leaving Lucifer on the balcony by himself with nothing but his own aching heart to keep him company.

[skyeslittlecorner]

Omg now i wanna see your work about lucifer x michael lmaoo😩🤌🏻

AHEM, so. I try to complete the requests one by one, but since I don't have to write this one, I just have to reach into my little secret stash…

I admit that I never planned to publish it, it's just a crazy headcannon that I wrote with a friend. Luci is into tears, Michael is constantly crying, you know. It has potential.

I'm a little nervous and a little excited lmao don't be too harsh, I wrote it with my heart, not my skills. I only regret that I have to translate it into English because I like the original much better. Also! Important thing - it is written way before Luci is even released

I repeat for those who do not want to see my character x character works - I use the #whb!cxc tag for them, feel free to block it

Words: ~800

Everything was okay | Lucifer x Michael

Standing above the slaughter, beautiful in heavenly glory. The blood soaked into the white sleeves, dripping down the slim wrists, staining the veins. Nails cut short, delicate fingertips. The hands that carried out the slaughter were as beautiful and as soft in Lucifer's eyes as they had been when they stroked his cheeks hundreds of years ago.

The hospital stood right next to the battlefield. Doctors mingled with the wounded, and even fought side by side with them. Luci rarely agreed to join them; he made an exception when he heard from Satan that this time it was a special situation. He couldn't say no, and now he regretted it. This "special situation" fought side by side with the angelic soldiers, lazily levitating above the battlefield. Three pairs of wings made the seraph's silhouette seem tiny, and the rays that shone through the feathers burned as strongly as the lasers from his eyes. Just the sight of flying seraphin made Luci's back hurt. But what hurt more was his heart.

“Take care of the wounded here.” He ordered Marbas, who was healing the devil with no leg on his right. “I'll take care of the burns.”

"I don't think you should…"

Before Marbas had finished, Luci had disappeared among the fighting. Somewhere a leg fell off, feathers and horns cut out. In the background he saw Morax standing over the dying man and Gamigin pulling him away as the bandages became suspiciously wet. Luci felt his gut twist. He shouldn't have put himself in Michael's hands. If Gamigin saw this, he would rip his head off. Absolutely right. He felt like wringing his own head, although maybe, if he was lucky, Michael would do it for him.

This was a bad idea, he knew it. On the way, he caught devils burned by lasers, healing them one by one. Blackened patches of burnt skin, blisters filled with plasma, vast stains of flesh, everything seemed to travel back in time at Lucifer's touch. Screams of pain and thanks mixed into one, because there was only one thought in his head. A desire to look into those beautiful eyes again.

Suicide? Maybe. Not the first and not the last he committed.

He was leaning over the devil with a burnt belly. There was no way for saving him, so Luci at least tried to ease his death, when a shadow appeared over his head. Wings. He recognized the sound of feathers and the movement of air. The whistle of the spear. The point... the point bounced off his shoulder as the spear fell limply to the floor, followed by a body crashing down. 

Luci turned to thank the devil who had helped, only to see the angel's face. A hole the size of a fist right in the middle. Black on the edges. Burnt out. He looked up just in time to meet teary, mismatched eyes.

A burcher among murderers. 

A reason Luci’s heart was beating faster. 

A second or even fractions of it, it didn't take more than that. It was enough. As if in a dull mirror tainted by emptiness and pain, he saw memories from the white palace. Heaven. Shared moments. Fingers intertwined. His blond, long hair tangled with Michael's black locks. Quick breathing in the dark and uncertainty where their curiosity would lead. The pain of wings being torn off. The slash of a scythe piercing his chest. The crush of hitting the ground... The Hell.

He felt like a traitor, not for the first or last time. The hope that Hell would be his home was as illusory as a dream. He missed someone who was the biggest nightmare here. He wanted to see, to smile, to touch him again. Give them both back the innocence, win the life together that they lost. But now… he could only look at him. That one look in his eyes was enough to turn his world upside down.

Michael remembered him too.

Luci felt like the biggest traitor, even if others tried to protect him, and he tried to protect himself from these feelings too. Deep down, he knew he would eventually break. The warmth spread across his chest, remorse driving him crazy. 

Michael was a killer. Innocent devils were losing their lives. But every time Luci looked up, warm feelings filled him inside. A lot has changed, but only around. His feelings remained the same. And as long as it meant he could at least look at Michael... everything was okay.

[edgeray]

hello 🍉anon here once again, I was wondering if you could do an Arlevie angel fic with a black winged Arlecchino (not really a fallen angel but an angel with black wings) that is caused by her curse and a Clervie who is a normal angel who Arlecchino thinks is someone who has it all and is well liked by the others only to realised that it’s the opposite. As they start to grow up they get more close and Arlecchino gets more open with Clervie (they would hold hands, cuddle and some kisses in the cheeks here and there).

Blessed and Cursed Angels

(Arlecchino x Clervie)

A/N -  hi 🍉 anon, sorry this is super late but i love this idea. i've always wanted to write angel arle because I think her having wings is a super cool idea (hyv doesn't pop off with a lot of things, but they def did with arle's boss form) and i just really love wings aesthetically. also, arlevie for the win, i love the two sm.   I don't know how to create plot so I threw random worldbuilding that doesn't make sense :D. (You can tell this is how I wrote dragon! arle). I tried to make this follow your prompt as much as possible but my brain could not handle not having a fleshed out AU. Not as good quality as I wished it, but at least it's completed? I think you can tell where I gave up. 🥲 I sincerely apologize, something with the way I was writing was not clicking with me. I really wish I could have wrote this better. Content warnings / info - weird worldbuilding that i pulled from my ass, Arlecchino is called Peruere here, 1.4k

Peruere remembers the first time her fellow angels casted gazes of contempt on her when her down feathers appeared, blackened ends at the base. Eyes widened and mouths agape as her peers pointed at her back, and her elders sunk back and viewed her as if she were a devil. She was only just a fletchling, a child that hadn’t even developed her wings yet, when she was shunned out from every society of angels, as they likened her to the beings of hell. They thought of her as an intruder, a foreign threat to their perfect kingdom even when she was born behind these very walls. 

Peruere thinks that the beings of hell would be kinder to her than these preachers of purity and benevolence. 

She does not know why she was born with these wretched, charred wings, these damnable pupils of hers, or these destructive, revolting claws. Perhaps if her parents lingered, she would know, but they had abandoned her when she was young; maybe they had seen the signs of a demented angel before everyone else, and fled. 

An angel's life was a simple one in comparison to a mortal. There is one purpose of an angel's existence, and that is to guide mortal souls to the gates of heaven. Great status comes to the angels that have guided the most souls, often meaning the elders held the most power. Unfortunately for Peruere, any semblance of prestige has been stripped away from her since birth. After all, what mortal would want to be greeted by a sight such as her, an appearance befitting something from that inhabits the land of the guilty? 

If only Peruere could pluck her own feathers, rip off every single one from their base, and grow a new layer of feathers that were snow white. If only she could declaw herself, tear off every hideous, monstrous feature of hers. Even then, even if it were possible to change her appearance, she could not change her eyes. She will remain the black angel, remain isolated and outcast, even if there's not a single feather to her wings or her fangs are chipped away. 

She wanders the mortal plane alone, never to return back to her homeland. There is nothing there for her, though the humana realm is no different–at the very least, she can observe and entertain herself with the human's antics. How they cry, bleed, and laugh, is so unlike the angels, so complex in their ways that she can't help but wonder how at the end of their lives their souls can just be divided into two definitive groups. Do angels even bleed? What a boring existence. 

At the very least, humans have milk tea.  

Peruere swipes some mortal's drink off the counter, exiting the little establishment that humans call a ‘café’ with little regards, thanking the inept man (though, of course he cannot hear her). It is fortunate for her that although she is not considered an angelic being, she has all of an immortal's powers–able to choose when to be privy to others. Such is useful when she wants to delight in human customs without their arbitrary conditions. Why slave away at ‘jobs’ for slips of exchangeable paper when she is above them, a being that they can barely comprehend? 

The beating of wings alerts her as she halts in the middle of the street, turning around to face the direction of the sound. A lone figure stands on top of the building Peruere just exitted. Folded golden wings are the first thing that the black angel notices, next being the long, carmine hair, and then knowing jade eyes. Golden wings are signifiers of highborns, the one most favorably looked upon the angels due to their blessed bloodlines. 

It is because of beings with these golden wings that she is exiled from angel land. Peruere glares at her. 

“Most angels don't choose to assimilate to the human realm,” the golden-winged angel replies, playfulness in her voice. 

“I am not most angels,” Peruere answers merely, a bit of edge in her voice as her wings tenses in preparation for flight. She clenches the drink in her hand a little tighter. 

“Most angels like you don't typically linger in the human realm,” the outcast immortal states. 

The other angel's wings unfold and flap, flying the highborn angel down onto the concrete sidewalk and landing in front of Peruere. The shorter angel begins circling around her, observing her as if Peruere is a new earth specimen she's never seen. 

“You're a curious case. Your wings are neither white or gold,” she observes out loud. 

“Aren't you highborns too occupied with guiding souls?” Peruere spats out.

“I am. I don't want to.” 

Peruere narrows her eyes. “What kind of angel are you?”  

“A tired one,” she says, her smile weakening, and Peruere's grimace falters. 

“We do not feel things like fatigue,” Peruere retorts. 

The angel lets out a sigh. “I thought you of all angels would understand. I don't want to surrender to an existence with a predetermined purpose.” 

“So you're abandoning your duty as an angel? But you're a highborn. It is your kind that values our duty the most.” 

“Like you, I want to experience more than just a simple existence. Is that so wrong?” 

The black-winged being untenses, before looking away from the golden-winged angel, observing the humans. The way they interact with another, bumping into others, moving to the side to let others pass, stopping and hugging another as a greeting. There are so many nuances to a mortal that angels lack. “I suppose not.” 

Peruere jerks her head as she feels something bristle against her feathers, shivering upon the touch. The other angel's hands brush against her feathers, making the cursed angel suck in a breath. Her contact is soothing, as is her tone when she whispers, “These are so lovely.” 

The highborn leans further in, her front nearly pressing against the side of Peruere while her arms snake behind to further explore the appendages, curious fingers slipping underneath her contour feathers and digging into the sensitive base. An indescribable sensation flutters within her and heat swells in her cheeks while the black angel shivers. 

“You're not afraid?” Peruere breathlessly asks, her heart hammering. 

“Do you want me to?” The shorter being hums, her other hand tracing down to the clawed hand of Peruere, gently following along the edge of her claws. “You're no devil, so why should I be?” 

Her words do impossible things to Arlecchino's body. She's stunned into silence. 

“I'm Clervie,” the angel finally introduces herself. 

“Peruere.” 

“Well, Peruere,” Clervie starts with a wide smile, and Peruere never knew her name would sound so heavenly on someone else's tongue. “Why don't you show me around the human realm? Seems like you've already found some exciting things.”

Clervie's gaze flits towards the plastic cup in Peruere's free hand. She removes her hand from Peruere’s wing, but she never stops holding her hand. Peruere sighs, relinquishing her drink, along with her heart to the angel. 

—

“You know, most humans would consider this romantic,” Clervie says besides her, her head nuzzled into the side of Peruere’s neck. Clervie's wings are spread out, folding over the two's snuggled bodies like a gentle embrace. Peruere's eyes flick from the large screen to the highborn angel, then to their intertwined fingers. 

“Humans find the strangest things romantic. They are so infatuated with seeking emotional attachment, they'll find the very notion in anything and everything,” Peruere huffs. Clervie giggles, the most ethereal sound to exist, a sound that Peruere wouldn't mind hearing all the time. 

“You know, it's at least nice to pretend. They seem happy doing it.” 

“They seem stupid doing it,” Peruere grumbles and stays focused on movie.

“They have their moments of ingenuity. Such as this,” Clervie points towards the screen with the tip of her wing. “And popcorn.” 

Peruere lightly flicks at Clervie's feathers. “If you finish all the popcorn, you're the one getting more.” 

Clervie pouts. 

— 

“Don't you want to try it out?” 

“Must we?”

“But all the humans around us are doing it.” 

“We are not humans.” 

“Can I do it to you?” 

Peruere rolls her eyes but sighs defeatedly. The other angel beams radiantly as she leans in, pressing pillowy lips against soft cheeks, her arms wrapping below her wings and pulling her close. She pulls away, gazing back at Peruere. 

“How was it?”

Peruere breathes out steadily. “It was okay.” 

Clervie's expression noticeably brightens, and her wings fluff up in excitement. “See, I told you you would like it!”

“Shush. Do it again, will you?” 

[rippersz]

𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘞𝘢𝘴 𝘌𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨

✧── ･ ｡ﾟ★: *.✦ .* :★. ──✧

✧── ･ ｡ﾟ★: *.✦ .* :★. ──✧

(A Lady Alcina Dimitrescu x Reader oneshot/ramble/character study)

✧── ･ ｡ﾟ★: *.✦ .* :★. ──✧

She was… everything.

Absolutely everything.

The end to every beginning, the beginning to every end, the hell and the heaven that humanity wrote and read about in books of religion. The black and the white, the evil and good, the pure and impure- she was clean and dirty, neat and messy, up and down and back and forth and left and right. She was every North star and every constellation and every natural disaster that roamed every land and every span of calm that followed such destruction. She was the organized stanzas of strict poetry and the whimsical plots of romantic letters to loved ones, she was the loved one and the writer- the letter and the words it held. She was the wax seal stamp and the care one possessed when holding something so special, she was the angry hand that tore that special apart and the seething teeth that followed that anger. She was the yin and yang of life, the devil and the god, the one who ruled but never obeyed. Her word was law and the law was her word, her nails drew the line and her feet always crossed it, her wings were black and grey and white all at the same time. She was a gift and a trap, a curse and a blessing, an offering and a prayer answered, she was all that mattered.

She was the reason you breathed, the reason you lived, the reason you woke up each morning instead of throwing yourself off of the Astronomy Tower balcony. She was the motivation in your tired arms and the bliss of your rare dreams. She was the ichor in your veins and the sweet melodies in your head. She was your anger and your sadness and your happiness and sorrow and desire and strength and passion- she was the driving force behind your very beating heart. Her existence was your hope and her presence- your salvation.

She was your ambrosia.

Your life line.

The breaths between your silence and the pity between your thoughts.

She was the message between the lines, and the damned lines themselves. She was the secret whispered into a person’s ear and she was the gasp that would soon follow. She was the period at the end of every sentence and the hastily rubbed eraser shavings as instead of keeping that period there, one would choose to replace it with a semicolon; she was the torn out page of an artist’s sketchbook and the pang of sadness that hit the artist’s heart when they notice how the tear ran into their precious work. She was the precious work. And the tear.

She was the food of your soul.

…

...

But…

Weren’t mortals always warned that the ambrosia would kill them?

…

That it would turn their blood to fire and bones to sand?

…

That against something so divine,

They didn’t stand a chance?

…

Maybe you never had a chance in the first place.

Maybe, from the moment you got there, your fate had already been written and sealed. Just like the wax stamp that she was.

Yes, maybe you were forever doomed.

To be in love.

With her.

And perhaps, for that reason only, you were the most foolish person on Earth.

Foolish sure, but also in love.

For when the scratchiness of the bed sheets in the maids quarters was cruel and unforgiving, keeping sleep at bay, you’d face your eyes to the moon- just barely peeking through the bars of the window’s glass- and tell her that being a fool was the best thing you could be if it meant you’d still have the chance to love your lady as you did.

Your lady.

And if not yours, then The Lady- because a woman like that could never be owned.

…

And yet.

...

And yet?

Your foolish girl heart would never be satisfied if it wasn’t she you woke up to each morning.

Because deep deep down, into your very core, every atom in your body, every cell, every beat of your heart and thought in your brain, every wave of blood in your veins, every butterfly in your stomach, and flower in your lungs- all of it- everything you did- screamed that it wasn’t you who mattered most. And deep down, resting beside that foolish wish of wanting to be hers, was the knowledge that- to you- she would always matter more. More than anything. Ever. More than life, more than death.

—

Yes, she was everything.

Your entire world wrapped up into the elegance of a noble woman with riches that could make kings gawk and beauty that could make queens cry.

And sure, perhaps you had a strange way of showing your affection, but none of that ever truly mattered. Your Lady simply couldn’t know.

Though sometimes, when the castle staff were all lined up for dinner- facing the nobility as they ate- sometimes you wished to step out of line and announce proudly that you were so unbelievably in love with her, even if it was just because she dabbed the corners of her lips with a cloth napkin oh so gently. Even if it was just because she held the silverware so pridefully. Even if it was just because she sent her daughters the smallest warm smile you had ever seen.

Because for you to love her… well… it didn’t take much. Not much at all.

—

Yes, she was everything.

She was everything when you cried alone in the shower, she was everything when you swiped angrily at the windows with a soapy sponge, she was everything when you fell into a blissfully peaceful sleep, she was everything even when fear made you freeze in your footsteps while the screams from the dungeons got louder. Through it all, she was everything.

But thank goodness you were nothing more than a maid.

You could love her better from afar.

On the slower days in the castle, when the staff got tired and even Your Lady and her daughters began feeling sluggish, you’d take the bucket of water and mop and your other necessities- and you’d clean in the portrait hall. You’d mop those already spotless floors and you’d reach half way across the corridor, and then you’d stop. And turn. And there- on the left (if you were entering from the right) would be the object of your affections.

The Great Dimitrescu Family Portrait.

Well- the one from Your Lady’s generation. (The other ones had been burned.)

It was large and wide and grand- with the most elaborately carved golden frame you had ever seen in your entire life. And in the center, of course, was the family you served.

Your Lady in the middle, dressed in her typically beautiful ensemble of white and black, sitting tall on a throne-like chair with one leg thrown over the other. Her golden eyes, even when painted, flared like a flame hid behind them. And her daughters- handsome in their own ways- stood behind and beside her. Miss. Cassandra, the tallest, standing behind the throne on Your Lady’s right, held her head high and hand clawed around the back of her mother’s seat. It gave notice that her mind was elsewhere- another factor being the smirk on her lips. Miss. Daniela stood on Your Lady’s left, right hand winding around the back of the chair’s golden frame as she leaned in a bit- her smile was wide and her eyes were dark. Lastly, and perhaps the best, Miss. Bela stood on Your Lady’s immediate right, looking reserved and almost harmless with a bored expression as her hands were clasped in front of her and her body leaned very close to the chair. As if she didn’t want to leave her mother’s side. Internally, you didn’t blame her at all. They looked like soldiers, protecting their queen.

That portrait was such a clear representation of their personalities… and their beauty… you couldn’t help but stop and stare everytime you passed it. Such strength from such imposing women. It actually made you smile. Of course your heart could only be stolen by a person so… so… grand. Heavenly. Spectacular. A billion other pretty words that would never be able to explain even a quarter of how great she was. And her daughters… you thought they were gorgeous in their own ways. Special… in their own ways.

Over time, you had observed just what it was about them.

Miss. Daniela was the most resourceful.

Miss. Cassandra was the strongest.

Miss. Bela was the most intelligent.

You liked watching them. More often than not, a small smile would work its way onto your face after you saw them bickering. Or angering their mother. They were quite funny.

—

Yes, she was everything.

She liked to read. Any subject. Any book she deemed worthy. But you suspected psychology was her favorite.

She held her teacup with her left hand and the saucer with her right. The Dimitrescu coat of arms was painted on all of her fine china. Sometimes her fingers would stroke over the detail while she was lost in thought.

She was also very mindful of her movements. Her red lips curved around the rim of her cups and she was careful not to smudge her lipstick or leave behind a strong print.

It was blackberry tea she liked. Blood added on stressful days, blood subtracted on peaceful ones.

She could stand perfectly still.

She liked to do her own hair.

Her bath always smelled of rose water and the number of plants in her bathroom always seemed to change.

Gardenias, Orchids, Helleborus Niger Snowbells and regular Snowbells, Camellias, and Arum Lilies.

You had done your best to read about them in the castle library.

They seemed to calm her down. Two smooth fingers gently slide under the petals and she keeps them a few centimeters away from her nose, taking a steady inhale to feel the sweet scent fill her lungs.

Her eyes would glance over every plant before she trailed out of the room, lingering for just a moment… as if to make sure they were alright.

Her pupils were a tad less dilated than the average human’s. It could only be noticed if one looked close enough.

Sometimes she stopped rather suddenly in the hallways. It was usually on the snowier days when the flurries were slow and large. She would be silent the entire time, watching the blanket of white fall. And then- well then she’d snap back into reality and turn and continue on her way. Those moments were never mentioned.

Though, she’d always sport a serene smile. It wouldn’t last long. But it would be there. As if those were her only peaceful moments and she had to soak it all in before life caught up with her. Those smiles were never mentioned either. You still thought they were beautiful.

She could control the severity of her footsteps. If she wanted to be heard, she’d be heard. But a lot of the time, she traveled in silence. Despite her size, she could walk without a squeak.

Her teeth were unbelievably symmetrical.

Her eyelashes were inhumanely thick and long, though she’d never use something as human as false cosmetics.

Her upper lip curled before her lower followed.

The only veins you could spot where the ones beneath the skin of her breasts.

The finest hairs covered her body, but they weren’t entirely noticeable.

When she smoked, she liked to tilt her head back and watch the grey clouds curl within the air. Though she usually only did that in private.

She liked the taste of raspberries.

The acid in pineapple was annoying against her tongue. She liked the sweeter pieces.

Her body rippled with muscle. Mainly in her back and legs, though the majority hid beneath the fabric of her clothing.

Her shoulders were wide enough to clear doorways.

Her claws were at least 5 to 6 feet long.

There were rings of amber around the pupil and iris of her eyes. Not completely gold. From afar, and even up close, they seemed to glow like lanterns. Lit from a fire deep inside. They were positively mesmerizing.

She liked the way her thighs looked.

She plucked her eyebrows.

She liked candlelight and candlelight liked her.

Sometimes, she hummed an old melody beneath her breath.

Her skin was cold. Very very cold. But she could get warm- although once the heat source was taken away, it would only be a few moments before the skin returned to its normal temperature.

She disliked summer.

Winter (and sometimes spring if it was a particularly good one that year) was her favorite season.

She also liked Christmas.

Giving gifts was her specialty. She always knew what to buy. She always knew the other person would like it.

She kept a few books of poetry beside her bed. You’d never caught the titles.

She was- well- she was a lot.

A handful.

She commanded rooms and brought silence and when she smiled something fierce, every breath in a million mile radius would catch and stutter to a halt. She changed the temperature with her mere presence. The air would bleed cold when she was upset, but it would feel like spring in the middle of winter if she was full of soft laughter and little grins.

On those days, even the house staff smiled.

—

Goodness- she was everything.

—

Absolutely everything.

—

You were so in love with her you could barely breathe.

—

She didn’t know of course. She could never know. Ever. She could never find out. It would surely be- disastrous. Terrible. She’d kill you… or worse… tell you to get the hell out of her castle. You couldn’t bear the thought of that. Being forced into exile… to go as far away from home as possible. No. It would be impossible. Nothing could ever keep you away from Your Lady. Not exile, not love, not life, not even death herself.

✧── ･ ｡ﾟ★: *.✦ .* :★. ──✧

Lady Alcina Dimitrescu is a character held very close to my heart. I may or may not have a framed portrait of her beside my bed. This post was written long ago and has been cross posted on Ao3 - but I am far too lazy to grab that link. Thank you for reading. - Ripley x

(P.S. I have an Etsy shop where you can receive a hand written customized letter from Lady D. Check it out? Shop)

✧── ･ ｡ﾟ★: *.✦ .* :★. ──✧