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mypoisonedvine · 5 years ago

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Deliverance (Demon!August Walker x Angel!Reader)

for the shared prompt also being filled by: @penwieldingdreamer @ladyreapermc @hnryycvll @toomanystoriessolittletime @yoursecretsmutblog @onceiwasanun

Word Count: 4.4k

Rating: Explicit

You were never very good at reading people's intentions. You had always been taught to see the good in people-- wasn't that supposed to be your job?

Well, perhaps it wasn't anymore. You'd given everything you had to become a guardian angel and you'd lost it all. Your assigned mortal had trusted the wrong person, so you trusted him, too. You knew he was troubled but she always went back to him and you gave him the benefit of the doubt because it was easier and it seemed like the heavenly thing to do, at the time.

"Protecting people is not so simple," Mīkhāʼēl explained. "It requires a discerning instinct."

"But I was just trying to be good! I wanted to trust him, and believe he could change!"

He sighed and crossed his arms. "Some people can't be trusted, and certainly can't be changed."

"I thought that second chances were integral to our philosophy," you defended. "Forgiveness. Sympathy. Turning the other cheek."

"And how many times did she turn her cheek before he killed her, huh? How many chances did she give him?" he barked. You slumped into your chair in humiliation. You'd let her die, it was your fault. "What do you think it is we do here, Angel? What do you think your role is in all this?"

You shrugged nervously.

"You don't know?"

You looked down. This was humiliating, and Mīkhāʼēl had always scared you a bit.

"Allow me to make it abundantly clear," he frowned. "We are at war. What we do is warfare. Heaven is not operating against a neutral landscape. We are fighting, daily, against the forces of Hell. It is an active, not passive, duty to protect and guide humanity. It requires the use of force, even violence."

You jumped up in protest. "Violence?! But… but that's evil--!"

He grabbed you suddenly, and your words stopped with a yelp. "Don't you understand?" he hissed. "Good is weak, it is defenseless. Evil is the only way to protect what is good."

That was how you ended up suspended and stuck in the human world for a week as punishment. You weren’t sure if you would still be a guardian angel when you got back, but at this point you were just focused on getting back, regardless of what would be waiting for you there. Being mortal felt very uncomfortable.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” a deep and velvety voice asked from behind you. You turned with a gasp to see a striking man-- tall, muscular, unnervingly handsome-- looking at you with confusion and sympathy.

“Oh, it’s-- it’s nothing,” you stammered, looking away.

“Well, when I see a beautiful woman crying all alone at night, it’s hardly nothing to me,” he replied, sitting down next to you. You smiled and rubbed the back of your neck.

“Oh, well I--” you began, but he interrupted you.

“What’s your name, darling?”

For the first time in a while, you had no idea how to answer. You figured that he wouldn’t respond well to an ancient name, in a language that didn’t exist-- in a language that never existed.

“Uh…” you mumbled. “Angel. My name is Angel.” He grinned. “That’s perfect.”

How you ended up in his apartment, leaning against his wall and waiting for him to brew you a coffee, you couldn’t really remember. Well, you could remember-- he asked you, you said yes, he drove you in an automobile-- but the reasoning behind the actions was impossible to explain. On every level, this seemed like a bad idea. And yet, your instincts told you to trust him, that he was safe. His eyes were so kind, and his touch was gentle and occasional.

You told him you were crying because you’d lost your job but you left it at that. Somehow he knew the perfect thing to say, exactly how to comfort you. His hand rubbed your arm and you felt comforted, but you also knew there was more to this than just a stranger being friendly.

“Let me know if there’s anything I could do to help,” he smiled sweetly, looking at you with those eyes that made your whole body hypersensitive.

You found your gaze trailing his body, appreciating one of God’s finer creations. When it met his eyes again, he was looking at you a little differently, a little more hunger in his expression.

“Is there… something I can do for you?” he asked, his voice a little lower. He stepped closer, making you feel cornered against the wall, but your heart fluttered.

“Yes,” you answered quietly.

“What is it?”

“I…”

Sex was a tricky one. Something so pure, so inherently good in its nature, one of the most beautiful parts of creation… and somehow it seemed to be involved in so many varieties of sin. You shivered to imagine something precious being corrupted by evil.

“I can’t say,” you murmured.

“Just ask,” he cooed. “If you want something from me, all you have to do is ask.”

“August,” you sighed, giving in to your primal urge, “touch me, please.”

He smiled. “You are so beautiful,” he cooed as his fingers slipped down your stomach and lifted the hem of your dress.

“Oh, I--”

“Shh,” he soothed, “this will feel good, I promise.”

“I’ve never--”

“I know,” he smiled, “it’s alright.”

His warm fingers delicately traced a line over your underwear and you shivered. Such a simple touch and you were already melting into him,

“O-oh my,” you gasped. He hummed lowly and slipped the fabric aside, finding your lips wet and warm.

Instantly his fingers found a spot that made your knees shake and your mouth fall slack. He smiled and pressed against it harder; your hands flew up to grasp his shoulders.

Just as you felt a mysterious pressure building in your gut, you felt him moving and opened your eyes to see him drop to his knees in front of you. Before you could ask what he was doing, he was pulling down your underwear to your thighs, slipping his head under your skirt, and licking a stripe right through your folds.

“Ohhh,” you groaned, your head falling back against the wall

"You taste like heaven," he praised as he popped up from between your legs.

"You have no idea," you sighed as he got back to work.

His tongue did incredible things to you, while his hands roamed your legs and thighs and ass with patience yet insistence.

“Oh, August, r-right there,” you instructed, a hand grabbing his hair and pulling unintentionally. He moaned against you, sucking harder on your bud until you were sure you were going to reach this clandestine peak any moment now--

He stood up suddenly, pulling you into a deep kiss. You tasted yourself on him and it made you feel a little dizzy.

He stepped back and you found yourself leaning in to chase the kiss, and you blushed when you realized how needy you had become. He watched you with heavy eyes as he unclasped his belt and opened his trousers.

"Oh!" you gasped when you saw his cock. It was… more than you'd bargained for, to say the least.

"I know," he grinned. "What can I say? I'm blessed."

You fought the urge to correct him. That was not the sort of blessing your department provided.

He guided your hand to the member and you wondered why you weren’t trying to pull away. Your delicate fingers wrapped around him and he gasped a bit, as did you. It was so hard, and yet it was smooth and soft and hot in your hands.

He moved you by your wrist so your hand massaged his length, his head falling back a bit as his hips began to thrust into your grip.

“Yeah, stroke it, just like that,” he praised, moving against you a bit faster.

“Is… is it good?” you asked nervously.

“Yes,” he sighed, “so good-- you’re doing so good for me, Angel.”

His eyes shot open suddenly, and he leaned in, caging you against the wall, his lips ghosting over your ear.

“I want to be inside you,” he whispered. “I need to be inside you.”

You gasped, feeling arousal surge into your core.

“I… I don’t think it’ll fit,” you admitted. He chuckled.

“I’ll make it fit,” he soothed, his voice making the hairs on the back of your neck stand alert.

He carried you to his bed, laying you down after removing your dress delicately, like he was revealing a classical painting from behind a curtain.

His own clothes were shed so quickly that you barely had time to register the perfectly chiseled form of his chest before he was hovering over you, his limbs caging you in, his hips dangerously close to yours.

“You are so perfect,” he sighed.

“I… I doubt that,” you deflected.

His hands ran all over your body, taking a little extra time at your breasts and thighs, the latter of which he spread apart, staring at your sex as he grasped his cock and began to move forward to plunge into you.

“August!” you protested, though you weren’t sure what exactly you would say if he stopped. It didn’t matter, because he didn’t, roughly pressing the head of his cock into you. There was a burn, a sting, and you yelped.

“Damn,” he grinned, “so tight. Fuck. Really, really fuckin’ tight.”

“August, it’s-- hnng-- it’s too big,” you whimpered.

“You can take it,” he encouraged. “You’re such a good girl. Be a good girl and take it.”

He pushed further in and you winced as your body stretched beyond what you thought was possible. You were so wet, so eager, and yet there was resistance.

“S-slow down,” you begged.

“You’ve almost got it, baby, you’ve almost got all of me. Fuck, you feel so good.”

He felt good, too, and his words of praise certainly encouraged your body and mind as he pressed the last inch in and buried himself completely.

"Oh god," he groaned as he bottomed out inside you, and you really hated that.

“August,” you mewled.

“Say my name again,” he demanded.

“A-august,” you stuttered. He moaned and pulled back-- you sighed at the relief, only for him to slam back into you. You choked and nearly screamed as he did it again, and again, and again.

“So perfect,” he cooed, “so good for me.”

“It hurts,” you whined, your fingers digging into the skin of his shoulders.

“It’s gonna feel good, baby, it’s gonna feel so good, just hold on a little longer--”

His hand slipped down and massaged that little bud between your legs again, and your back arched. The pleasure mixed with the pain and suddenly the two became indistinguishable.

“Oh, oh August,” you moaned. He laughed a little, darkly, looking down at you.

“Feels good now, doesn’t it?”

“Y-yes,” you admitted, feeling a little guilty as heat burned your cheeks.

“Fuck,” he moaned, “gonna make you feel so good, Angel.”

His cock was pressing against every part of your insides, stretching you in a way that you could finally appreciate-- so fulfilling, so powerful. He reached deeper into you than you knew you could go, and it nearly hurt but mainly you were focused on the pleasure, on the way you couldn’t help but clench and tighten around him.

“God, baby,” he sighed, “that’s amazing. You’re amazing.”

All too quickly, that pressure was building again. You just knew that if he kept going, you could glimpse something so powerful, something that would change everything.

“Yes, yes, oh--” you gasped, “don’t stop, August.”

“I won’t, Angel,” he cooed, “I won’t stop, I promise.”

“I’m gonna-- oh--”

“Go ahead,” he encouraged, “let go. Come for me.”

Your eyes screwed shut as your back arched; your whole body was alight with a crackling energy that emanated from where your bodies were connected and shot all the way to your fingers and toes, which curled and tightened.

How could this be wrong, when it felt so wonderfully right? How could this be anything but good?

“How was your time on Earth?” Mīkhāʼēl asked.

“Uh, enlightening,” you chuckled.

“Yes, mortality can be quite taxing,” he nodded. “But hopefully you’ve learned your lesson. You’re holy again, but you’re on probation. You need to learn to appreciate your place in all this.”

“And what, exactly, is my place in all this?”

“A pawn.”

You slumped into your seat. “Right.”

“It’s warfare. I’m not sure what you thought it was we did here, but you’re about to find it abundantly clear.”

Your eyes went wide. “How so?”

“We recently captured a demon-- an enemy of God and all that is good in His world. We need information from him in order to prevent more destruction and corruption.”

“So, an interview?”

He laughed a little, his head dropping into his hands. “Oh, you really don’t understand the enemy at all. But you will.” Mīkhāʼēl looked up and glared at you. “You’re going to interrogate him.”

“Wha-- me?”

“It’s the safest way for you to see one up close. He’s restrained, he can’t hurt you unless you let him out. Uh, don’t do that, obviously.”

“Of course.”

“You need to appreciate how evil they are. You need to see what we’re up against.”

“O-okay.”

Mīkhāʼēl led you to a level of the heavens you’d never seen before-- a dungeon. It was dark and damp in a way totally opposite to the rest of this place you’d always called home. It disturbed you that this even existed.

He took you down a hallway only to shove you into a room, slamming the big stone door behind you. It was dark, lit only by torch sconces, and you could only barely make out the shape of a chained creature against the wall.

“Angel,” he greeted with a low and gravelly voice. You froze.

“...August?”

“One of a few names of mine, yes,” he answered.

You turned, and gasped when you saw him. He had been tortured thoroughly, it seemed. Chains wrapped around his body and held him back against the wall where his hulking form cast a shadow over blood-spattered stone. Cuts and burns littered his skin, and even with a blackened eye and a swollen lip, he looked as beautiful as ever. He looked less human than before, though. You couldn’t tell if his skin was redder and darker in this form, or if it was just the dim lighting and blood.

He looked at you and gave you a weak but devilish smile… literally. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“Oh my god,” you groaned, crushed under the weight of what you had done. Of course it would come back to bite you.

“You’re allowed to say that?”

You winced. “I’m not supposed to, no.”

“You’re learning how fun it is to break the rules.”

You looked away, rubbing your arm nervously. “When we met before,” you awkwardly recalled, “did you… know?”

“Know you were an Angel? No,” he answered. “I sensed your purity; I came, I saw, I conquered-- it’s sort of my modus operandi.”

You shuddered.

“This,” he grinned, “is a lovely surprise. The wings suit you, by the way.”

“You looked better before,” you grimaced.

“Don’t care for the horns?” “I meant that you’re beaten and bloodied and bound.”

“Oh, so you do care for the horns,” he winked. “They always do.”

They. How terrible. You were such a fool to think that there was anything special or meaningful about what had happened in the human world that day.

“So,” he started, “you’re here to torture me, yeah?”

“I… suppose so, yes,” you shifted nervously.

“So, what’s the plan? They’ve got a whole menagerie of toys over there,” he motioned with his head. You didn’t even want to look at the bloodied tools.

“I want to bless you,” you offered instead. He hissed.

“Sounds painful.”

“It will be, at first,” you admitted, “but maybe you can be saved.”

He laughed a little at that, but his exhaustion was apparent.

“Or,” you proposed instead, “I could just carve the tetragrammaton into your chest.”

“Ooh, creative,” he sighed. “I’ll take the blessing, thank you.”

As you stepped closer, you could see that he was breathing quickly. He looked afraid. Perhaps others enjoyed this feeling of invoking fear in others, but you did not.

A phial of holy water was tied to the cords at your waist, and he squirmed against the chains as he watched you untie and uncork it.

“In the name of the Father,” you began; each droplet of water instantly steamed as it hit his skin, and you watched his face as each impact brought a strong initial reaction but the pain faded quickly. “And the Son,” another flick of water, “and the Holy Spirit,” one final spray.

He grunted a little but shut his eyes as he fought the pain.

“Still a demon?” you asked nervously. His eyes were still shut but he laughed a little.

“That was nothing,” he chuckled. “The real torture is seeing you right there and being chained up. The things I would do to be able to touch you right now.”

“You can’t seriously tell me that you got off on being burned with holy water.”

“Got off? Not even close,” he frowned. “But there was certainly a physical reaction. Look for yourself.”

He moved his hips a little and you caught the shape of his erection against his trousers in the corner of your eye before you looked away.

“Aw, don’t be shy,” he smiled, “you’ve seen it before.”

“Don’t remind me,” you shuddered.

His gaze made your whole body feel warm, and tingly, and a bit nauseous.

“I can smell your doubt,” August cooed, “among other things.” “Doubt is a natural step on the journey of faith,” you answered clinically.

“Yes, it’s certainly my favorite,” he grinned.

“Exploiting people at their most vulnerable-- how twisted,” you shook your head.

“Darling, that’s what you people do,” he grimaced. “My job has always been to help people do what’s good for them.” “At the cost of what’s good for others,” you added. He shrugged with a half-smile.

“If everyone looks out for themselves, they put each other in their place.”

“Please stop trying to explain your Satanic philosophy as if it is logical or right in any way,” you frowned.

“Okay, but tell me this: how does me, chained to a wall and tortured, fit into your Heavenly philosophy?”

You considered that, looking away and trying not to notice him staring at you. You weren’t sure what inspired you to do it, but you stepped forward and loosened his chains until he was able to let his arms rest at his sides again. He sighed with relief, and looked down at you. You realized you were standing too close to him, but you were unable to step away.

He hummed as he scanned your body with his gaze. “I know exactly what you’re going through,” he purred, reaching out to you. “You’re beginning to wonder how the proprietors of ‘good’ can do things that are so evil,” he continued, his fingers beginning to trail down your stomach, “and how something so evil,” his fingers reached between your legs, “can feel so good.”

Your head fell back with a gasp as he did that thing with his fingers that made your body melt into his touch.

“You can’t… we can’t…” you mumbled, but couldn’t finish the thought.

“What’s your plan to stop me, Angel? Will you smite me back to Hell?”

“N-no,” you answered, “then you’d be free.”

“Ah, can’t pull the wool over your eyes,” he praised.

Like all sin, you weren’t sure how you ended up in the thick of it, but suddenly your ears were filled with the sound of jingling chains as you were straddling his lap, your robe tattered and tossed aside, riding him while he growled and pulled you closer.

“God, you are perfect,” he groaned.

All you could do was moan and throw your head back as his length speared you so perfectly.

When you heard the shifting of metal, at first you assumed it was his chains, or maybe a sconce falling off the wall from the force of him fucking you so brutally. It wasn’t until it was far too late that you realized it was the opening of the door as Mīkhāʼēl re-entered.

You tried to jump up and run away, as if there was any chance at plausible deniability at this point, but August held you tighter, wrapping his arm around your neck until you were nearly choking.

Mīkhāʼēl’s look of shock quickly morphed to disgust, contempt, and rage.

“You defile an angel, demon!” he bellowed. August just grinned, black eyes sparkling in the firelight.

“This isn’t-- I didn’t mean-- he made me--”

Instantly, Mīkhāʼēl’s hand was around your throat, and his eyes burned through you with a hot white heat.

“Do not bear false witness, Angel,” he growled, his voice echoing across the stone. The place where his skin was on yours started to crackle and sizzle as you felt the holy fire of judgment consume you.

“No, please!” you begged, reaching for him, but it was too late: you were already falling, already tumbling into nothingness, already feeling the emptiness overtake you as you were plunged from grace, to mortality, to exile.

You came to against a stone floor, aware only of the darkness that surrounded you and the ache on your back where you were hypersensitive to your lack of wings. This was much worse than your time as a mortal in the human world. You must have still had some holiness at that point-- maybe just the inherent holiness that came with being a part of God’s creation rather than stranded outside of it-- because now you were sore and aching and your sense of balance was all wrong as you tried to stand up.

“Hello?” you called into the darkness, immediately hating how weak you sounded.

Suddenly the darkness shifted, and there was August, no longer chained, still horned and black-eyed, bearing little burns on his chest from where you had hit him with the holy water.

“Come with me,” he offered, extending a hand to you. You shied away but he grabbed you and pulled you into him.

“Are you going to hurt me?”

“When have I ever done that?” he asked, and you were too busy being dragged forward to answer.

Suddenly there was a door, and he was opening it, and you were in some sort of hallway. The smell of brimstone hit you first, then the heat. Hungry eyes devoured you from every direction, and you shivered under their glares.

You forced your eyes closed as you stepped forward and repeated a prayer quietly to yourself. “Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of Death, I shall fear no evil, for Thou art with me.”

"Your god can't reach this place," August informed you. You opened your eyes, your mantra interrupted.

"He can do anything," you frowned. "He could retrieve me if He wanted."

"Well, then he must not want to."

You looked away and crossed your arms.

At the end of a hall was a door, and August motioned to it: “this is my bedroom. Dinner is in an hour,” he explained coolly. “Your clothes are laid out for you on our bed.” “You can’t dress me up,” you frowned, “and you can’t make me share a bed with you.”

“We’ll discuss this after we eat,” he replied sharply,

The dress was… not the sort of thing you were used to wearing. Black, revealing, heavy with beading and other vain decorations.

You were just thankful it covered the new scars on your back.

August was waiting for you in the dining room. His table was overflowing with more food than you’d seen perhaps in all your life combined. Fruits, meats, enough cakes and desserts to kill a grown man. All this abundance made even more unavoidable the fact that it was just you and him alone in the room.

"The Lord sets a table before me in the presence of mine enemies," you smirked.

“I’m not your enemy,” he corrected. “I’m the only person sticking up for you right now.”

“You’re holding me captive.”

“You have nowhere else to go. You know I didn’t bring you here, right? You were cast down. If it weren’t for me, you’d be up to your eyes in the ‘weeping and gnashing of teeth’ stuff right now.”

“So I’m supposed to just ignore what you are?”

He stood up and pulled you into him, forcing you to look into his eyes.

“And what am I, exactly?”

"You're an incubus. You seduce people, feed on their sin. It's filthy, it's… awful."

"Aww, Angel, are you jealous?” he purred as he leaned down to ghost his lips over your neck. “You shouldn't be. You're more than enough to sustain me. Just say the word and I'm yours-- I'll never seduce another. You're all I need, Angel, you're all I want."

"Lead me not into temptation," you whispered to yourself as your eyes fluttered shut.

"Stop praying," he murmured against your skin, "He can't hear you. He's not here. I'm here."

You felt the heavy fabric of your dress being lifted as the skirt ran up your legs. And there he was, running his fingers over your slit, gasping at the wetness he found there.

“Oh, Angel,” he moaned right beside your ear.

“I… I have a name, you know,” you pointed out.

“I’d rather not burn my tongue on your language, but thank you for the heads up.”

“You just like reminding yourself that I’m an angel,” you frowned.

“I like reminding myself that you used to be an angel,” he hissed.

Your gut twisted and you felt your eyes start to burn with tears. You had lost everything for this. For him. And of course it was a mistake, the worst mistake you would ever make, but now that the deed was done, you only had two options: keep the thing you’d given up your spot in Heaven for, or run away and be left with well and truly nothing.

The choice, while cruel, was obvious.

“August,” you whimpered.

“Yes, Angel?” he answered with an expectant look.

“Make love to me,” you requested in a weak voice.

“Oh, darling,” he grinned, his teeth sharp and glistening in the light of the fire, "I'm not going to make love to you. I'm going to devour you."

#august walker x reader #henry cavill x reader #august walker smut #august walker x y/n #henry cavill smut #mission impossible fanfiction #mi:fallout #mi:fallout fanfiction

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