#pathetic archangel

[sweetmapple]

Four WIPs for an in progress comic

I am being so mean to Gabriel but it’s basically writing itself

[alc0h0lic0]

Pathetic

[moethh]

PLEASE CLICK FOR BETTER QUALITY :[[[[

some stupid idiot man that’s been sitting in my WIPS for too long and ill never finish

[kacievvbbbb]

Something about the fact that the Winchesters never really acknowledge the fact that this might be hard for Castiel. Not even in the physical all angels are continuously brainwashed to never question authority level but just on the level that the angels were his family. And hey it might have just been a little bit hard to have my whole world view upended and now I’ve killed my family in droves all for you but you don’t even care that it might have been just the tiniest bit hard for me. Just as long as you don’t gave to kill your little brother right?

What’s even worse is that the narrative bends over backwards to justify it. Like why should the Winchesters care that these are essentially Cas’ siblings when they are objectively evil? The angels used to be complicated with frustrating and contradictory motivations now if you’re not Cas or Lucifer or haven’t magically completely escaped centuries of brainwashing and devotion and family then fuck you I guess and even when you do fuck you still cause your name isn’t Sam or Dean Winchester

Even fucking Michael, objectively the most brainwashed of all, like I know Michael’s not squeaky clean but come on the Winchesters and Cas have done so much worse to earth and heaven, than Michael ever managed too. They literally have no higher ground. But yet their whoooooole plan revolves around Michael going back to his father and it’s this big gotcha moment and not two traumatized adults exploiting the very real traumatic devotion maintained by years of abuse in a moment where Michael literally had the only other source of stability he had for years snatched away from him and it was looking like his only options where to spend eternity in the company of those two clowns. You do this after he literally already helped you and just fought his brother for you? you don’t even try to come up with another plan? Honestly, It just feels malicious. As if Dean can’t understand running back to your father when every other sense of stability has been taken away from you.

Supernatural has shown over and over again that family is only important to Dean and Sam when it’s their family. Because fuck anyone else that tries to pull the same bullshit for their family you’re objectively wrong and Winchesters have the moral high ground and the right to stop/kill you. they are only ever called on this twice in 15 seasons. But come on not even fucking Cas? Cas?

[toonfanstars]

My only attempt at propaganda and it's this. Still, for my first attempt at drawing Nyx or even any character in this pose, I think it turned out pretty alright.

@villain-oc-tournament

[blackmesa-researcher]

Ash decides to go out to grab some food since he didn't feel like making anything due to pain...he could order food to be delivered...but he was bored and not feeling too bad (due to finding some leftover opiates he had from his top surgery). So, he just put on a big cloak he'd had for the longest time because it was easier than using his arms, and put his shoes on, heading out.

He knew he looked paler than usual due to blood loss and that made him look like shit...So he knew that if anyone he knew saw him, they'd think he was sick or something. Fool proof.

The wings though were....a bit difficult to get used to, but they rest against his back just fine that he couldn't really notice them.

Okay...Time to get some soup and ice cream because it was comfort food!

He headed down the street slowly since he was still dizzy and quite tired.

[bwlkins]

"Aziraphale really thinks demons are the bad guys bla-bla-" HE LITERALLY PICKED OUT THE NAME FELL FOR HIMSELF

He agrees he's a pathetic excuse for an angel.

He stands by the demons in the last episode and doesn't even get close to the angels.

He gives the first word to Shax. He agrees with Furfur. And all this while he stands right before the Archangels.

[beababoobies]

hello i saw your request post and requesting is my full time job atp this is a basic one but size and breeding kink with toji, sukuna, + anyone else you wanna include :)

I always find breeding kink requests with Toji so funny bc his ass is NOT no baby daddy🙅🙅🙅🙅🙅 

𝜗𝜚TOJI FUSHIGURO𝜗𝜚

Toji was not a man who was fit to be a dad. Well, that’s what he had told himself again and again, whenever he would have the urge to lose the condom, or not stopping when it broke. The way your body bounced with each harsh thrust of his made him a little delirious, and that’s all he chalked it up to. But then, you got the implant.

God, that fucking implant. He could’ve swore it messed with your pheromones or something - could’ve sworn you didn’t feel this fucking good around him before, the way your cheeks flushed and your eyes got all teary when you begged him to cum inside you had him feeing like a fucking nympho. Day or night, mornings before missions, Monday through Sunday, in the middle of the night when he had to wake up to get something to drink - it really didn’t matter. But then an idea even more delicious started to poke at the back of his mind.

It all started when you were curled up into him after one of your many, many sessions, snoring softly, with his cum leaking out of you, did the idea start to crawl onto him. The image of you, pregnant with his kid, all round and directly at his mercy to love, ready to be pumped full again, and again, and again. He played with the implant imprint in your upper arm, humming in agreement to whatever you were saying about it. He wasn’t listening. He didn’t care. He hated the thing. 

So, being the man he is, Toji had a new goal. To fuck you, fill you up so much that you physically couldn’t not get pregnant. He wanted to pump you up with so, so much of his cum, that you were wobbling trying to stand up after. He wanted to see it leak out of you, wanted to see you with that same, teary eyed, pathetic little look everyday. The way you whines about too much only fuelled him further, putting you in the position you were in now, thighs pressed right to your tummy. Mating press style.

“T-toji! Baby! Give yourself s-some time! Jesus F-fuck!” You whined, practically throwing a fit over how hard he was pumping himself into you. It had been three rounds for him - six for you, because he had eaten you out front to back, as a pre-apology, he supposed for how hard he was about to bruise up your guts. He just squeezed your thighs in the wide palms of his hands, letting out a groan when you scratched your nails down his back even more desperately.

“Mmm… I don’t think so. Think ‘m gonna fill you up until you burst… get you all round ‘nd full of me. You just have to lay there and take it baby.” He grunted out through harsh thrusts, face buried in your neck as he breathed heavily, giving you small nips of appreciation the more sensitive areas of your skin, and pressing kisses to your earlobe for every time you’d sweetly whine out his name. God, this was heaven. 

And you’d be his archangel. 

𝜗𝜚RYOMEN SUKUNA𝜗𝜚

Sukuna wanted an heir. This was his end goal when he saw you, this was his end goal when he married you, and this was end goal right now, only a couple months after your wedding night, to put an heir in you. His stomach did giddy flips one wouldn’t assume the king of curses could even feel thinking about an heir even half as divine as you were. He would kill anyone who said anything even slightly negative about you with a snap of his fingers, fuck, he wouldn’t even bother wasting his energy on killing such stupid scum, he’d get Uraume to do it. 

His mind drifted as he prepared you in his lap, fingers scissoring inside you as you whined and squirmed, trying to hide your face in his bare chest your slick dripping all down his hand, even his wrist. He made you cum three times already, shushing you whenever you tried to protest about being ‘ready’ to be pumped full of him. Your nails scratched against his back, the pain only egging him on as he pressed a kiss to your now sticky forehead, sweat dripping from the orgasms he pulled from you. To him, this was a ritual. 

A ritual of patience, a ritual of love, a ritual of procreation. Both his cocks strained heavy against the thin, soft silk of his sokutai, letting you grind helplessly and pathetically against them. His other hand was rubbing circles into your back, cooing you to calm down as he worked you up at the same time. 

Before you, sex, intimacy, whatever you’d call it - was a chore. He’d call in a concubine, already prepped for him, get it over with, and not have the cravings for another week or so. He didn’t do it for their pleasure, it was supposed to be a privilege on their part, to even be near him. But something primal in him snapped when he first saw you, something that made giving pleasure seem so… enticing, sweet. 

He was right, by any definition, you were sweet. Your taste was an ambrosia unlike any other, a gift from whatever gods above him - which he didn’t believe there were any, he was the god everyone prayed to, he was the top of the food chain, and you could go any higher - but you had him second guessing his own faiths when he tugged and kneaded at your thighs, giving you small spanks to keep you grinding your hips onto his face. 

It took nearly an hour of him letting his mind go in circles while the beautiful whines of yours for hoarser and hoarser, another four orgasms from you, for him to agree that you were ‘ready’ to be filled up, ready to carry his heir, ready to be soft and mouldable for him, and once he had you pressed into the silk sheets of your bed, he nearly burst to tears. The way you laid there, looking at him like a rabbit caught in the jaws of a wolf, eyes wide and heart beating fast, littered with bite marks and spit, hands gripping the sheets, knowing things were only going to get more and more intense, he just had to ruin you. It would be selfish not to eat you whole. 

[lenaellsi]

on aziraphale's insecurities in S2

i'm pretty sure one of the lines in the end scene where crowley shoots himself in the foot the most is "i think i understand a whole lot better than you do," and i don't even think he realizes how badly aziraphale takes it.

it's just a fact to him: he knows better than aziraphale what heaven is like. it's also a fact to the audience, who knows that the metatron is doing this for bad reasons and that aziraphale is walking into a trap. but it's not a fact to aziraphale. and that's the moment aziraphale goes from panicky and anxious to angry.

aziraphale's self-doubts and anxieties concerning his identity as an angel are shown frequently in s2. we start 2x01 with him deeply insecure in his 'retirement': crowley mentions that aziraphale frequently calls him to "tell him about something clever he did," and aziraphale confirms that he is essentially using these conversations as a stand-in for reporting to heaven. he misses being on The Good Team and doesn't know what to do with himself now that he's not.

so aziraphale doesn't know who he is if he's not an angel, but he also knows that he's a bad angel. he was frequently mocked and condescended to in heaven (by seemingly everyone, not just the archangels; even the quartermaster in s1 called him pathetic). he lied to heaven, he lied to god, he enjoys earthly pleasures, he loves works with a demon, and he doubts the Plan. he never fit in with them. lonely, remember?

and later in the season, we learn that shax, for all that she apparently is not great with sarcasm, is remarkably perceptive when picking up on insecurities. she mocks aziraphale twice, first in the car for his relationship with crowley (which, interestingly, doesn't faze him a bit--remember the eyebrow? he's not at all insecure in his knowledge that crowley loves him. crowley has always been the thing he's most sure of, even very early on--look at how much faith he has in him with job.) the second time she hits much harder: "crowley's emotional support angel," "shall we send in the sushi?" "the softest touch" etc. it hurts him, you can see it.

and there's another tiny moment in 2x05 I don't think I've ever seen anyone talk about, where crowley has just bluffed to the demon horde and is trying to get all the humans together to leave. crowley says, "I won't leave you on your own," and aziraphale says, "I know. But I have a suggestion--" and crowley brushes him off, saying "I got this." aziraphale looks very frustrated by this exchange, which--yeah! fair!

and over and over, we just--we see crowley be right. right about job and god, right about elspeth, right about the magic trick, the nazis, the arrangement, the apocalypse. "you were right, you were right, i was wrong, you were right." crowley's never done the dance before, he says. how many times has aziraphale had to?

and crowley's not just right, he's confident in it! he moves through the world and makes choices that fly in the face of everything aziraphale knows about Good and Evil, and it seems to come so easily to him. he's loud, and he's brave, and he's full of conviction, and aziraphale often feels overshadowed by that surety, because he's so often full of doubt. "you sound jealous, angel," is what crowley says at job's mansion, and i think he's more right than he knows.

all this to say: when crowley says "I think I understand a whole lot better than you do," what aziraphale hears is you idiot and how can somebody as clever as you be so stupid and I was right, I was right, you were wrong, I was right. and he's fucking sick of it.

and so he doubles down, and he gets in the stupid elevator, and he makes the worst mistake of his life, because he's sick of being treated as heaven's lackey or crowley's sidekick. the metatron knew exactly what to say to get him there, and crowley had no idea he was playing directly into it.

[risuola]

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐈 ⋯ heaven lost its most beautful angel.

contents ✤ archangel!satoru x demon!reader, smut (nipple play, oral, maybe a tad bit borderline dubcon-ish?, corruption, some dirty talk), a lot of religious topics mentioned (not always in the best light), wc. 4639 ⋯ reader discretion is advised series masterlist

Born from pure nothing, Satoru has only got to know happiness. An illusion of it, a sort of safety that comes with stability in life. And it is good. He is, after all, the honored one, an archangel, the highest prince of Heaven, standing by the side of the king — God, a father of every creation, his father. Blessed by His favor, throughout centuries of existence, Satoru has only ever experienced bliss. Despite him being the last one created, the youngest of a bunch of archangels, he is the most perfect display of what God is capable of. A favorite, the purest and most innocent, a pristine mirror of excellence that could have only been made by a hand of his beloved father.

It’s beautiful, it really is. People worship divinities, the faith is blind and the angel has never had to do much to enforce the proper beliefs whenever there was a doubt born. With his role to serve God’s purpose and fulfill His will, Satoru traveled and shown up in many places in the world, making sure the evolvement of humanity goes along the lines of the greater plan. Of something a simple human isn’t capable of comprehending. But it’s endearing, he thinks.

He watches it from above, his eyes able to engulf all of the crowd — he has always had good eyes. Throughout the hundreds of years since his creation, he’s got to witness the ups and downs of people’s development and with ease on his mind he just knows that no matter what times bring and take, the faith will stay rooted into the simple mortal minds. Or so he thought before the balance of the world shifted again.

Demons and devils have never been a foreign topic in the spectrum of religion — they’re a part of what makes the good feel good, they’re what’s bad and ugly. Popping here and there from time to time they usually made for a short entertainment for Mikael’s army and Satoru remembers just few of severe conflicts that took place on earth and one that happened at the gates of Heaven. Great losses were suffered at the times, his brothers and sisters that had lost the fights will always stay in his memory, but with the progression of time, the rate of haunts and possessions didn’t go much higher. Satoru actively makes sure to eradicate every doubt that blooms in poor little hearts of the gullible and vulnerable.

“Filthy creatures,” Azrael grumbles, his voice dry and harsh as he watches alongside Satoru yet another crowd of humans that carelessly stray from the right path and into the world of sin. “Their pathetic souls are yet to cry at the gates and plead for mercy when it’s their own choices that bring them down to hells. It should be easier for them to resist such primitive urges.”

“Father has made them the way they are for a reason, brother,” the white-haired one lightens up but the angel of death beside shows no change of attitude. “Faith is a choice and not a given but even if it’s only in the face of demise, every soul that has found God at some point deserves to be blessed.”

“Sometimes it seems as if watching them for so many centuries has rubbed their naivety across your feathers, Satoru,” Azrael lets out a sigh and spreads out his wings. Large and rich in dark feathers cast a shadow looming over his brother’s stature but the younger one only smiles at the sight. There’s an exchange of appreciative nods and their ways part.

Satoru isn’t naïve. He has always been more than capable of cold-thinking and calculating his actions, despite being known for a tender heart and gentle soul. The ways in which he acts are contained in the frames of necessity, he doesn’t go for the flashy displays of power and divinity. He likes to gently encourage people, hint the right paths so that they can realize where to go and how to live the rest of the time they’re given. Most of them find what’s there to discover, an enlightenment. Lord is merciful, benevolent. There are no ends to His love.

Then why people toss it away? Silly, silly creatures.

But then, times change again and as the world evolves and church begins to lose its influence, Satoru looks around with troubled mind. It seems as if people have lost direction again, finding themselves at the crossroads with unknown ends. Wrong people are taking highest spots in the hierarchy, preaching wrong words to the wrong crowds. And it crumbles, falls like a house of cards, trapping some inside and pushing away others. It’s terrible, he thinks, as his bright blue eyes meet the cloudy surface of doubt and uncertainty. And demons, them again, thrive like they never did before.

Now more than ever, little devils crawl out of the gates of Hell and poison humanity with their heinous games. Some morph themselves into forms akin to humans, blend in and start cults in the name of Lucifer and some stay true to themselves, haunting people here and there, testing their resolves, putting their faith to trials. More and more people are leaving God’s side. It’s bad, it’s unacceptable. Those demons—

“An angel?” —demons like you; devil with a face of an angel. “Even better,” you smile, but there’s nothing but malice in the gesture, “an archangel,” you inhale the divine scent that surrounds a man in front. That’s what brought you here, to a house that seemed to be stained in his divine energy. You tend to haunt the biggest believers, it’s fun to see them crumble, but you didn’t expect an actual saint. “It must be my lucky day,” you purr. Lovely.

Satoru has been warned about you before he moved onto his quest to rid the world of the dark powers that spread its tendrils among humans and it only took a short glimpse before he knew that it’s you who his brothers have been telling him about. It’s you who is told to bring angels down to Hell, to cause their banishment from Heaven. He’s lost one of his siblings because of your wrongdoings. You’re nothing but bad news, a demon so beautiful you’d easily convert even the most devoted believer into a sinner. You’ve been spreading nothing but doubt and fear, savoring the fruit of your doings with pleasure. You’re having fun on earth, it’s much more entertaining than all hells combined. You love to hear how people blame gods for every inconvenience when you can clearly see what led them down the path of bad luck. You whisper little hints into their non-expecting ears, encourage them and watch the dread wash over their faces. It's a cruel game you play but it's rooted deeply into your nature.

“It’s an odd excitement in your voice, demon,” Satoru retorts firmly and his eyes follow you as you circle him. It’s predatory, he feels like a pray underneath your curious, taunting gaze and he nags himself for it — he’s above you, you’re just a demon. There’s nothing you can do to break his spirit, he’s above all your tricks.

“Oh, forgive me,” you lower your head, but nothing in the gesture spells disrespect more than a smirk that dances on your mouth. Slowly you make your way back in front of him and then, you plop onto the bed to your right. You bounce few times on the soft mattress and dart your head up, looking at him, challenging him. He refuses.

“You’re in no search of forgiveness.”

“What gave it away?” You’re cocky, huffing an air out of your lungs in a voiceless chuckle and tilting your head more to the side. There’s a danger to your silhouette, you’re confident. You are a sin.

Satoru lets out a sigh and his eyes narrow. “What could have not given it away?” He questions and yet another laugh cuts through the otherwise silent atmosphere of the room. It’s melodic, it’s… pretty?

“Smart boy… Your name?”

“Satoru.”

“Not truly a name I expected,” you bare your teeth in a smile and Satoru notices the sharpness of your fangs. They are not quite animalistic but much sharper than his own. It fits.

“I travel through people a lot, I have taken a name akin to their own,” he explains, keeping his tone somewhat dry as he studies you. You’re not demonic per se. In fact, you’re barely even scary if he compares you to the thousands of demons he’s encountered in his existence. They are usually tainted with darkness, often bearing features of animals or mystical creatures. Scales and horns seemed to be usual on their bodies and eyes that shown nothing but abyss, but you — you’re nothing of it. You seem too inviting. There’s attractiveness to the way you look; your eyes are a little lidded and engulfed by rows of eyelashes, your lips seem as if they were created specifically to tempt, to kiss. Your frame doesn’t stray from what Satoru would see among humans and your skin doesn’t bear any signs of disfigure or scales. If not for the aura that surrounds you and the way mischief glints in your eyes, one could easily mistake you with an actual angel. No wonder why it is so easy for you to spread doubt.

“That’s fair,” you shrug and push yourself up. As you pass Satoru, a chill runs down his back as the darkness stretches behind you. He watches as you look around the place, running your fingertips across the surface of the desk and few shelves. You touch the spines of books that decorate them, tenderly rub the top of the ceramic figure in a shape of a little cherub. There’s something cat-like in a way you curiously explore the area, seemingly oblivious to the watchful gaze that follows you.

“If turning into nothing isn’t on your list of wishes, I’d advise you to go back where you came from,” the angel speaks after a little while, taking a step into your direction and you chuckle, sparing him a short glance from the corner of your eye. It’s brief, but it makes him stop.

“Good advice,” you muse, taunting him with the intonation of the syllables and he hates how easily you throw him off balance. “I’m not the best in following instructions though.”

“You seem to struggle with more than just that.” It’s a jab and you raise your eyebrow before you fully turn towards him. It’s only an accident that you knock the little figurine off the shelf and it breaks against the hardwood floor. “Your playtime on earth is over, demon.”

“Oh, my playtime on earth has just begun, angel.”

“If you refuse to comply, I’ll be forced to take you to Heaven where you’ll be trialed and punished for every deplorable crime you have committed against the greater plan of God.”

“There’s no need for me to go up to Heaven when I see Heaven came down to me,” you chuckle, resting your eyes on his face for few seconds before you allow them to run down his figure and you admire. He is a sight to behold, a stature of toned flesh and muscles balanced into something truly divine. “I need to admit, you’re very nice on the eyes. Such a beautiful angel.”

Oh, you’re dangerous. Your voice just like honey warms Satoru from the inside out. He feels his heart rate increasing and his breathing becoming shallower as you admire him so openly. He should be used to it, he is used to being worshipped by mortals, but not by a creature of your kind. He watches you approach him, your steps confident between the ceramic pieces of a broken cherub and he feels his resolve begin to falter as you playfully prod his chest with your long, pointy nail. Then you drag it down his pectoral, run it across his stomach and he grabs your wrist before you reach his waistline.

“I will not play your games, demon,” he states, looking you in the eyes with forced calm and firm voice.

“No? You seem to be a little… troubled.”

“Do not mistake my confusion for submission. I am an archangel, I will not allow myself to be corrupted by your alluring presence,” he states a little too harshly and he hates it. There’s something so utterly irresistible about you that makes him think of giving in. It makes him want to taste the temptation and deep down he knows that he had already lost. His thoughts are consumed by the pictures of you, it’s against everything he knows, it’s against everything he is.

And it’s all that you are. A play of taunt and seduction. A wild, untamed soul entangled in dark shades of evil, a temptress with one objective rooted deeply into your core. Chaos.

“I am sure you can resist me,” you tease, getting even closer and you lean in, running the tip of your nose along the side of his neck. “Oh, you smell so good. So pure and innocent.”

“Enough.” He groans and it’s final. You laugh, but he doesn’t find it funny. Your hot breath lingers on his skin long after you distance yourself from him. Your hands raise in a mock surrender but it’s only a moment before you resume your game.

“You know what I find interesting?” A question leaves your mouth as you twirl in the dim light of the nightstand lamp and sit on top of the window edge. The night wind gently messes your hair and your eyes twinkle with the spark of playful evil. “You, angels, are always so strict and set that you don’t need any pleasure and all… why would it be?” Your tone is a derision of curiosity, you carefully pick and choose your words to form sentences obscure, unclear.

“My body has been crafted with a purpose much greater than to experience carnal needs and craves,” he says, firm on his beliefs despite the warmth coursing through his veins. “Human pleasures stand below my existence; the essence of an archangel is much more monumental. I was designed, both in mind and body, to focus solely on my duties and responsibilities, leaving no room for personal desires.” The answer is practiced, it flows in a way he’s used to tell it, however this time he knows that he’s lying to himself and everyone else. He’s lying in front of a demon, and oh, you know so well that he does. It’s amusing. It’s delicious. You want more. You want to break him.

“If that would be the case, why did your beloved god create you with a dick, huh?” You’re blunt, too blunt for Satoru’s liking but he has to let that slide, otherwise he’d flush bright red.

“My creator did not intend me to experience sexual pleasure. Instead, He believes I should focus solely on my sacred duties without being distracted by carnal desires.” He tries again, internally feeling all of his defenses crumbling and you laugh, as if you can tell the words mean nothing.

“I bet I could make you cum by as much as flicking my tongue over your nipple.”

There goes the blush. Satoru feels it creep up his chest and neck, his face and to the tips of his ears. The deep shade of crimson contrasts starkly against his pale complexion and pristine white hair and he closes his eyes, tries to compose himself but your giggles make it so difficult. You’re content, he knows it, you’re a demon, for god’s sake. It’s your tactic to break humans, a form of pulling at the most primal strings, but he’s not a human, he’s above all of them, he shouldn’t break just like that. It’s a turmoil. Satoru hates the feeling, he hates the way his body, the perfect creation designed by his father, reacts to the picture you planted into his mind. It shouldn’t be happening, why is this happening?

“Breathe, angel,” your voice is a whisper, it’s right against Satoru’s mouth. He feels your breath on his skin, the tip of your nose running down his cheek, your tongue tracing his jawline. His heart struggles to keep up, it’s too much, it’s too close, you’re too much. Inhale. Exhale. He forces himself to breathe, a little too shallow, a little too fast. His body is tense, you’re too close.

He won’t do this.

All defense mechanisms flare up in Satoru’s body, he stills, his eyes stay squeezed shut. Your hands dance atop of his shoulders, trace the shapes of his form and he feels you. You toy with him, your claws run down his chest, your fingertips tease the edges of his neckline, the white collar of his shirt. Calm down. It’s wrong, it’s so wrong, he shouldn’t feel it. Why does it feel right? It’s not right. It’s not angelic, you’re a demon, you want to corrupt him, to destroy him.

He cannot do this.

His fists clench up to his sides and you hum the softest melodies under your breath, as you lean in more and more. You exhale, but it’s different than his ragged breaths. You’re relaxed, he doesn’t have to see you to know you’re smiling. You take a step and he takes one back. It’s paralyzing. Satoru’s thoughts are overtaken by pictures of you, by pictures he has never allowed himself to project. It’s one of your tricks, isn’t it?

He can’t—

It feels warm. His whole body feels warm and it coils, somewhere below his bellybutton, a knot of tension he has yet to experience. It puts a haze to his thoughts, blurs the persistent image of your sinful tongue and he doesn’t understand it fully. A sequence of twitches and trembles send his mind into panic and he falls. His knees buckle, the edge of the mattress causes them to bend and he grabs onto the closest thing, onto you, when his body drops onto the mattress. The soft bounce ripples through him and he feels you above him. You giggle, it’s quiet and playful and it vibrates through the skin over his collarbone the moment you press your lips there.

“S-stop,” he mutters. It’s a weak plea concurring with a feeble squeeze on your hips. His eyes flare open, he feels feverish. You’re right on top of him but not quite touching him enough. Your hips are in the air, you’re taking it slow, you like to play with your prey.

“Yeah? You want me to stop?” You coo. Patronizing tone of your voice envelop him in a veil of mockery and he heats up again. Your dainty, swift fingers deal with the buttons before he has a chance to notice, his fogged-up mind struggling to keep up. “You’re gonna have to be more convincing than this, angel.”

He—

Your tongue circle around his nipple and Satoru moans. It’s a cry, a sound of an angel falling into a trap of a demon. An angel losing itself in something unholy, tasting the fruit that’s forbidden. And you smile against his skin, teasing the hardening bud with your teeth. They’re sharp against his sensitive skin and he hisses shortly before you soothe the ache with the warmth of your muscle. It’s wet and hot against his skin and Satoru’s brain short-circuit.

Your hand explores his stomach, tracing the stretched-out muscles that twitch every time you touch them. He arches off the bed, his body leaning into the sin while his mind tries to fight it — a losing battle of everything that’s divine in him against the carnal desires that weren’t supposed to be there.

Lust is a foreign concept to Satoru. He’s seen it in humans, he’s seen souls losing their purity to the wicked pleasures. He’s seen those shameless people giving into lascivious lifestyles, searching for stimulus so depraved and vulgar that each time he witnessed them, he wondered how could one’s faith loose to something so salacious. How could God create such weakness, but he believed that even the souls that lost their path in the indecency could find a way back into the Father’s grace. Would he be able to get back?

“P—haah—please,” he whimpers, pathetic against all of his instincts and his hand finds the back of your head. Your hair feels soft against his palm, like silk and honey and he shivers at the contact. You’re unbothered by his attempts, licking and sucking his delicate skin as if he’s one of those desserts people like so much.

Satoru’s nipples are swollen, the skin around them red from your frisky abuse. More and more sounds escape his mouth, it’s pathetic, how he whines underneath you, how you rendered him completely helpless. And he panics again. It feels odd, his body tenses and he doesn’t know why. Hot blood floods down his body, it feels torturously tight in his pants. He twitches, his fingers curl against your head, tugging at the beautiful threads of your hair and his eyes flutter shut.

Suddenly, it’s too hot. It’s wet, it feels sticky against his sensitive skin. A wave of relief washes over him, it tickles something inside his brain just the right way. It’s feels gratifying, addicting. Is that what pleasure feels like? Are those stars dancing in front of his eyes a sign of fulfillment? Satoru’s mind is hazy, everything feels blurry, but he relaxes into the feeling. His thigh still trembles, the lower parts of his stomach muscles contract a little less now, a little slower and he feels it in his pants. It’s satisfying, it’s foreign. It’s a bliss.

“Did my beautiful, beautiful angel made a mess?” You coo once more and it sounds a little less mocking than all of your previous sentences. Or maybe it’s Satoru’s mind playing tricks on him.

“Y-yeah… I think I did,” he pants out. His eyes are fixed on the ceiling, on the heavens above and he wonders if He saw that? Father sees everything. Have Satoru’s brothers also witnessed that? Were they enjoying the front row seats to his demise?

You’re already on your way down, pressing sinful kisses to his sacred body as your fingers undo the button of his pants and pull down the zipper. “Oh, don’t worry, I’ll clean you up,” you purr, inhaling the intoxicating scent of him. You pull the fabric down. His boxers are wet as you peel them off his body. Hot strings of cum stretch between his skin and underwear, it coats his cock and the flesh around it, trickling down to his balls.

You gasp at the sight, it’s truly a vision of pure angelic glory. He’s hard, still, the veins pulsate ever so slightly around the thick girth, leading your eyes to the pink, glistening tip. “You surely are his favorite,” you muse before your tongue darts out, eager to taste him.

Satoru’s breath hitches in his chest and he hesitates to look down. Maybe if he doesn’t see it, it won’t be as bad of a sin, maybe it’s not his end. But it sure does feel good. Is he allowed to feel good? He moves his head, eyes dropping lower until they meet the sight of you. You shot him a smile, a grin worthy of a devil as you lap at the white seed sticking to his flesh. It’s lewd, the way your tongue works around his curves and edges. He hears your soft purr; he feels it every time your lips close around the sensitive tip of his cock. It’s messy, your chin is slick from his spent, there’s some on the tip of your nose, it coats your reddened mouth and greedy fingers. “You taste divine,” you murmur, tracing the underside of his member with the flat of your tongue and then, your hand wraps around him. The gentle pressure squeezes a moan out of Satoru’s mouth. He can’t look away. Not when your eyes are fixed on him. He sees the glint of mischief in the color of your eyes, it’s almost reddish as it glows in the dim lights.

You play with him, eliciting moan after moan from his troubled body, feeding of the internal turmoil that seeps through his skin making him that much more delectable. Your mouth works in tandem with the steady pumps of your hand and you feel him twitching already. He’s so innocent, so inexperienced that you just know he’s gonna come too soon, but it excites you. You want more from him, he’s sweet on your tongue, addicting. And oh, isn’t he beautiful? With his face contorting in pleasure, his cheeks flushed in an adorable shade of deep red and eyebrows drawn together. His lips red and bitten, parted just slightly to let all those sweet whimpers escape. His eyes are blissfully glazed, the blue oceans wet with tears and shaky. What a sight.

And then he moans again, those cerulean orbs disappear from your vision as his lids drop down. His back lifts off the bedsheets, hands clenching against the soft cotton and you see his head tilting back as orgasm overwhelms him. His hips buck upwards, the tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat as he sprouts his seed, painting the inside of your mouth white. You pump him through it, prolonging the pleasure.

“What a sight,” you purr, licking away any traces of sin from his skin. “All clean. It’s as if nothing happened,” and here is your usual taunt. “Well, I guess your boxers do give it away, aren’t they?”

He doesn’t respond. Heart trashes in Satoru’s chest as he slowly comes down from the intense high he’s experienced, he gasps on air desperately and releases all the tensed muscles. A smile stretches his lips, he huffs at first, and then laughs helplessly, as tears run down his cheekbones.

“You’re gonna leave me here, broken and useless,” he says, as you climb upwards and lean to kiss the salty drops off his face. “Are you happy? I bet you are, demon.”

His tone is odd, it’s both colder than before and softer at the same time. It’s accusing, it’s hopeless. “I can’t say I’m not satisfied,” you tell him and he scoffs, turning his head towards you and you drop onto the bed next to his defeated body. There’s a sin now engraved down to the very morrow of his bones, his chastity stained irrevocably and his soul threatening to shatter. “But I don’t wish to leave you here to your demise.”

“Oh no? What do you wish for then?”

“Besides the obvious desire to fuck you, I’d be content if you stayed with me here, on earth.”

“So vulgar,” he exhales, his body both cringing at the sound and getting excited all over again. “I was not created to fuck.”

“I think I proved my point that you’re perfectly capable of those primitive carnal desires you declined so much.”

Satoru closes his eyes. How did that happen, how could that happen? It must’ve been a cruel joke. He’s an archangel, God’s favorite, he’s the honored one. He was supposed to be above all demonic tricks and seductions, those devilish powers have never reached him for hundreds of years. And now, what is he supposed to do?

“I suppose heaven won’t take me back now,” he mutters, more to himself than anyone else. Maybe if he seeks penance, maybe if he atones for his sins.

“What a shame,” you muse, cupping his cheek in your palm. Your finger trace idle circles into the skin over his cheekbone; it’s a delicate touch and you feel how hot his face is, damp from the tears and flushed. “Heaven lost its most beautiful angel.”

taglist: @nerdiel-has-no-braincells @li7wakwnsekzebby @vanshoe @myahfig4 @suguruscousin @ressyshi @dcvilxswish @erenjvegerrr @crywolfix @wildheart03-blog @elliotsbeigeguitar @mi-mosaa

[voiidlizrd]

“Honey, you're familiar like my mirror years ago."

- Hozier, From Eden

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Summary: The love the Brothers have for you follows them from present to past and to future

WARNING: SLIGHT SPOILERS FOR NIGHTBRIGHTER

──

Note: MC is gender neutral (they/them pronouns), some angst but relatively fluffy, slight gore (it’s the Devildom), slight POLY MC, demon being a creep to Asmo, small spoilers to Chapter 16 in Obey Me: Shall We Date

A/N: For Satan’s part, I used his frustration and anger in a way of how I’d describe my anger/frustration because it can be hard to express how I feel and it’s like a big bundle of “what the fuck”

Oh, I also based Levi’s excitement to how I’d get really excited cause when I excited I get somewhat violent like “OH MY GOD IM GOING TO EAT THE DRYWALL” excited

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Lucifer did not trust or like you when the two of you first met. You were a demon, he thought at first, and disliked you immediately. Sure, he may be a fallen Angel now, a previous Archangel, but he refuses to compare himself to a demon, to be seen beside a demon aside from Diavolo.

He is more embarrassed of the fact he’d have to rely on you to help him through the Devildom, but maybe he hopes you’ll back down because of the fact, as a demon, caring for the traitors of the Celestial realm would ruin your reputation, or cause you to get in the line of fire with other demons.

But… You didn’t.

You got disgusted looks, glares, and were even spat at because of the fact you associated with them, with him, but you didn’t seem to care one way or the other, just keeping your head high and keeping by his side, not even caring if he did his own glaring and snide comments towards you.

You always came back to him no matter what he said to you.

When learning that you were human, he got a little softer towards you. Perhaps underestimating you sue to your mortality and how fragile you are, always monitoring you as if you weren’t already skilled around the Devildom, as if you didn’t have the power to destroy him with a flick of your wrist, as if you weren’t his own attendant.

Despite him growing protective over you, you always protected him in the end, even if he insisted he didn’t need such from a ‘human’ such as yourself.

“A fallen angel…” a demon had whispered while you two were walking down the street together, you showing him the best record stores in town. “How disgusting. I can smell the Celestial realm on it.”

Lucifer didn’t care, of course. What would engaging with a lowly demon do? But you, your Wrath was clearly showing when you side eyed the demon with a sneer. They seemed to notice you.

“And a demon? I feel bad for them…” Another whispered.

“I’d rather kill myself than be seen near that forsaken angel!” The demon cackled to their partner.

It set you off, even if Lucifer tried to grab your wrist to stop you. You approached the demons, and Lucifer felt his heart lurch. If you got hurt, they would smell the blood on you. How human it was. How soft you were. How pathetically fragile you are. It would ruin Diavolo. It would ruin everything Lucifer was trying to build.

He was about to shout when you grabbed the demon by the horns and tossed them to the ground, an aura about you radiating that made him shiver. You whispered something to the demon in their ear and suddenly their arm was twisted abnormally, as if the bones had shattered themselves at your voice, the skin stretching to accommodate the poking bones.

The demon could only scream, but silenced itself when you covered their mouth. “If I ever,” you said lowly to them. “Hear you utter those words, or any word for that matter, towards Lucifer and his brothers, I will make sure you lose more than just an arm.”

A single glance to the other demon cowering away from you only nodded, understanding the threat went both ways.

You suddenly flipped a switch and walked over to Lucifer with a smile, as if you hadn’t caused a demon to almost piss themselves because of you.

“Let’s get something to eat,” you said with a groan, holding your stomach. “I’m starving!”

He could only follow you silently to Hells Kitchen, unable to speak for a while after those events. He understood finally that you could be trusted to handle yourself, and, to handle his brothers (and himself).

It allowed him to lower his guard around you, to stop seeing you as a soft little human and more of an embodiment of pure, raw power that ended up in a human as kind, as empathetic, as funny and creative and beautiful and handsome as…

As you.

He would never admit his infatuation of you, finding it silly that he would fall for you so quickly. Perhaps it was a moment of weakness because of his Fall. Perhaps he was desperate for interaction with something other than loathsome demons aside from Diavolo. Perhaps it was the fact you were human and the very existence of humans brought him back to Lilith always.

How she gave herself up for them, for one.

It made him sick. It made him hate himself. It made him want to hate you, deep down.

How can he love the very thing that ruined his life? That ruined his brothers’ life? That caused his Father to have to try and punish Lilith for this.

He hated the way his heart throbbed in his chest when you were around. Those eyes gazing into his with a smile so kind, ignoring the harsh words that would escape his lips cursing your existence as a human being, yet you continue to smile at him.

He hates this feeling. He wishes it to go away. He wishes to stop seeing you in his dreams every night, imagining your hands running through his hair, kissing his skin, whispering sweet nothings in his ear. He wishes he didn’t want to spend more time with you. He wishes much, much more.

A toxic, bitter disgust settles on his tongue, like eating a sour lemon, leaving nothing but an ache in his heart and a bundle of confusion, anger, and sadness tangled up inside his chest.

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

Lucifer sits in his room, idly doing paperwork that seemed to never lessen in their stacks, to him, it only seems to grow more and more. He sighs quietly and drops his quill, settling his face in his hands, listening to the idle crackle of the fire in the background. His shoulders were stiff and so was his back. Lucifer considered for just a moment of taking a break, but there was an itch in the back of his mind urging him forward, that it had to be finished today. If he didn’t finish, it will ruin his reputation with Diavolo.

Just before he picked up his pen, there was a knock on his office door. He furrowed his brows, thinking it was on of his brothers coming to complain about one another again, or to complain about Mammon taking something from them again, he sighed;

“Come in.”

To his surprised (and to his dismay), you entered with a cup of coffee in hand along with a small box balancing on your forearm that held the cup as you opened the door, shutting it behind you with your foot as you grabbed the box in your now free hand. You smiled at him, ignoring his little glare, which would’ve been terrifying if you hadn’t seen it all before.

“This was an unexpected visit, MC.” He said, looking down at his paperwork. “Did one of my brothers tell you to come here?”

“Nope!” You said, setting down the box in front of him, on top of his papers, and the cup of coffee on the side away from the papers, because you didn’t want to annoy him, or spill the coffee. You’d… never see the next day, if you did.

“I came here to see you, Lucifer”.

The ache returned and so did the taste of something sour and bitter, he clenched his hand underneath his desk subconsciously, looking away from you and down at his paperwork, trying to give you the hint to leave him alone.

But you never left, as you never do.

“Aheeemm.” You cleared your throat annoyingly loud, making him sigh.

“Yes?”

“Try the coffee I made you!”

“…I prefer to make my own coffee, thank you.” He muttered, pretending to read off of his paper.

“Luciferrrr…” You whined, sitting down in the chair across his desk, sighing loudly. “If you at least look in the box I got you and drink just a little sip of that coffee, I swear to you, I’ll bribe your brothers to leave you alone for the rest of the day. At least until I make dinner.”

He glances up at you and sighs quietly, dropping his pen again. “Fine.” He said, grabbing the box first, “you better hold up to your word.”

You nodded happily and lean forward in your chair to get a closeup of his face. Upon opening the box, he sees Devil macaroons from Madam Scream’s, Princess’ Poison Apple flavored. He’s narrowing his eyes at the name, never hearing of that before, given that you are the one introducing most of Devildom’s cuisines to him, when he ever has time.

“I always think of the Poison Apple like green apples,” you said with a hum. “I mean they’ve never gotten me sick, but they do have a bitterness about them with a hint of sweetness, kinda like how dark chocolate does.”

He barely understands half of what you’re talking about but he shuts the box and sets it to the side, aiming for the coffee. He was feeling a little exhausted, thinking about drinking some of his own brew in a few hours or so.

You look more excited as he brings the cup to his lips.

The taste of incredibly bitter coffee hit his tongue immediately, the warm black brew made his heart quicken, and tongue tingle. But the taste, the horrible bitter taste, it made his nose scrunch up.

Yet it was so warm, comforting, and familiar.

“You couldn’t have at least put sugar in this.” He glares at you as you snicker lightly as his expression.

“Sorry, sorry. But I did.” You said, standing up. “It’s a special bean brew I got from the shop today. The reason it’s so bitter is because it brings out the admiration the maker has for the drinker. That being you!”

His hands, through his gloves, are warmed by the mug of coffee, the crackling of fire filling in the silence that settled between you two. He couldn’t bare to look away from you as the tips of his ears grew warm while staring back into those eyes.

So soft.

So loving.

So perfect.

Lifetimes could go by and he could never be bored. Thousands upon thousands of years and never once forget. Devildom was suppose to be a punishment, a way to bare his sins, but how can this be a punishment when you were here in front of him? A human being that surely was a silent gift from his Father to him and his brothers. You must have been. To be molded so perfectly, to have your soul reflect his very being.

You reach your hand out to him, tilting your head to the side, as if examining him, and settle your hand upon his cheek, rubbing your thumb across it tenderly. He almost melts into your touch, craving it, missing it.

Then the comfortable silence is broken by the sound of yelling coming from downstairs, a mixture of Mammon and Levi arguing along with Satan’s screaming at them. You sigh and pull back, a fond smile on your face.

“Well, a deal is a deal,” you said standing up. “I’ll go take care of that and call you down for dinner, okay? And you can’t say no because I’ll drag you down.”

You leave the room, quickly, in order to stop the brothers from possibly breaking anything. Lucifer, before you opened the door and shut it behind you, almost reaches out to grasp you, to hold you close, to never let you leave.

Then the commotion downstairs dies down as quickly as it started.

You were a human of your word.

He looks to the mug and brings it back to his lips, savoring the bitterly sweet flavor that spreads in his mouth and throat as he drinks it down, never stopping as the warmth continues to burn at his heart and melt him. He wants to savor it, but the greed inside of him wants more and more to drink, to taste more of the feelings you brewed inside the coffee, to feel more of your love.

Lucifer set down the empty cup, his throat tightening as a wave washes over him, a singular tear running down his cheek. He wipes it away gently as he breathes out, shakily, confused.

He wants to drown in this lovely bitter feeling for all of eternity.

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Mammon believes he doesn’t need you. You may be their attendant to lead them around the Devildom, to get them settled, but he doesn’t need you. After all he’s The Great Mammon! He can do everything himself, if need be. It’s what he’s always done. Looking after his little brothers, looking after his older brother. It’s something he’s always done, even if the other brothers seem to hate him for it, or to berate him for whatever reason. They’re his brothers after all, he knows that they love him, even if they’re a little mean to him. He loves them dearly, even if he can never express it, or put it into actions properly.

But you always see through it somehow. Always giving him a playful smile when he unintentionally compliments his brothers. Never taking his little snide comments to you to heart, only lightly rolling your eyes at him, like you’ve heard it all before.

He doesn’t need you.

He didn’t need you to walk with him through RAD, keeping him from running off away from his classes, holding his arm and ignoring his complaining.

“Lemme go!” He struggled, though, not putting much weight into his struggling or fight. He could toss you off if he desperately wanted to.

“UGGHH I don’t wanna go to my classes! If I do, I’m gonna die. I’m actually gonna die, they’re so boring! Ya’ know that too! You were halfway of fallin’ asleep last period!”

“Yeah but I still managed to write all the notes in the class down, unlike you.”

“Nuh uh! I got m’ notes!”

Liar.

He doesn’t need you to help him. To scold him. He’s already got Lucifer to do all of that. He doesn’t need you he doesn’t.

“Hey!” The sudden snap of your voice caused him to jump as he heard the snickers of a demon running away.

That’s when he saw his wallet being waved around in the demons hand, as if mocking Mammon because of the fact he was robbed blind, barely even registering it.

Mammon didn’t need you, he couldn’t easily just chased after the demon and caught up to them no problem. After all, he was the most fast of his brothers. Fastest swimmer, flyer, runner. He would’ve caught up with the demon if you hadn’t chased after them, sprinting after them and catching up only a few feet away, tackling them to the ground and slamming their head to the ground.

“Get offa me!” The demon yelled, trying to stretch themselves from you getting the wallet. “That traitor angel has Diavolo wrapped around his finger! It’s not like he’ll miss petty pocket change!”

This only angered you further. Mammon could only watch with wide eyes as you, a human, began to plummet the demons face in. Hitting them, scratching them, anything you could do to their face to make then scream and wail and try and fight you off. They tried to shove you, but you grabbed their horns and slammed their head down into the marble, rendering them completely dazed. You snatched the wallet from their loosened grip, standing up with a disgusted grimace, and spit down onto them.

“Next time I see your disgusting face around here again, I’ll curse you to live in eternal agony.” You gritted your teeth, giving a kick to the demons side, and walking off back to Mammon.

He didn’t need you. He could’ve done it himself. He doesn’t need a human to defend him, to fight for him, he doesn’t need-

“Here you go Mams.” You smiled, wiping your bloodied knuckles on your uniform pants. His wallet in one piece. “Make sure to keep your wallet in the side pocket. That way you don’t get your wallet swiped. Trust me, I’ve learned from experience.”

You were snickering as if nothing big just happened, grabbing his arm and dragging him off to the next class as he was in a daze, looking down at the wallet. There was a small bit of blood on the leather.

He…

Mammon’s heart began to race as he wiped the blood off the leather with his thumb, swallowing hard. A warmth crawling up his neck and spreading across his cheeks.

He… wants you to need him too…

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

Mammon hated today. He hated everything today. Leviathan blamed him for stealing some stupid figure from his room and complained to Lucifer. Lucifer decided it would be a great idea to string him up on the chandelier again for making Leviathan bother him while he was working and for stealing. Not listening to his protests. He was struggling against the binds as Asmodeus sighed pitifully at Mammon.

“Seriously, Mammon, you need to learn from your mistakes. This is, like, what, the fifth time this week.” Asmodeus looked down at his nails and picked at one of them.

“I told ya! It ain’t my fault! I didn’t steal shit from Levi!”

“Yes you did! Just admit it!” Levi cried. “It was a rare collectible! My prized jewel! I know you stole it, scummy Mammon! Give it back!”

“I didn’t. Steal. Yer’. Stupid. Toy!”

“It isn’t a toy! Monster!”

“Hey!” Your voice was like a saving grace to Mammon when he heard you coming through the door, a hand on your hip. “The hells going on?”

“Mammon stole my ultra Ruri-Chan figurine! I know he did! He was the only one in my room today!”

“Did you?” You asked, looking at Mammon with a raised brow.

“No!” He yelled, tears almost coming into his eyes in frustration, only seeing Lucifer just stand idly by silently. “I didn’t steal shit! Sure I’ll steal somethin’ else from the house but I ain’t touching shit from Levi’s stuff! It’s all junk anyways!”

“You take that back!-“

“Enough.” Your voice silenced their bickering. You stepped forward and looked to Lucifer. “Let him down.”

The other brothers watched in awe at your tone, demanding Lucifer to do what you wanted. Lucifer raised a brow at you, testing you, expecting you to immediately back down. But your little staring contest ended in Lucifer sighing and snapping the rope and letting Mammon fall to the ground. He groaned but looked up at you with admiration, and a gratitude as his eyes continued to water. The frame of your figure was like a sunrise in the Devildom, purely beautiful to him, better than gold. His heart thrummed in his chest violently.

“Hey!” Levi whined. “He didn’t give my figurine back! He didn’t even apologize!”

“Levi,” you look at him and Levi wilted back. “You should clean your room once in a while. I found the figurine box buried under your clothes. It fell from the shelf because of the other figurines on it.”

Levi’s face burst into red, embarrassed. He began fiddling with his fingers, finding his nails more interesting. He avoided Mammon’s gaze the most, more than yours, as you untied Mammon easily.

“Levi.”

You give him a little look, a raised brow. Like you were a disappointed parent. Lately you’ve tried to get the brothers to apologize more to Mammon whenever he is accused of things that he hasn’t done. Especially Levi and Mammon. You hoped to bring them closer, or at least stop them from constantly yelling at one another. Also to communicate, even a little bit better with one another.

“I-I know…” Leviathan muttered under his breath, looking at Mammon finally as he stood up. Levi breathed in and sighed.

“I’m sorry… I-I just-“ Levi’s face grew more redder than before, it almost rivaled any Devildom equivalent tomato. “I’m sorry Mammon. You know I get very protective over my stuff… Especially those figurines… I’m-I’m really sorry!”

Mammon couldn’t even feel the anger he felt before, staring at Levi, but his focus was mainly on you, what you did for him. He looked at Levi, than to you. You were more preoccupied looking over his skin and rubbing a loving touch over the slight rope burn on his skin.

“Uhm… Yeah.” Mammon looked down at floor with his face a little red from your soft touches. “It’s fine. Just quit blammin’ me for the fact you’re so messy, Levi. That rooms a pigsty, somethin’ is bound to get lost.”

“Hey! I-“ Levi looked at you and saw a look in your eyes, he immediately shut his mouth and nodded, running off back to his room and shutting the door.

Mammon was silently led by you to his room, much to the complaints of his other brothers, but he couldn’t have felt more proud as they complained, your attention solely on him. You sat down on his bed, looking at him as he stood there. He tried to ignore the drumming of his heart racing, the swelling, the tightness in his throat.

“Y’- y’gonna scold me now?”

“Do you think I am?”

“…no…”

“Then you know my answer.”

Mammon couldn’t hear anything else other than his ramming heart. He couldn’t focus. The pain and frustration of earlier mattered little to what he felt right now. You motioned him closer. He slowly approached and you grabbed his hand gently, sitting him down beside you and tapping your thigh. He settled his head on your lap, awkwardly.

He swallowed as you ran your fingers through his hair.

“You okay?” You asked quietly.

He couldn’t be more okay than right now. He nodded as he buried his face with a turn of his head into your stomach, smothering himself in the smell of your shirt and your skin. There was the scent of detergent along with the sweet scent of you. It was a warmth of you that made him want to cry. You always focused on him, like he was more important and than anything else. More important than money, than gold, higher than any deity. Like he was your everything, and the way you ran his fingers through his hair, he was brought back to a weird nostalgia. As if this has happened many times before. Your voice. Your touch. Your smell. It all felt…right.

He never wanted to leave this. Not at all.

“Yknow,” you spoke up, twirling a strand of his white hair. “Even though you can be a pain in my ass for getting in trouble so much…”

He grunted into your shirt, as if warning you about your words, which was a fruitless threat.

“You’re the best first man I could ever ask for.”

His breath caught his throat and tears welled up in his eyes, now soaking into the fabric of your shirt. His lower lip trembled and he tried to smother himself further into you, wrapping his arms around you tightly, sniffling. That “first man” again… It made his heart soar, it made him want to hold you even tighter, to protect you like you protect him, it made him want to do everything for you, to bring you the joys that the world would have to offer, no matter the cost of Grimm.

“I love you…” He mutters. He wants to say it more. He wants to whisper it eternally, he wants you to feel what he feels, to suffer what he feels and how beautifully his chest aches for you, how there are words he wants to scream out to you.

“I love you… I love you…” He continues. Sniffling. He hates crying but he can’t help it.

He is your first man, as you’ve said. It’s his job to protect you, to provide for you, to give you the entire world, if you asked him to. And he’s more than willing to do it.

───────────────

It was your mission to change Levi, even a little bit. By change, you wanted to bring confidence to him, a confidence he never had in the Devildom or the Celestial Realm. Even a little bit of it would go a long way. You’ve made a little progress, which goes a long way in your book, but there are set backs to your hard work.

Like the demons at RAD especially.

It irritated you to no end about how they make fun of Levi, it pissed you off. But Levi didn’t understand your anger. He would sulk constantly because he knew what they were saying, but it wasn’t like you were apart of their comments about him. Levi just didn’t get you.

Especially when you do the things he doesn’t expect people do to for him. You fuel his spirits as an otaku. You buy him mangas you knew he’d love, watch anime with him constantly when you were over at the HOL, playing games with him or watching him play. It brought him a peace he didn’t know he could achieve, it made his heart race, his hands sweat, and face heat up. It was everything he ever wanted and more. Perfect, even. And it was hard to say “perfect” in the House of Lamentation, especially around his brothers.

You two were sitting in the partially empty classroom with other demons taking their seats, waiting for class to start. He was rambling about the new game he hoped to get so you can play together.

“I heard that it’s an open world and there’s so many options you can do as of gameplay that can also build your character and their personality that will affect the choices that will pop up in the game! Oh and-“

“Oh my gosh does this guy ever shut up?” You heard a demon behind you whisper. Well, not exactly whisper. They made it to where Levi could hear what they said.

Levi immediately shut his mouth tightly, looking down at the table, picking his painted nails quietly as his cheeks turned red from embarrassment. This made you grit your teeth, turning around to the demon who continued to idly chat to their table partner.

“Hey, what the hell is your problem?”

“No… MC you don’t have to-“

“My problem? What’s his problem? He’s been going a mile a minute without a single breath and it’s annoying. Plus he was talking too loud and basically made it hard for me to even have a conversation.” The demon sneered at you, leaning their cheek against their hand. “I basically did you a favor by saying what we’re all thinking.”

You opened your mouth to say something else, to argue for Levi, but he grabbed your hand gently. “It’s fine… I mean I was being weird and-“

“You know what.” You interrupted, looking at the demon. “We’re sorry for interrupting your conversation.”

You turned away from the demon’s table, leaving Levi to sit there and stare at you, doubt immediately filling his mind. Did you mean that? Did you agree with the demon? But you were staring at him so sweetly as he explained his game… Was he just seeing it- was-

Then he heard the sound of muffled yelling and the words of the demon desk mate of the other rude demon who interrupted you and Levi’s conversation. Levi turned back to see the demon clawing at their face, mainly their mouth, which appeared to be sealed shut, as if their lips were glued together. Levi turned to you when he saw your slightly sadistic smirk as the two demon deskmates hurried out of the room.

Levi looked at you, then back at the door the demon scurried out of, then back at you. You were smiling, those eyes explained everything he needed to know about what happened.

“We can’t interrupt their conversation if they can’t have one, can we?”

Levi stared at you like a fish out of water, wide eyes and red cheeks as his heart raced, confused thoughts racing through his mind. Why? Why do this for someone like him?

“Levi? Aren’t you gonna tell me more about the game? You have to! We’re gonna play it together, right? I gotta know all about it first so we can enjoy it!” Grinning playfully at him, all thoughts were thrown out of the window as he relaxed.

That’s right, he never wanted anything more than to talk to you.

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

“MC! MC YOU WONT BELIEVE THIS!” He was practically shaking you before you even stepped foot in his door. Somehow he detected that you were walking down the hallway to his room and he opened the door before you knocked and said the passcode.

“Uh, what can’t I believe?” You gently put your hands on his shoulders to stop him from rattling your brain too much.

“COME IN! LOOK!” He dragged you inside and shut the door, locking it so no normies (his brothers) entered the room.

He pointed to his partially filled up bookshelf filled with hardcovers and manga volumes. There, on a lone shelf with a single hard book, was the infamous TSL book you saw when you first arrived to the Devildom and spoke to Levi.

“There’s finally a hardcover book on Tales of Seven Lords! Can you believe it!? I was the first one to revive the book! The hardcover no less! Look at it!” He grabbed it off the shelf and shoved it in your hands to look at the skillfully crafted art covered front.

“IM SO SO HAPPY! I could die! I could literally die right now!” He squealed and bounced up and down and barely even breathing from his excitement, on the verge of gritting his teeth as he clenched and unclenched his fists to conceal the urge to just explode! “OH! MC, so you know the third lord right!? The lord-“

“The Lord of Shadows.” You smiled at him fondly, as if reminiscing on a memory that was most treasured to you, the day you two first met, gazing at him with just as much devotion as it was in your words.

He stopped slowly, staring at you with wide eyes and he blinked. You knew about TSL? Well, it’s no wonder you knew about it, it’s pretty famous and he did ramble to you about it more than once, and during those rambles you’d always… Stare at him. With those eyes so soft and urging him to continue, never stopping him once. Even when he went on for hours and hours you never stopped him unless you wanted to get a snack or drink or use the bathroom, even then you always came back and would sit down right next to him and just… Listen. Usually incorporating your own thoughts into the conversation, but mainly letting him speak. And in those rambles, you remembered everything. The memories itself made him blush and heart pound, his hands sweating and his legs feel like jello.

Even now, the way you looked at him, it made him feel even worse, as if his legs would give out any moment and he would collapse into your arms and still you would look at him with that expression. So warm and loving, something he never thought in his loser life he’d see. He’s only seen it in anime, never IRL.

“Levi?” The sound of his name snapped him out of his stupor.

“Uh- Huh? What?”

“You were telling me about the Lord of Shadows, yeah? What did you wanna say?”

“I uh…” he can’t speak, his mouth feels dry as tears well up in his eyes, the overwhelming warmth crawling in his chest and prickling his skin. He wants to crush you in a hug, or he just wants to kiss you- okay no too far! He… He doesn’t know what to do with himself. All he can do is breathe shallowly as he stares at you, the tears running down his face.

“Levi?” You furrow your brows in concern, putting the book gently back in its place on the shelf, and stepping forward to him, a hand pressed against his cheek. “You alright?”

Oh the warmth of your skin sends tingles up his spine. He relaxes into the softness of your palm, more tears running down his face. It felt so right, so perfect, like time never passed and it was just you and him in this moment. He never thought he’d experience this normie encounter, this ‘love’, that he always watched or read about in cheesy anime romances, but the way you rubbed his tears away only made it more solid for him, more real.

“Are you okay?” You ask again, more quietly, softly, as if he would lurch away from you like a frightened fish.

“Yes…” He breathed out, sniffling. He shuts his eyes tightly, not being able to look you in the eye, and brings you into his arms, needing to feel more of your warmth, of your pure love. “I just… really, really, really like you. Like… uhm… like like you.”

You chuckle quietly as his embarrassment, running your fingers through his hair. “I like like you too, Lev.”

His blush only worsened as he buried his face in your neck, breathing in the scent of your skin, holding you even tighter.

You always listened to him. You have him all the confidence he could ever want in the world, even if it wasn’t much. He’d promise that one day, he was gonna have enough confidence to let the words “love you” slip from his lips and not in his texts…

───────────────

Satan is angry. He was born angry. Angry over what? He never understood why he was angry, he just was. The urge to just destroy, to tear everything he touched, saw, smelled and tasted apart. To rip into everything and make sure nothing would be recognized from it, whether that be a person or an object.

He never understands why he’s like this.

He doesn’t wanna be like this. He doesn’t wanna constantly feel the rage bubbling inside his chest and cause him to clench his fists tight, to make him grit his teeth, to make the unshed tears of frustration well in his eyes and almost fall. He doesn’t want to feel them. He wants to understand why he feels this way constantly, why it gets to the point he wants to rip off his own skin, to claw his way out of his flesh and rip his hair out, to rip anyone apart, even his proclaimed brothers.

Satan was angry at them the most.

Anything they did made him angry and he hated being angry and he hated it when they did it constantly. The yelling, the pointless bickering, the scheming, Lucifer, Lucifer, Lucifer. He blamed Lucifer for all of this, for making him the way he is. He’s angry over something that’s now passed and what is his purpose now? What is he supposed to be angry about now? He doesn’t even know why he’s supposed to be angry in the first place, tell him Lucifer, tell him what the point is in being angry over something he doesn’t understand. Was this his punishment for a war he didn’t even realize he was apart of?

He doesn’t understand and that makes him even more angry. He hates being angry. He hates his brothers. He hates everything and it’s a pain because he doesn’t want to. He can only hope that this anger tires him out so he can sleep, the only time ever him and his brothers ever find peace.

But there is no peace or rest for Wrath.

It surges through him as Satan tosses the coffee table to the wall, shattering the glass and causing the wall to crack, leaving an indent in it. He yells at nothing, the animalistic snarls and growls echoing through the living room as he continues to break everything in his sight and throw everything. His brothers can only watch as he destroys the living room.

“Satan!” He hears Asmo yell. “Stop it! You’re gonna throw something at us! If something hits my face you’re so dead!”

“Seriously Satan, calm down! It’s not the serious!” Mammon chimed in, trying to enter the living room but was quickly conked in the head by a hardcover book. “OW! Hey! That’s it! When you’re done with yer little temper tantrum, you better run!”

“Shut up, you imbecile!” Satan yelled, his throat tightening. He hates what he’s doing but he can’t help it. The anger hurts so much he can’t help but destroy. Even the precious books we was starting to enjoy, the thing that taught him what he needed to know about this new world he was created in.

“Satan,” HIS voice finds its way in Satan’s ears and he tenses, gritting his teeth, the anger almost bursting inside of him like a volcano, only worsening at the sound of Lucifer. “Don’t make me have to string you up at the chandelier again.”

Satan turned his head to his eldest brother, a sneer present across his face. They both stares each other down, Satan’s wrath boiling over. He was on the verge of pouncing when you suddenly showed up. You must’ve heard the commotion of crashing and yelling while on your way to HOL and came over immediately, maneuvering your way through the brothers.

Satan stares back at you, the rage inside of him still eating it’s way out of him. He wants to hurt you too. And that’s what makes him hate himself and his sin even more.

“Satan?” Your voice calls to him as he clenched his fists, shaking with anger. The frustrated tears began to leak from his eyes, down his cheeks, his teeth clenched so tight they could break.

“Hey,” you approach him slowly, taking small steps forward, your arms raised and open for him. “Cmere. It’s alright, let’s breathe, okay?”

“We’ve been telling him to breathe!” Asmo said with a pout. “But he wouldn’t-“

You looked at Asmo and he closed his mouth, seeing the look in your eyes saying “not now” and he understood. The brothers were ushered away by Lucifer when you looked at him. Crowding Satan wasn’t helping and you knew this.

“Satan?” You called again, his name sliding off of your lips like it was a name that was only meant for a demon that is important.

He couldn’t answer you as he continued to tremble, his nails digging into his palms.

“Hey…” You motioned your arms a little with a smile, stepping forward, closer to him, only inches away. “Is it okay if I touch you?”

He nods, slowly, swallowing hard as he tries to breathe but it comes off as rapid and heavy, given that he basically trashed the entire living room for half an hour.

Your warm arms wrapped around his torso. He was stiff as a board, still shaking, not returning your hug, afraid of hurting you if he even dared to touch you. Your hold was gentle as you brought his head closer to your shoulder for him to lean into, his heavy breathing hitting your neck as well as a bit of sweat and the tears that went down his face. Your fingers danced through his blonde hair. Your breathing was relaxed, composed, your heartbeat did not skip. It was calm. You were calm. Not worried at all around him, only leaning your head on his as your fingers continued to thread through his hair.

Satan’s shaky hands slowly came up around you, finding their way to your shirt, gripping it tightly, almost close to tearing it from his sharp nails. His face buried itself further into the crook of your neck, the tears hitting your skin hard as he breathed out shakily, biting his tongue to silence himself and try and hold himself together, but his resolve was breaking at the seams from how you held him so gently, like he was the fragile one and not the demon that destroyed everything in the house.

His breath hitched and a choked back cry left his throat, his legs slowly giving out beneath him as he began to crumple to the floor. You followed him, guiding his body down to the ground and still continuing to hold him. He was practically in your lap now, legs tightly around your waist as tightly as the hands that gripped your shirt. His anger began to simmer to a halt immediately, the scent of you overwhelming it, bringing his racing heart to a calming pace as he matched your breathing. The adrenaline coming down, leaving him at an all time low.

It was never usually like this after his rampages… He never felt this much clarity, no matter how bittersweet.

“You wanna talk about it?”

He didn’t give any indication of yes or no, simply keeping still.

“Was it your brothers?”

A slow nod. Yes.

“They say something to you?”

He shook his head. No.

“Mm. Too loud today?”

Nod. Yes.

“I’m guessing you were reading?”

He didn’t even need to nod for you to know. You sighed quietly. You’d have to scold them. But that could come later.

“I’m sorry…” his voice rasped out, muffled by your skin.

“About the furniture? Don’t worry, I got it covered-“

“No. About the book. The book I was reading.” He said, his grip on you getting tighter, like an apology. “It got so loud I snapped it in half… All of the pages were everywhere and that made me angrier… You got that book for me and I wanted to read it in the living room but they just ruined it… They ruined the reading time I wanted and I ruined the book… I’m sorry… I’m so-“

“Hey,” you move your hand up to his cheek, making him reluctantly move himself away from your neck and look into your eyes. “Don’t worry about the book. I’m more worried about you. I can always get another for you.”

You were worried about him. There was no doubt you saw the state of the living room; the overturned, torn couches that bled out fluff everywhere, the scratched up walls with a few dents in them from him throwing everything he could at them, broken glass here and there, splinters, and more. And yet you were more concerned about him.

Satan’s heart pounded softy in his chest, tightening, he swallowed again. He wasn’t angry or overwhelmed with rage, just warm. A good warm. A warmth that could only be described as admiration as the soft look started to get into his head, unable to remove it from his memory, which it was engrained in.

He buried his face back into your neck. He was exhausted and you weren’t making it any easier on him. The exhaustion of his rampage hit him like a truck and the warmth of your words and your body only soothed him further. Is this what the brothers meant by the Celestial Realm? Describing the bliss of it, the clarity, the pure warmth with the sun constantly beaming down on them. You were Satan’s sun in the dark Devildom, lulling him to sleep.

You smile at him and kiss his temple, the flesh tingling after your lips leave his skin. His heart was practically buzzing now.

You always took care of him…

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

“MC, is there a reason you’re covering my eyes?”

“It’s a surprise! You’ll know it when you see it! Oh- watch your footing here, there’s a few holes in the pavement.”

Your hands covered Satan’s eyes, leading him over to who-knows-where with a smile on your face, almost mischievous, or maybe it just looked that way due to your excitement. You led him carefully through the Devildom Main Street, going past stores and other shops, mindful of the demons walking past the two of you. Your smile only grew as you made him stop.

“Are we there?”

“Yup! You just need to reach out your hand, okay? Push.” You instructed, leading him to the door.

He followed your instructions and pushed open the door, the sound of a bell chiming and the scent of coffee and tea enveloping his senses, as well as the sudden feeling of something rubbing against his leg. You removed your hands and suddenly Satan’s eyes adjusted to the soft lights, as well as the noise of… meowing?

He looked down to see an orange cat rubbing itself against his leg, purring loudly and chittering as it did so. Satan’s eyes grew wide as he looked at him, a bubbling of excitement building in his chest. He looked at you.

“Surprise! It’s a cat cafe! It opened a few weeks ago and I just had to bring you! They even have a little bookshop just across the way so it’s pretty convenient and cozy, yeah? Oh! Before that!” You grabbed his hand and led him to a booth by the window. “I got us seats reserved beforehand!”

Satan could only mutely follow your lead and sit down at the booth, the orange cat returning to jump onto the table and sit there proudly, a little lazy smile on its face. Satan looked at you again.

“You- You did this for me?”

“Mhm!” A waiter came by and handed you the menus and you skimmed through it, already knowing what was on the menu given that this cafe was there in the future, you having gone to it multiple times before with Satan.

Satan could barely breathe as you handed him the menu, looking down at it and then to the cat, who slowly blinked at him. He slowly blinked back with a small smile. You snickered under your breathe when you practically saw stars forming in his eyes at the orange cat that now lazily laid itself on the table, as if it owned the place, as expected of many cats.

“Thank you MC…” He said, petting the cat on its side with a soft smile. “You didn’t have to do this.”

“I didn’t.” You smiled. “But I wanted to.”

Satan has always read about love in romance novels, always seen how the author describes love as a bundle of emotions that mix into one, becoming overwhelming, in a way that is painful, but it feels good, the pain, as it is described. Needing to hold the lover so tightly, needing more and more of their mind, body, and soul, needing their warmth, unable to breathe unless speaking their name. And when they speak their name of their lover, it’s like taking a breath in of their existence and exhaling it, needing more and more of their entire being that consumes the mind of the protagonist.

Satan never understood the feeling until now. Gazing upon you as the streetlights beam through the window and cast upon your face, almost like a halo or as if you were descending from the Heavens and in front of him now. Satan could barely breathe, nor think, for the very first time. This feeling he felt, he realized that it would last lifetimes, even more. Seeing you would be like falling in love for the very first time.

He began to thank his Father in the Celestial Realm, a Father whom he’s never met, but thanks him anyway, for creating you, for letting you sit in the booth with him now.

He doesn’t even realize your hand had enveloped his across the table, fingers intertwined perfectly. His fingers closed in on your hand. Oh your warmth… His heart pounded and eyes began to tear up without his notice.

Oh the love inside his chest as he stared at you, never breaking the silence with you and enjoying the bliss of the somewhat quiet cafe, the occasional chatter of demons, the clang of silverware, the meowing the cats. He felt no anger boil inside of him, just peace, peace for the very first time.

“I love you, MC.” He blurted out, the word ‘love’ heavy on his tongue, exhaling your name. He felt like it wasn’t enough.

Your smile made his heart almost stop. “I love you too Satan.”

He firmly head your hand, blinking back the tears that came from the weird familiarity that bloomed in his chest. It’s like he’s known you for decades, even more, and loved you for longer.

“I love you.” He repeats, more softly.

There’s a glint in your eyes, like you know. Like you’ve always known. “I love you too.”

He was born from rage, but you give him new purpose, you complete his newly formed heart. And he hopes that his existence can complete yours, as well.

───────────────

Asmodeus is beautiful, everyone knows this. The Jewel of the Heavens, now the Jewel of Hell. Quite literally a diamond in the rough. But somehow he shines despite this, and he knows this, he can tell by the way some demons start to warm up to him, or begin to stare for longer at him than they previously did when he first arrived at the Devildom.

He adores the attention. He craves it. He knows he’s beautiful, but to be appreciated for his beauty is even more than what he could ask for.

But yet it isn’t enough. He loves it yet somehow it… irritates him.

Perhaps it is the fact he’s still seen as the jewel of heaven? Loved for who he once was, not the beauty of who he is now? Maybe they are right with how they viewed him. His old self was probably better than who he is now. No longer as pure as he was, no longer with those beautiful wings and now stuck with the ugly leather and scorpion tail.

He knows he’s beautiful, he does. But yet why does he feel sick looking at himself in the reflection of his mirror, no longer seeing himself as Asmodeus and rather a stranger.

Asmo is torn between his thoughts, trying to find himself among the doubt, the insecurity, the pain of who he is. Give him the attention he deserves, the attention he needs, but see him.

See him… Please.

Love him.

Please…

I can’t be the only one that loves myself, can I?

But then you came into his life, to his brothers lives, in all your glory as a human being in the scary Devildom, completely unafraid by the demons around you, their strength, and the strange ingredients and the wildlife that surrounds you.

At first, he thought you would be like most humans he heard demons talk about, including angels. All humans are known for being helpless against temptation, all falling to the urges of power or lust, it was quite simple to do. But with you, it’s like you saw right through him, eyes sharp and looking past the persona he’s built for himself for eons, all in a single glance.

It terrified him.

You somehow could read him as easily as a book and it scared him. You saw past his beauty and it scared him. You saw his insecurities in himself, the occasional doubt, and it makes him almost want to cry. You could easily use this ability to your advantage, take him down a notch, to ruin him in the Devildom, or to use him as your own benefit.

But you don’t.

Instead, you protect him with your life practically on the line, forgetting you are a lone human (aside from Solomon) in a realm of demons, protecting him from the lowlife that try and take advantage of him as the newly established Avatar of Lust.

You two were at Majolshi. You came with him often in the Devildom, acting like a guard dog in a way, and keeping him up to date with a latest Devildom fashion. After all, he’s trying to establish himself in the Devildom as an influencer.

“Hey, Asmo,” you called to him. He looked up from the rack of clothes he was filing through. “I’m gonna go to the register to check these out, okay? If you wanna get any more, just hand it to me, my treat.”

Asmo gave you a surprised look and then pouted. “Darling! I could easily pay for everything! You may be my attendant, but you don’t need to spoil me so much!”

“But I like spoiling you.” Your smile was sweeter than sweet, like saccharine, and it made his heart jump to his throat. It threw all other thoughts out the window and he nodded dumbly, accepting you paying for him.

He looked back at the rack and felt his cheeks heat up, a dumb smile on his face. He was acting as if he were a Highschool teen that had a crush. He couldn’t help but silently giggle to himself as he thought of it, considering it so silly. But he didn’t mind it… He’s always been a sucker for romances. And adding you to the mix only made it worse.

Then suddenly he felt arms wrap around his waist. He froze.

The thing about Asmo is that he knew your touch like the back of his hand. Your touch was soft, warm, any imperfections in your hands he has memorized, practically engraved into his skin.

This was not your touch.

It was cold. Rough. Unfamiliar.

It made him sick.

“Hey there,” the feeling of disgusting hot breath fanned on his beautiful skin, causing his nose to curl in disgust. “You’re the Avatar of Lust, right? Asmodeus? Yknow, I don’t understand how the Celestial Realm could get rid of a prize like you.”

Asmo clenched his fists, ready to toss this disgusting filth into a wall and break all of their limb.

“Oh well, more for us here in the Devildom, right?”

“Hey!”

The sound of your voice was like hearing a heroine arrive in a moment of bleakness. Asmo perked up but immediately felt his heart drop when you stopped over to him and the stranger, anger present on your face. You couldn’t possibly be thinking of attacking the demon, could you? As a human? You’d surely die! Or- Or-

You punched the demon square in the jaw, throwing them into the ground and immediately tackling them. Asmo could only gasp as you used all your strength inside your body to practically tear this demon apart with your bare hands, gritting your teeth and cursing under your breath. To others, you’d look like an unhinged animal, but to him, you couldn’t he anymore beautiful.

A worker came over and ripped you off of the demon, ushering you two to leave with your paid for items in hand.

You were panting as you and Asmo stood there in the street. Asmo was silent as you looked him over.

“You okay?” You asked, grabbing his hand. Your knuckles were cut open and bloody. He felt his heart break seeing your beautiful skin all torn.

“I should be asking you that…” He mumbled, grabbing your hand with a frown. “You didn’t need to do that for me, I’m not fragile…”

“I know this,” you said quickly, but then blushed a little and rubbed the back of your neck with a sheepish smile. “I just want to protect you! Cause I’m your attendant!”

“But you’re also human.” He whispered, eyes flickering to the people walking up and down the street.

“I know. But that won’t stop me from doing everything I can to protect you.”

Asmo felt his heart skip a beat at your words, his face further heating up, and he squealed quietly and pulled you into a hug, nuzzling his face into your hair as you chuckle.

He loves you. He adores you. He loves you so, so much.

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

“Lamb, I don’t understand why you want to do this for me. As much as I love and appreciate it, I can do my makeup on my own!” Asmo pouted at you as you applied his foundation, softly dabbing the sponge across his face.

You only smile and pick up the brush to apply the red blush on his cheeks. “I know this but I like doing it anyways.”

It had been only a month ago when he asked you to do his makeup once, opting to know how you’d do his makeup and to brag to his brothers at how close the two of you were. But something changed the day you did his makeup. The way you would stop for a moment, staring directly into his eyes. It wasn’t like you were under his hypnosis or influence, he found that you were immune to it, but somehow you acted as if you were completely enamored by him.

And you were.

Even now, you caressed his cheek and would glance into his eyes, so close to him but not close enough. It started to make his heart race, his cheeks burst with color, and hands grow sweaty. It was strange for the Avatar of Lust to act so smitten with a mere human, yet here he was, completely floored for you.

You applied the blush to his cheeks, the bristles tickling his skin and he giggles lightly, unable to keep still in his seat.

“You’re so cute.” He said, wanting badly to just kiss your face, to hold it in his hands, but he had to keep himself still, lest you accidentally apply the blush to his forehead.

You said nothing, grabbing the lipstick, and grabbing his chin gently, as if he were a doll. This gave him a chance to look directly into your own eyes.

He hated it when you applied his lipstick, it forced him to look into those gorgeous eyes of yours and it made him fall even harder than he did previously. He swallowed as you gently moved the lipstick across his bottom lip first, glancing up at him and the way he stared back at you. Your smile only worsened the pounding in his chest. Was the air always this thick?

As you applied to the top lip, he could feel himself drown in the pools of your eyes, like you had his power instead. And the more he stared, the more he didn’t mind being completely miffed by you, being under your control. And it’s even more knowing that as much as he worships you, practically on the verge of kissing your feet, you worshipped him just as much in a way that makes him just want to hold you for eternity.

“Asmo?” Your voice called to him, already done. Though, you didn’t need to do much to enhance his beauty.

“Y-Yes?” He cursed himself for sounding so nervous, demanding confidence. It was so strange how he would become so flustered when it should be the other way around!

“You’re so beautiful…”

He’s heard his many time from others, but from you, it meant more.

To you, the word beauty described his whole being. His soul. His body. His mind. All completely beautiful to you, going past beauty and turning it into something more, something he couldn’t describe. The love in your eyes went beyond his own, somehow, going beyond your years.

All adoring him.

He finds himself tearing up, grasping desperately at your hand tightly, swallowing his spit to hydrate his drying throat.

“I love you.”

Lust was never suppose to love, was it? At least, that’s what he’s heard, as an Angel. Lust was selfish, demanding, carnal and uncaring, but you’ve shown him that it is more than what it was painted. There was a need there, a desire, a craving, an itch you cannot quite scratch. All of it filled him with Love.

You leaned in forward to him, pressing your forehead gently on his, your breath fanning against his lips. He holds your face in his hands, keeping you there in front of him, never taking his eyes off of you.

He begins to realize that Solomon sees this face everyday. To wake up to you everyday.

And he envy’s Solomon. What a lucky man…

“I love you too Asmodeus.”

And it sealed it for him.

He will never crave another body of a demon, human, nor angel as much as he craves you. No one could even compare. All he sees is you.

───────────────

Beelzebub is indifferent towards you, at first he believed he was. All that was on his mind was hunger, which irritated him. He loves food, don’t get him wrong, but the agonizing gnawing that comes with Gluttony is both painful and a nuisance. Though, he’s learned to just deal with it now, given that it’s his sin.

Though his brothers don’t seem to understand when he says he’s hungry. They don’t seem to understand the anger that comes with his Gluttony that claws its way in his stomach. It makes him think of everyone as meat, which scares him a little.

“Hey Beel, is something the matter?” Belphie had asked, albeit sleepily.

It was one afternoon at RAD and Beelzebub was bouncing his knee, gripping his stomach as if he were in pain, and biting his inner lip, trying to make the time go by faster. He looked to his twin.

“I’m hungry.”

Belphie was probably the only one who could understand the pain, if only for a little bit. Though, he wouldn’t understand the entirety, he understood more than the others. He pat Beel on the back to attempt to comfort him, but it didn’t do much.

“Lunch is in a few minutes, big guy, don’t worry.” Belphie said with a sympathetic smile.

Beel tried to smile back but it turned into a grimace as his stomach knotted, almost making him think it was eating itself. Then suddenly, you burst in the room, the professor, long since having stopped the lesson and leaving a few minutes of free time, jumped up at the sudden noise.

You matched over to Beel and opened your backpack, throwing out a bunch of snacks on the table of various Devildom chips and chocolates, a few being your favorites. You were sweating like you were running down the hall at full speed, he could hear your heartbeat pounding.

“Here you go Beel.” You huffed and puffed. You sighed and wiped your forehead. “Sorry! I felt that you were hungry so I ran all the way here when my class was wrapping up the lesson.”

“You… Felt I was hungry?” Beel tilted his head at you, eyeing the various treats and his mouth watered.

“Yeah! It’s like a sixth sense. Or maybe… An either sense? I have various senses for all of your brothers. Like now, I feel like Satan is about to flip his lid.” You giggled a little bit, rubbing the back of your neck.

Beel’s heart skipped a beat. “Thank you…” he whispered with a soft smile on his lips, opening up a bag of chips and eating it, he paused when you settled your hand on his head.

“Make sure to eat slowly, okay? I know it’s hard, but savoring it will make the time pass by faster for lunch, okay?”

He nodded mindlessly to you gentle smile, you give Belphie the same headpat, ruffling his already messy hair a bit. He grunted and poured a little but it made you smile even wider, rushing out the room to presumably stop Satan from breaking one of the tables in the classroom again.

Beel stared down at the table filled with snacks, his stomach had stopped its growling, the only sound that filled his ears was the sound of his own heartbeat picking up tempo. Belphie looked to his twin, seemingly sensing what he was feeling.

“You still hungry Beel?”

“Yes…” He gingerly took a chip and ate it slowly, savoring it, like you said. A small smile made its way to his lips. “But not as much anymore.”

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

It’s no secret that you take care of Beelzebub a lot, no secret to his brothers that you have snacks on deck, and it’s no secret that whenever you’re around, his hunger seems to be kind to him and calm down after eating away at him. You’re also soft, which fits the dilemma for him as a soft giant. He towers over his brothers, minus Lucifer, who is only an inch shorter than him (though, he likes to smile at the thought, occasional ideas of holding stuff up to where Lucifer can’t reach, but the last time he did it, he was smacked on the head). Depending on your height, he’s relatively taller than you. But you always have had a hold on him in many ways that he didn’t realize.

It was one night where you and Beel were sitting together in the spare room, a room which you said was “familiar to you,” a similar feeling the brothers all had to the room. Even Belphie, who would sleep there more often than not.

The TV went on while the two of you watched a movie, a random movie that Beel had no opinion to it, just the fact it was new. You seemed to enjoy it, so he kept watching it with you. But he was more focused on the mass amount of popcorn in front of him, all in a huge bowl. He munched away at it, already, half of it was gone. You were next to him.

You then suddenly leaned in closer to him, leaning your head on his shoulder, Beel looked at you for a moment and swallowed the popcorn in his mouth. He was hungry still but grabbed a bit of popcorn and held it up to your lips. You mindlessly ate it, not really paying attention to anything other than the movie, or were just in your own world.

Beel smiled and continued to feed you, completely ignoring his own hunger, finding satisfaction in seeing you eat. It was strange, really. He couldn’t explain it. Every time you ate, he would stare, watching you chew and smile a little at the taste of the food, or look blissfully happy whenever you had something you really enjoyed, like the chocolates from Madam Scream’s or their pudding.

That’s when he stopped, realizing that the half filled bowl started to grow smaller, had he been feeding you all this time? You seemed to notice when your mouth finally realized it needed water.

“Thanks for the popcorn, Beel.” You laughed a little pausing the movie. His face grew a little pink.

“Sorry.”

“No, no, it’s fine. I just wasn’t expecting it. Thank you.”

Beel smiled a little and proceeded to pull you in closer, your back against his chest, his face buried in the side of your neck, holding you close. He wasn’t sure what to do with this feeling burning inside his chest, smelling the scent of your skin. Being near you felt right. The hunger was silenced and he felt full around you, but he couldn’t help but want more of you. You didn’t seem to mind his hold on you, opting to lean back against him and watch the movie, which was nearing its end, but there was no doubt he would continue to hold you even after the movie.

“You want any more popcorn?”

Surprisingly he shook his head and huffed, tightening his grip around you. Not enough to hurt you given his size, just firmly enough to where you can’t move a whole lot.

“Something wrong Beel?“ You ask. Though you know he’s perfectly fine, you just have to be sure. He’s a strong and loving giant, he can be a bit sensitive.

“Mhm. Just wanna hold you…”

You reach your hand up to put your hand to his hair, tilting your head to the side and kissing the side of his head. His arms tightened again, a smile on his face.

He never felt this way before, this much love all for one person. He loves his family and you being apart of it makes it even better. He doesn’t even believe he knows a world where you aren’t apart of it, nor does he ever want to experience it. He doesn’t want to imagine a world where you aren’t in his arms like this, where he doesn’t feed you or eat meals with him and his brothers.

“I love you, MC.”

He blurts it out without even realizing it until he says it, the word love is so sweet on his tongue. He hears you laugh a little. He can feel your heartbeat close to his ear.

“I love you too Beelz.”

After all he’s been through, he never thought he deserved a moment of peace after what he’s lost, but he’s learning to forgive himself. All because of you.

───────────────

Belphie is spoiled. Everyone in the Devildom knows this and everyone in the Celestial realm knows this. Given that he’s the youngest, he’s able to get away with almost anything. Lucifers punishments are akin to a slap on the wrist when it comes to his pranks. Mammon also spoils him rotten, mainly with “mysterious” gifts of soft blankets and pillows and then randomly asking Belphie about them, if he liked them, and trying to justify that is wasn’t him because; “why would I buy somethin’ like that when I can spend it on somethin’ I’d want!” But Belphie isn’t stupid and knows it’s him, but he stops asking if it’s him to keep him quiet so he can nap.

But he’s spoiled brat tendencies never really come out, unless it’s with you.

He pouts and gives you the silent treatment whenever you say you can’t come to the HOL, but quickly gives it up because that takes too much energy when he could spend it talking to you.

He’s also a brat when he comes over to you whenever you are at the HOL and flops himself practically on top of you, smothering you with his body weight, and falling asleep without a care in the world. He’ll only care if you try and get up.

He never was really like this with you, he was mainly indifferent towards you, but after the events of finding out you’re a human and slowly getting closer to you after all that’s happened, he’s was starting to get attached to you, especially when you started cuddling him.

The first time it happened, you had shown up to the HOL to take care of Levi and Asmo fighting this time around, which was surprising since they usually barely even registered one another. It was something about Levi being a shut in and what not, but either way, you took care of it.

You had sat down on the couch after it all, sighing, deciding that maybe you should just pass out from all the running around you had to do. You were an attendant, sure, but you were also a human too, energy tends to deplete faster than you expect.

Belphie suddenly appeared, pillow in arm, eyes all droopy. He’s sleepy, as far as you can tell, but he also looks a bit bitter.

“Move…” He muttered out.

“Pardon?”

“I said move.” He was sounding like a grumpy five year old with how he was acting, a five year old that didn’t have their nap yet.

You snicker at the thought, which made him pout further. You groan. “Just lay your head on my lap if you’re that tired.”

This made him feel wide awake. His eyes widen a fraction. He never really thought about laying his head on your lap. He mainly only ever laid his head on the laps of his brothers, well, mostly by force, unless it’s Beel. Beel is more than happy to let his twin sleep near him. But then there’s you.

Belphie thought for a moment and then sat down on the couch near you, leaning down to put his head in your lap. You sigh and lean your head back again against the cushions of the couch, hearing the crackle of the fire in the living room.

He was stiff until you started running your fingers through his hair and he immediately relaxed, his eyes growing heavy again.

It was strange.

For a moment it felt like time stilled, like all else had disappeared and it left just the two of you.

He’s never felt more warm in the Devildom before when it feel so cold all around him, so unnatural.

But you somehow make his life feel more normal, more like home. He still felt bitter, bitter towards you, mainly being human, he sometimes wishes you were a demon, but the more he thought about the more he never saw you as a demon in the first place. You are far too trusting, empathetic and considerate and a bit of a smart ass while making a few dumb decisions here and there. So perfectly human.

Was this how Lilith felt when she met her human?

Belphie couldn’t help but feel so bittersweet while laying there, head in your lap, hand against your thigh, letting you run your fingers through his hair gently, partly caressing his face.

He shut his eyes and yawned. His yawn affected you, the two of you growing sleepy together. He could feel it too, your drowsiness. His hand inched closer to yours, grabbing it gently, his pointer and middle finger encircling your own lazily.

Belphie smiled and closed his eyes, quickly drifting off into a quiet dream, a dream where it’s just you and him just together. No words needed.

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

Belphie learned he could enter dreams the night he went into yours by accident.

It was an accident, truly. He didn’t mean to enter it. The two of you were just in the attic space, laying on the plush bed with the hundreds of pillows and blankets, sleeping the day away, when he fell asleep.

His dream, rather your dream, was dark. Just pitch black. It was like being in a silent, dark room, searching for a light, but somehow you could see yourself.

Belphie moved forward, though slowly, like moving through tar. He stopped when he heard light gasping, choking.

He only turned a fraction to his left to see it. A figure, closely resembling himself, holding you by one hand, tightly gripping your throat. Veins pulsed and bulged beneath your skin, even he could feel his face throbbing as the breath escaped you.

Belphie watched in horror.

His heart was racing. His stomach at the pits of whatever darkness was beneath his feet. Hands shaking and body strangely cold.

He hated that look on your face, the tears that streamed down your cheeks, how utterly helpless you looked.

You were his attendant, always so brave in his eyes. Not even wavering against Lucifer’s rage, not once.

And yet you were helpless against this strange, black silhouette that held his image, foggy yet so clear.

Belphie charged at his shadow self and grabbed it, tossing it to the side, forcing it away with whatever sheer will he could muster. It clawed, it snarled like an animal, it cursed and yelled but Belphie shut her ears to the nonsense it was sprouting with clenched fists.

He would never do that to you.

But…

He looked down at you, your gasping form, writhing in agony.

He felt like this happened before.

But why?

He wouldn’t hurt you, he would never hurt you! You loved him, his brothers, Beel! You took care of them, you adored them, you spoiled them rotten, especially him. Your care was gentle as your love was passionate. Why would he ever want to hurt you??

You looked up, fear flashing across your face.

Please… Don’t look at him like that…

Belphie shook himself from the dream, waking up with his head on your chest and body in between your legs. You were somehow still asleep, but with a look of discomfort.

Belphie grabbed your hand, firmly, and sniffled against your shirt, shutting his eyes tightly.

He wanted to give you a good dream, you deserved to have that, at the very least. You, of all people, do not deserve to be tortured senselessly for no reason.

As he rubbed your knuckles with his thumb, mostly to calm himself as he listened to your heartbeat growing steady, he heard you sigh and that discomfort left your face, relaxing into a smile.

Belphie took this moment to let his lower lip quiver and a small cry left his lips and a little sniffle. He let go of your hand.

He needed to go. There’s no way he could be around you if… If there was a chance he ever hurt you.

As he moved, you shifted.

“Belphie?”

He jumped when he heard you call his name, wiping his eyes in a hurried manner.

“You saw, didn’t you?”

It wasn’t a known secret you still had nightmares about that day, albeit rarely. Sometimes it just happens whenever your brain decides to torment you. And these were one of those days. And it was even worse it was with Belphie who really ended up being in your dream, saving you from himself.

His nod only confirmed it, which made your heart break. You sighed and reached for his hand and, just as he grabbed yours, held it firmly.

“…do you really think I’d do that to you…?”

“No. Not now. But would you have when you found out I was human?”

“…I don’t think so? I don’t know.. it was happening so fast then, I don’t see why I would just- just do that. I was a little angry that you lied to me, mostly, but I wouldn’t have-“

“Killed me?”

The word made him flinch. Human mortality was no secret. It never bothered him until now, he never thought about it until now, of how many times you put your life in danger for the sake of his brothers when your life could easily be snuffed out in a blink.

This is how Lilith felt, isn’t it?

“Belphie,” you brought him out of his thoughts. “You guys scare me sometimes, but I know that you won’t actually kill me.”

There’s something that lingers in your eyes that he can’t place. A knowing. You bring your free hand to his cheek and caress it.

“I love you, you know this Belphie.”

Belphie nods with a little ‘mhm’. He feels so pathetic, he should be comforting you, not acting like a little kid. He takes his hand away from you and kneels down in front of you, wrapping his arms around your midsection and burying face in your stomach.

“I’d do anything for you, you know,” he said, a little muffled by the fabric. “You’re everything to us, to me. I’ll throw the whole Devildom upside down if you want me to.”

You chuckle a little. “And not taking a break to sleep?”

“I’d give up sleeping forever if you wanted me to. Id do it if that would make you happy.”

“Woah, don’t need to go that far. I don’t want to torment you!”

“Stop making fun of me, I’m seriously.”

“I know, I know, I’m sorry. You’re just so cute.”

Belphie blushed and huffed as you continued to lightly chuckle at his words.

“I’m serious. I would do anything you wanted me to. Id cut off my own hands before touching you in a way that hurts you, MC. Just ask me to and Id do it.”

You sigh, running your fingers through his hair, “I know Belphie, and it won’t come to that. I trust you. Do you trust me?”

“Trust you for what?”

“Trust me to believe in you? In your ability to keep me safe?”

He was silent for a moment, then he nodded. “I trust you.”

“Then there’s no need for promises. Let’s just trust each other, okay? Promises can be forgotten.”

“Not for me, I’ll always remember to cut my hands off if you wanted.”

“Belphie.”

“Kidding.”

“I have a feeling you’re not.”

Belphie smiled into your shirt and giggled a little, letting you pet his hair.

Whatever that was in your dream, whether it was him or not, he’d be damned again to the deepest, darkest pits of the Devildom before ever hurting you or making you cry.

[actual-changeling]

heaven doesn't take too kindly to him breaking in a second time.

aziraphale stops them, with his blood already staining their perfect fucking floors, and his hands are balled into shaking fists, his voice projecting more authority than ever. crowley waits until they're alone in the blinding corridors before allowing his body to collapse, hissing when pain flares across his back.

"crowley-" there is a shadow in his periphery, hands reaching for him, but he flinches out of reflex more than intention, taking twisted satisfaction in the strangled noise escaping aziraphale.

"fuck off." while audibly hoarse, the edge to his words is sharp.

with his palms pressed to the floor, he gets to his knees, head hanging down as he sucks in breath after breath to summon enough focus to fix himself.

"let me help-"

"i said FUCK OFF," he spits, glancing up at him through a curtain of red waves and pain. "what do you care anyway."

"of course i care," aziraphale shoots back immediately, somewhere between offended and distressed, and oh, crowley takes the same satisfaction in that, too, no matter how bitter it tastes.

purely out of spite and to regain whatever of his pride is left, he ignores the cut still sluggishly bleeding onto the floor and pushes himself upwards, managing to stand while swaying heavily. he's a fucking mess compared to aziraphale in his pristine archangel get-up, and it lures the anger out of him with ease.

"huh, considering those are your guys you really have a funny way of showing it."

they both know what he is doing, yet the guilt carved into his face is as real as the heartbreak etched into his own. someone knows he is tired of playing games, but that is all they have left now, isn't it? stupid fucking games, as if they hadn't drowned themselves in those for millennia.

"i stopped them, i didn't send them. you know that."

crowley doesn't even attempt to bite back the hollow laugh craving to be set free. it rips through him with pain in his wake, and if he doesn't heal that wound soon the blood loss will make him pass out. how annoying.

"oh, aren't you being hilarious today, archangel. none of this would have happened if you hadn't—"

left.

thirteen months and he still cannot say it. what a pathetic little creature he is, deep down, clinging to love and having nothing but anger to voice it. he understands, he must understand.

suddenly, he is very, very tired.

"i'll be on my way. not gonna clean up though, that's on you."

aziraphale stands frozen, watching, right there and warm and real. crowley barely avoids throwing up at the thought of letting it all go for one gentle touch. in the harsh light, he seems pale, his lips bitten raw, and crowley loves him so desperately it hurts. gritting his teeth, he heals the cut oozing all over his back and nearly topples over with relief. hold me, he doesn't say. help me. come back. i miss you.

"for what it's worth, crowley, i am sorry."

they look at each other, gold and purple-blue-something new. he refuses to believe in Her after everything, but he believes that they will fix this somehow. crowley swallows and his fingers twitch at his side when the light catches on the tears gathering on aziraphale's waterline. they will fix this.

they have to.

"yeah, me too."

three word sentences hiding the one they both cannot voice, yet he finds forgiveness cannot easily be forgiven, not this time.

(it still counts)

[oceanofsinners]

“They love me, they love me not.”

Yan!Pervy cupid x gn innocent succubi/incubi reader ♥︎

[mdni, or do, i don't care enough to block y'all tbh. NSFW, first time in a while writing it so apologies ack. tw/cw: mentions of violence, blood, religious stuff kinda. lmk if i have to add smth else too! also?? sorry for disappearing i got stuck in the hospital, ouchies!! also holy fuck this is 2.k words ive never wrote that much...]

Nova wasn't...normal. Well, to be fair, it wasn't their fault he was created this way. It was Father’s fault.

 

Being born a Cupid, but being unable to feel most emotions, or even love. How ridiculous. Pathetic, even. Compared to their brothers and sisters, he was useless.

 

They grew up alone and isolated, no one wanted a Cherub whose expression was always bored. No one wanted a Cherub who never wanted to play with the others or found joy in small things. 

 

He grew up in one of the few orphanages in Paradise, some human souls for foster parents who weren't able to have kids themselves, happy to have any.

 

Angels were meant to be cheerful and optimistic, they were neither. Many thought he'd grow up to be a Guardian Angel or an Archangel. 

 

Never a Cupid. Especially a Love Cupid. Maybe a Heartbreak Cupid, even Erotic Love Cupid, but Love? They didn't even truly understand what the word meant. Or so everyone thought. 

 

Angels were meant to be non-judgemental. Meant to be “kind” and believe in everyone. Angel’s are not. Angels are just as judgemental, perhaps even more than humans. 

 

The other Cupids always watched him in disdain when they were training, he always dragged their class down, being worse at it than most of the others.

 

But then, in high school, something changed. See, Angels and Demons typically don't like each other. 

 

Angels hate Demons for falling, and Demons hate the lies Angels say. But in the end, they are one and the same. 

 

Only one’s halo is broken, the other’s is perfectly fine. No, not halo, horns. If there was one thing special about Nova, it was their “halo“, or horns. 

 

They were a beautiful baby pink color that matched the pearly white hair that reached his shoulders, with pretty gold and bright pink streaks, that made their purple eyes pop. 

 

Even though Nova couldn't feel anything, he was beautiful. Freckles were made in the forms of constellations scattered over brown skin, and white eyelashes that looked like snowflakes. 

 

They were beautiful. Ethereal. An Angel, through and through. He never imagined they'd fall willingly, even hating the thought. 

 

But, maybe for one person, he would. That person is YOU. 

 

The Demons and Angels made an agreement, there was an academy built, for both Angels and Demons of all ranks and backgrounds, a sort of truce.

 

Nova was one of the angels chosen, amongst many others. They didn't care about it, just wanting it to be done already. To get the embarrassment over. 

 

Days turned into weeks of staying in the shadows, going to boring classes, eating lunch in empty classrooms, studying all night, and repeat. 

 

It was boring, but it's not like Nova had anything he could do about it. Another day of stupid school, of stupid wars between haughty Angels and Demons who liked fighting. 

 

Except this time, Nova got caught in the crossfire. Cuts covered their skin, golden blood leaking down and ruining his beautiful clothes.

 

One of the Demons had them pushed up against a wall, claws to his throat, and they stood there blank gaze. Nova raised a brow as the Demon got pushed, and went to walk away. 

 

Then YOU came. You seemed confused at the fight, trying to make peace despite it being fruitless. You paused at the sight of him, before gasping and quickly running over. 

 

“Ah, you're bleeding! Gosh, I told these dummies to stop fighting, they just don't listen!” You frowned, trying to appear upset but you just looked like a kicked puppy with a pout. 

 

You pulled them off to the side, reaching inside a black messenger back absolutely covered in cutesy stickers and pins from different bands. 

 

Nova took the time to look at you, really look at you. It was strange. Why was his heart beating so fast? Wings fluffing up? You were beautiful. One of the prettiest Demons they’d ever seen. 

 

That's what clued him into what you were, an Incubus or Succubus. Really, there was no difference between the two except for their behavior. Incubus tended to be more assertive, and Succubus more passive. 

 

Before Nova could think about anything else, you pulled a first aid kit out, opened it up, and pulled a pack of bandaids out. 

 

You started disinfecting their wounds, before putting those cute, colored bandaids on each wound.

 

Nova looks silly like this, mostly black, Gothic ensemble, even with his pastel eyes and horns, they still looked less like an Angel and more like a Demon. 

 

And there you were, broken halo turned into a pair of horns, dressed in cutesy clothes, putting brightly colored bandaids on the mean-looking Cupid. 

 

With every fleeting touch, Nova felt embers light under his skin, his cheeks warming even further. ‘...What...What is this feeling? I don't...’

 

Before Nova even realized it, they were leaning even further into your cold, almost dead touch. You paused, before giggling and roping your arms around his shoulders. 

 

“Wow! You're super friendly, I like you, your hair too, it's super duper long! What's your name?” You asked, playing with his long hair, curling it around your fingers.

 

“Casanova. But people call me Nova, usually. What's yours?” Nova looked up at you, a lovesick hazy look in his purple eyes, heart pupils. How amusing. A Cupid falling for an Incubi/Succubi. What are the odds? 

 

“Oh! Right! It's—” Before you can finish, a teacher begins herding everyone to their classes. Nova’s pissed —‘How...Why do I feel so angry?’— but goes along with it, delighted to see you wave with a sheepish grin, fangs showing. 

 

Nova doesn't know your name. But he doesn't need to. You're his angel in their mind, the one and only made for him. 

 

Very quickly you become a prominent part of his life, their parents even allowing you to stay at their house while the program goes on, happy to see their child so happy for once. 

 

With so many emotions suddenly hitting him all at once, it's no shock they fall harder than he should, becoming obsessed fast and hard. 

Nova begins realizing things they'd never realized before. The curves of your body. Those soft eyes he wants to see sobbing from pleasure. Those lips open, gasping their name—

 

But it ends far too soon. The program is forced to close, and you're gone just as fast as you came. Nova hates how empty he feels when you're gone, wondering how he ever lived without you.

 

He feels cold inside, a part of him disappearing with you. Something they can NEVER get back. He tries to be normal, smiling when he should, crying when he should, just be normal. 

 

It's easy for a while. To pretend. No, BE normal. Far too soon, or maybe far too late, he graduates high school. Then college. 

 

Years fly by, “friends” come and go, lovers he didn't give a shit about disappear after they get bored, and more and more blood then just his is on their hands. 

 

But you weren't always gone. You'd sneak out of hell and sneak onto paradise sometimes, and hang out with them. But it wasn't enough. He wanted all of your time and attention on him. Just once, they want someone to be there as a constant. 

 

Eventually he lands a job at Soulmates Corp. A Cupid work place, and he starts working. It's actually pretty simple and interesting. Sure, they don't use bow and arrows — usually. But being able to look through humans lives, to choose who they fall for. It's interesting. 

 

And then, one night, you innocently invite him to a club in hell. They instantly agree, after all, it's YOU. His angel, their savior, his LIFE LINE. Their EVERYTHING. 

 

Funnily enough, over the years the two swapped clothing styles. Nova wore more cutesy, sweet, pastel color clothes, and you wore darker, more “sexy” clothes. 

 

Nova arrived at the club, absentmindedly toying with the pockets of his pastel blue cardigan. Tonight would be the last night of your freedom - independance, after all! 

 

Nova walks in, you on his side, some of your friends accompanying the two of you. He could care less about these bastards, and soon makes sure to seperate you from your “friends”.

 

He watches you with loving eyes the entire night, making sure you get drunk so bad you can't stand. It's easy, you're too trusting. Too innocent for this world. 

 

He'll save you, just like you saved them! Eventually they take you to their place. At first it's tame. Friendly. 

 

“N—Novaaahhhh...C’mere, I hic! wanna see yer pretty faceeee...” Your voice is whiny, the alcohol really hitting you hard. Nova coos, walking over. 

 

They yelp, quite loudly, as you drag them onto the bed, curling into his side. It's innocent. His thoughts should be too. 

 

But all they can think about is your chest pressed against their arms, how easy it would be to just slip your shirt to the side, and touch. Feel.

 

He shakes his head, even if you're both drunk, he can't take advantage of you like that. They refuse to taint you, and that pretty little head of yours. 

 

Stuck in their own thoughts, Nova doesn't even realize you straddle him until it's too late. Your eyes are hazy with lust and alcohol, and he can't help but gulp nervously. 

 

“Angel, really, you...you need to sleep.” Nova tries to reason with you, but reasoning with a horny, drunk Demon, much less an Incubi or Succubi is like arguing with a wall. 

 

You whine, lips lazily smashing against his. Nova can't help but melt into it, and they hate how hard they are from just a touch, a single kiss. 

 

This is wrong. Both of you know this. Yet neither of you can stop it. One kiss turns into two, into three. 

 

“An-Angel!” Nova gasps out as you nip at his collarbone, their neck already covered in love bites and pretty blue and purple bruises. 

 

“Mmph..Wan’ more...Need more, Nova...” You growled out, one hand playing with his chest the other curled in their hair. 

 

More marks. More bites. So many. He looked so pretty like this, a crying mess under their ‘innocent’ friend. 

 

Still, he held enough restraint to stop you, not wanting to ruin your first times together. But, due to your insistence, they do give you some pleasure~

 

Nova sits on his knees, you splayed out on their silk sheets, your slick dripping onto the bed as you whined. Hips jerking up to meet his tongue, hands curled around their halo. 

 

Nova’s tongue swirls against your sex, whining from the taste of your juices against his tongue. It was better then he imagined all those nights, hand playing with their cock, desperate for some relief. 

 

With every swipe and sucking of his mouth, you get closer and closer to that sweet relief you desperately need. With one last gasp, your eyes roll back and hips buck against Nova’s mouth. 

 

Nova laps up every bit of your sweet essence, fucking you through your orgasm. He's gentle after you finish, murmuring praises into your ears as they carry you to their bathroom. 

 

During the bath you end up falling asleep, Nova carries you to bed and the two fall asleep, intangled in each other. 

 

It's morning. Your eyes flutter open, yawning softly as you groaned. Fuck, that's a horrible headache. You glance around, pausing as you feel a weight beside you. What the...

 

Your eyes glide to the person laying beside you, and you pause, your cheeks warming. Nova. You're in Nova’s bed. 

 

Nova, the Cupid boy you met as a kid. Nova, the Cupid you fell for, hard. Nova, the Cupid who always seemed so clueless and innocent. 

 

And they truly look like an Angel right now. The sun shines against against his white hair and skin beautifully, wings folded behind them. 

 

Your face feels even warmer as embarrassment fills you as you see bite marks all over their neck. Bite’s are how Demon’s mark their claim, usually on their mates. Angel’s too. 

 

He let you bite them. And yet, you can't find yourself to be mad over it. Nova’s eyes flutter open, glancing up at you. A soft smile appears on their face, as they lean up and kiss you. 

 

The Angel traps you in his wings and you giggle, curling into them. He's yours, and your his even if you don't know yet. 

 

You took their heart a long time ago. It's time he takes yours too. ♥︎

[evangelic-echo]

ℭ𝔢𝔩𝔢𝔰𝔱𝔦𝔞𝔩 𝔓𝔲𝔫𝔦𝔰𝔥𝔪𝔢𝔫𝔱

Teaser:

Part 1>

You were created as the first archangel in the celestial realm of heaven, moments before the creation of Adam and Lilith. Your sacred duty? To attend to their every necessity and shepherd their souls along the righteous path. Who knew you, in all your ethereal splendor, were so pathetic that you failed the sole purpose of your existence, all because of one measly snake...

You're a mere archangel, amidst the grandeur of the mighty seraphim and elder angels, were seen in such high regard, seen as the only one bestowed the honour of taking care of the lords newest creations.

"You, Y/N Daiva, have failed your duty as the sole protector our Fathers creations, allowing evil and corruption to slither into humanity and forever staining the development of the human race. Leading to even your very own subject to be banished from the Garden of Eden. What do you have to say in your defence?"

Keeping your head down, refusing to look up at the celestial court before you. It has only been a couple days since Lucifers fall, and your sure that you'll be next to follow the same fate.

You've failed. Failed your duty to steer humanity on the right path, and instead you neglected your duty, leading to your very own subjects to welcome in evil in their own species. You accepted your own failure and prepared yourself to endure any punishment bestowed to you. Why wouldn't you? It was your fault wasn't it? Supporting Lucifer with his crazy ideas, neglecting your subjects, thinking you were responsible enough to ever take on a job this huge.

You had no one else to blame but yourself.

A/N: This is a small little drabble/teaser I decided to post before writing out this fic idea I had! This is gonna be my first time posting on Tumblr as I normally use different sites. I'm soooo excitedd!!

[merakiui]

angel and devil on your shoulder as the leech twins except they’re both devils they just argue who’s bad idea u should do XD

OOOOOO omg devil!Jade who is always up to no good... and then angel!Floyd who is objectively the worst angel ever. T_T he's the least holy angel you'll ever meet (he's committing sacrilege daily and archangel Rollo is going to kick him out of heaven for one more infraction), but at least he's sort of good at his job (i.e. he's good at lazing around and putting good vibes out into the world)???

He's assigned to you as your guardian angel and all is well until Jade worms his way into your life, ready to lead you astray with all sorts of mischievous temptation. He's the soggiest incubus you've ever met because he thought it'd be cute to look pathetic and hungry, but you refuse to let him feed from you and now he just looks silly when he's all splayed out on your bed like a nude model in his skimpy outfit. :( mission failed successfully? Because now he's so whipped for you, the only human who's able to resist all of his charms. He thinks he'll stay for a while; your home is very comfortable. <3

Floyd's kicking him out because you're his human shrimpy. It's his job to look after and protect you. Jade is not welcomed here. >:( Floyd's jealousy gets the better of him and maybe he's being petty when he blesses your house and puts all sorts of magical seals and enchantments on it to ward off devils like Jade, but this is only because he wants you all to himself. How else can he possibly have a chance with you if Jade's so annoyingly relentless with his attempts to charm you into sex? T_T

[deancasbigbang]

Title: work song

Author: dothraki_shieldmaiden

Artist: tallula03

Rating: Explicit

Pairings: Dean Winchester/Castiel

Length: 70000

Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence

Tags: Murder Husbands, Revenge, Canon-Typical Violence, Break Up and Make Up, Mutual Pining, Getting Back Together, Criminal!Castiel, Angst with a Happy Ending

Posting Date: October 31, 2024

Summary: Two years ago, Dean Winchester's life came crashing to a halt when his boyfriend, Castiel Novak, died in a tragic accident. After painstakingly putting his life back together, Dean goes on a vacation with his best friend, where he sees a face he never thought he would see again. Now reunited, Castiel tells Dean the truth about his past and the reason for his disappearance. However, all is not well--Dean cannot move past Cas' betrayal and lies, and the ghosts from Cas' past refuse to remain there. With danger looming, Dean and Cas start on a mission of revenge and justice, but they're badly outnumbered. With the hurt of the past colliding with the fragile promise of the future, Dean and Castiel need to learn how to create a new path--or else risk being lost forever.

Excerpt: Dean settles on the edge of the couch, ready to jump away at a moment’s notice. The surrealness of the situation — him, talking to Castiel two years after he thought Cas died, furious instead of joyful, wanting nothing more than to flee from Cas as fast as he can — would flatten him if he thought about it for longer than two seconds.  So he just doesn’t think about it. He sits and he waits.  Cas takes a long time to get to the point, twisting his fingers around each other, so abruptly that Dean winces at the sharp pop of his knuckles. Cas stares at a stain on the carpet like the secrets to the universe are written in its oblong edges.  By the time Cas finally speaks, Dean is ready to jump out of his skin with anticipation. He’s ready for Cas to yell at him, to call him pathetic. He just wants Cas to say something, but he’s completely unprepared for what Cas does eventually say.  “You are…” Cas’ throat bobs as he says, with an inflection that sounds like something soft and small dying, “were… one of the most important things in my life. The most important thing in my life.”  Cas sounds so sincere. Dean could almost believe him.  “I never would have left if I had the choice. Those two years I spent with you… They were the happiest of my life.”  Cas takes a deep breath, fortifying himself. Dean does the same, rebuilding his wall that had started to crack at the first sign of Cas’ vulnerability. He’s imagining everything from Cas actually admitting that he’s just shit at breaking up with someone and couldn’t figure out a different way to end the relationship, to Cas saying that he had to flee due to problems with the IRS. “When I said you were in danger… Dean, I wasn’t lying. When I first met you, I had been on the run for over a year. I knew that staying with you was only tempting fate — bringing danger right to your doorstep — but I couldn’t help myself. You were so…” Castiel swallows. His hands are clasped so tightly together that his knuckles are bleeding white. “And for two years, I thought it might be all right. I thought… I thought maybe I was allowed to have you. But then I saw someone from my past, and I knew that if they had managed to find me, they could threaten you. They could hurt you.”  “Hurt me? Cas, I don’t—”  He doesn’t know what to expect, but he still couldn’t have prepared himself for what Cas says next.  “Dean, I was a member of the Archangel crime organization until it was taken over by Lucifer Morningstar. I was on the run because he put a bounty on my head, and I know you might not believe this, but the reason I left was to protect you.”  Fucking what?

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