#seraphim armor

[sun-citadel]

Against the Seraph.

[jack-o-phantom]

He's snoozing

Say hello to Seraphim

[elven-haven]

[auteurdefeu]

We all know Alastor is great at seeing what people want most, what they fear, how their emotions can so easily be played. It’s how he got Charlie to make the deal when she knew she shouldn’t. He’s so good at knowing how to make people vulnerable and get under their skin.

There’s just so much ammo for Lucifer when he shows up. An absentee father, an even worse king, his entire family cast him from his home to burn forever and then his wife left him too, the one who was known for being capable. The fact Charlie is naive enough to see Alastor as a father figure as well just perfectly plays into it, and from the start, it seems so easy to get to Lucifer of all people. Someone who’s supposed to be so great, so easy to crumble with his ego and emotions.

Those initial interactions were a shock to Lucifer’s system. How dare a sinner speak to him with such open disrespect? What choice did he have but to fight fire with fire? (read: song battle)

But then the surprise of it all starts wearing off. He knows to expect it. He saw how broken Alastor was after fighting Adam, a reminder of just how fragile sinners’ souls are compared to that of a fallen seraphim. At the same time, Charlie had happily accepted Lucifer back into her life as her father. It’s not going to erase the years spent apart and his struggles with depression, but it’s a start. And he knows Alastor’s no real threat to him.

So at some point, Alastor’s jabs start being met with casualty, almost dismissively. It shifts from a playful annoyance like calling him short to something… well, cutting deeper. He doubles down upon how Lucifer abandoned his daughter, all so that he could hide with his toys, making himself a fool in his own nation.

Lucifer’s just making coffee. Saying that’s probably true, but Charlie is a kind soul who let him back into her life.

Not the reaction Alastor wanted again. So he pressed further, even blaming this dismissive attitude he had now as being why Lilith left. How could she have ever loved a man too scared to engage. She was always at the forefront of the show while he was too busy being buried in shame to be an even decent partner.

“One of many reasons, I’d guess”

It really irritates Alastor how much this isn’t getting to him. Lucifer had come to the hotel a terribly insecure man, so easy to mess with. And now, nothing?

Over the course of a week or so he keeps trying. And Lucifer just isn’t reacting. He cannot for the life of him figure out why. He knows everything he mentions is still an upset, it’s obvious in the way he talks with other people or the things he avoids, but it’s like he has some sort of verbal armor to Alastor’s attempts at drawing out a reaction from him.

The sad truth just ends up being that, whatever Alastor says, Lucifer’s said worse about himself. He’s had years to find every little detail about himself that could’ve been the catalyst for Lilith leaving, every little trait she likely despised for centuries, tearing apart the blurring memories of her face to see which expressions were genuine. Either everything about him, every step he’s made wrong, everything he’s lost or been forced to give up, he has a list of 20 things minimum as to why it’s all his fault. Alastor’s brutality is a toddlers insult compared to the things he thinks about himself.

The devil is madly depressed and just vibing his way through life ❤️

[fanaticsnail]

My Favorite

(Image Source: Artist: Inpolariis)

Masterlist Here

Word Count: 5,114

Summary: Sir Crocodile has founded a league of highly trained assassins named "The Choirs" - all coded after the nine choirs of angelic influences. You are his favorite: his prized "Seraphim" who's ferocious brutality is only outmatched by your incredible beauty. Not truly knowing if your affection is all an act to continue being paid a wage in berry, he has not made a move of his own aside from calling upon you to sit on his knee of an evening, and have you utter praises into his ear. It is only when the two other members of the Cross-Guild begin flirting does he find his limit being tested. Will he bend, or will he break?

Themes: Boss!Crocodile x Assassin!Reader, lap princess, Croc is in love with you, begrudgingly in love, mutual pining, “I don’t want to fix him, I want to make him worse”, wealth, Cross-Guild dynamics, partial Buggy x Reader, partial Mihawk x Reader, sign language, afab!reader.

Notes: This fic is dedicated to the wonderful @discordantwritings who wrote a beautiful Benn Beckman fic recently. I had to return the favor with some Cross-Guild content, although it became quickly a Sir Crocodile fic. Based on this prompt, because it has a hold over my very soul.

Tag List: @sordidmusings @feral-artistry @carrotsunshine @cinnbar-bun @writingmysanity @gingernut1314

The broad right hand of the brutish Sir Crocodile massaged his temples beneath his thumb and index finger. He began rotating them in an attempt to rid the swelling migraine caused by the crackled whines pouring from the lips of his clown companion. Barely paying attention to the whinging words strung into messy sentences, his ears pricked and spine tingled at the knowledge there was another presence within the hollow chambers of the Cross-Guild meeting space. 

Bringing his hand away from his temple, his smirk broke the displeased position of his lips, as his eyes rose to meet with the yellow hue of the gaze of the swordsman. Mihawk narrowed his eyes, no longer processing Buggy’s words as he attempted to locate the source responsible for the expression change of the larger gentleman in front of him. 

“-And I wasn’t the one responsible for that screw up, so I shouldn’t be the one paying for it. Really it should go to the one with the most berry. Who was it again? Between the reptile and the hawk, who has the most-.” Buggy’s voice halted as the shadows split to reveal your presence, stalking closer to the largest man in the room with an aura of silent danger. 

Mihawk reached for the hilt of Yoru, ready to strike your approaching silhouette: armored and cloaked in the darkest black to blend within smoke and shadow. Your hood concealed your face, your facial mask shieling all but the intensity of your eyes smeared in darkened war paint. You made no sound; no tap, no whisper as you wordlessly approached Sir Crocodile.

“Returned so soon, my Seraphim,” his voice purred, leaning back in his chair while placing a thick cigar between his teeth, “Did all go according to plan?” You wordlessly bent your knee, bowing your head to the large gentleman to whom you entrusted your implicit loyalty. His smile drew further up his scarred face, the purple hue of his eyes dancing with a dangerous twinkle at your wordless confirmation. 

“Good,” his voice praised you, reaching for his lighter lying atop the table. You rose to your feet, quickly reaching for the golden object, flicking open the lid and igniting the flint to spark its flame. Sir Crocodile leant forward, holding his eyes firmly on yours as your concentration was fixed on the task of lighting the tip of his cigar. 

He narrowed his eyes, noticing a small smear of red atop the darkened warpaint and streaking down your face mask and onto your leather breastplate. He sighed, reaching into his left hand breast pocket and fishing out a silver handkerchief and passed it to you within his index and middle fingers. 

“Is it yours?” he asked, gesturing to the blood congealed and spattered against your uniform. 

“No, sir,” you whispered with no vocal tone depicted within your silence. He hummed in response, narrowing his eyes as he scanned your body further. 

“Are you unharmed and unmarked?” he asked, his left brow raising in question. You stiffened your shoulders, arching your chin within the air and confirmed with a simple utterance of: “Yes, sir.” 

“Very good, my Seraphim,” he complimented further, inhaling a deep lungful of the nicotine laden cigar smoke, exhaling through his nose. Buggy did not know what to make of this interaction, feeling completely and utterly ignored as Mihawk and Sir Crocodile’s eyes and attention remained fixed on your statuesque figure clad in cloak, leather and dark plated armor. 

Leaning forward, Sir Crocodile ushered you to stoop forward to receive the next whisper of a command parting from his lips for your ears alone.

“I have laid out a new uniform for you to wear,” he uttered intimately, reaching up his left hand with his golden hook threatening to touch your shoulder. “See to it you are bathed, perfumed and clad in the ensemble within the hour,” the tip of his hook brushed with the rivets of your shoulder plate, dragging down your bicep to the inner crevice of your elbow, “And I will have you sat as my trophy upon my knee for the evening, my Seraphim.” 

At that final utterance, he withdrew his hook from your arm and focussed once more on your eyes now depicting a darkness within usually withheld for victims beneath your concealed daggers. 

Bowing to your boss, eyes now closed, you rose from your deep and respectful stoop and paid no mind to glance at the other two members of the meeting space. If Sir Crocodile found no reason to introduce you to these men, you did not deem them important enough to care who they were. Silence followed you as you trailed outside of the room, resubmerging yourself within the shadows and hastily making your way to the suite gifted to you by your boss.

“Baroque Works employee, Crocodile?” Mihawk uttered, his eyes fixed on the exit you withdrew from. 

“A thing of the past, Hawk,” His smirk not leaving his face for each deep inhale of his cigar, “I no longer put my faith in an amassment of bounty hunters to get their hands dirty for my berry.” He took the butt of his cigar from his teeth and pushed the ignited end against the glass tray with his thumb. “No, my faith is no longer spread to the many, but to the few.” 

“How many o’ them you got?” Buggy’s nasally voice chimed in, his brow furrowing and lips curling back in an uneasy smile, “Like twenty or thirty?”

“I have nine,” he confessed, eyes now bored with the conversation and lip curling down into an arrogant snarl, “And that one,” he gestured to the door with his chin, “Is my favorite.”

“Why?” Buggy asked, his voice cracking in a small apprehensive whine at the end of his question, “What does that one do that the others don’t?” Sir Crocodile’s lips curled into a darkened grin, his teeth revealed in the light. 

“You will see.”

-----------------------------------------------------------------

After bathing and cleaning yourself of the debris and carnage of the last assignment, you glanced at yourself in your large, ornate mirror. Looking over the new uniform set aside by your boss as it clung to your body, you couldn’t help the pull of a shy smile at the corner of your lips.

Of all of “The Choirs” founded and financed by Sir Crocodile, it was no illusion that you were absolutely and without a doubt his favorite. Your titles held your specialist skills as covert assassins within your roles; each skilled with a unique ability to complete your tasks to the utmost quality. 

Principalitie, Archangel, and Angel were charged with gathering information and relaying it from a great distance. They were to look like civilians; innocent and coy with the ability to blend into a crowd seamlessly. 

The Devil-Fruit users; Dominion, Virtue, and Power, were charged with carrying out tyrannical punishment and wrath without care for the casualties they caused under the utterance of a single command from your hook-handed leader. 

Cherubim and Ophanim, the two of the higher in the chain of command, followed your explicit instruction in covert operations taken either together or separately. They were your trusted confidants, you could even call them your friends if it were not too bold to say so. 

You, his ‘Seraphim’, were silent and embraced by shadows with such flawless success that it was rumored you were born in them. You were lethal with your daggers, your skill with a blade a sight to behold before life was drained from your intended target. The last thing they saw as their breath was claimed by your hand, was the ferocity in your blown pupils and lengthy eyelashes beneath the dark warpaint smeared atop your eyelids. 

Glancing over your features once more, the pale white of the dress held stark contrast to the dark armor you adorned almost an hour prior. While your armor kept all of your features hidden to the world around you, the anonymity shielding you from emphasis on your features; this dress left little to the imagination. 

The deep hook of the backless dress clung low to your hips in an ovular shape, bodice dipping down to above your navel with a thin band of fabric dancing above your cleavage to suture the bust shut with barely any support. The length of the dress halted little below your hip bone on the left-hand side, the right hand side down to the ball of your ankle to allow for the straps of your gold heels to be revealed with each step you took against the floor. 

Your mind begins to wander the longer you stare at yourself in the mirror. This was the most provocative and scandalous item your boss had ever asked you to don. You almost allowed yourself to rush to the conclusion that your boss harbored more than simple favoritism for you, you assumed you were wearing this ensemble to impress a guest with your presence on his lap. 

Silence was nearly impossible with the gold-dipped base of your heeled shoes. Each step you took after exiting your suite echoed in a foreign clack that you were unaccustomed to creating with your foot-falls. 

Immediately upon entering the large celebratory area of Sir Crocodiles casino, you scanned the perimeter of the room for your boss to begin your new role for the night: the princess sitting upon his knee and doting on him with small caresses and whispers of praise within his ear. This was not a role you were exposed to often, but one you did well enough for him to continue asking for you after the first night you played it. 

You would be lying to yourself if you said you did not harbor affection for your boss. Nothing ever transpired between you after you had finished this role for the nights he asked you to fulfill. No brush of lips meeting yours, no writhing while sprawled out beneath him against the green fuzz of the gamblers table. He would bow his head in gratitude to you, his eyes blinking shut out of respect, and dismissing you without a further word. 

Adoration, respect, loyalty, and your wage is what bound you to that man. At each moment he spent with you on his lap, or performing a deadly task for him, your desire grew. You knew, without a semblance of a doubt, that you would cast aside your wage with an instant for the luxury of remaining by his side. You loved him, and it was the only thing that truly frightened you.

After concluding your brief scan of the room, you noticed Sir Crocodile was yet to make an appearance to darken the tables with his brutish figure. However, you smiled upon meeting the eyes of ‘Ophanim’ dressed in a simple waiter's uniform, with her sleeves rolled to her elbows and shaking a steel container filled with ice, syrups and hard liquor. She shot you a wink, gesturing with her chin to wait with her at the bar. 

An honest smile sprung to your lips as you grasped the barstool within your hands, taking a seat atop it and hooking your left knee over your right; the slit of your dress revealing the entirety of your left leg to your thigh. 

Immediately as you began to open your mouth to converse with your fellow “Choir” about her latest mission, your eyes were thrust into an amassment of lengthy cerulean hair. The person seemed to ignore you as their voice informed your friend of his order of a fruit-forward and harsh liquor cocktail with an insane amount of complex ingredients. The products he asked for sounded as if it would split and separate, with the immediate souring of creamy liquid with the acidic elements. 

Grimacing with your lips curled in disgust, the individual turned to meet your disapproving gaze: his eyes widening and breath hitching in his throat. A large, rotund red nose lay central to his features, his dark vest cinching his waist beneath a white shirt and dark trousers. He looked as if he was not comfortable wearing the assortment, as if it was a mask he was given to wear akin to your arrangement set aside by your boss. 

“You are fucking gorgeous,” he stumbled over his words, the syllables falling from his lips quicker than he could silence them within. Immediately your grimace upturned into a smile, forcing a laugh to flee from you at his unbridled compliment. You arched your left brow up, leaning in close to the individual in front of you and tightening his dark tie with your right hand. 

“You are very easy to look at, yourself,” you purred in return, assuming your flirtatious role with ease. You darted your gaze between his two teal eyes, a coy smile now pursing your lips together innocently, “And who might you be, bright eyes?” Your question had his heart swelling, his cheeks filling with a boyish fluster. 

“B-Buggy,” he wheezed, gulping back his words and grunting out a small cough to mask his uneasiness. “Captain Buggy D Clown,” he attempted to meet his elbow atop the bar, missing the polished wood entirely and instead stumbling under the uneven distribution of his weight. As air met his elbow with the heel of his palm capturing his chin, he flew his head down and met it against the wood with a harsh thump. 

Wincing in empathy, you immediately reached forward and claimed his cheeks within your palms and raised him back up to his former stature. You brushed his shoulders, readjusted his collar and checked over the rising swell atop his left temple. 

“Honey, can we get some ice please?” you asked your colleague who attempted to halt her laugh behind her palm, nodding as she retrieved the frosty cubes and placed them within a checkered tea towel. She passed it to you and shook her head, you nodding your thanks at her for the object and immediately reaching for the blunt-force trauma the blue-haired clown brought upon himself. 

“Are you alright Captain Buggy?” You asked him, holding your hand against the towel and pressing it firmly against the rising bruise. He clasped his left hand around your right, leaning into the touch you were providing him and closing his eyes. 

“I like the way your tongue makes my name sound,” he confessed in a breathy gasp. You again found yourself laughing at his words, the melodic ring of your voice stirring something dangerous within the purple hues of Sir Crocodile’s eyes. He continued watching your interaction with Buggy from his place darkening the threshold of the entrance to his casino. 

“What happened, Clown?” A voice called behind him, the curve of a pale shirt clinging to the back of a dark-haired individual you could barely see. Buggy apprehensively turned away from you and lulled his head towards the man with a snarling expression. 

“It’s her fault,” he gestured to you with his thumb, “She was sittin’ on that chair all innocent-like, as if she doesn’t look like walking sex.” 

“Hardly walking if she’s sitting,” the man called over in a bored and disinterested tone, without sparing so much as a glance in your direction. You found him intriguing, but you decided to match his energy and remain aloof to his comments yourself. 

Turning away from the two men beside you, you began moving your hands in a flurry of wordless gestures to your coworker as discreetly as you could.

‘Where is he?” you asked her, watching her hands flicker in response as she continued to attempt to uphold her own persona as bartender.

“Approaching slowly,” she managed to signal to you, before she placed a glass of wine in front of the broody aloof gentleman beside the clown. The corner of his lips ticked at the corner, a whisper of gratitude depicted on his face as he turned to face you with the crystal glass rising upwards. 

The small widening of his honey-coloured eyes told you all you needed to know within his gaze. Your head cocked to the side, your eyes wide and feigning innocence to the best of your abilities. 

“My, my,” he commented, shamelessly raking his eyes over your body from your decorated toes to the follicles of your styled hair, “I do see why you would be the cause for such a stumble.” He expertly brushed the blue-haired man away from you, extending his right hand forward to seek out your own and collecting your four fingers within his grip. 

He raised your hand to his lips, his mustache tickling the knobbed joints of your knuckles before his lips brushed against your flesh. Your eyes turned sultry, not once either of you breaking your eye contact against one another. 

Unable to control the rapidity of the thump within his chest and the dry lump forming in his throat, Sir Crocodile began a stalking approach towards you. How dare they fawn over you. You: his favorite of his Choirs. His angelic muse and harbinger of brutality. 

He knew you would make heads turn with the uniform he laid out for you, but he did not anticipate the primal urge swelling beneath him to pull you into himself and shield you away from their eyes. He wanted you all for himself, in any capacity you were willing to give it to him. He didn’t care that you were paid berry to serve him, it felt real enough for him.

“Dracule Mihawk,” he uttered against your flesh, withdrawing from his stoop and arching his back to puff his barely shielded chest to you, “And you are, my darling?” Before you could answer with your name, you felt a warm graze dancing up your spine. His breath tickled against your skin, tingling your spine beneath his lips as they pressed intent and longing to your flesh. 

On any other occasion, you may have been alarmed by such attention from an individual without seeing their face. The cologne dancing with the whisper of his last cigar floated with each kiss against your skin, informing you exactly who was giving you such a touch. 

He had never offered you this unbridled affection in the past, not allowing himself to give into his craving for you, and you not willing to test your place serving under him. This touch felt natural, his lips continuing to press into you, as you continued to hold your gaze on the eyes of the dark-haired man in front of you. 

Sir Crocodile’s lips found your left shoulder, his purple eyes pulling the swordsman’s attention away from you to meet with your boss as he continued to map his lips up your neck to your jaw. His left forearm circled around your front, the golden hook firmly secured against his wrist collecting your chin beneath the smooth surface. He turned your attention away from Mihawk to look into his eyes through lowered eyelashes. 

He leant forward, drawing your lips against his by the gentle tilt of his hook against your chin. Darting his tongue out to stroke yours, his nose brushed against your own as he circled his jaw to deepen the embrace. Your hands clutched the base of the stool you were sat atop to anchor yourself down for fear of floating to the roof. The hum of his lips in joy had a small moan pull from your lips the longer he was joined against you. 

You felt his right hand brush against your bicep, curling his firm grip around it as he pushed his chest flush with your own with a gentle turn of your body. He pulled away from the kiss, his eyes immediately falling to your rapidly swelling and kiss-bruised lips, slightly smudged paint falling below the perimeter of your bottom lip. Tapping your chin with his hook, your eyes darted from your own gaze against his lips to meet with his purple eyes. 

“My Seraphim,” the rumble of his voice and the small smirk of his lips had your attention hyper fixed and hanging on his every word. You held your gaze firmly affixed to his, watching as he turned away from you and greeted the men in front of you with the nod of his head and the small utterance of their names.

“Mihawk,” the rumble of his voice rubbing within his throat had your spine tingle with anticipation, “Buggy.” He turned back to meet your orbs that had not yet broken from his face, but raked your gaze over his face with half-lidded lashes. Your eyes continued to float in a daze against his lips and flittering back up to meet his gaze. 

He extended his right hand in a gesture for you to take it, you reacting immediately by placing your hand within his larger palm to encircle his digits around it. You allowed him to pull you away from your former position atop the barstool, your heels clicking against the floor as he escorted you to the desired table for the night. Now in the shroud of seclusion, he leaned down and uttered a small apology in your ear. 

“Forgive me,” he began, taking his seat within the plush armchair and patting his left knee with his right. Without hesitation, you gracefully placed yourself atop his thigh with the small flick of your hair, crossing your left knee over your right and arching your back. 

“What sins am I forgiving, sir?” you asked him, feeling the dangerous caress of his hook brushing against your spine and collecting a small portion of your hair within its curvature. Your boss took in a deep breath through his nose, expanding his broad chest beneath his suit jacket. His exhale had a small quake to it, his eyes closing as he basked under your attention.

You reached your hands and began to dance your fingertips against the hem of his collar. Although this was a routine you had practiced with him over man a night on his lap, this touch felt almost forbidden as his brows furrowed. 

“I should not have kissed you like that,” he uttered in a voice below a hushed whisper, “You deserve better than something so public. I desire you-... -for you to be treated as a seraphim I know you to be.” His vocal catch had your attention completely focussed on every word, your body leaning itself further as your hands halted their movement. 

“I am not a seraphim, sir,” your lips were now almost brushing with the shell of his ear, your hypnotic perfume, intoxicating and mesmerizing the larger gentleman the longer your presence remained atop his lap. He angled his head away from you, exposing the side of his neck to reveal the rapidity of his heartbeat displayed against his pulse. 

“And what are you, if not a seraphim,” he whispered darkly, allowing to be disarmed by your presence as he leant into your touch, yet away from the descent of your lips upon his ear. 

“I am your seraphim,” you confessed as your lips grazed against the sensitive flesh of his cheek, his dark hair tickling against your eyes. 

Sir Crocodile was glad he had withdrawn you to a secluded portion of his casino at this moment. He truly did not desire for the other two members of the Cross-Guild to notice how much of a grip you truly had around his heart, but refused to break away from your display of unrestrained physical affection. He knit his brows together, furthering their descent down his face as he processed your words.

“Because I pay you to be,” he uttered, leaning away from your touch and forcing the mask of his arrogance back onto his features. He dropped the hook from your hair, reaching his right hand into his left breast pocket to locate a thick cigar and his golden lighter. Placing the bitten end between his teeth and clamping down on it, he drew the flame up to his lips and attempted to ignite the end. 

“I will return my wage to you,” you uttered quietly after swiping the golden lighter from his hand and reigniting the flame, “I have no need for it when you take care of me so well.” His eyes held an aloof boredom to his expression, refusing to meet with your face as you lit his cigar for him. 

“And if my wealth was taken from me?” He questioned before inhaling the smoke from his cigar, exhaling it away from your face, “If I was to go to prison once more, what then?” Your eyes narrowed, your lip curling up to reveal your displeasure at the question.

“I would claw tooth and nail to free you from your confinement, sir,” you confessed, reaching your left hand forward and collecting his chin beneath your thumb and index finger, turning his jaw for his eyes to meet with yours once more, “And although living in luxury is a welcome experience, I would stand by you regardless.” His eyes depicted his craving for your words to be true, although not believing it yourself. 

He began to open his mouth to speak, silenced by your words cutting through the air like your daggers meeting with the jugular of your foe. 

“You have my loyalty, my blades, and my body at your disposal,” you leant forward further, darting your eyes between focusing on each of his. “Should you order me to jump, I will ask how high. Should you ask me to kneel, I will fall to my knees,” you continued, your grip holding more firmly against his chin, “Should you wordlessly aim your finger at an enemy, I would be a channel of your wrath as I claim their lives for you.” 

Allowing a few moments of thick silence to swell between you, you felt the scrape of his hook trailing itself against your spine, hovering over the soft point of your rib and pressing his point firmly into your flesh. 

“While your words are as beautiful as you are,” he whispered, looking down at the plunging neck of your dress and back up into your eyes, “They are as decorated by the impact of my wealth as your body is in that dress.” You narrowed your eyes at his comment, taking the expression as a challenge. 

Shrugging away from the point of his hook, you rose to your feet between his legs and slowly drew your hands up to the thin straps on your shoulders. You hooked your thumbs beneath the material and began to slowly slip the material over your shoulders and down your biceps. Sir Crocodile’s eyes widened, immediately reaching his right hand and left forearm to halt your hands from revealing more of your flesh to him. 

“What are you doing?” His growl should’ve had your actions stuttering in any other setting, but his rasp had your heart beating in desire in place of fear. 

“I have already informed you that I will be returning my wage to you,” you cocked your head to the side, arching your back towards him and looking down at him under your lustful expression, “Why not start with the dress you claim to despise so much.” The rise of his fluster depicted in his eyes at your words had a smirk drawing up to decorate your lips. 

“What has someone like me done to deserve such devotion from you, my seraphim?” he whispered, his right hand elevating the strap of your left shoulder and securing it firmly in its prior place. You followed suit with your right strap, securing it firmly against your shoulder and leaning further into his welcome embrace. 

He leant his torso closer to you, his broad forearms circling over your own with his fingertips brushing against your skin. You began to open your mouth, confessing your adoration for your boss further upon the tip of your tongue before crudely interrupted by the presence of the blue-haired clown followed behind by the broody gentleman from earlier.

“Are we playin’ cards yet, Croco?” Buggy’s voice hitched as he met with an intimate moment shared between you and Sir Crocodile. Your boss’ hands caressed your skin, pulling you against his torso as he aimed his disapproving gaze over your right shoulder. 

He growled at the interruption, his voice holding more feral animosity than he felt he should. You drew your hand up to claim his cheek in the palm of your right hand, looking down at him with your eyes holding your unspoken answer of lustful adoration at him. His breath hitched as his gaze met with yours, prompting his right hand to grasp the flesh of your back firmer within his spread fingertips. 

“I recall you having barely enough berry to survive the last time we played, Clown,” Mihawk’s aloof tone called from beside him. Neither you nor Sir Crocodile paid either man any mind, too wrapped up in the intimate moment you were sharing holding one another. 

You removed the cigar from Crocodile’s teeth in your left hand, stooping forward and claiming his lips beneath your own. Your nose brushed against his, the kiss as hastily departing in severance of the connection as it did in its descent. He arched his chin up, chasing your retreat with his eyes closed. 

“Shall I get the table ready, sir?” You asked him in a subtle whisper, relishing in the small hum of pleasure falling from the lips of your boss. His eyes split slowly open, remaining half-lidded as he lulled his head on his neck to glance at you. The silver mark splitting his face danced in the illuminance of the soft bar light, his striking features appearing more chiseled under its glow. 

“Please,” he spoke slowly, his tongue darting out and danced as the ‘L’ passed his lips. You raked his hair back over his scalp, replacing the fallen strands in their rightful place, while leaning down once more with a smirk.

“Right away, sir,” you purred at him while returning his cigar to his teeth, watching as he bit the tip with a small snarl. Turning and walking away to collect several items to place atop the green felt for your boss to engage in a game of cards with his two unlikely colleagues, eyes fixed on your back as you exited the secluded area.

“Who is she?” Buggy’s shocked voice cracked out the stuttered question also plaguing Mihawk’s mind. Sir Crocodile relaxed in his chair, inhaling the cigar smoke deeply into his lungs and holding it. Upon it exiting from his lungs, he confessed the place you held within his heart with the utterance of two words.

“My favorite.”

[elaina-writes-things]

Hi I have a lucifer 18+request if you’re still on the high. You can make it a dable or headcanons. Whatever you’re most comfortable with.

You’re sitting on the couch reading a 🌶️ book and Lucifer crawls between your legs and tells you to keer reading as he eats you out.

I was gonna take it seriously, I swear. But I just really think Lucifer would act like this, and now here we are.

The content below is NSFW/18+ !!!

--

You loved to read when you were alive. Every home you lived in always had at least one, large bookshelf dedicated to your collection, and that didn't change after your death. You were thankful that, even eternally damned, there were simple pleasures to indulge in, and everyone who knew you could bet on finding you with your nose in a book if they needed your attention.

That was how Lucifer met you. It was also how he found you, waiting outside a restaurant for your first date. And how he found you the morning after you spent your first night together. And...well, you get it.

"If I didn't know any better," the seraphim complained, crawling into bed to settle next to you for the evening, "I'd say you liked spending more time with your books than little old me."

You slipped a bookmark between the pages of your current piece of literature, resting it in your lap, and gave him a sheepish smile.

"I adore you," you promised him, "I just love how wonderful these books are, too. Every turn of the page sweeps me away to an adventure of the mind. I can place myself in the protagonist's shoes from the comfort of my home! I can almost feel every struggle they endure. Every fight, every triumph, every kiss, every —"

"Kiss?" Lucifer perked up, and before you got the chance to respond, he'd snatched up your book and was flicking through the pages. "Ohohoo, my dearest, why didn't you tell me you were reading such salacious things? If you're looking to experience pleasure, by all means, you just need to ask."

Suddenly, the book was thrust back into your hands, and you stiffened as the blonde straddled you.

"Uh, what are you doing?" You asked, cheeks burning.

"Read to me, dove," Lucifer grinned, eyes alight the same way they did when he came up with a new duck-based innovation. "You want to live vicariously through your books? I can give that to you. So, read."

You glanced at the page Lucifer had flipped to and felt like you were going to catch fire. He'd chosen a scene in which the heroine of the book had stolen away with her appointed knight for an evening of passion before she was forced to marry the prince from a rival kingdom.

"Oh, I don't know," you muttered, "this is really — ah!"

Lucifer was still wearing that smarmy little grin as he pulled on your hips, dragging your body towards his, and started undoing the buttons on your pants. Cheeky fucker didn't even have to look, he was just popping them open with a flick of his fingers.

"Go on," he encouraged, settling himself comfortably between your legs after he pulled the fabric down. "Don't tell me you're getting stage fright? Show me what kinds of stories you indulge in so voraciously, darling."

You hid your face between the pages of your book, which only forced you to stare at the words he demanded you recite. When you tried to squirm away from him, only to have two deceptively powerful hands press you firmly to the mattress, you knew there was no getting out of this.

"Finally," the princess sighed, "alone at last, my dear. I am all yours tonight."

"Tonight. This night," said the knight, "but it could be every night...run away with me, princess."

"I want nothing more, beloved," she proclaimed, "but I have responsibilities to my kingdom. This marriage will forge an alliance that will help us for future generations."

The knight's face twisted in pain for only a moment, before it morphed into a calmness as cold as his armor.

"Then tonight, on this night, I'll make it one that you'll never forget."

"How many times can they fit the word 'night' into one chapter," Lucifer muttered, placing a small kiss on your knee. "Skip ahead a couple paragraphs. Get us to the fun part, my dove."

You resisted the urge to close your legs, knowing it would be a fruitless effort with how hungry his majesty looked, and flipped to the next page.

Princess Calliope carefully gathered up her skirts, the soft fabric brushing against her even softer legs. Xander, her knight, knelt in front of her and trailed one gauntlet gently up her calf —

"With his armor on!? There's no way that would feel good for her."

"I mean, he's gonna take it off eventually."

"Skip another couple paragraphs."

The princess shivered under Xander's touch. His large, broad hands squeezing her thighs pulled a gasp from delicately parted lips, and she had to fight not to cover herself as she lay bare to him.

"There are many ways to prepare your body for mine, princess," Xander murmured, "but this one is my favorite."

He lowered his head and placed a series of kisses on each of her thighs, trailing closer and closer to her hot core.

Calliope whimpered when her faithful knight's lips reached her flower. He kissed each side reverently, then used his tongue to part the p-petals, licking a firm st-stripe up the length...o-of...

Your reading stuttered when Lucifer's actions began to mimic Xander's. Now that his commentary wasn't cutting in every thirty seconds, the written experience being actively performed on you was much more erotic than you anticipated, and you reminded yourself to thank him for that little idea later.

"Keep reading," the blonde requested. You bit your lip and tried to ignore his warm breaths on your pussy. The words on the page were suddenly much harder to read.

He kissed each side reverently, then used his tongue to part the petals, licking a firm stripe up the length of her sex until he reached the little, pink bud at the top. Xander kissed it, d-delighting in the squeal he pulled from his beloved, then wrapped his lips around it and sucked g-g-gently while his fing-fingers circled her entrance.

Calliope felt like she was on fire. Her body responded to Xander's in a way she'd never known until tonight. It's like she was a violin, and he was the musician plucking every single one of her strings.

"Why is he plucking violin strings? Is he stupid?"

You groaned, now thoroughly turned on but annoyed by your partner's continuous interruptions.

"I'm just saying that's not how you play a —"

"Do you wanna eat me out like the bitch in the book or not!?"

The short king's red eyes widened, then his expression became unbearably smug. You resisted the urge to toss a pillow at his head.

"Look at you, playing hard to get at the beginning and now practically begging me to get lost between your thighs. I knew this would be fun for you. Maybe if you beg a little more, I'll —"

Pillows were too soft. You threw the book at him instead, relishing in his cry and the thunk that emanated from the collision.

"Next time you wanna do something fun, Luci," you said, getting up and kissing the blooming injury on his forehead, "don't criticize it start to finish."

"I'd argue there wasn't a finish," he pouted, wrapping his arms around you for a snuggle before you could pull away.

"Who's fault is that?"

"I'll make it up to you," Lucifer promised. "Anything you want, you name it."

That piqued your interest, a smug little grin of your own starting to form.

"Anything?"

He nodded excitedly. "Tell me what I can do for you, love. How will I make your dreams come true?"

"You."

"Me?" He echoed.

"And me."

"And you. Me and you," he chirped, practically bouncing as he hugged you tighter.

"And the biggest strap we can find."

What little color existed on his face drained away. Lucifer stared at you, eyes wide and round, then buried his head defeatedly in your shoulder. His blonde hair tickled your jaw, and you placed a gentle kiss to his temple.

"I did promise anything," he mumbled.

[arachniee]

i. medical haywire

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ various! hazbin hotel x female seraphim! reader

જ⁀➴

summary: as the seraphim responsible for the management of heaven's medical areas, your days are mostly spent in the comfort of labs and clinics. though, those mudane days seem to shift into more interesting ones after meeting the princess of hell and her little group.

જ⁀➴

warnings: mentions of death, mentions of blood, too much caffeine intake, not proofread; there might be grammatical errors, all lowercase letters

જ⁀➴

heaven was as bright and bustling as ever, regardless of the time of day. whether it'd be the sun shining, or the moon. every corner of the city was filled with fun and joy, not a single hint of negativity. heaven was paradise, after all. a paradise that everyone wanted to get a taste of. it was the embodiment of dreams, everyone would agree. this was place that granted them a life that was worth living, even in the afterlife.

however, you wouldn't say that this was your dream. in the presence of the night, you remained unfazed as you continued with your work. eerie silence seeping into the laboratory room you were currently in, despite being all alone, this somehow bought you comfort instead of uneasiness. being surrounded by laboratory equipment and machinery, your attention shifted from the blood sample in your hands to the medical files on the metal table near you. it wasn't just any pile, almost every corner of that table was filled with piles and piles of folders almost the size of mountains.

after you received the report of an extermination angel's murder, you haven't slept in days. an angel was behead, that kept you up at night. each time you thought about it, your curiousity and thirst for knowledge were eating you up from the inside and out. you wanted to dwell deeper into the topic, but you still had medical areas to run. and with the recent news that you received about the extermination, you wanted nothing more than to just drown yourself in your own misery. every six months, really?

extermination angels return with more wounds than what others would expect. and with thousands of them returning with injuries that range from scratches to more notable wounds, the extermination is something you do not look forward to dealing with. you are definitely not surprised, these sadistic fuckers are too overconfident in their own actions, lacking in armor and more driven to attack, and because of that, you're the one who has to suffer with treating them.

and now that those demons know what they can do to angels, you're expecting more bloodshed during extermination. and that means more work. and not mention that the extermination angels should be in the best condition possible to participate, thus, you have to monitor all of them regularly. and with your more 'common' patients, the residents of the city, you haven't seen and felt daylight nor the moonlight in who knows how long now. you haven't even slept yet, only taking naps here and there that only last around half an hour or so.

as you checked your watch, you noted that the project you were currently working on would have to be continued in the next few hours instead. you followed quite a strict and busy schedule, which is not surprising for one of the highest of seraphims. you tidied up the lab a bit, rummaging through the almost endless amount of files and folders, grabbing a few before your eyes fell onto a folder that had a letter "v" in the middle. you momentarily paused your actions, frozen in place as you stared at it. you eventually pushed it aside and grabbed the files under it before you stood and made your way out, turning off the lights and locking the door.

the halls were dimly lit, casting an unsettling sense of uneasiness. though, you walked through them without a care in the world, this was heaven after all, no one would harm you here. each door you passed was dark and disturbing, expected as it was almost two o'clock in the morning. your steps echoed down the empty halls as you walked to the laboratory's cafeteria. your last caffeine intake was almost an hour ago, you need to grab another mug before you collapsed with more work piled up on your desk the next morning.

unsurprisingly, the lights were still on in the cafeteria since the cooks would usually prepare the food early in the morning. you had to commend them for their dedication though. as you entered the kitchen area, you were greeted warmly by the workers, you nodded at them in acknowledgement, greeting them as well, though with a little less energy. they understood why, and they were grateful for your dedication to your job as well. it must be hard to keep everyone in check, managing a lot of stuff all at once. before you could reach one of the coffee makers, one of the newer staff members extended a mug of steaming, hot coffee into your reach with smile. you looked at them with raised eyebrows and tired eyes, the young angel just wanted to express his admiration, and maybe this was the way that he thought you would appreciate the most at the moment. maybe he was right, so you gently took the mug from his hands, careful not to spill any onto him.

he visibly beamed at you when you expressed your gratitude by muttering a small 'thank you', hoping that he, even in the slightest way possible, was able to help your mood and tiredness. you stayed in the cafeteria for a few more minutes before you had to go back to work. the young angel's mood dampened a little bit, but he understood and bid you goodluck with a smile. after that unintentional break you had, you walked to your office, a little more energetic now, was it because of the caffeine or the interaction you had with the young man? you're not sure. he reminded you of an old friend you had, but you shook those thoughts away as your office finally came in sight.

you were slightly surprised to see someone standing at your door, their knuckles knocking onto the door. you were always told you had such light, unaudible steps, now you realized how right they were. if you hadn't spoke, this person wouldn't have heard your arrival. even in the dark hallways, you were able to make out the person's appearance, and you didn't quite expect to see her here, especially at this hour.

"emily?"

you stated, your voice was somewhat husky, you figured it was because you hadn't interacted and spoke to someone in who knows how many days due to your work. the young seraphim slightly jumped at your voice, not expecting you to appear right beside her in the dark. she let out a nervous laugh, she was jittery, you could tell with how she played with her fingers and avoided eye contact. and when she finally spoke, you knew your hunch was correct.

"h-hey! no wonder no one was answering me, i thought you fell asleep in your office again!"

her smile was strained, it was quite obvious. you didn't question her as you gestured for her to enter your office with you. you placed the files you were carrying on the table, taking another sip of the coffee in your other hand as you nodded your head to one of the chairs, emily understood and with unsure movements, she sat down on the chair in front of your table. the atmosphere was tense, you could tell. she couldn't seem to stay still in her seat, eyes darting all around the room. the silence was deafening, though you wanted to break it yourself, you didn't want to overstep boundaries and ask her directly about why she was acting so... troubled. and it didn't take long before she took a deep breath and spoke.

"i heard there's going to be a meeting with the princess of hell."

her voice was quiet, but to you, it was loud and clear. you knew about the meeting, of course. sera and the others have informed you about this meeting a few days ago. you were one of the most important figures of heaven, so your presence there was mandatory. and you weren't surprised that emily knew about this meeting, as she herself was also a seraphim. though you wondered why she spoke of the meeting in such a tone. you expected her to be happy, especially since you knew of her curiousity about hell and the demons who reside in it. as you stared at the file in your hands, you gave a brief glance to her as an acknowledgement to continue. she hesitated for a few seconds before she eventually spoke again.

"sera didn't tell me. no one did. if i hadn't passed by and accidently heard them talk about it, i wouldn't have known."

at her words, you finally lifted your gaze. she wore a sad expression, her eyebrows low and down as her lips were. she seemed visibly upset. yeah, maybe sera was going to tell her and was about to do so, but the meeting is in two days. usually, sera would speak to her about the meetings at least a week before they were held. and when she found out that the meeting is on the day after tomorrow, she had her doubts that sera would tell her. maybe it was childish, but to emily, she thought that she at least had to be informed, she wanted to help her sister, in the preparation and such. but with how sera didn't tell her, nor did anyone, she figured that they may have not wanted her to attend and join, nonetheless know, about the meeting.

"she knows how much i want to know about hell, so why didn't she tell me? am i not allowed to join the meeting?"

you knew why sera didn't want her to know about it. yet you knew that you aren't the one in the place to tell emily any of those reasons. you knew the answer to both of the young seraphim's questions, but you made no move to answer them. that was not for you to tell. you didn't want her relationship with sera to be waned by whatever may happen during that meeting, and you understood why the older seraphim made an effort to ensure that emily doesn't know about it.

you didn't want to give emily any false hope, but you wanted to do what you could to make her feel better. so instead of giving her a sure answer, your eyes fell back on the file in your hand before you spoke.

"i will speak to her about it."

your reply didn't gurantee her anything, but as soon as she heard those words from you, she immediately smiled and brightened up. you and sera are very good friends, yes, but sera held onto her duties and responsibilities with an iron grip. and if one of those involved emily's safety, you knew convincing her wasn't going to be an easy task.

if it were anyone else, emily was sure that sera would just dismiss them, claiming that she was doing the right thing, but if it were you, then there's a silver of hope. she's beyond grateful that she had a friend like you, someone she could open to about all this. though, this all felt foreign to her. the feeling of not being included.

chants that vary from 'thank you's and 'you're the best's echoed in the room, emily was practically bouncing in her seat from the excitement. you were satisfied that you were able to bring up her mood, even just a little bit. the conversation continued, mostly from emily. she told you all about the events yesterday, rambling about random things. you would nod to her statements, eyes still focused on the tasks that need to be done. as soon as she started talking a little slower and quieter, you lifted your eyes to see a half-awake seraphim, blinking in and out of sleep. your initial thought was to offer her a drink of your coffee to stay awake, though as a doctor, you knew very well not to do so, that would be ridiculous with your title and knowledge in health.

you advised her to rest, letting her know that you would inform sera of her whereabouts soon. emily couldn't really make out what you were saying anymore, so she just nodded her head along with each word that escaped you. oh, how the tables have turned. you shook your head with a small smile before you stood up from your seat, making your way around the table. gently, you scooped the young seraphim up into your arms in bridal style, adjusting your hold on her to make sure she wasn't uncomfortable, and after the softest of snores left her, you knew.

as you reached one of the couches in your office, you gently laid her limp, sleeping form. you didn't really have any blankets here, as you never really sleep here (and you never expected anyone else to). so you just took off the dark blazer you had on, leaving you in your white dress shirt. your clothes were no doubt expensive, the sublte but intricately made accents in your favorite color.

you turn away momentarily to glance at your watch, it was almost five in the morning. as hectic as your schedule is, you have more work in half an hour, so you had to get ready to go back in the lab. you wrote a small goodmorning note to emily after grabbing a piece of paper and a pen, leaving the neatly folded note on the coffee table in front of the couch, you may or may not have also put a few candies as well. after hearing a satisfying pop from your stretched limbs, you braced yourself for another day of war. war against tiredness and work. but now you also had to add the little promise you had made to emily, you'll have to converse with sera soon.

a knock came from the door, one of the nurses on shift informing you that adam requested to meet with you at 8 am today. you pinched the bridge of your nose, already feeling the in coming headache. when will you ever catch a break?

[frogboy0]

THE HEAVEN CAST!!!!! WHOOOOOOO!!!!!

So first off, we got a redesign for the Exorcist Angel armor. I wanted to keep the colors light so they stand out when in Hell. I was also hugely inspired by Crusades armor, since the Crusades fought for religious territory, I thought taking inspo from there made sense.

Then we have Lute, Emily, Sera and Adam's designs. I'll explain it all under the cut if you're interested!!!

LUTE!!!!!!!!!! Sorry guys but she's basically a different character with the same name at this point

So I think that Lute was like a mentor figure to Vaggie, she was the closest thing Vaggie had to a (sorta) mom but it's defiantly like a student-master relationship.

I think that Vaggie trusted and cared for Lute deeply, she devoted all her time and energy into training in order to make not only Heaven better, but to make Lute proud. Lute was a HUGE driving force Vaggie's martyr complex.

But they were close!!!! The care wasn't just once sided, I think Lute did love Vaggie. I think they both care for each other SO much, that's why it will hurt SO MUCH when it's LUTE as the one to de-wing and banish Vaggie. She LOVED her, she TRUSTED HER!!!!!

Trust that I will be delving deeper into this in the future ✊✊✊

So Emily and Sera's designs and roles in the story are pretty much the same, I liked them in canon! They were fun and offered an interesting addition to the show!!!!

The main thing I chose to change was basically their hair and skin color tbh. I understand what the show was TRYING to do, w the fact that they're supposed to be black (and apparently those are supposed to be dreads in Sera????) but.......... It wasn't good.

With their canon skin color, I know a lot of angels have gray skin but to me, it looked like the designers didn't know whether to make Sera and Emily (especially Sera) gray or flesh colored, which then resulted in them trying to meet it in the middle and left us with this,,,, really ashy looking black skin in some shots which I didn't like.

I decided to just make them a darker gray so they can both be seen as black and also keep consistent with angels having gray skin :)

ALSO THAT ONE DOODLE WITH EMILY LOOKING AT CHAGGIE, I PROMISEEEEEE THAT SHE DOESN'T LIKE EITHER OF THEM LIKE THAT, I JUST DID IT TO BE FUNNY!!!!!!!!!!!!

(I think the ship is cute but personally, it's not for me ^^)

And finally..... ADAM!!!!!!!!!!!

So like Lute, Adam is basically a completely different character with that same name just slapped on.

I REALLY didn't like him in the show to be honest. I think we was an enjoyable character at times but he's totally like my second to last fav character (with my LEAST favorite being Lucifer LOL). I think it was an interesting take on Adam definitely!! To see him so cocky and full of himself bc of his title but....... It was just very...... Viziepop with the whole "original dick" thing......

Adam is the literal FATHER of humanity!!!? He is EVERYONE'S FATHER!!!!!! I don't understand the point of making him mean aside from the fact that he's supposed to be an opposing force in the show, but even then, just because he's the opposing force, doesn't mean he's gotta be a huge jerk!!!!!

I think it could be more interesting and add more nuisance to the story is Adam WAS this sweet, caring guy who, like the protagonists, is only doing what he thinks is right!

I'll delve more into Adam in my next post BUT everything he does is out of his trust in God and the Seraphims, he trusts them wholeheartedly and despite the fact that the Sinners of Hell were once his children too, he does what he must because his flaw isn't that he's egotistical or an asshole, it's that he cares and trusts with his entire being.

He's also best friends with Kris Kringle

[velvette-creations]

The softest hearts always have the toughest shields

Hazbin Hotel: Lute x Seraphim!Reader

Rating: Teen

WC: 1.2 k 

Prompt: Wound Care for @sweetspicybingo (Hurt/Comfort Bingo Collection)

Warnings: Blood, injury, stitches, needles, mild angst, hurt/comfort 

Summary: You tend to Lute after she returns to heaven in the aftermath of the extermination

To say Adam’s death caused panic and chaos in Heaven was an understatement; there were very few times when you saw Sera shaken to her core. Dread and hysteria chimed through the realm as hard truths came to fruition; angels could be killed, and souls in hell could be redeemed. The misfortune of Adam’s demise and the appearance of Sir Pentious as a redeemed soul had dealt her two blows, leaving her at a loss for words while Emily flitted away happily. She gushed over the new arrival, immediately showing him around.

“Please tend to Lute,” Sera whispered, gently touching your arm as the exterminators ascended back into the Heavenly Realm.

“Of course,” you assured her, noting that the eyes on her wings looked solemn and heavy.

Blood oozed from Lute’s amputated arm as she stumbled forward, rage emanating from her entire body. Adam’s halo and her sword clattered to the ground.  Her teeth gnashed, fingers digging into her flesh as she attempted to slow the bleeding. You stepped forward, gently placing your hands on her shoulders.

“Come, let me tend to you,” you murmured, flying over to a more private area. You had always admired Lute’s brash attitude and brute strength; you held a soft spot in your heart for her. She had suffered the pain of ripping off her own arm to save her life.  You could never handle being an exorcist; the very idea made you blanch with horror. While you often kept your opinions to yourself, you had been happy to learn that Charlie Morningstar had been correct in her assessment. Could this mean peace? Most likely not considering the angels that fell to their deaths at the hands of hell’s minions.

“Once I’m healed, I’m gonna fly down there and annihilate all their pathetic demonic asses! I’m gonna make them all suffer, tear them limb from limb, and shove their fingers down their fucking throats!” she growled as you pushed her into a chair before manifesting a bowl of warm water and a clean cloth. You gently cleaned her wound, wiping the luminous blood away.

“Let’s not be too hasty. You need to heal first. It will take time for your arm to regenerate,” you informed her, waving your hands to produce a spool of silk and a needle.

Confusion etched across her face. “Huh? It will grow back?”

“I see no reason why it shouldn’t.”

“Well fuck me, that’s the best news I’ve gotten all day,” she grumbled, wincing in pain as you began the sutures, working meticulously to ensure the wound was closed correctly. Angelic powers worked wonders, but specific measures must be taken. You pressed your palm to the sutured injury before coating it in your white light to help hasten the healing process.

You reached out to remove Lute’s black exorcist mask before skimming your fingers down her cheek. You noted how she pressed into your touch.“There we go, all done. I’m sorry about Adam. I know you two were close.”

Her shoulders slumped, her facade slowly crumbling as she allowed vulnerability to creep in. Her wings hung limply as tears rolled down her face. You caught her in your arms as she rocked forward, collapsing into your chest as your massive wings wrapped around her, further shielding her and allowing a private alcove for her grief and turmoil. Her tears soaked through your white dress while your hand soothingly stroked her short, white hair. You had never seen her so broken before. However, you had always suspected that a soft center lay beneath her hardened exterior. All the armor and weapons in the world couldn’t shield someone’s true nature or emotions, no matter how hard they fought. The tips of your feathers gingerly caressed her back as she lifted her head as one of your pillowy plumes slipped under her chin.

“You better not tell anyone you saw me cry, or I’ll….” You noted the way her voice cracked.

“Hmm let’s see, you’ll rip my wings off or smash my face in. I get the picture. Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me, but there is nothing wrong with showing emotion and empathy,” you said, a wry smile twitching on your lips. Lute always was…well, Lute.

She narrowed her eyes before swiping a tightly balled fist under her running nose. “So long as we’re on the same page,” she said.

You nodded to indicate to her that you were before tenderly brushing your fingers over her healing wound. “New skin is starting to form; that’s a good sign.”

“Y…yeah, thanks for patching me up,” she swallowed.

“It’s my pleasure. Part of my duties is looking after you exorcists,” you teased.

“I’m sure Seraphim have more important things to worry about than ripped body limbs,” she sighed, rubbing the area and getting used to the feeling. “What if it doesn’t grow back?”

“Then I suppose you’ll have to learn how to fight one-handed. If anyone can master such a feat, it would be you. You would make sure no one fucked with the one-armed exorcist.”

A small smile fluttered briefly across her face, her nose scrunching slightly. “Hey, maybe I could fuse a sword in place of my arm if it doesn’t regenerate.”

“See? Now you’re looking on the bright side!” You gently swiped your fingers under her eyes, swiping away her remaining tear tracks.

“Thanks for patching me up. You did a good job,” she murmured.

“It was my pleasure, Lute. Don’t forget to take time to grieve,” you said encouragingly as you squeezed her shoulders and stared into her pale yellow eyes.

Your eyes locked with hers for what seemed like an eternity. A pleasant warmth spread through your body as your fingers laced through the fingers of her remaining hand.

“Adam and I were close, but he was never the one I cared about…in that way,” she whispered.

“Oh.’ The word fell softly from your parted lips.

“I have to go see someone, but I’ll find you later?” she asked hopefully.

“Please do.”

You watched as she flapped away with Adam’s halo clutched in her hand. You pressed one hand to your chest as pleasant flutters filled your stomach before whisking away the mess and supplies before seeking out Sera to see if she needed assistance.

“I’m afraid we’re in a mess,” she sighed, rubbing her face.

“Things may seem hopeless now, but we’ll figure it out—we always do. It seems Charlie Morningstar might be on to something with her redemption plan. Hopefully, that will help us avoid an uprising in hell,” you reasoned.

“Let us hope.”

Lute found you that evening as you settled in your chambers, feet snug in cozy, fuzzy slippers as you relaxed and stretched your fluffy wings.

“Are you feeling any pain?” you questioned kindly as you guided her into your room.

“A little bit, but it’s nothing too bad,” she shrugged, “Man, you Seraphim lucked out with your quarters.”

“Part of the perks of being a high-ranking celestial beings,” you teased, gently bumping her with your elbow.

“Hmm, meanwhile, us exorcists do all the dirty work,” she teased, spinning around to face you, mischief sparking in her eyes.

“I must say…you look damn good with an exorcist blade in your hand,” you grinned, moving in closer, towering above her slightly.

Lute rolled onto her tiptoes before pressing her lips against yours. The searing kiss sparked through you.

“How about I show you what my hands can do?” you purred against her warm lips, squeezing her.

“Oh, you’ve read my mind,” she smirked as your wings wrapped around her.

[modifiedyincision]

my ‘winged lion seraph’ post has been doing its thing for a while but I’d like to note how that same seraphim stylization appears at another point, long before we even technically met the lion itself:

Everyone points out the armor, which is fair, because it’s definitely a lion with wings. But the shield has that seraph pattern. It’s a very particular, deliberate way to stylize wings and not a mistake or accidental. Wonder if there’s any other points where that’s visible?

[laughableillusions]

Doom 2016 and Eternal is so fucking gay ur telling me that the Seraphim tenderly carried the doom slayer to safety and carefully set his body into the sarcophagus and preserved his armor and then stored him somewhere private and safe that only HE knew about. Then a millennia later or something he puts the lives of hundreds of people on the line to retrieve it and try and revive the warrior inside to save them all??? Idc bro no homo is never that powerful

[margueritedaisies]

Ooh yea we really in for it now huh Luce?

*click for better quality*

Him in his Paradise Lost arc, aint no way Im makin Lucy wear that bland ass white robe or suit and tophat. Theres no way that even angels wore that stuff in his time. I gotta show off his actual glory in the rebellion. He was newly crowned as marshall and emperor that time afterall.

I just thought it'd be cool to base his armor on Polish hussars that time. They remind me so much of angels and valkyries. And its just so decorative and girlypop for a battle armor. Why the earhole have to be a heart tho. Its like lovecore and coquette in one armor.

Poles in the 14-1700s were so cunty when it came to clothes that it even extends to their military. Wait until you see the nobility🔥🔥🔥

I just added some motifs to relate to Lucifer. Seraphims, apples, upside-down morningstars, and scales.

[mages-pandoras-box]

New Verse and Muses

So this post is going to be in reference to this post I did a bit ago. I've decided to go for it and write a small AU and if it flops, it flops.

This is a crossover verse for Philza Minecraft and his Twitch chat, aka The Crows.

This post outlines the basics; full lore and bios will be made at a later date when I don't have work.

Philza Minecraft (yes, in this AU, that is his full name)

(This IS NOT my art. This was drawn by Ciearcab on Twitter. All credit goes to them)

Formally known as Azrael

Is the Angel of Death

Changed his name when he (willingly) left Heaven

Even after leaving Heaven, Phil still does his job as the Angel of Death - however, he does it his own way

Has his own personal army

Is the second oldest of the Seraphims

Lucifer's eldest brother

Isn't considered a 'Fallen Angel' because he was never cast out - he left Heaven on his own

Will secretly visit Hell in order to check in on his brother and niece

Is known as an Overlord named 'The Crowfather' within Hell, however most believe he is either dead or powerless.

After leaving Heaven, Phil settled on Earth. He has his own 'kingdom' hidden away from the humans.

Spends most of his free time building and expanding his land.

The Crows

Philza's personal angel army

Was nicknamed 'The Original Exorcist Army' during the first few years of Exterminations.

The army the Exorcists were based off of

Helps Philza collect human souls

The Crows are the beings who inspired the lore of the 'Grim Reaper' - while armored they all look the same so humans assumed there was only one of them

Helps souls get to either Heaven or Hell

Can appear as angels or actual crows

Spends most of their time as crows to save power

Only 5% of The Crows can speak; the rest use a text-to-speech bot build into their suits, clothes, and beaks they've all named 'Brian'

Most only wear their armor when in battle - the rest of the time they can be seen in clothes of various styles in various shades of green, black and gray (Philza's colors) - most still wear their masks and helemts

Armor and masks are based on Crows - they are often mistaken for plague doctors by humans

Depending on rank; some Crows have purple markings and eyes - the markings come from Philza's former color scheme as Azrael

Crows have gray skin and their hair comes in shades of pale green, white, black and gray.

All of the Crows' wings are black - depending on rank they might have purple or green undertones.

Not all of The Crows are Heavenborn

Memphis

One of Philza's Crows

Is heavenborn

A Higher ranking crow - one of the ones who can talk

Very quiet and stoic

Just because she CAN talk doesn't mean she WILL - still uses Brian on occasion.

Is in a similar position to Lute but isn't as close to Philza as Lute is to Adam.

Is one of the first Crows Philza created

Has been in the army for over 1,000 years

[ephemeral-lace]

Stand out from the crowd with this unique angel wing headdress Every day we introduce stylish ladies who gather at the "Shining Celestial Holy Maiden Tea Party"!

Connie (From England, living in Tokyo) model Today's fashion theme Angel Seraphim Headband ✹ Customize VooDooDolly Jumper skirt ✹ ATELIER-PIEEROT Blouse ✹ Glitter Tale Necklace ✹ Moss Marchen ring ✹ online belt ✹ handmade Socks ✹ BABY, THE STARS SHINE BRIGHT Instagram @mysterious_condiments

VooDoooDolly's headband is upgraded with a halo, angel wings, and a veil.

Necklace by Moss Marchen, belt by hand, claw armor ring online.

[llondonfog]

This is such a weird, RANDOM, and long ask (more like a rant tbh), but I wanted to say something because I can't get it out of my head.

BIBLICALLY ACCURATE ANGEL SILVER.

Before you boo me, I COULDN'T HELP IT. I just, can't get it out of my brain.

Like, Lilia just wakes up one day, sees this mini horror in Silver's bedroom, and freaks out before realizing that IS Silver.

Everything he knew about Silver's parents is a lie.

Then, Silver transforms back, but part way, so he has these cute little wings with soft, white feathers, and Lilia just MELTS.

He's freaked out, amazed, confused, but he wants to comfort Silver, who is both confused and possibly in pain from the transformation. Growing wings seems painful.

Like, he had 6 wings (3 sets of 2) in the horror-fest form that is a Biblically Accurate Angel (I both encourage and warn you against searching that up lol), and now he has 2-4 wings (possibly with the feathers attached to his head as Seraphim Angels have. I think). Compared to his default human body, that's a big difference, right?

Anyway, I wanted to share this with someone. You don't have to do anything with this, or even respond, but THE IMAGE. I love Silver and he's already angelic, so might as well add a Horrifying version of that, AND pretty wings in the more "normal" version. I just can't write or draw my vision LMAO so I have to cope with sharing it instead.

BIBLICALLY ACCURATE ANGEL SILVER IM IN LOVE????

BABY SILVER WITH BABY ANGEL WINGS!!! oh they are so soft and fluffy, like dreams and clouds and silk all at once!! the imagery of him draping them over lilia while they nap or simply shielding him from the sun with one as he gets older....my heart!!!

And then considering the imagery of extremely pissed off biblically accurate silver protecting his loved ones against any who would seek to bring them harm!!! Absolutely terrifying to behold!! I don't know why I'm partial to the specific one of the large eye surrounded by countless wings but that's what I think of!! All those wings to sweep up and protect his loved ones, and more to deal out powerful blows of damage, with one dizzying aurora-hued eye that can seem like the most gentle gaze that allows you to simply bask in unconditional acceptance or the most horrific choking sense of inevitable judgement for what you've done against the word of good.

FANTASTIC CONCEPT I WISH I COULD DRAW IT

on the other hand, the thought of lilia being in such awe and wonder of his child, this pure and innocent being who has been granted to him, who loves him unconditionally and uses his powers to make lilia's life kinder and easier as silver tries to take away the aches and pains and nightmares... I could see it verging into a cult of two territory; lilia being very protective and possessive of his son, the thought of throwing himself into service to protect the boy?angel?savior? at any and all costs, to be his knight in shining armor to keep him safe and unsullied from the world. silver becoming like this odd forest deity creature who pours his magic so willingly into the woods and gives freely to those that need his kindness, and his father is only too happy to kneel to him, renewed in his purpose to serve his benevolent, angelic son...

[proxylynn]

How strong is Adam actually?

[Power scaling is hard due to Heaven not having been fully fleshed out yet. The most influential Catholic angelic hierarchy was that put forward by Pseudo-Dionysius the Areopagite in the 5th or 6th century in his book De Coelesti Hierarchia (On the Celestial Hierarchy). Dionysius described nine levels of spiritual beings which he grouped into three orders:

Highest orders: Seraphim, Cherubim, Ophanim (thrones)

Middle orders: Dominions, Virtues, Powers

Lowest orders: Principalities, Archangels, Angels

During the Middle Ages, various schemes were proposed, some drawing on and expanding on Pseudo-Dionysius, others suggesting completely different classifications.

Now, with what we know of Vivz's lore shown so far, Angels have their own hierarchy, with certain groups and tiers of angels dictating the degrees of authority in their government, such as the high-ranking Seraphim. It has also been stated that the powers angels possess are distinct from the powers that demons possess, with the former inherently holding dominion over the latter. Seraphim are still up high on the power dynamic but we're told there are "Elders" and Sera herself answers to these beings who can outrank/outpower her, hinting they have the power to make an angel "Fallen". We saw the Cherubs in Helluva Boss but, like they are in modern media, they aren't like their biblical source as badass warrior enforcement, but cute baby-like messengers that appear near on par with Imps (this might have been just the ones in the episode or the joke due to both groups being parallels for the bit). Ophanim are also present and have been since the start (the many-eyed wheel heads) but we don't know their role or if they are still up there with Seraphim but likely so. In the episode "Overture", Adam mentions a sexual encounter with a "Virtue chick". The term "Virtue" is also often the angelic counterpart of the Seven Deadly Sins, each one being a direct inverse of the respective sin. It is unknown which use of "Virtue" Adam was referring to.

Which now brings me to Adam and the Exorcists. Adam is a human soul that went to Heaven and for being an ordained mortal soul, the dude is fucking OP, on par with Overlords, which I think is hilarious considering I believe mortal souls being angels are the bottom bitches of Heaven's citizens which shows just how insane divinity can be when compared to the demonic powers. Now for the hard part, because Adam hints at making the Exorcists. We don't know if they are former human souls like him or if he himself made them, as he even gave Vaggie her name and Carmilla refers to the other Exorcists as Vaggie's sisters. Now this could mean they are all creations, and it does fit with Adam's ego to make a group of women who are subordinates under his command, but they also could've easily been recruited by Adam and he merely gave them new names upon being Exorcists. I also think Exorcists are even weaker than basic angels and are as barebones as an angel could be possible. Exorcists rely heavily on their weapons and lack defense, wielding no shields and having little armor, very much brutal crusaders that live for the slaughter of the damned under the guise of a holy mission...They're pawns. They also appear to lack abilities other than flight and making portals to traverse realms. Exorcists are very bloodthirsty and love violence. They seem to take sadistic joy in killing demons. Their loyalty is a core staple of their character, even so, Exorcists don't tolerate betrayal of any kind, and express hatred for Vaggie and the desire to gleefully kill her when offered the chance to go after her, becoming even more eager to do so when Adam offered a reward to the Exorcist who successfully brings him Vaggie's head.]

{So after all that, to answer your question of how strong is Adam...The dude was fucking strong. As the first human soul to go to Heaven and with millennia of training under his belt, his strength was up there to possibly archangel level and he was a threat to take seriously.}

Abilities

Flight - Adam had a set of wings that he could use to fly at great speed. He could also remove a feather from his wings to use as a quill pen.

Nephokinesis - He could control clouds he creates and make them into steps.

Cloud creation - With a flap of his wings, he can create a gust of clouds around him.

Immense strength - He was shown to be able to smash a light projector in front of him with brute strength in a moment of rage, and later shatter Alastor's barrier with a single punch. He was also shown to be strong enough to physically overpower Charlie, despite the latter assuming her full demon form. However, Charlie managed to use more of her demonic powers to stop him from punching Lucifer, utterly overpowering him and confusing him, indicating that he is only stronger than Charlie if she doesn't focus on all her power.

Enhanced endurance - Despite having not experienced pain for likely millennia, Adam was able to easily shrug off getting stabbed by Charlie with her trident despite saying that it hurt and he quickly retaliate after being repeatedly punched in the face by Lucifer.

Angelic power - As an angel, he most likely possessed high angelic power, especially as the leader of the Exorcists. His strength was proven to be immense, surpassing all but the strongest of Demons and Sinners as he was able to easily overwhelm both Alastor and later Charlie, who had assumed her full demon form and could have won had Lucifer not interfered.

Portal creation - Adam could create portals for other Angels to use, notably to transport himself and his Exorcist army to Hell at the start of each annual extermination. He also opened a portal to banish Charlie and Vaggie back to Hell in "Welcome to Heaven".

Conjuration - Adam could summon objects as he pleased, summoning his guitar and physical Exorcist copies during Hell is Forever, a golden scroll informing Charlie of Heaven's decision to move up the next Extermination, and a piece of golden paper to write on in court.

Alteration - Adam also showed he could alter the objects he created, such as when he made his axe guitar larger while fighting Alastor.

Photokinesis - Adam could fire blasts of holy light strong enough to vaporize Sir Pentious and his war machine in one small blast and slice tall buildings in half. He also showed he could channel his light through his guitar/axe to create powerful blades of light that were able to cut through Alastor's cane and through his fist to destroy demonic barriers. In "Overture", he created a giant bright orb of light above him while he was singing Hell is Forever.

Skillset

Musical talent - He was capable of singing and in "Overture" was implied to have been part of a band.

Guitar-playing - Adam was talented at playing the guitar and did so seemingly whenever he could.

Axe proficiency - Adam wielded his guitar-axe with amazing skill as he could fight out and seriously wound Alastor during their duel.

Leadership - Adam appeared to be a competent and capable leader of the Exorcists, often personally leading them into battle. Additionally, Adam appears to genuinely care for his subordinates.

Strategic mind - In both "Overture" and "The Show Must Go On", Adam demonstrates sound and logical thinking both in and out of combat; in the former, Adam waits to begin the next extermination so as not to prematurely reveal his plan, while in the latter, Adam personally attacks high-threat targets to even the odds for his Exorcists, as seen with his battle with Alastor, since he recognized him as the conjurer of the hotel's barrier.