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lenaellsi · 7 months

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“Crowley is still an angel deep down” “Crowley is more of an angel than any of the archangels” “Crowley was only cast out because he needed to play his part in Armageddon, he's not a real demon” “Aziraphale wants to rebuild Heaven to be more like Crowley because he’s what an angel should be” no. Stop it. This is exactly where Aziraphale went wrong.

Crowley is 100% a demon. He's not actually a bit of an angel, and he's not cosmically better than any of the other demons we see in the series. He's much less vicious than most of them, yeah, but he's also much less vicious than most of the angels, because how “nice” a celestial being is has nothing to do with which side they're technically on. Crowley's kindness comes from him doing his best to help people despite the hurt he's suffered himself, not any sort of inherent residual or earned holiness. He was cast out just like the rest of the demons, and that's an important part of his history that shouldn't be minimized, excused, or, critically, 'corrected.'

Being angelic is not a positive or negative trait in the Good Omens universe. It's a species descriptor. Saying that Crowley is still an angel deep down because he helps people is an in-character thing for Aziraphale to think, certainly--Job and the final fifteen showed that in the worst possible way--but it's not something Crowley would ever react well to, and it's the main source of conflict in the entire "appoint you to be an angel" fiasco.

We know that Aziraphale thinks Crowley's fall was an injustice, but why? Well, because Crowley is actually Good, which means his fall was a mistake, or a test, or a regrettable error in judgment, or…something. Ineffable. Etc. The point is, he’s special, much better than those other demons, and if they can fix him and make him an angel again, everything will be fine! (So once Job's trials are over, everything will be restored to him? Praise be!) Aziraphale has to believe that Crowley's better traits come from traces of the angel he used to know and not the demon he's known for 6,000 years, because that’s how he can rationalize his incorrect view of Heaven as The Source Of Truth And Light And Good with his complicated feelings about Crowley's fall.

But Crowley's fall was not an injustice because he's actually a Good Person who didn't deserve it. Crowley's fall was an injustice because the entire system of dividing people into Good (obedient) and Bad (rebellious) is bullshit. Crowley is not an unfortunate exception to God's benevolence, he is a particularly sympathetic example of God's cruelty.

And really, Crowley doesn't behave at all like an angel, especially when he's at his best. All of the things that he's done that we as the audience consider Good are things that Heaven has directly opposed. (See: saving the goats and children in defiance of God in S2E2, convincing Aziraphale to give money to Elspeth despite Heaven's views on the "virtues of poverty" in S2E3, speaking out against the flood and the crucifixion in S1E3, tempting Aziraphale to enjoy earthly pleasures because he thinks they'll make him happy, stopping Armageddon.)

Heaven as an institution has never been about helping humanity. And that's not an issue of leadership, as Aziraphale seems to think--it's by design. Aziraphale's first official act as an angel toward humanity was to literally throw them to the lions. Giving them the sword wasn't him acting like an angel, it was just him being himself. Heaven doesn't care about humans. It's not supposed to. It's supposed to win the war against Hell, with humans as chess pieces at best and collateral damage at worst.

Yes, it's easier to think that there are forces that are supposed to be fundamentally good. It's easier to think that Aziraphale is going to show those mean archangels and the Metatron what’s coming to them and reform Heaven into what it "should" be, and that God is actually super chill and watching all of this while shipping ineffable husbands and cheering for them the whole way. And of course it's easier to take Crowley, who Aziraphale (and the audience) adores, and say that he deserves to be on the Good team much more than all those angels and demons that we don’t like. But that's not how it works. People are more complicated than that, even celestial beings.

Crowley is a demon, and the tragedy of his character is not that he's secretly a good guy who is being forced to be evil; the tragedy is that he's lived his whole life stuck between two institutional forces that are both equally hostile to the love he feels for the universe and the beings in it. There are no good and bad guys. There are no "right people." Every angel, demon, and human is capable of hurting or helping others based on their choices. That is, in fact, the entire fucking point.

#good omens meta #good omens #good omens season 2 #crowley #long post #i feel like this is obvious. and yet #when crowley is kind he is NOT acting angelic. the same is true of aziraphale.#(to a point. i do think aziraphale performs 'niceness' sometimes because he feels like it's something he Should do as an angel)#(but that's because aziraphale has so many issues i cannot detail them in the tags of this crowley post)#this is my second long meta post in like 3 days. sorry. it’s my first free weekend in a while

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karenxmenfan · 2 years

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https://www.comicsxf.com/2022/10/18/the-verdict-is-passed-in-a-x-e-eternals-1/

#writing #comics xf #cxf #kieron gillen #pasqual ferry #a.x.e. judgment day #eternals #ajak #celestials #rasmus lykke

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assriels · 20 days

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take me to church

pairing: azriel x f!reader

summary: azriel was not a religious male, but you were his goddess incarnate and he would willingly worship at your feet until his dying breath

word count: 3.8k

warnings: smut (18+!! mdni pls), canon typical religious imagery, allusions to azriel’s work but nothing explicit

a/n: my hozier era has returned i fear

masterlist

banners by @/cafekitsune !

Azriel was not a particularly religious male, offering his acknowledgement to the Mother oftentimes in the heat of battle, on the brink of death as a curse on his lips, hoping someone somewhere would heed his plea to live another day. Whatever religious underpinnings existed within him were but remnants from ancient tradition, built into his body as steadily as his bones. But, aside from the rare moments he’d faced Death and lived, Azriel was not one to offer daily prayers of thanks.

Since meeting you decades ago however, Azriel had considered more and more changing his relative indifference to the celestial beings that reigned. He was sure he hadn’t done anything in his lifetime to deserve you as a lover — let alone a mate — but still the Mother blessed him, and for that he was more grateful than words or prayers could ever express.

Every brush of your lips against his skin, every tender gaze and soft smile was enough to bring Azriel to his knees every night before the altar between your legs. He sang praises and hymns until his jaw was sore, desperate to pull those seraphic moans from the depths of your throat as he worshiped you ceaselessly. He pledged his life to you the moment the bond snapped for him, never having been able to imagine an existence without you by his side.

Azriel had assumed that he was condemned to a life of desolation and loneliness, rotting with guilt and insecurity for all the things he had done and all the things he could never be. But despite the blood that perpetually stained his scarred hands and the weight of his past burdening his shoulders, you never shied away. Never so much as frowned when he confessed to you the serpentine nature of his hidden work for the Night Court or the calamity he’d endured as a young, lost child.

You had sat and listened all those years ago, delicate fingers tracing the calluses on his palm as if the lines on his hands whispered all of the things he left unsaid. You’d understood the complexities of his character, loved them as much as you loved every other part of him.

You made your unwavering affection for him known at every possible opportunity, often massaging away the crease between his brows when you knew he was losing himself to the spiral of his unwanted thoughts. You’d kiss his forehead and run your fingers through his hair, silent but understanding as you allowed him time to open himself up to you in whatever manner he pleased.

Azriel’s adoration of you was no different. He cherished the way you confided in him, revealing to him the depths of your own darkness and fears. He would safeguard your trust with his dying breath, always and forever striving to be your safe space, a lockbox where you could store your darkest thoughts and insecurities without fear of judgment.

Just as you had always done for him. Just as you were doing now.

In the comfort of your shared bedroom in your private residence, you wrapped your arms around his waist from behind, rolling on to your toes to kiss the back of his neck while he undid the intricate laces and buckles of his leathers. Your deft fingers soon joined his in the process as you both worked in comfortable silence to unfasten the tediously complex web of clasps.

The tension in his shoulders and the microscopic ruffle in his brow was all you needed to conclude that his latest task was a gruesome one. One of those missions that tended to stick around, following him and taunting him until his guilt festered and spread.

“Do you want to talk about it?” You asked, voice steady as you removed the last of his Siphons secured tightly around his bicep. It was an effort not to gawk at his exquisite physique that lay hidden beneath the constricting leathers; no matter how many times you’d seen Azriel shirtless, you didn’t think you’d ever get used to the sight.

He hummed in response, taking a moment to survey his torso in the mirror for any cuts or bruises that needed tending to. When he didn’t spot any — most of them had quickly stitched themselves together on the flight back home — he met your gaze in the mirror and shook his head gently, “Not really.”

Azriel was somewhat avoidant by nature, too used to minimizing his feelings in lieu of the success of a mission, but the gentle definitiveness in his tone told you all you needed to know. He’d open up about this latest operation when he was ready, but he needed time to process and think, formulate coherent thoughts about what had transpired. And as much as you wanted to soothe the emotional aches and pains you knew plagued him after every mission, you would give him that time.

You sighed and came to stand in front of him, taking both his cheeks in your hands as you forced his gaze to yours. It took everything in him not to lose himself in those pretty eyes of yours.

Azriel could sense the worry you habitually hid in the moments after he returned home, and so he leaned into your touch, turning to kiss the heart of your palm before offering you reassurances, “I’m okay. Promise.”

Azriel held his pinky out cutely and you chuckled, shaking your head fondly before wrapping your own around his. You used your joined hands as leverage to pull him down to slot your lips over his. Azriel sighed contentedly at the pressure of your kiss, his long lashes fluttering shut as his hands repositioned themselves around your body.

One hand splayed steadily on the cage of your ribs as the other made the devious trek down, grabbing a handful of your ass to squeeze playfully.

You yelped and pulled away as he smirked at you fondly. His gaze traveled over your shoulder to look in the mirror, never tiring of how the curves of your body looked pressed against his.

The two of you stayed like that for a long while, Azriel’s chin hooked over your head as your arms wound themselves comfortably around his waist. The cadence of his heartbeat was one you were well acquainted with, like a steady metronome that measured itself to the beat of your own heart.

When he pressed his lips to the crown of your head, you murmured, “Want to take a bath?”

You felt the near imperceptible quickening of his pulse against your ear and you pressed yourself further into his chest, reveling in the way he so instinctively reacted to every little thing you did.

“Only if you join me,” he responded cheekily, corners of his lips twitching in affectionate jest.

You hummed and pretended to think about it, shifting to rest your chin against his heart, pretty lashes fluttering as you looked up at him.

“I could be convinced.”

Gods, how beautiful you looked. How beautiful you always looked. Your charming allure caught Azriel off guard every single time you merely breathed in his direction, and he briefly wondered if he’d ever get used to the ease in which you enchanted him without even meaning to.

Unable to resist, his hands came up to cradle your jaw, supporting your neck as he bent down to kiss you, his nose brushing affectionately against yours as he pulled away.

“I’ll carry you,” he offered, lips brushing your skin, hazel eyes never once leaving yours.

“Deal,” you said, laughing delightedly when he lifted you, throwing you playfully over his shoulder to make a beeline to the bathroom.

Running a bath — a normally automatic part of Azriel’s routine — was made infinitely harder when he was so busy pressing his lips to your jaw, your cheeks, your mouth. He wasn’t sure what had gotten into him tonight — maybe it was the adrenaline from a hard task completed, the warmth of home coaxing him to let go and savor you — but he wasn’t complaining. And neither were you, if the way you matched his fervor was anything to go by.

When both of you finally settled into the warm water, he sighed in contentment, lazily, adoringly watching as the tension eased out of your shoulders.

Before you came into his life, Azriel had never really understood the desire to worship. He knew logically that it was an act of devotion, but never did he really feel the inclination to pray to a god in thanks.

But it was moments like these — the wonderfully mundane moments of bliss with you — that finally made him understand. If the Mother was anything like you, it wasn’t difficult for Azriel to fathom a devotee’s need to pray.

He thought this as he ran his soapy hands gingerly over your body, as he buried his fingers in your hair to massage your scalp. If you were his goddess, then these were his acts of reverence and he would practice until his physical body no longer could.

And when you did the same for him, when you gently scrubbed his back and wings and arms and chest with the deliberation and gentility of an artist with a craft, he thought that maybe this gratification was what the gods felt when their followers prayed.

After a while, once the soap had run down the drain and the water was warm and clear again, you settled against him with your back pressed to his chest.

It was in that moment he realized the arousal that had slowly eked its way into his bloodstream; he had been too busy basking in the feel of your fingertips on his aching muscles to realize that your lovingly innocent touch had made him hard. Embarrassingly so.

“Sorry,” he mumbled sheepishly, his attention now on the way his cock pressed so tightly against your lower back.

Your laugh — melodic and lovely — curled around his ears in a lover’s embrace, “Don’t be sorry. I’m irresistible, I know.”

He knew you’d meant to tease, but he couldn’t help but agree; if he didn’t know any better, he would’ve thought that you’d casted a spell on him to ensnare his unyielding devotion to you. Your head fell back onto his shoulder and you captured his chin in your fingers to tilt his lips towards yours.

This kiss, unlike the ones you two had shared earlier in the night, was much more insistent, revving your desire with each stroke of his tongue.

His hands remained frustratingly chaste on the curve of your waist, and you squirmed in his embrace, willing him to touch you. The pressure of him against your back and the feel of his mouth — now leaving a scathing trail of little bites down your neck — pressed to your skin left the space between your legs slick with a wetness unattributable to the warm bath water.

Your hand settled over his and for a brief moment your mind flickered to appreciation of the ridges raised by the scars that wound themselves like vines up his fingers to his wrists. Azriel had always been somewhat self conscious of the puckered skin of his hands, but you stood firm in the belief that they only served to make him that much more wonderful.

(And you couldn’t deny the pleasurable sensation they added when his fingers were buried inside you. But that was neither here nor there.)

You guided his touch as he reared back up to kiss you again. You led one of his hands down between your legs and the other to your chest, where he eagerly played with the peak of your nipples.

“Oh?” he intoned, amusement coloring his inquiry at the feel of how wet he now realized you were.

“Sorry,” you muttered, mimicking his earlier apology with much less sheepishness.

“Don’t be sorry,” he mimed back to you. His hands fell into a practiced rhythm, circling your clit with delicious pressure.

You arched into his touch, moans falling from your lips as he teased your entrance before he mercifully sank a single digit into you. The stretch was a welcome feeling, but it quickly dissolved into the need for more. But it seemed that Azriel was in no hurry, languidly alternating between lazy strokes and nonchalant circles.

You arched again, silently pleading with him to give you more as you gripped his knee beneath the now tepid water. Though the heat of your body alone was probably enough to re-warm the bath.

Azriel indulged you, unable to resist your alluring pull. He added another finger to his ministrations, blissfully dizzy with the sounds falling from your lips. His other hand snaked from your nipples down between your legs, timing his well placed caresses of your clit to the unrelenting plunge of his fingers.

He knew you were close — so quick, he thought with a lethal satisfaction — by the octave of your moans and the desperate way your hands fought for purchase on his legs, your breasts.

He bit down on that wonderfully tender spot at the junction between your shoulder and neck, and shivered when he felt you clench around his fingers, walls pulsing temptingly around his fingers as you came.

Azriel captured your lips with his own once more, prolonging the pleasure from your release for as long as possible. You shifted to straddle him, never once breaking the kiss as the water sloshed dangerously close to the lip of the tub.

The way you ground your hips down onto his had him groaning, eyebrows furrowing with the effort to restrain himself. He could take you now, could give in to your attempts to guide him inside you, but you were shivering, goosebumps raising the skin on your back and shoulders as the chilled water and even chillier night air caressed your form.

Besides, his mind was working in overdrive, crafting plan after plan to have you keening and arching for him, all of which required a more comfortable setting than the marble bathtub in your bathroom.

He stood with ease, looping your legs around his midsection to carry you back to the bed.

He tossed you softly — though quite unceremoniously — onto the bed, and you would have complained about getting the sheets wet, but 1) you knew Azriel would make an obscene joke about how they’d get wet anyway and 2) the feel of his cock grinding against your clit was enough to rob your consciousness of any coherent thought.

Azriel was murmuring sweet endearments into your damp skin as he made the excruciatingly slow trek down your body, his lips mapping a tedious trail of kisses down your torso as if he were committing each ridge and valley to memory in fear that he’d lose his way on the journey back.

Finally, finally his mouth found that wonderfully sweet spot between your legs and he licked a broad stripe up the length of you. You shivered as he lingered, tongue lazily alternating between teasingly shallow strokes inside you to wide circles around your clit.

It was torture of the purest kind that he wasn’t giving you exactly what he knew you wanted, and by the wicked glint in his darkened hazel eyes, you could tell he was being intentional. Your fingers found their home in the impossibly silky and slightly damp strands of his hair as you attempted to pull his mouth tighter against you, petulant pout curving your lips downward.

His responding chuckle was enough to make you groan, the reverberation vibrating against your cunt before settling tantalizingly in your bones. Azriel’s arms came up to encircle your legs, effectively keeping you from grinding your hips up. You tossed your head back and keened, giving in to the languidness of his affections.

Your eyes met his at the sound of a purposely lewd smack of his lips against you, and you felt him smirk against you before you were swiftly flipped over.

“Azriel!”

What was meant to be a gasp of surprise quickly devolved into a moan of pleasure by the time the last syllable of his name left your lips. You were acutely aware of the sudden switch in positions as you were now straddling your mate’s head.

He coaxed your gaze down to his with a featherlight touch down your spine, and you were met with a swirling mix of love, lust, and adoration swimming in pools of hazel. Your chest swelled momentarily and you probably would’ve said something sweet and much more coherent than what left your mouth as he pulled you down onto him and feasted.

Azriel was addicted to the way he could make you fall apart, even from beneath you with your knees straddling his head. It was borderline sinful – an angel brought to the precipice of obscenity and seduction.

His hips shifted on the bed, body desperate to find friction. But this moment was yours, and so Azriel refrained from giving in to his baser physical desires. His tongue sang praises against your cunt, his hymns translated to the exquisite moans that fell from your lips.

It wasn’t long before you were toppling over that wonderful edge into what felt like a never ending orgasm. You could barely register the change in your positions again, head spinning and dizzy with insurmountable pleasure; before you knew it, your back was pressed against the cool sheets of the bed, eyes glassy with a post-orgasm haze.

Azriel leaned down to kiss you then, a sweet contrast to the near indecent way you could taste yourself lingering on his lips. He took his time kissing you, sending you wave after wave of undying love and loyalty down that invisible golden tether wound tight around your heart.

You briefly thought of returning the favor, of flipping him onto his back and putting your mouth on him in just the way you knew would coax those wonderfully rare sounds of unbridled, wanton pleasure from him. But his body was heavy against yours – a more than welcome comfort – and you couldn’t find the strength in you to pull away from the warmth of his skin.

You arched into him as you wound your arms around his neck, pulling him closer while you encircled your legs around his waist. Relishing in the way he shuddered against you, you urged your hips up to grind against his, aching for the feel of him despite having just orgasmed. Twice.

Thankfully he obliged you, shifting to ease himself inside you, slowly – gods, so slowly – pushing into you with the deliberation and practiced self-discipline of a male centuries trained in espionage.

Azriel let out a half-restrained groan when his hips were flush against yours, always marveling at how close you could make him without even lifting a finger. He had meant to take a few moments to collect himself, not wanting to ruin the moment with a quick release (though admittedly he was struggling), but you shifted beneath him impatiently as you whispered salacious pleas into the shell of his ear.

The drag of his cock in and out of you was a pleasure you weren’t sure you’d ever get used to, and you couldn’t help the prurient sounds that tumbled from your lips. Though, this just seemed to urge Azriel faster, more insistent in the most delicious way.

You knew he was close by the way his breath hitched in his throat and his fingers tightened around the flesh of your thigh. The feel of his abs flexing as he pushed his hips into yours and the perfectly timed grind of his hips against your clit filled your head with a heady, hazy bliss and you nearly forgot where you were for a moment.

You wound your fingers into his hair to steady him as you bit kisses into his jaw, nails raking a gentle path of encouragement down his back.

“Come for me, Az,” you half-pleaded, half-commanded.

And he did. With a gasp and moan so beautiful it sent you into another spiral of pleasure, arching into him as he whispered incoherent praises into your neck.

As you basked in the aftermath, chest heaving and legs tangled beneath your fluffy duvet, Azriel couldn’t help but feel a lightening in his chest. He once again thought of how he had been shown so much mercy, so much kindness by the Mother, the gods – who or whatever governed the celestial plane of existence – to be bound so graciously to you. He never ceased to be amazed that he had met his goddess incarnate and had the overwhelming honor of loving her.

With your cheek resting above his heart, he didn’t doubt that you could hear the quickening of his pulse when he pressed his lips to your hair. “I love you.”

Those three words were his prayer, his penance, his praise, and he would never stop offering them to you so long as you allowed him the privilege of saying them. He could feel you smile as you kissed his collarbone, sleepily offering your benediction in return, “Love you.”

As you fell asleep, encased in the warmth and safety of his arms, he idly traced the lines of your mating tattoo, swirling tendrils of ink dancing up your hip to your waist. He always loved how they were so reminiscent of his shadows. The shadows that were now winding through your hair and tickling your cheeks in adoration.

As he too began slipping into the sweet relief of slumber, he briefly thought of his mission – it had felt so far away, so long ago now that he was guarded within the shield of your presence – and the guilt and sorrow he’d feel in the coming days. He used to dread the aftermath of his work, never allowing himself to rest comfortably for fear that sleep would be too much of an undeserved reprieve for the atrocities he’d committed.

But ever since he selfishly allowed himself to love and be loved by you, he had found solace in your embrace. You couldn’t offer absolution of his sins – if such a thing even existed – but he was certain you were his salvation. An offering from the Cauldron – that he was convinced he was wholly unworthy of – as a chance to right his wrongs. You listened and loved him and saw him for all of the parts he was ashamed of, and for that he would willingly spend the rest of his life striving to deserve.

(Though he was sure you’d frown at him and adamantly insist that he need not do anything but exist to deserve the love you gave him.)

As he let himself descend into the comforting darkness of sleep, Azriel thought that if he would be punished in his next life for the sins he committed in this one, as long as he’d be able to love you through it all it would be worth it.

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mi-i-zori · 1 month

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Until The End

CoD - Greek Mythology AU - Hades!Soap x Persephone!Reader

SYNOPSIS : Hades’ thoughts to his Queen.

WARNINGS : None.

Author’s Note : Inspired by @charliemwrites ‘ version of a Greek Mythology AU. I really wanted to try and write a little something about it - it was meant to be longer at first, but I’ve been kind of stuck lately. Still, I kinda like it, so here you go o/

I do not give permission to re-publish, re-use and/or translate my works, be it here or on any other platform.

It didn’t take much for the mortals to forget all about us.

Even though they still talk about us ; write about us ; grace celestial bodies with our names ; and fantasise about our time…

We are now nothing more than myths in the back of their minds. Stories to be analysed over and over, used to teach about the ruins of a civilisation that merged into many. An empire devoid of its former glory.

It didn’t take much for the mortals to forget all about us.

And it took even less for some of the Gods to forget about each other.

The Titans have long since gone silent down in Tartarus, and so have Orpheus’ songs. The souls hovering in the Underworld have all been sent out to a new life, their newfound beliefs condemning Cerberus to guard gates that are never to be opened again. There is no judgment to be given, no life to be retrieved.

In the end, the Earth keeps spinning. The sun keeps shining, and the moon keeps rising. The seasons, too, keep changing, following their never-ending dance from one hemisphere to the other. The foundations of this world remain the same.

Yet you no longer grace my domain with your light.

Time spares no one. Not even us Gods are immune against its passing.

But I refuse to forget.

I still spend my nights in the bed we used to share. The scent of your perfume vanished eons ago, yet my dreams are filled with visions of you. Your laughter echoes in the back of my mind, and flowers bloom in my memory - just like they did before, following you wherever you went. Their petals glisten with phantom dew.

Do you dream about me too ?

I cannot seem to remember where my body has been left to wither ; but every new vessel I find shall guide me to yours. The Moiras no longer spin any thread - so I keep clutching the one binding our souls together in my war-torn hands, hoping that you, too, glance longingly at it whenever it meets your eyes.

It might not be the case, however. If so, I will make it my goal to remind you of every single memory we once shared.

It didn’t take much for the mortals to forget all about us.

And it took even less for some of the Gods to forget about each other.

But I will not follow their lead.

For you hold a special place inside of me.

A place I shall guard until the End.

#cod x reader #call of duty x reader #cod mw2 #x reader #cod au #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #soap cod #johnny soap mactavish #john soap mctavish x reader #soap mactavish x reader #soap mw3 #soap x reader #john soap mactavish #greek mythology au

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deviliciousnavy · 2 years

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CHAPTER 2: THE INTRUDER

Monkey King arrives in the Celestial Realm and bumps into some familiar faces.

SPOILER ART

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devildomwriter · 1 year

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Lilith’s Life

Appearance

Lilith appears to be a thin pale woman with long pale hair and a set of white wings. She has an off the shoulder floor length dress with puffy sleeves. She was often seen smiling.

Personality

Lilith is hinted to be very playfully and sometimes painfully blunt—When she first met Michael she compared him to a jellyfish which upset him and got her in trouble. She was spoiled by her brothers who completely adored her but she was especially close with Belphegor and Beelzebub who she was almost never seen apart from.

Belphegor notes that when Lilith got mad about something it was hard to snap her out of it, she was also easily scared. As described by Mammon she was very cute and mischievous.

She enjoyed playing hide and go seek and liked visiting the human world with Belphegor. She fell in love with a human, so much so that she’d risk facing the ultimate punishment to save his life.

MC is often described as being very similar to Lilith so it can be assumed Lilith’s personality is also similair.

Lilith’s Life & Legacy

Lilith, like all angels was created by her father, God. She was the youngest of the seven siblings. She became very close to Belphegor and Beelzebub and was almost never seen without them. Lucifer and her other brothers loved her very much even though she sometimes gave Lucifer trouble.

Lilith spent her days happily with her brothers on picnics, playing hide and seek, and flllwing her brothers around. One day she decided to visit the human world with Belphegor and fell in love with it.

Lilith continued visiting the human world without permission and met a human man she fell for. She kept her celestial origins a secret and they presumably were courting.

At one point Lucifer visited the human world to see what kind of man this human was and was relieved when he saw he appeared to be a kind man.

One day the human man was overcome with an incurable illness. Out of desperation to save the man she loved, Lilith stole fruit from the tree of life to save him. For an angel to alter a human’s life span is forbidden, what she did was immediately found out and she was brought before the seraphs (presumably) to hear their judgment.

Lucifer was unable to stop the verdict and Lilith was sentenced: to be wiped from existence (OG game), have her wings taken from her and cast into the darkness to wander for eternity and never be reborn (Nightbringer)

Lucifer had already had thoughts of leaving the celestial realm but with this verdict he and his brothers decided they couldn’t sit back and let that happened and Lucifer began the war. Lucifer did not insist his brothers follow him into battle but they did so anyway for Lilith’ sake.

It’s not clear if Lilith was imprisoned and later freed, but she did take part in the war.

On the day of the fall a spear was aimed at her at the same time Belphegor was targeted, Beelzebub could only save one and chose Belphegor. He described Lilith having terror and sadness in her eyes as she was struck (implied to be her wing that was hit) and they all fell.

Bleeding and unable to use her wings to save her, Lilith fell to the Devildom. As an angel it wasn’t the fall that nearly killed her but the celestial weapon combined with the Devildom air in her weak state. Lilith did not turn into a demon when she fell as she was meant to die.

Lucifer found her and pledged his loyalty to Diavolo to save her in time. Diavolo risked war to save Lilith by having her reborn as a human. In the game it’s not specified if he simply altered her genetics and erased her memories and sent her back to the human world or if he had her reincarnated, but in the comics it is shown Lilith was turned into an infant and literally reborn.

Not much is known about what happened to Lilith after this. She had no memory of being an angel, of the war, and of her dear family. Since we do not know in the game if she was still grown and able to reunite with her love we don’t know if she ended up with him in the end; however she would fall in love and marry and have at least one child. She is stated to have had a long and happy life as a human.

Upon her death, Lilith remembered everything, about her brothers, being an angel, the war, and Lucifer’s sacrifice for her. Lilith did not go into the light, instead she stayed behind to watch her brothers as a spirit. She stayed for so long that she forgot how to go to the light and waited for an opportunity to say goodbye though she didn’t have the strength.

In the game, Lilith is able to use some power to send a RAD application profile of MC to Lucifer’s feet by having the window fly open. Lucifer chose MC for this reason and Lilith was able to use her descendant to help her brothers. MC would have visions of Lilith’s life including Lucifer’s final words to her, they repeated these words to Lucifer to prove they were Lilith’s descendant.

Lilith thanks MC for their help and is able to move on.

In the comics, MC uses some of their power to have Lilith appear before the brothers one last time so they can say proper goodbyes before she finally ascends into the light.

Summary

Some may criticize Lilith for what happened in the wake of her actions to save her love. But who can really blame her? She fell in love with someone, she’d do anything for them, she’d die for them and she did. In desperation to save her love, she did not think about the consequences and even if she had, I can’t imagine she’d have thought her brothers would start a war.

Lilith’s death severely traumatized her brothers but this wasn’t something she could prevent, she was shot and unable to use her wings to save herself. After her death she watched over them and lead MC to them to save them from their pain and help them bond.

Lilith’s legacy includes her descendants who all had angel blood through her but no one was able to use these powers (presumably) until MC made pacts with power demons.

In the end, Lilith’s legacy is MC, a human who is pivotal in uniting the three worlds all because of Lilith’s love and ultimate sacrifice for someone she loved.

#obey me analyzation #obey me lilith #obey me shall we date #obey me nightbringer #obey me comics #obey me belphegor #obey me Beelzebub #obey me explanation #obey me celestial war #obey me celestial realm #obey me angels #obey me mammon #obey me diavolo #obey me asmodeus #obey me leviathan

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blksoysauce · 4 months

Text

I want you.

Lucifer x reader

Tags: angst, unrequited love

Author note: lmfao I hate it it's not really good

Summary

" Once upon a time... you found yourself enamored with the most resplendent celestial being in the entirety of heaven, Lucifer. Alas, the fear of potential rejection deterred you from ever talking to him, ultimately leaving you consumed with remorse. "

You gazed upon Lucifer with eyes brimming with adoration as he talked about his ideas to a fellow seraphim. The seraphim appeared largely uncomfortable, attempting to end the conversation.

"What a shame"

you said to yourself silently, peering at him from a nearby tree. How much you longed to listen to him talk about his wonderful ideals.

Despite being a dreamer yourself, you lacked the courage to talk about your own ideals with the same boldness as he did. You admired him so much.

Your heart weighed heavily as you observed Lucifer's disappointment upon the seraphim's escape.

Yet, you remained silent due to your low angelic status, feeling small in comparison to THE Lucifer.

The idea of starting a conversation with him seemed nothing but inappropriate.

With a final quick glance at the golden-haired angel, you reluctantly turned away, leaving your dreams unspoken and unfulfilled.

While walking around heaven, your thoughts incessantly gravitated towards him... You wondered what kind of people he liked, his favorite color and his liking.

Before retiring to your home, you couldn't help but notice Lucifer's majestic wings spread as he descended to earth. Hugging your pillow, you fantasized about it, perhaps god finally approved his ideas about humankind. You couldn't help but smile at your sweet fantasy.

The following day you woke up with an unexpected visit from a friend, you could tell from her face that something unsettling happened. You grew anxious yourself as you learned that someone was put on trial by god, curious you and your friend went outside the trial room trying to get some informations.

As the resonant voice of God gave his judgment, your heart broke at the decree of banishment upon Lucifer. Witnessing angels roughly pushing him, you frantically went to a high rank angel for clarification, only to find out Lucifer gave free will to humankind without god's consent and had lustful interaction with Lilith (he banged her).

The passage of time failed to heal the sorrow that gripped your soul. Nights turned into weeks, then months, and eventually years, yet the ache of loss persisted. Each tear served as a reminder of all missed opportunities and unspoken sentiments.

UNTIL... Part 2

#lucifer morningstar #fanfic #fanficiton #angst #unrequited love #lucifer magne #lucifer #hazbin hotel #lucifer x reader #hazbin hotel fanfiction #x reader #morningstar

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rae-writes · 2 years

Text

the first time—

obey me boys x reader

wc : 3.k

warnings : mild mc injuries, reference to lesson 16 (belphie)

synopsis : a collection of firsts with your pining boys + Luke cause I adore hims (and minus asmo)

a/n : why asmo isn’t included : here

Lucifer

the first time you felt his bare touch

Solomon’s new potion experiment made you sick : feverish, sluggish, barely being able to walk without stumbling. You definitely shouldn’t have tested it for him during RAD, because now you were disoriented, and leaned up against the hallway wall when you should be in class.

Lithe fingers grabbed your jaw gently, sending shivers down your body; their touch was cold and soft...comforting. It felt nice.

Without bothering to open your eyes, your own hand came up to grasp theirs. You leaned into the touch and let out a miserable noise. A deep, familiar, chuckle made you snap your eyes open.

Lucifer stood in front of you with an amused, albeit concerned, smile on his face. “Mc, it seems you’re running a fever.”

But you weren’t focused on his words, no. You were focused on his ungloved hand. You trailed your fingers across the exposed skin, running over each of his digits before you noticed his nails.

Red. His nails were red. Of course they were red. The sight alone made you smile, and against your better judgment, you pulled his hand up to place kisses on each of his fingertips.

Ruby eyes widened slightly at your action, body forcibly repressing shivers and the stupid blush that wanted to crawl up his face. “Mc.”

“Let’s just stay here for a bit, please.” You knew he could fix your sickness with a snap of his fingers, but... “Wanna feel your touch.”

And maybe Lucifer shouldn’t get in the habit of spoiling you, but you’re pouting and nuzzling into his hand, and he can’t deny the pride swelling in his chest because you’d rather be sick and miserable than have him pull away and tug his glove back on.

“Of course.”

(As he slid down the wall to sit on the floor with you, he made the fever disappear anyway. Your bright smile made missing class worth it, especially when you tugged off his other glove and rested your face in his hands.)

Mammon

the first time you kissed him

“Thank you, Mammon.”

Your soft tone had him looking up from your rather poorly bandaged wrist, eyebrows furrowed, “Y-yeah, of c-course.” His mouth was pulled into a frown as he finished up. How could he have been so careless? He should’ve been standing closer to you. He should’ve gotten up even after he slipped and protected you. He should’ve-

“Mammon?”

Blue eyes snapped up, meeting your worried e/c hues. Fuck, it made his heart lurch. “Next time I’m gonna be the one that saves you. Me. Not Lucifer, not anyone else. A-and if I can’t save you, your only other choice is to die! It’s me or no one!”

You nodded softly, gaze never straying from his. “You or no one.”

He nodded back absentmindedly, not wanting to ruin the atmosphere with his stupid fumbling. Faintly, he recognizes that Beel could be coming back at any second, but when your hand brushes against his cheek he can’t help but lean closer.

“You’re so sweet, Mammon…” you cradled his face with both hands now, gently pulling him forward, “My best first man.” your lips slotted over his hesitantly and just a bit clumsily.

His heart nearly shot out of his chest at the way you were being so soft with him— a demon. So he reciprocates the kiss just as softly, if not a little more firmly. And he could almost float back to the celestial realm with how light he feels when you press just a little closer to him.

(And yeah he’s greedy, he’s the fucking avatar of greed, so Mammon doesn’t feel bad in the slightest when your phone starts buzzing with incoming texts from Levi. He just pulls you in closer, makes you stay with him just a bit longer because now he’s addicted to the feel of your kiss.)

Levi

the first time you linked hands

When you heard there was going to be a ball during your retreat at the Demon Lord’s Castle, you were excited! You enjoyed the thought of getting to dress up and dance like the fairy tales, but the actual thing had you feeling nervous; there were so. many. people. Demons, really, but that actually made it worse.

And after being politely threatened by Lucifer (again), you and your now very much aching hand were ready to curl up and disappear. But that wasn’t an option, so you wandered around close to the walls until a gentle touch made you stop.

“M-mc?” Levi’s tail had curled around your wrist while he stood shifting his weight around. As his hand moved to brush against yours, he didn’t make a single sound, choosing instead to ask his question silently.

‘D-do you w-want to h-h-hold my h-hand?’

Even though he wasn’t speaking, you could still hear his cute, nervous stuttering clear as day in your mind; it makes you smile and step closer. Your pinky wraps around his in a ‘yes’, feeling grateful he noticed your discomfort.

Levi jolts, having been prepared to get rejected. His face burns with an alarming red but he slowly intertwines all your fingers together nonetheless. Almost instinctively, his thumb begins rubbing circles over yours, “D-do you f-feel better y-yet?”

You did. Even the ache Lucifer caused in your hand seemed to dull at his bashful smile. “Yes, Levi. Thank you.”

He nodded, pushing down the urge to curl up and hide away when you squeezed his hand, making him jolt again. The sound of your fond laughter sent him reeling and he awkwardly squeezed back just to hear it again and again.

(He can feel his palms growing sweaty as the time passes, and Levi is all but amazed you seem to not care. Your fingers stay tangled with his, palms never breaking contact, even if you have to tug one another clumsily so you can walk around another guest without letting go. It makes Levi all fuzzy and warm— and he’s pretty sure it’s not just because it’s getting hot in the ballroom.)

Satan

the first time you genuinely smiled at him

It had been nearly a week since you, Lucifer, Mammon, and Satan returned home from the fiasco in London. Things were good between you and the fourth born, much to his delight. He wasn’t expecting it since he did try to attack you before the trip, even if he already apologized for it.

A ‘I’ve actually gotten pretty used to it?’ was thrown out before you were dragging him down to dinner by his sleeve. Being in the devildom, Satan supposes he should be glad that you aren’t giving such severe reactions to these things like you were when you first arrived (the ordeal with Lucifer and the grimoire was another thing entirely), but he still feels as though he should make up for losing his cool.

He decided on asking what your favorite book is so he can get himself a copy to read and then get you a copy of his favorite book in return. As he sat reading, waiting for you to arrive, he failed to notice your presence in the doorway until you rapped your knuckles on the wood.

Placing his bookmark, Satan stood up, excited to give you his gift when he had the breath stolen from him. You hadn’t moved but now you were holding up a lanyard, a familiar chocolate lizard attached, with a beaming smile.

His fingers clutched at his identical keychain, one he’d tied to his favorite bookmark. You’d noticed. It made you happy. You were smiling at him. He’d never seen such genuineness directed at him from you and the sight itself, the feeling of being on the receiving end of it, made him beam right back as he held out the book for you.

(And when you settle down beside him on the common room couch, immersed in reading the book he’d gotten you- his favorite- Satan can’t resist peering over the top of his own book to take in your reactions. Because when you smile at the story, it almost feels like you’re still smiling at him.)

Beel

the first time you cooked for him, only him

[HoL gc; Beel] :(. :((. :(((. :((((.

[HoL gc; Lucifer] Put your D.D.D down and rest. We’ll bring you something after school.

You frowned at Beel’s obvious misery, knowing the sickness had to be bad if he couldn’t make it to school. The thought of him with a fever, bedridden and being unable to get food from the fridge- and possibly not even being able to keep it down- made your stomach twist unpleasantly.

[Mc] Stay in bed for me, bub.

Beel whined pitifully at your text, stomach rumbling and head aching. “Mc…” he rolled over, arms moving to cover his face when yours popped in his vision. “M-mc?” Despite being confused at your presence, he tugged you closer to his feverish body.

“Hi, bubs. ‘M here. Not goin’ anywhere, okay?” Rubbing a cool rag over his face, neck, and chest, you smiled down at him reassuringly, “You smell that? I brought you some food. Cooked it just for you.”

His sense of smell was severely dulled from the sickness, but at the mention of your cooking, he sniffed a couple times until he could pick up the faint aroma, “Just f-for me? You should be in school…Lucifer’s going to get mad.”

You shook your head, dismissing his worries, “Shh. I left to cook some ‘feel better’ food for my favorite red-head. Ain’t no better reason to skip than that, now here. Try and eat as much as you can- it should all be easy on your stomach.”

He sips at the soup first, eyeing the rest of the dishes he easily made out as popular human world remedies. Beel’s stomach growls in appreciation and his heart beats two times faster, “Thank you, Mc! Eat some with me?”

(The Fangol game on friday he had to get better for was forgotten as you sat by his side and shared food. Your insistence to let him eat first, and the majority, made his cheeks flush hotter than the fever. Food tastes better when he could eat it with you and it tasted even better when you made it for him…stay with him until he gets better. And all the days after, too.)

Belphie

the first time you hugged him (again)

“Stupid Lucifer and his stupid lectures and stupid face-“

You bit your lip to keep from grinning as you rounded the corner and peeked into the planetarium. “Belphie?” The sight of a tail flicking angrily made you snort.

He turned, lips pursed in a pout and eyebrows furrowed, “What?”

A smile finally tugged at your lips, hand coming up to smooth back his hair, being mindful of his horns. The shocked expression you received was amusing and you couldn’t help but laugh, “Aww.”

“D-don’t ‘aww’ at me!” Belphie’s face flushed as he shook his head, making his hair fall back into place. The loss of warmth from your touch made him frown, “What do you want?”

You sighed at his tense stature. “Lucifer can be a jerk sometimes. Don’t worry about him.” Your arms wrapped around his waist tightly in a hug; he felt…good.

Meanwhile Belphie ran stiff as a board, eyes widening comically and mouth dropping open. This feeling…he remembered it— he’s craved it ever since-

“You did it! You actually did it! I’m free now!” His chest felt weird and fuzzy when you jumped into his open arms, laughing with him, though he didn’t dwell on the feeling for long.

A quiet gasp escaped him when you began to pull back, arms instinctively curling around you, “Don’t. Stay.”

And you did.

(The warmth spreading through his body was almost too hot, but Belphie revels in it because you’re hugging him— even after what happened last time. He thinks he can get used to the burn if it means you won’t let go.)

Diavolo

the first time you treated him like a real friend

The student council hall was quiet. The demons already present were taking the time to enjoy the rare silence when the door slammed open rather obnoxiously.

“DIA!”

The Prince of Hell jumped. His head whipped around, jaw on the floor, and his sparkling eyes almost missed the way you were drenched from head to toe. Almost. “Oh dear, what happened, Mc?”

Listen to that worried tone. It’s like he wasn’t throwing a party inside his brain.

Before Lucifer could open his mouth and scold you, your arms were stretched out towards the Prince with a pout on your face. “The Little D’s threw water balloons at me…” you tilted your head, “They said you told them to!”

Uh-oh. “It seems they mistook my instructions for Lucifer for you instead…I’m terribly sorry, Mc.”

A grin graced Barbatos’ features, “Perhaps next time you should not talk about them both at the same time.”

“Yes, yes-“ Diavolo wasn’t listening. He was too busy shrugging his coat off and draping it around you, “I am truly sorry. What can I do to make it up to you?”

You gave a sly smile, “Just stand still please.”

“Stand still-?!” A red water balloon hit the prince smack in the chest. Coldness spread across his chest as the liquid seeped into his shirt, but his chest had never felt warmer. No one would ever dare to do anything of the sort to him, the prince, but you…you did it with a smile.

He likes your smile.

(Diavolo couldn’t help himself when he lifted you in the air, spinning you around with a booming laugh that was reciprocated sweetly. Friendship was the stepping stone to becoming even closer with you, and if he has to endure Lucifer and Barbatos’ lectures to do that, he’ll do it a thousand times if it’s for you.)

Barbatos

the first time you helped him work

Lucifer had caught you on your way home from RAD, asking if you’d rather come with him to the Demon Lord’s Castle (Levi accidentally summoned Lotan again so he and everyone else were cleaning up and the first born thought he’d spare you the headache.)

So you arrived with Lucifer in tow (you wanted to knock), giving the prince and Barbatos quite the delight. You stayed behind with the latter, as Lucifer and Diavolo had business to discuss, and happily followed him to the kitchen.

“Been working on any new sweets, Barb?” You eye the empty icing bowls on the counter, shimmying past the demon to scoop some onto your finger.

He chuckles, “I have. The only thing left to do is pipe the designs on.” Barbatos was used to you watching him bake, so he was a bit puzzled when you began to collect the dirty dishes from around the kitchen instead.

You hummed as you danced around the demon to reach the sink. Small bubbles floated up as piled the dishes up in the water, making you giggle.

“Mc?” Barbatos places down the icing pipe and makes his way over to you, “What are you doing?”

“Washing dishes? You’ll have to go take their tea up to them in a bit and I know you wanted to get those cookies decorated, so I thought I’d help out!”

Green eyes softened, lips curling into a small smile. “How thoughtful of you.”

(Barbatos has never failed to deliver the young master’s tea in the millennia he’s been his steward, but for today, the butler hopes his master won’t mind. He’d truly hate to have to miss out on your cheerful face as you blew soap bubbles at him.)

Simeon

the first time you saw his wings

The grip you had on Simeon’s hand only got tighter as the group of demons stalked closer. Normally you wouldn’t worry- you weren’t helpless and you had an angel with you- but there were just so many of them with nowhere to go.

Lower level demons, but they were smart enough to know they needed to gang up on the devildom’s human and their angel pet. “What’s with those looks? Not gonna call for help?” One of the taller demons shifted and lashed their tail at your face, slicing your cheek open.

Simeon saw red. His hand ripped from yours as he moved to stand in front of you, eyes narrowed dangerously. “Tch.” White wings sprouted from his back, spanning out to their full length; they glowed brightly, sending every demon in the vicinity scrambling.

“Simeon…”

The angel tensed at your quiet tone, head craning around to watch you shuffle around. Were you scared? Was he too frightening? Did he accidentally hurt you? “Mc-”

“They’re beautiful.” Awe filled eyes gazed at him with adoration, “You’re beautiful.” Your hand stretched out absentmindedly, a smile stretching across your face when his wing extended toward you.

Meanwhile, Simeon was floored. Your reaction, your smile, the gentle way you caressed his wings- it was all dizzying and rejuvenating at the same time. Father help him, he seriously considered you were the angel instead.

“Oh-! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to touch them! Angel wings are probably sacred or something-” You moved to pull your hand back, but lithe fingers wrapped around your wrist, preventing yours from leaving his feathers.

“Please, touch them as much as you like.”

(Seeing an angel’s wings, much less touching them, was sacred. Simeon couldn’t bring himself to care, though. He’d kneel before you if you wanted him to- fuck he was so smitten with you. Corrupt him, do what you wish, just don’t make him go without the feel of your touch.)

Solomon

the first time you told him you missed him

You clutched the phone tighter when Mammon hung up, letting out a sigh. When it buzzed again, this time with texts, you checked half-heartedly before getting excited at the name displayed.

[Solomon] Hey. How are you doing? It’s been a while.

[Mc] It sucks. This sucks. I miss the Devildom.

[Solomon] Do you now? By the way, Mc, I can’t help wondering…

“When were you gonna mention how much you miss me?” Solomon's lips pull into the biggest grin you’ve ever seen him have, “Surprise! You didn’t expect this, did you?”

You drop your D.D.D and throw your arms around his neck, bubbly laugh echoing through the street, “Solomon! I missed you so fucking much, holy shit, you’re actually here!”

The sorcerer stood, lips parted in shock, and arms raised in the air slightly. He could feel your warmth seeping through his clothes and for just a moment, Solomon forgot all he knew about self-restraint and snaked his arms around you tightly.

Jumping up to wrap your legs around his waist, you laughed even harder when he stumbled back slightly from the added weight. You knew Solomon had to be absolutely shell-shocked; the two of you never got affectionate like this with one another before (slightly due to the brothers butting in) but you just…

“Missed me a lot, huh? I must admit, I wasn’t expecting this kind of reaction.” He leaned back to show you his smile- and the rare baby pink blush that dusted over his cheeks.

The sight made you swoon, “Well I did. I missed you. Badly.”

(When Solomon put you down, the warmth faded away too fast for his liking. His fingers twitched at his sides, lips pulling into a slight frown before he was reaching out for you, tugging you back into his arms. The Devildom could wait for a little while longer— Solomon wasn’t ready to let you go just yet.)

Luke

the first time you made him speechless

The young Angel didn’t like to admit to having nightmares. While he obviously knew it was something everyone- no matter the age- could suffer from, he still didn’t want to burden anyone with his ‘childish’ dreams. Tonight had been especially bad though, and Luke’s resolve finally cracked; he found himself seeking your reassurance without thinking.

[11:29pm] Mc, are you awake? I had a nightmare…

Luke tells himself he’s stupid- of course you’re asleep! It’s a school night and he shouldn’t be bothering you. He forces himself to lay back down, trying to shoo away the disappointment in his chest.

[11:45pm] Luke! Come open the door!!

Luke stares at his phone for a few seconds before he’s scrambling quietly to the front door, “Mc?! W-what are you doing here?!”

“You said you had a nightmare, right? I brought my clothes and stuff for school tomorrow so we could have a little sleepover! Being with someone else always helps me after I have a nightmare.”

Blue eyes stare in disbelief as you easily make your way through the halls, heading straight towards his room. He’s silent the entire time, watching you settle into his bed, piling up the covers comfortably before patting the spot beside you. And as Luke slips back under the blankets and cuddles into your side, he hears you humming a soft tune and refuses to open his mouth in fear of interrupting you after you’ve come all this way— just because he had a nightmare.

‘Mc…thank you.’

(Simeon comes to wake Luke up after not seeing him in the kitchen for breakfast and pauses, lips curling into a grin. You're wrapped around Luke like a barrier against the outside world, intent on protecting him, even in your sleep. He figures he should quickly text Lucifer though, before he has to deal with the wrath of 7 brothers when they figure out their Mc disappeared in the night.)

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