Hello! I’ve been lurking around on your blog for a little bit and I really like your pieces! Especially the headcanons regarding the obey me characters and their tails! If you mind…could you give us some input on the characters with wings and give us a version for them too? >_>
A/N: Ask and ye shall receive....several months later, oops. Hopefully the writing is mostly consistent as I chipped away at this for a few months. Same as before, unpartnered and partnered versions; use of you/your but ungendered.
Word Count: 2k
Angels and demons interpret wing touching very differently. For angels, even the slightest brush along one’s feathers is considered deeply intimate - a touch reserved for only one maybe two individuals in an angel’s life. Demons view such a touch as a flirt, a sinful promise of things should they give in to temptation.
(Unpartnered: Aggressive/General Unfriendliness)
Lucifer: It’s hard to miss the full body shudder that courses through him, nor is it hard to miss the expression he fixes you with as he turns to face you. Anger and disbelief color his features and for once, the Avatar of Pride seems unsure how to react. His eyes study you for a moment before he suddenly appears in your face, burning pain exploding around your wrist as he grabs and twists the joint. His voice is calm and sharp - it’s the same tone he’s used before to genuinely threaten you.
“Who exactly do you think you are?” he tightens his grip and twists your wrist more. You worry he’s going to pop the joint out of its socket, “Touch my wings again and not even the reapers will be able to find your remains.” He shoves you to the ground with enough force that it hurts. Your wrist aches as you watch him walk away.
Mammon: You hear his sharp intake of breath and then you feel his wing slap away your hand with a surprising amount of force. He spins to face you, a small blush coloring his face, but his furrowed brow tells you he’s unhappy.
“Oi! The fuck ya think yer doin’? It's a thousand grimm per touch ya know!” Despite his casual bravado, his stance is tense and you watch as his wings softly flap a few times as if trying to shake off the feeling of the unwanted touch. He clicks his tongue when you say nothing and hurries away.
Asmodeus: He barely reacts when your finger pads brush against the far finger of his wing. He seems too wrapped up in his nails to be bothered by it, at least until you gently run your finger down the bone.
“Mm, what do you think you’re doing?” His voice makes you pause and you look up at him to find him looking at you through his mirror. While he’s not out right frowning, he most certainly doesn’t look pleased.
Before you can answer him he speaks again, “I don’t think you understand what you’re trying to imply here.” His wing stretches to move your finger off of it, “You really shouldn’t be touching people without their permission anyways.” You watch as his wing moves to slap your hand, albeit a bit gentler than you perhaps deserved.
Beelzebub: There’s not much that can startle Beelzebub, being the big lumbering giant that he is, but it seems a curious, gentle touch on his wings can. You watch him tense and spin on his heels as he turns to face you. His normally passive expression is gone, replaced with a look of confusion and distrust. He looks you over, seeming to debate internally if he should chastise you. His wings flutter softly behind him as if trying to shake off your touch.
“Don’t…don’t touch me….please,” his voice holds a note of uncertainty, but is still firm, “It’s not polite.”
As you open your mouth to apologize he walks off, a soft huff leaving his lips.
Diavolo: The prince lets out an uncharacteristic sharp gasp and jolts, his wings tensing suddenly. He turns almost instantly to look at you, his leathery wings subsequently hitting your arm away as he does so, his face a rare unmasked expression. His expression is hard to decipher, some mix of shock, uncomfortable, and mayhaps a third emotion you can’t quite pinpoint.
His face breaks into an uncomfortable smile and his laugh is unusually tense, “Haha, yes [MC]? Did you need something?”
“Oh, nothing. Sorry, I was just curio-”
“Ah, I see,” he uncharacteristically cuts you off, his voice holding a sense of uncomfortability and he waves his hand dismissively, “Well if you’ll excuse me, I’m afraid I must return to work now; I’m sure Barbatos would be upset if I procrastinated any longer.” And with that, he quickly and quietly leaves.
Simeon: You immediately feel the tension in his body the second your fingertips touch his spine. You blink and pain sears your wrists as Simeon grabs it and pushes your wrist back towards your arm as far as it will go. His normally soft and gentle eyes are hard and unforgiving, anger simmering beneath the surface in a way not too dissimilar to Satan. His wings flap forcefully, creating a gust of wind that messes your hair.
“Excuse you?” His voice is low, and sharp. His eyes bore into you as he waits for you to answer him, your wrist hurting all the while. He grants you no respite, pushing further until you’re sure he’ll dislocate it. Just as you open your mouth to say something - anything to get him to let your hand go - he shoves you back with enough force to make you stumble and fall. He says nothing else, but the anger in his eyes tells you he won’t forget this.
Raphael: You barely feel the warmth from his skin before you find yourself on the ground, a blinding spear of Celestial light pointed right in your face. Raphael looks as calm as ever, but there’s a twitch in his brow that’s not usually there. He says nothing, merely keeps the spear pointed in your face for several moments. You merely lay there, trying to keep yourself as low and away from the most likely very sharp end of the spear, unsure of what to do or say. After what feels like several long minutes, Raphael moves away, taking his spear with him. He turns and walks away, not even offering to help you up, but from the sound of his unusually heavy footsteps, you assume he’s too upset with you to want to.
(Partnered: Flirting/General Suggestiveness)
Lucifer: You watch him visibly tense as your fingertips gently brush the start of his wing bone. You hesitate for a moment, hearing him let out a shaky breath, but he makes no move to stop you. You can feel his wing tense but then relax: silent permission to continue. You gently drag your fingers up his wings, following the natural flow of black iridescent feathers along his bone. When you reach the apex of his wing, you gently bring your fingers back to the base, softly brushing the down that marks the transition of feather to skin. You risk a glance up at him, a silent knot of worry weighing on your chest. But you find that he isn’t looking at you - his eyes aren’t even open. You feel a small gust of air as his wings flutter, missing your touch.
Mammon: You watch as he carefully counts one Grimm after another, fully immersed in his earnings from his lucky break at the horse races. His wings flutter with each movement and you get curious. Carefully you reach out and touch the thin membrane between the bone, finding that it feels mostly smooth with the barest hint of texture. You feel him flinch slightly, but he doesn’t react beyond that. You continue to gently pet at the membrane of his wing, occasionally letting your fingerpads ghost over the bones. You get lost in the motion before looking up and realizing that Mammon has been staring at you for heaven knows how long. His cheeks are dusted red and there’s a familiar look of greed in his eyes as he regards you.
“Want som’thin’ Treasure~?”
Asmodeus: The sound of Asmo’s chitter-chatter fills the room. You think he’s doing a live stream of some kind, but you can’t be sure. He was insistent that you stay in the room while he shows off some PR he got, but was kind enough to crop you just out of frame. You feel boredom begin to claw at you, so you reach your hand out to just barely brush along the farthest bone of Asmo’s wing. He jumps and you worry for a moment that you’ve touched harder than you intended. He looks at you, his eyes carefully searching for something. You smile and reach to touch his wing again and he smirks, your pact mark flaring with a tingly sensation. He reaches for his phone, his finger hovering over the “end stream” button.
“Well my lovelies…it seems I’m being called away…I’ll be back soon, I promise~♡.”
Beezlebub: You watch as Beelz casually munches through a bag of chips while flipping through one of his textbooks. Practice must’ve been draining, as he sits unabashedly in his demon form, his wings quivering from time to time. Curiosity burns in your mind as you watch his wings vibrate every now again; surely they’re more on the fragile side, but do they feel like how you’d imagine? You reach forward and gently brush part of his insect-like wings. They feel odd - dry, textured, but slightly stronger feeling than you expected - but just as you touch, Beelz jolts, his hand reaching for the chip bag crushing it in his surprise. He turns to look at you over his shoulder, surprised, but not angry.
“S-sorry. I was just curious,” you offer nervously, a sheepiness smile on your face.
Beel offers a small smile of his own, “Ah…okay.” He turns his attention back to his now crushed bag of chips with a frown.
Diavolo: His body rises and falls gently with each breath he takes, the pace slower while he rests. His large leathery wings rest within your reach, also rising and falling with his breath. They’re so much bigger and impressive up close. His arm tenses slightly in his sleep to pull you closer to his chest, one of his wings tensing in time before relaxing. You reach out to brush your finger along part of the membrane compulsively, the deep red and black color entrancing. The texture is leathery, but still smooth in an odd way making you wonder if demons have products for wing care (you can only imagine what expensive products Diavolo must own for his personal hygiene routine). You continue to let your finger pads brush along his wing, sometimes tracing the bone, sometimes just drawing random lines and shapes. Unbeknownst to you, Diavolo has opened his eyes and is watching your quiet moment of unadulterated curiosity. Later he’ll explain to you the sexual implications of the action, but for now he’s content to let you be curious.
Simeon: “Your wings look so soft.”
Simeon pauses, his shirt bunched up at the arms, to look over at you. He regards you with a faux neutral expression, but you know he’s judging something about you.
“Thank you,” his reply is gentle, but still neutral like he’s deciding something. He makes no move to continue getting dressed, making you feel like you’ve said something wrong.
“You um…can continue getting dressed. I uh didn’t mean to interrupt.”
Simeon is silent for a moment longer, his eyes never leaving your’s, “...you may touch them if you’d like - gently.” You try to hide the surprise and delight that flickers across your face but probably fail miserably. Simeon watches your every step forward and watches as you carefully reach out to gently touch one of his larger primary feathers. His eyes flicker down to watch the path your fingers take as you trace the side of the feather and then trace its neighbor.
“Well? Are they as soft as you imagined?”
Raphael: You watch him roll his shoulder in a slow deliberate motion; he hasn’t said anything yet, but knowing him, he probably went too hard during an exercise and it’s sore. His pairs of wings move with the motion, the slowness makes you think they’re sore too. You reach forward and gently rub at the joints of the upper set, startling the angel.
He turns to look at you, his whole body tense, “[MC]?”
“Sorry Raph, I didn’t mean to startle you,” you continue to gently rub at the joint of his upper set of wings, tracing some of the down before moving your hands up to his shoulders proper, “You seemed tense.”
He’s silent for a few moments before you feel him force his body to relax a little, “...I suppose I am a little sore…” his voice trails off. “Thank you.”
