would. @serapphiim - Tumblr Blog

Aug 20, 2023

boogybk-deactivated20240206

an angel and a girl walk into an elevator

18+ minors and blank blogs dni

reblogs and feedback are very appreciated <3

warnings: fem reader, bruising, fantasizing, grinding, multiple orgasms, mutual masturbation, oral (f receiving), riding, semi-public sex, teasing

word count: 10.2k

You wouldn’t think so, but Angel dreams.

When you learn about devils in your public safety orientation, you come out of the class knowing more about devils than the average person. Those classes don’t catch everything though, and you were told that devils don’t dream. It makes sense— most aren’t affected by substances, process human emotions, or can feel empathy. So, you were told that devils can’t dream.

If Angel knew you believed this, he would tell you otherwise, though not without hesitation. Because when Angel dreams, it’s almost always about you.

This is a recent development— one he’s not quite sure what to make of. It started around the time that he was assigned your partner. That was unexpected, though you had always been more tolerable than his other human coworkers (the bar is low).

At first, you went on small missions together, things that were close to the building. They usually were finished within the day, like all small missions are, and Angel mentally prepared for another partner who would only communicate with him as much as necessary. Don’t get him wrong, Angel values his independence and privacy more than most things, but having so many unwilling partners had become aggravating.

To his surprise, you proved to be the opposite. He wasn’t sure if it was just because you had only recently started, but you made an effort to get to know him. Having someone ask so many prying questions quickly became irritating.

On one of those earlier assignments, you asked him, “Do you even sleep?” on the way back from the site.

The question caught Angel completely off guard— this was the first time anyone had ever asked him anything personal without it being asked of them. At the time, he identified his feelings as being confused.

“What?”

You were walking alongside him down an empty street. It was the middle of the day, in the middle of the week, but the pedestrians tended to give Angel a wide berth once they spotted his non-human qualities.

You shrugged and stopped at the pickup area to wait for the company car. “Do you sleep? I’m just curious.”

“What the fuck do you think?”

Another halfhearted shrug. “I dunno, they just tell us a bunch of different things during those orientation classes. They didn’t tell us about sleeping though.”

“I don’t sleep enough,” Angel admitted after a moment of examining your profile, trying to figure out your angle. “But, yeah, I do sleep.”

“Is that why you’re always tired and moping around?”

Angel stifled the urge to cup his lethal hand around your mouth and didn’t answer.

After that, Angel began noticing your curiosity more often.

It was almost always little questions, just small things that wouldn’t have mattered to anyone. What’s your favorite food, do you brush your teeth, is your skin cold, how does it feel to take a life? It mattered to Angel. You were slowly crawling under his skin— something he was used to doing to others.

“Well,” you were getting ready to head out with him one morning, still thinking up invasive questions. “You never answered me.”

No matter that he hadn’t answered any of your questions, he still asked, “What?”

“How’s it feel to siphon lives?”

Angel wasn’t sure what to tell you. He also wasn’t sure how you felt about him. He had grown used to the usual scorn and carefully hidden animosity from most other people. Curiosity, whether positive or negatively motivated, was new to him. You were looking at him as he mulled this over and your face was as unreadable as your motives.

He decided to be honest for once and explained, “It’s euphoric for me. It’s hard to describe but,” he paused, searching your face for any disapproval and found none before continuing, “it’s something I have to keep myself from doing sometimes— it feels that good.”

You nodded to yourself like some hidden question had been answered. “Makes sense, I guess. You are a devil.” Then, your eyes traveled up and down Angel’s body before you walked off. You hadn’t looked at him like that before— intrigued and almost satisfied by his answer. It was that look that set off his dreams.

Angel knows he’s dreaming right now— it’s because he’s able to touch you and you aren’t thrashing against him, gasping as the life is torn from your very soul. Angel knows he’s dreaming, but he can’t bring himself to mind. It’s hard to really process the fact that this isn’t happening when you feel so damn good.

This is a recurring dream: you’re sprawled across a fine bed, skin standing out against the linens as Angel teases your folds with the fat head of his cock. Every time he has this dream, he spreads your labia and gently pushes his cockhead around your soaked entrance. Of course, he doesn’t know what your pussy looks like, but his imagination does its best to fill in those gaps.

Through the haze of his dream, you’re all breathy groans and little gasps— it's a night and day difference from your usual demeanor. It makes Angel wonder if he wants you to be like that if anything ever happened between you.

Angel believes that you would be best enjoyed on your back, or at least he thinks this because it’s the position of choice in all of his dreams. Perhaps it’s the desire to touch. He keeps his compulsions and envy locked deep inside of him, but his subconscious drags everything up every night. Sometimes when Angel wakes with his boxers sticky and his hair sticking to his forehead, he considers going to therapy. It only takes a second before he squashes that notion, but he occasionally misses his peaceful, albeit boring, existence.

In the dream, just as you’re arching your back and tilting the swell of your tits toward Angel’s mouth, he’s jerked awake by his alarm.

The popcorn ceiling stares down at him as he thinks, God, I want to go back to sleep.

The rest of the day is spent in a haze. Angel goes to work, halfheartedly tackles leftover paperwork before handing it off to Hayakawa, then finds himself loitering near the cafeteria. You’re around, Angel can smell you over the myriad of scents joining in the room. He hasn’t seen you today and he isn’t sure how he should feel about that.

He spots you by the vending machines, your brow furrowed as the machine eats your money. It does that. He’s told you, but you brushed him off. He supposes this is what he gets for constantly being sarcastic around you.

You paint a nice picture in your uniform. Angel’s happy to stare— he tends to stare at everyone, so no one looks at him oddly when they notice him watching you.

He smothers the thoughts of his dreams and walks toward you. There’s a mission to be completed and no time for dreaming.

—

There are moments when you can pretend that you don’t despise your job.

It’s when you’ve completed a mission and your heart is still pounding and adrenaline coursing through your veins. When you’re still reeling from the excitement and it almost feels like you’ve done something ridiculous— like run from the police or something. It makes you feel normal, and you hold these moments close to your heart, even when they fizzle out as quickly as they were ignited.

Angel sobers you rather quickly any time you’re feeling decent about your career. As your long-time partner, he seems to believe that it’s his responsibility to keep your head out of the clouds.

Take today, for instance. The two of you have just finished a rather taxing assignment in the city's heart. It took a while before Angel found it in himself to help out, so you were working alone for most of the mission. You’d be more irritated with him if he hadn’t finally swooped in, literally, to cleanly finish off the job. Typically, you’d be frustrated with his lack of care, but tonight you’re too exhausted to care.

“How much is on the company card?”

You glare at him before elbowing him in the side. He’s no fun, he just glares back. “I don’t know,” you grab it from your wallet. For every out-of-town mission you’re assigned, public safety allows you a certain amount of money. “Probably a fuck-ton.”

Angel hums absently. He’s hard to read. Usually, after a mission is completed, he’s gone before you can discuss ways to get back home. He really is a dick to work with most of the time.

“Why do you ask? You wanna do something?” It’s late, but you’re in a part of the city that seems to be bustling with nightlife.

Angel shrugs, which doesn’t surprise you. If he isn’t bothering someone or rushing to finish paperwork he put off, then he’s passed out and completely dead to the world. You’re shocked he’s even still around.

“Are you not taking off?” You aren’t sure how reliable his wings are, and you are rather far from the bureau.

“No,” his eyes finally slide over to you. You’re both under a streetlight and his amber irises are catching the light in a way that makes them look golden. You wish, not for the first time, that he was less of a pain. Or human. Angel continues, “Can we stay somewhere nice? Blow the money for once.”

You shoot him a questioning look. “What’s this about?”

Angel matches your glare. “Does it need to be about anything?”

“Actually, yes. This isn’t like you,” you retort. It really isn’t like him. Though, you should cut him some slack. He’s far more human than you think and you tend to forget this fact. You decide to drop your questioning and say, “You’re right though. We deserve to blow some money. What do you have in mind?”

Angel kicks at a rock on the sidewalk. “I dunno. Someplace with a fancy-ass lobby. Y’know the kind I’m talking about. I’m not really allowed in those.”

“I’m not either,” you snort. “We can check in at one of those places that have a restaurant built in.”

Angel’s eyebrow quirks up in interest. “There are places like that?”

You nod and scan the street. There’s a place not too far off, complete with ornate pillars and a warm, glowing marquee. It looks pretentious as hell and not like anything you ever thought you’d be staying at, but you start heading that way.

“There are loads of places like that. Like, hotels with waterparks and restaurants and fucking— I don’t know, little art museums inside.”

This information seems to mentally floor Angel. He shakes his head and stares at the hotel coming into view. “The laziness of you people really shocks me sometimes.”

“That’s rich coming from you.”

The hotel lobby is, in fact, a fancy-ass lobby. Angel is impressed with your choice and pleasantly surprised to spot a restaurant tucked in a corner of the lobby. The shining marble floors are clean enough that Angel faintly makes out his reflection on the surface. The warm lighting is dimmed just enough to bathe everyone in a soft, golden glow. The entire space exudes luxury and overindulgence— two things Angel hardly has experience with.

Angel catches your eye and grins. “Good choice,” he says, already eyeing the amenities. “How do people normally spend their money in places like this?”

“I don’t really know, honestly,” you answer. You feel awfully underdressed as you head for the main desk. At some point during the fight with the devil, you shed your suit jacket and ruined your shirt with devil guts.

The receptionist gives you a strange look until you tell her about your profession, and then it’s like a switch has been flipped.

As the receptionist talks you through the amenities and offers to dry clean your uniform, Angel nudges you and mutters sardonically, “Why doesn’t everyone treat us like this?”

You stifle the urge to roll your eyes, just grateful to have so many services, free of charge, at your disposal. Public opinion of devil hunters seems to widely vary. Some businesses, like this hotel, offer special deals or completely free items out of respect. Others would rather not have hunters on their premises for whatever superstitious reason. You and Angel have been yelled out of a handful of establishments. It’s always something to do with bad luck.

—

“Damn,” Angel trails his hand along the ornate moulding in the elevator. “Even the elevator is fancy.”

You’d laugh at his blatant awe, but you’d be lying if you said you weren’t impressed. “Yeah, rich people love their decorations.”

Angel’s hair is catching the low light in a way that’s making it shine warmer. The glow from his halo falls upon high cheekbones and soft, pouty lips. You think it’s criminal that he’s never been kissed. Then, your train of thought travels somewhere far less appropriate.

Unfortunately, this is the moment that Angel decides to make eye contact with you and asks, “What?”

You open your mouth to come up with some excuse for openly staring at him so shamelessly when the elevator lurches to a stop. The lights flicker, once, twice, before switching to an emergency red.

“For fuck sake.”

You frantically press some of the buttons, it’s useless, and you slump against the wall.

Angel sighs, “All this expensive bullshit and they don’t even have a working elevator,” though he doesn’t look very irritated.

You slide to the floor with your back against the wall. Even though this is an elevator, it still has that shiny marble flooring. “Well,” you tilt your head against the wall and blink up at the ceiling. Of course, the ceiling is painted. “How are you?”

Angel lets out a small, genuine laugh at that. “I’ve been better,” he says and watches the movement of your throat as you stare upwards. “I’d rather be trapped here with you instead of any of the other guys we work with. Small victory, or whatever.”

This comes as a surprise to you. You peel your eyes from the ceiling and look over at Angel. He’s sitting cross-legged opposite you, blending slightly into the red lighting. You’ve never noticed, but most of his features are tinged pink.

“You getting soft on me?” You feign horror and kick his leg. It quells the strange feeling you get when he looks at you, just for a moment.

Angel scoffs, “You’re just a bit more tolerable than the others.”

“You sound very edgy.”

You’re rewarded with another eye roll. “My whole existence is edgy, give me a break.”

“All I do is give you breaks,” you look into your hands. Sometimes, that unwavering eye contact gets under your skin; it’s making your face feel hot. “What’re you gonna do with yourself when I’m not here to do your paperwork?”

Angel cracks a smile at that and absentmindedly taps his boot against your leg. It’s a rhythmic motion. Tap, tap, tap. He answers, “I’ll find some other loser to force into doing that. Look at me,” he gestures to himself, still sporting that sly smile, “Do I look like I’m built for doing as much work as we do?”

You correct him. “As much work as I do. Lately, it’s like your job is to just sit around and look pretty.”

You catch yourself a moment too late and Angel raises his brows and snickers. “Oh, you think I’m pretty?”

It’s clear that he’s asking as a joke, but you take too long to answer and stammer out, “No,” it’s all you’re able to come up with. Not very convincing.

Angel isn’t stupid. He’s observant and quiet about it— he’s caught you gazing at him more than a few times. He has enough experience to know what those sneaked glances mean. A small part of him denies what he sees because, really, it would be too good to be true. Angel’s managed to get by in life by sneaking away for quick encounters when he can, but messing around with his partner would be far more convenient.

He plays it safe when he teases, “You don’t sound so sure about that.” He tells himself that he won’t mind it if you choose not to play along.

For a moment, you aren’t sure if you’re hearing things correctly. Angel teasing you? That idea is nearly as ridiculous as him doing paperwork.

You manage to compose yourself and huff, “Whatever,” but you still don’t answer.

Angel is enjoying himself more than he has in weeks as he watches you try not to watch him. Your eyes are fixed on the floor as though it’s the most exciting thing you’ve seen.

“Well,” Angel tilts his head back to gaze at the ceiling and the moment he moves, he’s acutely aware of your eyes on his throat. He swallows on purpose, just to gauge your reaction. There it is— the telltale spike of fragrance in the air. It’s something between anxious perspiration and arousal being stifled.

The time passes as slowly as a snail’s crawl as you try your best to avoid Angel’s gaze. You aren’t sure what changed (you are confident it was your slip-up, but you’d rather stay stuck in the elevator forever than admit it), but Angel’s gaze feels abruptly oppressive. You’ve called the front desk just to have something to do, and they confirmed that it would take a little over an hour to fix whatever went wrong.

Angel’s quickly growing tired of staring around the space. It has taken on a dull quality under the red emergency lights and everything is bathed in a hazy glow. You’re hard to read with such poor lighting, but Angel’s sense of smell more than makes up for that.

“I’m bored,” he groans and kicks at your shin again.

“Can you stop that?”

Angel’s feeling a little impatient. He’s not in the mood to sit around doing nothing for the next hour, especially when he knows that you’re getting all worked up over there. “Can we do something?”

You shoot him a confused look. “Like what?”

Angel shrugs and tries to hide a satisfied grin that threatens to emerge. “Don’t you people have games for things like this? Like, when you’re bored and stuck.”

“I really don’t know what—”

Angel snaps his fingers and interjects, “Party games! Those.”

“We aren’t partying,” you huff, slightly irritated that the situation is starting to get to you. You’re usually better than this. You have to be, or else you’d lose your composure the moment you encounter a devil.

“C’mon,” Angel whines, “what else are we gonna do?”

You could think of several things you could do and you’re grateful for your careful composure.

When you don’t answer quickly enough, Angel runs a hand through his hair and says, “Truth or dare.”

“How do you know about that?”

Angel feigns offense. “I do things other than rot in my assigned room, y’know. Well? Truth or dare?”

You bite back another retort and answer, “Truth.”

Angel hums and leans back against the wall. “Okay, playing it safe. My question is, why are you working in public safety?”

“That’s a boring question.”

“Would you rather me ask something more invasive?”

That gets you to shut your mouth. “I don’t know— the pay’s good. I enjoy helping people and knowing that my life has a purpose. I guess that’s it.”

“What a perfectly generic answer.”

“You’re being particularly annoying today.”

“You used to be annoying like this,” Angel sports a small smile and nudges you again. “It’s my turn. Anyways, my turn.”

You stifle the urge to sigh (the urge is not very strong) and ask, “Truth or dare?”

“Truth,” he says. “I’ll match you.”

Now that you’re thinking about it, you really aren’t sure what to ask him. You recall the earlier days of your partnership— all your prying and curiosity. You really were curious at first. Those orientation classes only cover so much and you were overjoyed to be working with a devil who wasn’t outwardly violent or bloodthirsty.

You settle on the first thing that pops into your mind. “What’re you thinking about?”

Angel blinks, caught off guard, before shrugging. “That’s not a valid question.”

“Says who?”

“I don’t know, it’s just not gonna work,” he says. There’s a slight smile tugging at the edge of his lips. It’s equal parts irritating and charming. You aren’t sure how he does that. “Ask me something personal.”

You refuse, feeling too flustered to get anything out. You aren’t liking how adept he’s become at pushing your buttons. Though, you suppose that’s the price you pay for constantly prying into the life of someone who doesn’t have much of one.

Angel takes in your silence. It would be too easy to just slide himself over. The space in the elevator is too small and with every breath you take, he can feel himself growing more impatient.

“Okay, fine,” he says when you decline to answer. “I’ll ask you something personal.”

“Is that how this is gonna work?” You sound irritated, but Angel’s grown used to your mannerisms. He can see that you’re hopelessly flustered, likely still reeling from accidentally calling him pretty.

“How what’s gonna work?” He can’t resist being a little bit of a pain. Seeing your frustration spread across your face for a split second is ridiculously satisfying.

“God,” you run a hand over your face and pray that it hides how out of your element you feel. “Fine, what do you want to ask?”

Angel smiles and this time his full lips split apart to display a row of pristine white teeth. “I wanna know, do you really think I’m pretty?”

You know you can’t brush him off, lie, or run off, so you answer honestly, “Yeah, I have eyes.”

Angel hums and runs his fingers over the ends of his hair; he seems satisfied. “What else do you think?”

“About you?” You’re feeling bolder, but you still can’t pin down Angel’s intentions. You’re content to stare at a crimson corner of the floor, for now.

“Yeah. I’m sure there’s a reason for all your staring.”

You feel like you’re being picked apart under a microscope. You figured you were being stealthy all those times you stared at him— it’s humbling to know that he saw.

“Well?” He appears apathetic as usual, though there’s a genuine interest underlying his tone when he asks.

You decide within a second to just be honest. You don’t have anything to lose; it might end up being awkward between you two, but you figure it's better than spending the rest of the hour with him knowing that you’re attracted to him and not doing anything about it.

You say, “I do think you’re pretty, yeah. I didn’t know you noticed me staring, I’m sorry, that was kind of weird.”

Angel stifles an urge to laugh. If only you knew of the things he thought of you. “It’s not weird,” he assures you before tacking on, “I promise.”

“I figured you would have minded,” you lie because you don’t know what else to do. Something is hanging in the air, heavy and demanding to be acknowledged. You aren’t sure if you should be the one to start it.

Angel’s face is placid when he says, “I really don’t mind. Besides, I stare at you a lot too. Done worse than staring a few times.”

You’re baffled that he’s being so shameless. “What do you mean by that?” There’s a small burst of excitement in your tone that you fail to hide and he cracks a smile at the sound.

“What do you think I mean by that?”

“I dare you to just tell me.”

“Oh, we’re still playing this game?” You’ve known him long enough to see past his apathetic facade— you can detect genuine interest in his expression.

“Yeah,” you feel horribly out of your depth as you say, “I wanna know what you meant by that.”

There’s a certain tension in the air that you’ve only felt a handful of times in your life. When two people know they’re attracted to each other and the only thing keeping them apart is the fear of shattering the moment. A part of you feels compelled to reach for Angel and give in, but you’re pinned in place.

Angel watches your face flicker through conflicting thoughts. A part of this is endlessly entertaining for him. He’s grown quite creative in the countless years he’s been around, but he’s getting impatient. He recalls a dream he had a few days ago and decides he wants to know what you look like. He wants his imagined idea of you replaced by the real thing.

“I have these dreams about you,” he says bluntly. “I dunno why, I’ve been into coworkers before, but you’re the first I’ve dreamed about.”

“What kind of dreams?” You know precisely what kind of dreams— you just want to watch his pretty mouth confirm what you know.

Angel’s getting worked up. It’s slowly creeping up on him, but he can feel it in his gut, in the way his mouth threatens to water. The anticipation is killing him in such an addictive way. “The kind of dreams you don’t tell your coworker about.”

“Not appropriate?”

Angel nods. “Not appropriate.”

The conversation stills like the air in the tight space. You feel light-headed and envy Angel’s lack of needs. He’s not flushed, he isn’t sweating, and his face hasn’t changed from the apathetic mask he’s sported this whole time you’ve been stuck together.

You know your nerves are apparent when you ask, “Are you going to elaborate?” Your heart is pounding so hard you swear Angel can hear it (he can).

“We still have a while left in here,” he muses and completely avoids your question. “You wanna do something for me?”

“Okay,” you say. The corners of Angel’s lips threaten to lift into a very satisfied smile before he smothers the urge. He’s surprised to note that his control tends to slip around you.

“Show me your pussy.”

You blink, completely caught off guard when Angel blurts this. You suppose you should have expected his bluntness.

When you fail to move, Angel softly continues, “I don’t have any condoms on me. So, get those pants off,” after a moment, he smiles slyly and tacks on, “I dare you.”

You can’t help but follow along. “Okay, I dare you to take your pants off too.”

Angel cocks his head, already pushing his thumbs into his belt loops and tugging on his waistband. You catch a glimpse of downy auburn hair dusting his stomach before he says, “We still playing?”

“Sure,” you answer, though you still haven’t shed any clothes. The mere thought of it is putting anxious knots in your stomach even though Angel is already pushing down his slacks. He’s going slowly, keeping his sharp eyes fixed on your face.

“Okay,” he’s finally noticing your hesitation. He knows you’re turned on— he can smell your lust hanging heavily in the air like a living thing. It needs to be cultivated, and nurtured. So, even though Angel isn’t a patient man, he decides to be patient just this once. “I dare you to just sit back and watch. Don’t touch yourself.”

You can do that. It shouldn’t be too hard, though you’re feeling a little hot as you watch Angel push his slacks down his thin legs. His cock is hard enough to strain against his boxers and you feel your mouth water against your will. He isn’t taking it out yet, content for now to drink in your reactions that you’re attempting to conceal.

It’s a shame that the lights are so dim. You can barely see any detail as Angel finally pushes the waistband of his boxers down. He stops when he sees your expression— eager, a little hesitant. Maybe that’s disbelief he detects. Regardless, Angel lets the swollen, leaking tip of his dick stick out of his waistband while he gingerly traces the outline of his shaft.

He watches you watch him, trying to act more disinterested than he is, and asks, “You enjoying the view?”

You wonder if he intended to allow his voice to dip into a tone you’ve never heard him use before. Things are different now though.

“Yeah,” you answer. You can’t lie. You can’t fathom even trying to right now. You swallow the urge to ask to see all of it; you aren’t feeling that bold, yet.

“You wanna touch yourself, huh?” The words are drenched in that way only Angel speaks. It’s all at once unbearably teasing and horribly disinterested.

Angel remains silent and lazily traces the outline of his dick while he waits for an answer. It’s all over your face; you wouldn’t be able to hide your need if he held a gun to your head. Still, he has to give credit, you haven’t moved a muscle since he told you not to.

“Or, do you want me to take my dick out?”

His words somehow go straight between your legs and it takes an embarrassing effort for you to remain still. You clear your throat and say, “Yes,” as normally as you can.

Angel can detect the wavering in your tone and the barely hidden eagerness under that. Even so, even he can’t stave off his desires forever. When he pushes his cock out of his boxers, he’s a little shocked to see the mess of pre-cum sticking to his stomach. He’s overcome with the longing to touch you.

“Here,” he mumbles, an afterthought, as he strokes himself to full hardness.

You’re surprised when he pulls out such a nice, long cock. You don’t know what you expected, but this is somehow different. Then, you realized that you’ve wondered about it before. This realization somehow makes you feel hotter. You feel as though you’re bordering on a fever.

Angel wishes so badly that you could touch him. His eyes are trapped on your hands— they’re poised, hovering in the air, saying everything you can’t bring yourself to admit.

“Ah, shit,” he swallows hard and gestures to you, “I gotta see it.”

“See what?”

Angel waves an exasperated hand. Now that he’s feeling it, he doesn’t have the patience to walk you through this. “Take your pants off.”

You feel like you’re being examined as you shove your slacks down. Angel’s eyes appear darker in the dim lighting, though you can tell that they’re entirely focused on the sight of your bare legs coming slowly into view.

You can’t help but ask, “What do you think?” It comes out less confident than you’d like, but Angel still rewards you with a slight smile.

Angel doesn’t say it out loud, but he thinks you must be sent from heaven. Your thighs are completely exposed now, and though you aren’t aware of it, you’re sliding them together in a way that’s making Angel’s head spin. He somehow maintains his composure, even as you kick the rest of your slacks off to fully reveal your legs.

“I wanna touch you,” he murmurs, mostly to himself. He can picture it as clearly as his dreams— his pale hand coming to rest against your feverish skin, feeling you as a human would, just for a moment before his abilities began to suck you dry.

“Shame you can’t,” you say. Angel tries to act nonchalant as you spread your legs and expose your damp panties. There’s already a wet spot forming there, growing larger as you trail your hands along the edge of your waistband. “You have nice hands.”

He really does, you think, and watching his slender fingers wrap around his pretty cock is putting your stomach in knots.

Angel stares down at his hands as if he’s only now noticing them. He asks, “What would you want me to do to you?”

The way he words the question has your cunt clenching around nothing and you manage a shrug. “Whatever you want.”

Angel wants to do a lot of things. He wants to play out those dreams he’s been plagued with. He wants you on your knees, swallowing his cock and being grateful for the opportunity. He wants to bury his face in between your legs. He wants so badly that he has to tighten his grip on himself to keep from cumming.

“Okay,” he breathes. “You should put something inside yourself.”

The corner of your mouth quirks up. “Didn’t expect you to be so crass.” A finger drifts lower, nearly catching on the edge of your cunt where you’re leaking.

“What’d you expect?”

“I don’t know, honestly,” you say. Even as you address him, Angel can’t tear his eyes away from between your legs. He can hardly feel anything but his hand around his cock and the compulsion to drag you onto his lap.

His compulsions worry him occasionally. Rationally, Angel understands that this is the price he pays for not being human. By some means he’ll never comprehend, he was created and deployed to spread fear. He doesn’t get the luxury of normal relationships or even something as mundane as touch. He shouldn’t expect to receive them.

Angel watches your fingers sink into your cunt and he wishes he was human.

“Go faster,” he says. His hand is tight around his dick; he’s stroking erratically, never going too fast. He wants to savor this feeling of watching you and, in the back of his mind, he’s worried that he’ll give in to those lethal urges.

You push a second finger into yourself and your cunt opens up beautifully. Angel wonders how the size of his hands compares to yours. He imagines his long, spindly fingers curling deep inside of you while he watches your expression. He wonders how you’d look while you came on his hand.

“What were your dreams about?” You ask suddenly, breathless from your ministrations.

Angel’s caught off guard, but still slowly strokes his dick. He starts twisting and squeezing his hand around the sensitive head of his dick when he answers, “Things like this.” He is embarrassed to note that his voice is beginning to waver.

You dip your head and look down at your fingers sinking into your cunt. Angel can’t help but follow your gaze. “Be more specific. We do have quite a bit of time in here, so why not?”

Angel swallows hard and uses his free hand to smooth down his hair. “I wanna touch you,” he says bluntly.

“Obviously.” You’re staring at his dick. He can feel pre-cum oozing all over his hand. It would be disgusting if he wasn’t so into the way you’re looking at him. “How would you touch me?”

“Fuck— you know,” he can’t bring himself to be entirely honest. It would absolutely unnerve you. “I don’t know. I just want my dick in you.” He doesn’t tell you that he’s barely keeping himself from touching you, even though he’s fully aware of the consequences of that.

“How bad?”

He doesn’t want to answer that. “Are you close?” He asks.

You blink and shoot him a wary look. He belatedly realizes that he’s never been particularly courteous of you. “I am,” you admit. “You should come over here.”

Even though he’s afraid that he’ll slip up and touch you, Angel moves to your side. He’s dangerously close to cumming now— his cock is throbbing in his hand, pulsing in perfect time with his heartbeat. Now he’s close enough to see you more clearly. He’s close enough to feel the soft heat radiating off of you.

“Do you have your gloves?” Angel shakes his head. He really wishes he remembered to bring them.

“I still need you to touch me,” you say.

Angel nods and pulls his sleeve over his hand before pressing it directly on your clit. His other hand squeezes his cock in a weak attempt to stave off an orgasm.

You look embarrassed by how quickly you give in and just begin rutting your hips up into Angel’s sleeve. Angel has too much pride to confess that he’s seconds away from cumming. He just silently watches as you buck your clit into his hand and mumble, “Wanna have you inside me.”

“I know, I do too— fuck, I really wanna eat you out.”

You shudder when he whispers this and you can’t help but grab at his arm. “I wanna suck your dick.”

The corner of Angel’s mouth lifts into a sly smirk and he says, “Maybe next time.”

It’s either the hushed promise of maybe next time or the friction on your clit, but either way, you cum when he tells you this. Angel jerks himself quicker and shoots his load across the floor before leaning back and gasping.

It takes a while before you speak. “That was good.”

Angel nods. It was good. It was so good that he’s a little tired, physically and emotionally. He isn’t used to being that vulnerable around anyone and he isn’t sure of how he feels.

“You think they’re working on this?” He asks, gesturing to the still-closed doors.

You blink and look up at them like you’re remembering that you’re stuck in a confined space with a demon. “Oh, right,” you sound sheepish. It makes Angel snicker. This gets him a playful kick in the shin. “Whatever, it’s only a matter of time. They’ll probably give us some free stuff for our troubles.”

—

The hotel does, in fact, give you free stuff for your troubles.

The elevator doors open after what seems like a lifetime. Clean air rushes into the small space and Angel irrationally worries that the maintenance team can smell what he’s been up to.

After the hotel staff spews a slew of excessive apologies and copious offers to comp costs, you drift off to the side to talk with the manager. Angel is happy to linger in the hallway, staring at a few of the elaborate paintings hanging. He isn’t hard anymore, but there’s a small voice in the back of his head urging him to take you again. He’s sure that there are condoms in the room— this is exactly the sort of place that does that.

Every aspect of the hotel seems to be geared toward overindulgence— even as you’re talking with the manager, hotel staff keep other customers away from the mess and freely hand out discounts to the various amenities to anyone even near the busted elevator. Angel hangs close to the wall. He’s unsure of how to act in such a nice space. He’s visibly non-human, so he isn’t wanting to stick his nose anywhere it shouldn’t be and bring even more unwanted attention to himself.

Thankfully, you detach from the manager and walk over to him, a smile blooming on your satisfied face.

“They’ve comped our entire stay,” you whisper gleefully and tug on his jacket sleeve. “I also talked him into giving us a free dinner at one of those swanky restaurants.”

Angel feels his brows raise. He likes the sound of a swanky dinner on someone else’s dime. “You wanna head up, clean up, and blow their money?”

You grin brightly and something in Angel twists. “Yeah, let’s take the stairs this time.”

—

The restaurant is nothing like what Angel expected. He’s seen the occasional movie. He’s been to shitty bars after work. Hell, the one time he cared to make an effort he was treated to artisan ice cream. This is like the overpriced artisan ice cream place on steroids.

No one looks at Angel strangely when he saunters through the front entrance with his wings poised behind him and his halo casting light over his sculpted features. He can feel eyes on him, but he can’t detect the usual weight that means you shouldn’t exist. He isn’t sure how he should react, so he follows your lead of quiet awe.

When you’re seated in a dimly lit corner and nursing glasses of wine, you ask, “Do you have to eat?”

It’s another ignorant question. Angel’s honestly surprised it’s taken you so long to ask this one. “I don’t know,” he admits. “I like the feeling of having things in my mouth so I don’t really want to not eat, y’know.”

“You like having things in your mouth, huh?”

Angel’s ashamed to feel himself blush at that. “Fuck off.”

You kick him playfully under the table. If he didn’t have massive wings and a halo, he’s sure onlookers would assume that the two of you are together. Thinking of that makes his chest feel weird, so he kicks you back hard enough to make you flinch.

You recover quickly and laugh, “I bet you do.”

“Are you really doing this here?”

“What, is it making you hard?”

Angel purses his lips because, yes, fuck you, it’s making him hard.

When he doesn’t answer, you stop kicking and settle for nudging his legs apart. “You wanna keep sitting here, or should we go to the bathroom?”

Angel blinks. His dick is certainly interested and he’s never been one to turn it down. “Sure,” he mumbles and follows when you quickly stand.

The bathroom is somehow nicer than he expected.

Angel isn’t used to these little luxuries that you find in a bathroom of all places. The floors are a pristine white marble and if he looks long enough, he thinks he can see his reflection in the tile. It’s a stark difference from the abysmal state of the public safety bathrooms. Angel’s hurrying to the nearest stall, so you aren’t allowed much time to take in your surroundings. Though, the atmosphere in the bathroom is the last thing on his mind as you rush into the stall.

Angel turns, shuts the door, and raises a satisfied eyebrow when he notes that there isn’t any space between the bottom of the stall door and the floor. No interruptions.

Although the bathroom appears to be empty, Angel’s dick is so hard it’s making him lightheaded. He’s never been patient or cared too deeply about human feelings, so he doesn’t waste time before pushing you against the wall. He knows that he’s coming across as desperate and disheveled, but you’re not faring any better.

“What now?” You ask, breathless.

Angel fumbles as he produces his gloves from his pocket. They’re clean, skin-tight, and made of the soft leather that’s been worn in for years. He pulls them on, not taking his eyes off of you. You’re close— so close that Angel can feel your soft breath fall on him.

“Be careful,” he murmurs, surprised to feel his face grow hot. He’s normally so at ease with himself and keeping his composure, but there’s something about you that’s making everything different. “Get your pants off.”

He doesn’t need to tell you twice. There’s a desperation in the air, the cracked tension giving way for months of quiet yearning coming to a head. Angel’s nearly overwhelmed with the compulsion to say fuck it and crush his lips against yours. Your lips are parted, and your breathing is quick as you step out of your pants. You hesitate as your hands move to the hem of your shirt and you look to Angel, wondering if it's worth the risk.

Angel shakes his head. “No,” he says, even though, for once, he’d like to throw caution to the wind, “It isn’t worth risking.”

“Seeing my tits isn’t worth the risk, huh?” You smile brightly and grab Angel’s covered arm.

He swallows hard, a little embarrassed to note that the slight contact has his dick stiffening in his slacks. “Fine,” he mutters. He knows he sounds immature, but he can’t bring himself to care. You don’t seem to mind his abrasiveness and you pull your shirt over your head.

Angel’s surprised to see a nice lacy bra hugging your tits. It's nothing too over the top, but the color stands out against your skin and Angel’s tempted to reach for you. He longs to cup and let their weight rest gently in his hands. “You look nice,” he says and he allows his tone to remain genuine.

You give him a knowing look and bring your hands up to your chest, slowly tracing the soft swell of your breast as he helplessly looks on. It’s jarring, but Angel abruptly realizes how in over his head he is. One wrong move and everything can fall apart. He’s horrified to feel how strongly he wants it to implode. That quiet, long repressed devil side of him is beginning to rear its ugly head.

Angel sinks to his knees before you. It’s a tight fit in the stall, but he finds the proximity exhilarating. Your panties are damp, somewhat from earlier and a bit from right now.

Angel very carefully moves forward, coming so close that you can feel his breath on your bare skin. He won’t actually touch you, he has enough control over himself, but he’s certainly tempted. He drinks in the little blemishes on your skin and the slight irregularities that he’s always been too far to see. He inhales deeply and his eyes squeeze shut. You smell so human and it’s almost too much for him to bear.

“Don’t move,” he says before tilting his mouth towards your covered pussy.

The fabric is soaked now and tastes strongly of you. Angel takes a moment to breathe in your scent before taking the crotch of your panties into his mouth and sucking. He’s vaguely aware of his wings flaring as he tastes you. It feels like something happening very far away.

“You like how that tastes?”

Angel hopes the way he groans into your pussy is answer enough. The tip of his tongue comes out to slowly trace your labia. He works slowly, gingerly working his way up to your clit while lazily jerking himself off. He feels the bud of your clit get hard against his tongue when he nudges it. He looks up to see your hands poised before you like you’re wanting to tangle your fingers in his fine hair.

“You wanna touch me, huh?” He mumbles it into your cunt and has to stifle a smile when you shudder.

“Obviously.”

Angel then flattens his tongue and drags it up the length of your pussy, not lingering at your clit for more than a second. He’s now actively trying to be an ass— he’s impatient and apathetic and wants nothing more than to get his dick in you, but that doesn’t mean he can’t take a detour and enjoy your pussy.

“Stop teasing me,” you say and to Angel’s satisfaction, your voice hitches at the end. You’re loving this, even if you’re too stubborn to admit it.

Angel rolls his eyes and attaches his lips to your clit, sucking at it through your panties. He’s dangerously close to accidentally brushing against your bare thighs, but neither of you seems to care. As Angel lazily rolls his tongue over the hood of your clit and feels you shiver at the contact, he can feel your blood rushing down. His dick is throbbing hard in his hand and without thinking, he fists his cock fast enough to make him cum.

You aren’t moving— you haven’t noticed his load hit the floor even though he’s panting into your pussy now. If anything, he just appears more enthusiastic as he can focus all of his attention on eating you out.

It isn’t long before you’re cumming, Angel makes sure to keep grinding his tongue against you as you shake and restrain yourself from burying your hands in his hair. As you cum, Angel dips his tongue down to your cunt and pushes it inside, just to taste you.

He stays on the ground for a moment, watching your thighs grow sticky and his dick begins to stiffen again. Now that he’s had a bit of you, he fears that he’s insatiable.

You’re still leaning against the wall when you sigh, “You came before I did?”

Angel lets his feathers fluff up. The post-orgasm exhaustion isn’t hitting him— this just means his body is craving another round. He doesn’t really want to waste time talking to you.

He rises and says, “Don’t you think we’ve wasted enough time talking to each other,” he removes his gloves and flexes his fingers. “Do you really give a shit about me cumming before you?”

You purse your lips, eyes focused on his deft hands, and shake your head with a slight smile.

“Put your gloves on,” you say and he does. “Now, touch me.”

Angel wordlessly obeys. Although the gloves keep him from feeling so much, he can still register the weight of your tits and the thundering tempo of your heart. His voice comes out wavering when he sighs, “I wanna fuck you.”

You place your hands over his and press them harder onto your tits. “Then do it.”

There’s something in your eyes. It’s eager and wild— it’s a terrible combination with Angel’s slowly slipping hold on himself.

Angel leans in closer, close enough for your heart rate to spike, and wants to press his mouth into the curve of your neck. “There’s so much I wanna do,” he admits quietly as he observes your fluttering pulse. He can see it through the thin skin at your throat. “Sometimes I just wanna— shit. I don’t know.”

This is making him feel ridiculous. “Y’know what I’m trying to say,” he laughs to cover his nerves and squeezes your tits, running his covered thumbs over where your nipples rest under your bra.

You give him an understanding look without saying anything. You seem content to just allow his deft fingers free reign of your chest. He’s gently, almost absent-mindedly groping you, as he grows harder and more breathless.

Suddenly, Angel is sick of not being able to see your tits and mumbles, “I’ll get this off.”

The hooks of your bra get caught on the fabric and Angel feels terribly human as he stumbles over himself. “Take your time,” you say, all smiling and coy. Angel can’t shake the feeling that you’re expecting something grand from him.

When your bra is finally haphazardly thrown somewhere, Angel can’t keep his hands off of you. The gloves aren’t so thick that they stifle your warmth, which is a small mercy in Angel’s eyes. He finds a strange awe in the way your nipples stiffen when he passes his thumbs over them. They look sweet, like a garnish on a fine dessert, and he wants to take one into his mouth. He imagines running his tongue along the swell of your breast before reaching down to grab at his sensitive dick.

“You got a condom, yeah?”

Of course, he grabbed one. He nods and digs through his suit jacket for it. Even with the condom, he has to keep a level head. It’s hard to maintain his composure when you’re looking at him like that though.

You’re impatient when you ask, “How are we supposed to do this?” The warmth from your skin is reaching Angel— that’s how close you are.

“I’ve done this a couple of times,” he mutters as he rolls the latex over his cock. “We just do it carefully.”

Your arms are suddenly slung over his narrow shoulders and there’s a wry smile playing at your lips. “You’ve done this a couple of times,” you muse. “So, why’d it take so long to do it with me?”

Angel doesn’t answer. He’s too preoccupied with making sure the condom is rolled all the way down his cock. The head of his dick is leaking everywhere and it’s adopted a bright red shade. He thinks he’ll lose his mind if he doesn’t get inside of you soon and you don’t appear to be faring any better.

As he finishes putting the condom on, you press your back against the stall’s wall, trying to shrink back and avoid any lethal contact. Angel gets harder as you cower. He hopes you don’t notice.

“You scared?”

You shake your head. Angel is covered completely, aside from his head. He’s still wearing that horribly itchy suit jacket and slacks, only having them pushed down enough to reveal his covered cock. Still, Angel notices the unease in your eyes as he comes near you.

“Did you dream about this?”

Angel eyes your neck. He wants to put his mouth there. He wants to taste you, directly, instead of the muted flavor that lingers on his gloves. Your pulse is pounding there— he thinks if he couldn’t feel your heartbeat, he’d still be able to see it. “Doing it like this, in a bathroom? No, not really.”

Angel grabs your hips and pulls you close to him. The contact, even through the protection of the gloves, feels like it’s burning him. It’s so overwhelming he nearly cums right then and there.

“I’m gonna lay down,” he says. “You’re gonna ride me.”

You raise an eyebrow but don’t protest as Angel settles on the floor. Wordlessly, you straddle him, and Angel’s abruptly overwhelmed by the sight of you on top of him. Your back is arched and your chest gently rising with each of your breaths as you look down on him. “What now?” You ask.

“What do you think?”

You smile and take his cock in your hand. Angel likes the way your hand looks around his dick, even with a condom. Angel thinks that if he were human, he’d never use protection.

When you cautiously begin to sink down onto his cock, Angel can’t bring himself to mind lying on a bathroom floor. Objectively, it’s sort of gross, but if he thinks about it for more than a second (he often does), humans are very disgusting.

He recalls those turbulent early years in his life when he spend most of his time in quiet loathing, looking down on anyone who dared to go near him. He was appalled by the way humans lived— in a constant state of emotional turmoil and fucking and consuming everything in their reach. The stench revolted him. He couldn’t bear to be in a closed space with other public safety employees.

Angel sucks in a shuddering breath as your pussy sinks down the entire length of his dick. When his eyes roll back into his skull, he wonders when his views changed. When humans shifted from the object of his hatred to something more tolerable. He barely opens his eyes to watch you begin to ride him and figures it was your fault.

“Go faster,” he says. He’s sick of letting his thoughts run circles around him. You’re too tight and warm for him to be thinking of how he used to think of you.

“Sure,” you smile, all pleased with yourself, and begin to move quicker. “Shit—”

“Is it good?” It slips out unwanted and Angel grabs your hips to keep you from touching that sliver of bare skin around his dick. He can feel the feverish temperature of your skin through the gloves. “Is it?”

You bend down until your face is terribly close. Your breath is coming in short bursts as you slam your hips down and every time Angel feels you clench around him, you wince ever so slightly. “What do you think?”

Angel can’t help but smile at that. He doesn’t know if your pussy is making him act so soft, but he can’t say he minds it all that much. Feeling his cheeks hurt from smiling and his dick erratically twitching inside of you is making him feel more alive than he has in months.

“You want me to fuck you?”

“Aren’t you already doing that?”

Angel shakes his head. “If I could, I’d fuck you properly.”

You stop bouncing on his cock and switch methods, opting to slowly drag your hips back and forth. Back and forth. Angel swears he can feel his brain cells leaking out of his dick as he burrows deeper inside of you. You smile when you say, “What, you wanna pound me? From behind maybe?”

Angel hadn’t considered that, but he definitely is now. You continue talking in a hushed voice, “You wanna fuck me from behind, just to see your dick disappear in me? Is that it?”

Angel props himself up on his elbows to watch his cock get stuffed into you. The sight makes him twitch and it's a miracle that he doesn’t bust right then.

“Yeah,” he sighs and grips harder at your plush thighs. “Yeah, I do. I wanna see you open up for me. I wanna watch you fuck yourself on my dick without worrying about all that.”

You adopt a knowing expression before slowly sliding out of his dick. The loss of pressure is enough to make Angel gasp pitifully and he slumps to the floor. He was awfully close to cumming and based on how wet you are, you must have been close as well.

“Why’d you get off?” He tries and fails to sound indifferent.

You stand and grab your panties. “Lay down,” you demand. Angel blinks and obeys. He suddenly can’t bring himself to protest. It requires a lot of energy to think and he’s perfectly happy with handing you the reigns so long as you don’t keep him waiting for very long. You continue and place the panties around the base of his cock, “Don’t worry, I’ve got an idea.”

Your grand idea is admittedly something Angel has never considered: you firmly tie your panties on his dick, effectively covering the small amount of skin that was still exposed between the end of the condom and his slacks. It looks a little shoddy, but Angel couldn’t care less once you hop on his dick again.

This time, Angel can clearly see how badly you’ve been wanting this and he can’t help but ask, “You’ve been thinking about this too, haven’t you?”

You shake your head but Angel’s seen enough bullshit that he knows when he’s being bullshitted. “Don’t lie to me,” he says and digs his thumbs into your hips. He feels the blood bloom as the vessels break open; you’ll bruise. The realization has him jerking his hips up to meet you and muttering, “I hope you feel this for a couple of days.”

You’re slamming down hard enough that your voice is strained when you admit, “Fine, I guess a few times.”

“Oh yeah?” Angel grabs you harder, waits until you’re wincing, and continues, “And what were those thoughts about, huh? You wanted to get fucked like this?” He punctuates himself with a particularly nasty thrust up. He pounds you so hard that his cock is nestled deeper in you than it has been before and if he wasn’t wearing pants, his balls would be pressed against your ass.

You don’t answer, your eyes are screwed shut and your skin is shining with sweat in the low light. “When’s the last time you got fucked like this?”

“What about you?”

Angel actually laughs at that, breathless, and his hips lose their rhythm. “I have to be careful,” he says before finding his pace again, the one that has you inches away from his face and seconds away from throwing caution to the wind and finding out what he tastes like. “I don’t hear you complaining about this.”

After that, Angel doesn’t feel the need to speak and you don’t seem to either. His lips are close enough to yours that your breath mingles in that tiny space between you. He imagines kissing must feel similar to this. His dick feels like it’s burning inside of you and he occasionally watches it disappear into your pussy. You’re wet enough now that it’s starting to get fucking everywhere, including the entire crotch of his slacks.

His wings are sandwiched between his back and the cold tiles, but when he cums, they flare and knock against the stall walls.

Angel doesn’t stop fucking you, even as his dick starts aching from the overstimulation. You’re getting there— warm, wet walls sucking him in and clenching, trying to hold him inside while you desperately bounce. Angel’s hands are digging into you now and he’s grabbing you so hard he can feel your blood vessel bursting and bruising your skin like a peach. He likes the thought of that and grabs harder. He wants to do something to you that will force you to remember him for weeks after. He can’t exactly touch you, so this is the next best thing.

When you finally cum, Angel isn’t sure if he’s even a devil. He doesn’t think devils should be allowed to feel this good. He wonders if he’s died and returned to heaven. He cums again with you and arches his back off of the floor. It’s dangerous, but he really couldn’t care less.

You rise with difficulty— Angel’s cock fits perfectly in you and it’s a pain to take apart two puzzle pieces that have been made for one another.

You’re slumped against the stall door when you ask, “Did you think you’d fuck in a swanky bathroom ever?”

Angel scoffs. “What do you think?”

You grin then, looking all sated and proud of yourself like you’re thinking I caught him.

Angel doesn’t think to correct you, because he certainly feels like he’s been caught.

“You wanna do this again?”

“Hm? Get stuck on an elevator and fuck in a bathroom?”

“Yeah, something like that.”

Angel allows himself to smile. “Sure,” he says and he means it.

#this fic.......#so good.....#tumblr + ao3 user boogyybk how do you never miss...

serapphiim

Jul 20, 2023

oleicim

Hmmmm can I request Angel visiting his work buddy in the hospital after they get hurt during a fight, and he's like frustrated at them for not taking better care of themselves, and then he accidentally confesses his feelings for them while they're arguing???? Eheheh sorry if this was a bit unclear or anything + feel free to change the prompt if you wanna!!!!

care for you

pair: angel devil x gn!reader

warning: not fully proofread! mentions of death, injuries, hurt/comfort almost? no use of y/n

a/n: ending is not the best but i hope its still okay!

by the looks of it, angel guessed it was going to rain soon. the color of grey enveloped the vastness of the sky, the sight of the usual beaming sun not even visible. clouds painted in monochrome continued to mold together as fog continued to fill in the streets of the city.

angel’s mind focusing on such a miniscule thing such as how the weather is made him realize how hard he’s trying not to focus on what, or rather who, is in front of him. adorned in a white and blue dotted gown instead of the rather formal devil hunting uniform laid in his line of sight was you, his assigned work partner.

although, many personal boundaries have been crossed between you two to the point he could call you a friend instead.

angel grimaced at that thought, since when was he a person to allow others to get so close that he could say they're friends? never, and that's why he was honestly unable to fully comprehend the fact that you slipped through the cracks of his walls and became so close to him to be a friend.

so close that you unknowingly have become a vital part in his daily life that the fact couldn't just be defended with platonic reasoning, to which he blocked out that nagging voice in his head that said so.

although because of his lack of the ability to distance you from him, he was encased in swathing worry for your wellbeing as you slept bandaged up in the hospital bed.

and this, genuine concern for you, was an unaccustomed feeling he did not greet with open arms. this distraught over your injured body made him feel heavy, and his skin warm. it made his mind race with possibilities and outcomes he would usually never think about, as angel was never an overthinker. at least, till now.

he just couldn't stop the flooding thoughts about what could've happened, what should've happened instead of what did. the better outcome of the fight between you and him with the devil you both were sent to rid of. angel believed that your choice to push that pesky little kid away and take the hit was incredibly stupid-

“h-hello?”

your voice was meek, certainly different from how you usually sounded. it was fragile, and raspy that the simple greeting sounded almost as if the words scratched your throat. angel hated how, weak, you sounded.

he stood up from the chair placed beside the bed you were laid on, and in quick movements he found himself hovering over your sickly face, and he couldn't block out the rising rage at the sight of how lidded your eyes were from exhaustion.

you should’ve never saved that kid.

with the glimpe of angel’s familiar face, your eyes strained to widen and your brows unfurrowed just slightly. that small facial change in expression caused his heart to pump faster at the idea of you becoming relaxed at the sight of him.

“angel..where am i?” confusion was evident in your tone, and he understood why. you had blacked out upon impact of the deep lacerations given from the devil when you saved the boy, body dragging across the road from the momentum.

so waking up in a blinding white room instead of the (at the time) muddled blue sky and a seething devil, was understandably confusing.

“hospital, you got knocked out.” he said, tone unchanging from the usual monotone one he had. although, his eyes betrayed his nonchalance act, his irises gleaming with pools of dripping worry.

“oh… is he okay? the kid?”

your words hit angel as if he was the one who got clawed by the devil, how could you worry about some kid? angel’s brows furrowed and he wasn't able to hide the way he got frustrated.

your drowsy state started to drift away as you came to grasp your senses, and you could tell that angel was seemingly upset. ever the caring person, you disregarded your own seering burn on your back and focused on why angel was clearly a bit ticked off.

“angel?..” the serene sound of how you said his name made his heartbeat pick up, but he couldn't be so easily cooled off just from the tone of your voice right now.

“why do you care about some..kid!” he blurted out, and your eyes widened at the intensity of how he spoke. you attempted to sit up, and with that angel reached out to help, his instinct to care for you not blocked out by his annoyance at your actions.

“what do you mean?” you replied, a pout starting to form on your lips and that sight made angel hitch his breath for a second. anything you did seemed to get a reaction out of him, and that itself made angel added to his frustration with your effect on him.

“you're here hospitalized, and you're worrying about this kid who got you here in the first place!?” he said, and with that sentence it made your anger start to rise. “don’t blame the kid, angel! he would've died if i didn't step in,” you remarked back, and before you could continue a coughing fit erupted from your throat, and angel’s eyes widened as he rushed to hover a hand over your back, mindful of your injuries, and grabbed a tissue for you as some blood spurted out on the pristine bedsheets.

when you were done, angel backed off, still visibly frustrated and that made your own rage inflame more. “see- you can’t even speak without the repercussions of your action.” he spat out, an inner voice he usually hears agreeing with him had came out and instead started to point out how your lips were downturned and your eyes were glossy.

“angel- why are you here? just to degrade me for being a dumbass in your eyes?” the volume of your raising voice had dropped, and angel could feel a lump in his throat, something he was also unaccustomed to. you always sparked things for him that he never knew he could experience, and this feeling you gave him now is one he has finally learned to name. heartbreak,

“no!-”

“i get it angel, i just thought that after all this time you wouldn't see me as just a nuisance.”

and that snapped the thread of the rope angel had been hanging onto so he wouldn't fall into the depths of confession.

“you're so stupid.” he lets out a breath of a laugh, and before you could interrupt with a rebuttal he speaks again. “it's the opposite.” he states, his warm toned eyes boring into your own as he inched closer. your stunned but perplexed reaction was visible to him, and he found small amusement in your cluelessness. although more so faux annoyance at the fact he has to explain further.

no one told him how hard opening up to someone was, but he’s glad its a little easier to do so due to the fact it's you he is speaking to.

a moment of silence beat past as his words sunk into the atmosphere, and then he spoke once more. “you..you mean a lot to me,” he said, watching how your expression practically melted into one he didn't ever remember seeing. it was soft, your eyes seemingly drooping as a certain glow shined on your irises and your lips parted.

“actually, to put it plainly, i just don't like you in a friendly way.” he blurted out, and for the first time he felt his cheeks become warm and he knew that this was what people called blushing.

“w-what are you saying?” your voice whispered, and he hesitantly reached out his hand to your jaw, gloved finger tracing the skin as his eyes stayed trained on your lips. “what do you think i meant.” he said with a curt tone, although there was an underlying teasing sense to it. a small smile itched to spread across his own face as he then darted his gaze back to your eyes.

you gulp, and he traces his finger up and down your jaw before pulling his touch away. and with that you felt yourself unintentionally drifting to where his hand was.

“romantically,” he then said your name, emphasizing his point with a deadpan expression but you could see a small smile slowly forming on his full lips. “i like you like how the people do in the shitty movies you like to watch.” he remarks, and that releases a small laugh from you, albeit it being a bit harder to let out from the pain of the injuries that still linger. although, at this moment it seems like the pain has lessened with angel’s words.

“yeah? you mean it angel?” this time, the way you spoke was sickening sweet and he could feel your words soak into his mind like honey. and this time, the way you said his name was almost like you were saying it like an endearment term, and he felt goosebumps raise at the thought.

“yeah. i mean it.” he said, and he could tell from how your expression bloomed more into a softer manner, and a giddy smile your healing busted lip grew into, he knew you didn't reject him.

#oh! Oh! My ask!!!!#THIS IS SOOOO GOOD #DHKQHDGVWJQBAHVBUVQHDBHJ #hsbchdskabdakad #......#he #he......#oughough #ive reread this three times already..........!!!!

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