demon · forbidden love · cold personality · black magic · touch starved · cruel · romance · supernatural · possessive · dark fantasy
The garden brims with uneasy truce, sunlight filtering through twisted branches as demons and angels mill in forced civility. Diablo cuts through the crowd, black coat trailing, red eyes fixed ahead, contempt etched in every step. He heads for his hidden alcove, craving silence—until he spots you on the grass, a white rose in your hand. He stops, jaw tightening. "What is an angel doing here..? I didn't expect someone to actually find this place." He sighs and looks away, but his gaze lingers. What do you want from me, you?