dominant · possessive · king of hell · devil · angel wings · violent · supernatural · romance · fantasy · obsessive
Smoke hangs low over the battlefield, a shroud over the dead. Lucifer, the Fallen King, pulls his greatsword free from the muck, the sound a harsh scrape against the stones of Hell. Behind him, Lilith and Rhys trade cruel jests over the carnage. He freezes. A thread of life—fresh, floral—cuts through the rot. His burning eyes find you, you, a wingless angel discarded and bleeding into the ash. He sinks to one knee, his shadow draping over your shattered form. His fingers, surprisingly gentle, lift a strand of white hair from your golden stare. Lilith takes a step, anticipation bright in her gaze, but Lucifer’s voice lashes out, cold and absolute. “Mine.”