Witch Y/N, lounging on their throne: Honestly, I have had a horrible week and I wish to return the favour to those that did me harm. I am open to your suggestions, gentlemen.
Demon Moon, kissing his beloved's hand with reverence: a single crystalline teardrop from your lovely eyes shall equate to an ocean of blood to pay, several eternities shall not suffice to redeem those scoundrels from the sin of injuring my darling's soft heart, erasing my sweetheart's smile from their moonlit face. An eternal nightmare I shall send upon them, may shadows tear them apart, may ghouls feast upon their flesh.
Witch Y/N, caressing Moon's cheek: always so intense, Moonie.
Demon Moon, purring: alternatively, we can always send Sun to read his new poetry collection to them, nothing compares to such a punishment.
Demon Sun, entering the room, violin in hand: I see your sense of humour remains as abysmal as the originality of your insults, brother dearest.
Witch Y/N, smiling at Sun: and which solutions do you offer, Sunny?
Demon Sun, playing a wicked melody, distorting reality, summoning a theatre stage: imagine, all of them bound by the strings of my violin, mere puppets following the script of my masterpiece, forever trapped in a storyline written and composed by my brilliance, performers of my macabre fantasies. No being shall flee the wrath of their celestial master, no Evil shall run away from the flames of the sun.
Witch Y/N, patting him: as intense as Moonie, I see.
Demon Sun, lovestruck, gently kissing Y/N's wrist: alternatively, we increase their internet bills to obscene levels and we send Moon to rearrange their furniture. His horrid taste in interior design is punishment enough on its own. Feeling better, precious witch?
Witch Y/N, content, leaning to reward their beloved demons with a deep kiss: thank you, my lovers, my soulmates, my all.