#devil writes

River - Protective alter

(Protector / Guarded / Slightly Aggressive) -

• Triggers: Feeling threatened, unsafe, or confronted; situations where boundaries are crossed; witnessing injustice

• Behavior: Becomes assertive, defensive, protective; can act slightly aggressive to shield Clementine or others

Faye - Childlike alter

(Childlike / Fearful / Energetic) -

• Triggers: Emotional neglect, rejection, fear, loneliness, memories of childhood abandonment

• Behavior: Childlike and expressive; anxious, playful, or vulnerable; seeks comfort or reassurance; may regress emotionally

Alix - Observant alter

(Numb / Observant / Logical) -

• Triggers: Overwhelming emotions, stress, situations requiring calm or analysis

• Behavior: Detached, calm, and analytical; observes without reacting emotionally; helps solve problems or mediate conflicts

-----

Kalim didn't want Jamil to handle this, as their relationship was completely different now, he could handle this himself, or at least, without Jamil helping him this time. So being the incredibly brilliant guy ever, he rushed to Ramshackle dorm as fast as he could. He wouldn't want his admirer finding out where he was.

You opened him with warm arms, after he explained the whole situation to you. "So basically...that person is harassing you?" You asked for confirmation. Hurriedly nodding, Kalim sighed.

"It's just, they won't stop, no matter what I say! ...I didn't tell Jamil because I thought I could handle things on my own, but..."

"No, no, it's fine. I'll act as your lover for a while, and if they don't stop their advances, I'll just have to handle them privately," you noted in your head all the possible ways you could torture Kalim's "admirer" legally. Kalim was just happy you accepted his pleads for help, happily jumping on top of you.

The past week the student after Kalim seemed to get the hint, your arm always hooked around Kalim's hips, the glares you'd send them in class, can't forget all the times you give those small kisses to Kalim on his forehead whenever they're around. You were officially Kalim's scary guard dog. You were fine with that, you didn't mind, especially with all the food Kalim treated to you after class.

"I think it worked.." Kalim frowned, laying his weight on your body. Confused, you turned your neck to face him.

"You're upset? What's up?" Kalim couldn't help but grip onto your arm, sad eyes looking away from you.

"I really like...n-no! I love your company!" He felt a large pit in his stomach, waiting for your response. This was just supposed to be an act, he didn't know this would heighten his feelings for you!

You pulled Kalim closer, a grin on your face. "Is that so? Then I guess I'll just have to stick around as long as you'd like."

Kalim shouted with joy, snuggling into your chest. Oh yeah, and you dealt with his stalker further the day after.

⛓Ruggie Bucchi⛓

Ruggie didn't expect things to escalate, he really didn't. How was he supposed to know that the student treating him to a meal was an admirer?! In his defense, the hyena was staring at his meal the whole time, rather than the person giving him the lovey-dovey eyes.

Did he turn them down? Duh! Ruggie tells it how it is, and he really doesn't have time beating around the bush, the thing is...now the admirer thinks they're full blown dating! Even when Ruggie states he's not interested. Telling Leona this, the lazy lion man was left in his room laughing. Not funny, Leona!

Now Ruggie was receiving creepy notes along with snacks, he ate the snacks, tossed the notes away. The only way to fix this now was some sort of scam!

You had been quite surprised watching as Ruggie jumped right into Ramshackle, through the damn window...

As silly as this seemed though, Ruggie really was uncomfortable with his stalker. And as much as he could handle on his own, Crowley has been watching over his use of magic as of lately, wouldn't want a repeat of what happened at Spelldrive. So yeah, pretending to be a thing with you seemed like the safest, and cheapest option here.

With the situation...and his puppy eyes, you just had to agree.

Ruggie really was surprised to see you at his desk, gifting him two donuts for his breakfast he seemed to forget. Did he just fall in love with you? Yes, yes he did. "How's my pretty boyfriend doing?" You made sure you were loud and clear, just for his creepy admirer to hear. They did, and immediately got the hint, the way you looked towering over Ruggie was threatening enough.

A week has passed, even though the person stopped bothering Ruggie, you both were still glued together, side by side most of the time. He was grateful for your help, hell, Ruggie was grateful for all the dinners you treated him to! Ruggie made sure to make you a fine meal as appreciation, he even picked the yummiest dandelions for a sider!

You and Ruggie never addressed your relationship, but you both just assume you're now dating.

⛓Azul Ashengrotto⛓

On the outside, Azul was calm, a smirk playing right onto his lips, everything was fine. Everything was indeed not fine. On the inside, Azul was panicking, crying, throwing up. Some old schoolmates of his had come to visit the Mostro Lounge while a festival was being held.

They all looked so happy, but there were a few that stood out to him, ones that had bullied him before. They were all asking questions about how he was holding up, compliments that seemed disgustingly fake, then a comment was said that made everyone else curious. "Hey Azul, you dating someone yet? You weren't exactly everyone's type before," now they were all laughing again.

It really wasn't funny, and if the tweels weren't at their clubs right now, they both would've squeezed the life out of the group. "...Not that it's any of your business..I-I do have a partner," Azul wanted to smack himself for stumbling on his words, hurriedly going to his office, dialing your number.

The phone call was pretty fast, Azul had offered you countless deals in the past minute of the call, just for you to stop by, and act like you were in a relationship with him. He tried his best to calm his nerves while talking to you, but you could clearly hear the distress in his voice.

You wasted no time meeting him back at the Lounge, pulling Azul close to you, eyeing down his old "friends". "Hey Azul, decided to swing by for a moment, these are your old classmates?" You take a seat right next to them, never letting go of Azul's gloved, shaky hand. You knew his past, and how they had treated him. "You guys still major assholes, or did you finally grow out of that phase?"

The question had them all shut up, now they were the ones embarrassed. What a turn of events! Azul thanked the Great Seven, the pressure finally left his stomach over the hours passing. "But yes, I've been great over the years, do mention my well-being to our other old acquaintances," Azul placed their bill on the table, grinning smugly,  and no they weren't getting any discounts.

"You okay?" You squeezed his hand, checking for any sort of discomfort. Azul nodded nervously, face flushed. Were you always this hot?!

Clearing his throat, Azul looked up to face you. "Ahem..t-thank you for tonight, I wouldn't mind if you stopped by for free meals for the next week," Azul was a bit sad this was over so soon, he had liked acting as your boyfriend. Cupping his soft cheek, smirking at his offer, you gladly accepted.

"Only if you're in my company the whole time, darling." You killed Azul, congratulations!

Akyra Bernadotte, King of Abyssia, smiled warmly down at his childhood friend, his hands clasped behind his back as his antennae twitched happily. “I did tell you ahead of time. I sent a letter,” he recalled. “Did you not get it?” he asked, concern written across his face.

Salem rolled her eyes, looking away from the man in front of her. Of course she got his stupid letter. She burned it in her fireplace just two days ago.

“Can’t recall,” she replied innocently, staring back at Akyra — her icy blue eyes meeting his amber ones. “Now, what do you want? I’m busy.”

“With what?” the alien asked curiously.

“None of your business,” she said coldly. “And you have yet to answer my first question. So, I’ll ask again — what do you want?”

Akyra chuckled softly. She was still the same Salem he grew up with as an infant. “Well, I wanted to catch up. We haven’t seen each other in, what… Two years? I thought we could walk through Abyssia,” he said, smiling softly.

“And why on earth would I do something so ridiculous when I could be doing more important things?” she questioned, her gaze darkening.

“Well, for one, you’re always in your palace doing absolutely nothing,” the alien replied, earning a scoff from the queen.

“So?”

“So… why not just walk with me? For old time’s sake?” he asked hopefully, a gentle smile forming on his lips.

The sheer excitement on his face irritated Salem to her core, “No.”

“Please?”

“I said no, dammit,” she growled, already turning away from the king and beginning to walk off. “There is nothing in this damn world that could convince me to walk through a village with—”

“I’ll buy you Abyssia’s most divine chocolate.” Akyra started.

Salem stopped mid-step.

Her pointed ears twitched.

She was listening.

“The kind infused with starlight nectar. The rare Abyssian blend that melts instantly in your mouth,” he finished, smiling softly — as if he hadn’t just attempted to bribe her.

The sorceress’s eye twitched as she slowly glanced back at Akyra. “This is bribery, you know that? Are you really trying to bribe me with chocolate?” She cocked a brow, her eyes locking directly onto his.

Akyra didn’t respond.

He simply stared back into her eyes, his smile growing.

Salem turned away again, silent for a moment.

“…From that chocolatier near the northern star bridge?” she asked quietly without turning to face him.

His smile widened.

“Of course.”

Silence fell once more.

Salem exhaled slowly.

“An hour,” she finally said.

She turned around and walked right past Akyra toward the palace doors.

Akyra chuckled softly and quickly followed after her, his antennae twitching happily. “Of course, Your Majesty,” the king chirped lightly.

—

By the time they reached the Northern Star Bridge, the sun was beginning to set.

Children ran past the two monarchs, laughing as they kicked a ball between them. Salem gazed at them for a second too long before looking forward once again.

Merchants sold baked goods to the villagers gathered around their stalls. The place had really changed since the last time she came here. The bridge had been expanded, there were more houses and shops, and—had he replaced the cracked stone with polished crystal?

A soft hum escaped Salem’s lips, and Akyra turned toward her at the sound. He smiled faintly before facing forward again, continuing their walk.

“How do you like the improvements?” he asked suddenly, prompting the sorceress to glance at him. “It took a while to build all of this, but the people here love it.”

She examined a nearby railing as she walked past, brushing her gloved fingers against it. It felt firm. He had finally replaced it — it could have collapsed at any second if he hadn’t.

“It’s… acceptable,” she said at last. “You finally fixed its flaws. I was beginning to think you enjoyed watching your kingdom crumble.”

Akyra looked at her, a brow raised in amusement. “That’s all?” he asked, his smile widening slightly.

The sorceress raised a brow in return, glancing at the alien king. “Did you expect me to applaud and offer congratulations?” she scoffed, placing her hands behind her back. “Shall I summon a band? Perhaps some fireworks?”

The alien let out a soft laugh, looking down at Salem. “I would have settled for a simple ‘well done,’” he teased.

He didn’t miss the corner of her lips inching upward.

“You’re smiling,” he pointed out.

That caused his old friend to turn away from him at once.

“Don’t make such ridiculous claims.”

The alien chuckled softly, watching the sorceress even after she turned away.

Silence settled between them as they crossed the remainder of the bridge. After a while, they stopped at one of the nearby shops to order drinks.

Akyra chose his usual — Comet Fizz, a fizzy blue drink served in a curved glass flask, bursting with citrus and starfruit flavors. Salem ordered the Glowberry Cider, a warm, deep red beverage with a slight tart taste, made from glowberries that pulsed faintly in low light.

The two monarchs continued walking, watching as children ran past the shop, occasionally colliding with their parents in their excitement. Salem stared a second too long before Akyra’s voice pulled her from her thoughts.

“How are you liking the drink?” he asked, smiling as he took a sip of his own. “I remember how much you used to drink it when we were children.”

Salem looked down at her glass before lifting it to her lips and taking a slow sip. She then met Akyra’s gaze after a moment.

“It’s fine, I suppose,” she replied evenly. “I still don’t understand how you can enjoy something so… fizzy.”

“Hey!” Akyra protested lightly. “I’m not criticizing your choices. Leave mine alone.”

Salem smirked slightly at his outburst, taking another sip of her drink. She glanced upward and noticed that the sun had already set.

Thankfully, they were nearly at the palace doors.

“I would recommend going inside,” she said casually. “It’s already dark. We don’t need you floating into the stratosphere.”

“Aww, you care about me.”

“Never mind,” she snapped back, shooting him a glare as her cheeks flushed in embarrassment. “You can float for all I care.”

“Ohokay! Okay, I get it. We should head into the palace,” he said with a gentle laugh, already walking ahead. “I’ll get the door.”

“I can do that myself, thank you.”

“Of course, Your Majesty. You don’t need any help whatsoever,” the alien replied with a smirk, his antennae twitching slightly.

“Now come on. I want to show you what changed in the palace.”

—

Salem had to admit.. She was impressed. Dreadfully so.

The palace had changed just as well — new flooring, a new chandelier. He had clearly been busy.

“It hurts seeing how much you’re trying to impress me, Bernadotte,” Salem finally said, glancing at Akyra as they stood in one of the corridors beneath the glowing chandelier.

“Could I at least get some praise?” he huffed, placing a hand on his hip as he smiled gently. “I can see it in your eyes. You’re a little impressed.”

“False accusations.”

“Really? So how come when I showed you the new chandelier, you were smiling?”

She fully turned her head toward him, glaring.

“I was not smiling. What is with you throwing false accusations? You’ve been doing it all day.”

Akyra scoffed and nudged her side. “I have not. You were clearly smiling—”

He stopped mid-sentence at the squeak Salem let out.

She instantly shoved at his arm.

“Don’t touch me,” she said coldly, her glare darkening — though he noticed the faint blush rising on her cheeks.

It went silent for just a couple of seconds.

“No way,” he whispered, staring at the sorceress in disbelief. “You’re still—?”

“I’m not.”

“You didn’t even know what I was going to say,” Akyra replied with a smirk, his leaf-like tail wagging behind him — moving faster now with poorly concealed excitement.

“I absolutely did,” Salem said, stepping three paces away from the king. “Control your tail.”

“What? I’m just excited. You’re still—”

“Akyra.”

“—Ticklish,” he finally finished, laughing softly at her irritation and embarrassment.

The sorceress growled under her breath, her cheeks flushing deeper. “I am not. I grew out of such a ridiculous phase,” she argued, crossing her arms firmly over her chest as if that alone would solidify the lie.

Akyra raised a brow, amusement dancing in his amber eyes as he tilted his head slightly, clearly enjoying the situation far more than he should have. “Sal, c’mon,” he drawled. “It’s obvious you didn’t grow out of it. You squeaked.”

“That’s because you caught me off guard,” she defended quickly, her voice sharper than intended. “I wasn’t expecting you to touch me.” She took another deliberate step back when Akyra began walking toward her, the distance between them shrinking in a way she did not appreciate.

“Akyra,” she warned, her voice lowering dangerously as her eyes darkened. “I swear to all the gods above me, do not touch me.”

He only smirked in response, utterly unbothered, his leaf-like tail flicking lazily behind him in open delight. “Or what?” he challenged lightly. “You wouldn’t hurt me.”

Well… he wasn’t entirely wrong. She wouldn’t. Not truly.

Salem narrowed her eyes, her expression sharpening, but she refused to break eye contact. “Or I’ll get you back worse,” she said evenly, her tone calm despite the faint heat in her cheeks. “Tenfold.”

Her icy blue gaze locked onto his amber one, unwavering and full of promise, the silent challenge between them far louder than any threat she could have spoken aloud.

Akyra hummed thoughtfully, tilting his head as though he were genuinely weighing his options.

Did he really want to risk it?

His gaze flickered to her narrowed eyes. To the way her stance had shifted — balanced, ready. To the unmistakable promise in her voice.

…Yes.

A slow, mischievous grin spread across his face.

Yes, he did.

Salem let out a sharp shriek the moment Akyra lunged at her.

She immediately scrambled backward, nearly losing her balance as she tried to retreat too quickly. Her heel caught against the polished floor, and she stumbled, barely managing to keep herself upright.

How she hated the way her heels betrayed her at the worst possible moment.

Akyra burst into laughter, quickly chasing after the sorceress as she ran down the corridor.

“You know I’m going to catch you, right?” he called out teasingly, his boots striking sharply against the polished marble floors as he gained on her. “There’s no use in running!”

His voice echoed faintly through the hall, full of triumph and far too much amusement for someone who claimed to be royalty.

Salem snarled, skidding slightly as she barely avoided slamming into the stone wall. She twisted sharply at the corner instead, heels scraping against the marble as she kept running.

“Bullshit!” she shouted over her shoulder without slowing down. “I used to outrun you all the time when we were children! What makes you think you’ll catch me now?”

She darted down another corridor at full speed, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing her hesitate.

Gods—did the palace corridors change too?

She didn’t remember this wing being here before. The turns felt unfamiliar, the walls stretching longer than she expected, the banners different from what she remembered.

Then again… it had been two years.

A lot could change in that time.

Akyra snorted as he closed the distance, lunging forward and tackling the sorceress onto the cold marble floor. They rolled for a moment, limbs tangling, before finally coming to a stop.

He wasted no time, grabbing her wrists gently but firmly, only for Salem to yank her wrists free and begin shoving at his chest, hissing insults and curses at him in rapid succession.

“Good Aurelian! You’ve put me through hell with all this running,” the alien gasped, chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath. “Come on, Salem! Just give up already!”

“No!” Salem responded quickly, glaring at him. Her icy blue eyes flashed with indignation — and maybe a hint of embarrassment — as she twisted against his grip.

“Release me at once!” she demanded, her cheeks burning with a mix of frustration and embarrassment as she shoved harder against his chest.

But her resistance only made things worse as Akyra shifted his weight, pinning her legs to the marble floor with his own.

“Akyra!” she shouted in frustration.

“Sahalem!” he responded with a low chuckle, his lips curving upward as amusement danced in his eyes. “This wouldn’t be happening if you were just honest with me,” he said, placing his hands firmly on her sides.

The moment his fingers touched her, Salem gasped and jerked away — though pinned beneath him, she had little room to escape.

“Liar,” he added smugly. “I barely did anything. You’re still ticklish.”

“For the last fucking time, I’m nohohot– Ahakyra!” she squeaked, childlike giggles slipping uncontrollably from her lips as she frantically grabbed his shoulders, trying to shove him off her. “Cehehease this ahat ohonce!” she managed between giggles, her words barely coherent as his fingers continued to torment her sides.

Akyra cooed above her, smiling like an idiot at his old friend’s uncontrollable giggling.

Gods — it had been forever since he’d seen her act like this. He couldn’t help but stare at her with fond amusement, completely captivated by the sound.

“Gods,” he murmured, his grin widening. “Were you always this cute? Your giggles have gotten even higher-pitched since the last time I saw you.” he continued, pressing his thumbs into her lower sides, making Salem jolt and gasp involuntarily.

“Goodness,” he murmured with a grin, “You’ve even gotten more ticklish.”

“Y-yohou’re wohorse!” she shot back between helpless giggles. “ Yohou’d scream whehenever i gohot–”

Her words dissolved into a startled snort when Akyra’s fingers darted to her ribs, plucking and lightly scratching at the lowest two. The reaction was immediate — Salem shrieked, jolting beneath him.

He’d clearly forgotten just how bad her ribs were.

“STOHOHOP!” she cried, laughter tearing straight through any attempt at authority as she twisted helplessly beneath him.

She reached up blindly, fists loosely balled as she began thumping at his chest in a desperate — and entirely ineffective — attempt to shove him off.

“COHOHOWARD!” she added between uncontrollable bursts of laughter, her voice breaking into a squeaky, higher-pitched sound that sounded nothing like her usual low, controlled tone.

Gods, she sounded ridiculous, her cheeks burning hotter with every embarrassing sound that slipped past her lips.

The alien raised a brow, clearly amused. “I’m the coward? Sal, you ran halfway across the palace just to avoid being tickled.”

He leaned down slightly, amusement gleaming in his amber eyes.

“I’d say that’s pretty cowardly behavior,” he continued, his voice dripping with teasing triumph as he laughed softly at her cackles. His fingers dug deeper into her ribs, his grin widening. “Gods, I forgot how bad this spot was,” he muttered, his smile forming into a smirk.

He immediately shoved his hands under her arms, wincing at the loud squeal that escaped her lips.

“AHAHAKYRA!” the sorceress shrieked, instantly slamming her arms down and trapping his hands beneath them, “IHI’M GOHOING TO KIHIHILL YOHOU!”

“Can’t kill me if you’re laughing so much,” he teased, his smirk growing as he drilled his thumbs into the center of her armpits. She immediately threw her head back, bursting into helpless cackles. “Cute threat, though.”

He hummed softly, his amber eyes lighting up as he took in the sound of her laughter, “You really should laugh more often,” he teased. “It suits you.”

“FUHUHUCK YOHOU!”

Akyra clicked his tongue. “Maybe I’m not tickling you enough. If you’re still swearing at me, I’m definitely holding back,” he said casually, mischief clear in his voice.

The sorceress growled, abruptly pulling her arms away from her sides. In one swift motion, she shot her hands forward and grabbed his hips, thumbs digging into the sensitive divots there.

The reaction was immediate.

Akyra let out an alarmed shriek. He instantly retracted his hands, twisting in an attempt to shield himself — but Salem was faster. With a sharp yank, she dragged him down onto the marble floor and quickly sat up, straddling his waist to pin him in place.

“SAHAHALEM!” he shrieked, a startled snort escaping him as he shoved at the queen’s hands. “NOHOHO—!”

She showed no signs of stopping, squeezing and digging into his hips relentlessly, vengeance and lingering irritation flashing in her eyes despite the persistent flush staining her cheeks. She showed no signs of exhaustion despite having been in this exact position only moments before. Clicking her tongue in irritation, she let her fingers trail lower, latching onto his thighs and scratching along the sensitive inner muscle.

“You’re completely stupid if you think I’m going to let you get away with that,” she snarled.

With her free hand, she caught his wrists and shoved them down against his chest, pinning them firmly in place, “Quit moving, damn it.”

Akyra let out a sharp gasp, his boots scuffing uselessly against the marble as he tried to drag himself away from her. He squealed, yanking desperately at his pinned wrists in a frantic attempt to shield himself.

“YOHOHOU EHENJOYED IT!” he shot back breathlessly.

A loud, undignified snort burst from him when she drilled her thumb deeper into his inner thigh, his hips jerking involuntarily, “D-DOHOHON’T ACT LIHIKE YOU DIHIDN’T!”

Salem looked genuinely offended by the accusation. She growled under her breath, squeezing his thigh repeatedly and watching with quiet satisfaction as another broken sound tore from his throat.

“I did not.” she replied coldly, her voice steady despite the way her cheeks suddenly started burning hotter.

She tightened her grip on his wrists when she felt him trying to slip free.

“And even if I did — which I didn’t,” she retorted, her icy blue gaze glaring down at his face, which she absolutely refused to describe as anything remotely endearing, “that doesn’t mean you get to use it against me.”

Akyra couldn’t form a response — his laughter had dissolved into loud, unrestrained cackles the moment she slipped her hand beneath his white suit and scratched at his stomach.

The alien arched helplessly, which only worsened his situation.

“SAHAHALEM!” he shrieked.

“What now?” she sighed in irritation, though she couldn’t quite suppress the smirk tugging at her lips as she watched his composure unravel. “I expected you to be better than this, Bernadotte. Honestly, I thought you’d grown out of it–”

She cut herself off with a slight wince when a piercing shriek tore from him when she found his navel.

A slow, almost cruel smile spread across her face.

“—and it seems you’ve only gotten more sensitive,” she finished coolly. “Pity.”

Akyra was losing his mind, kicking at the marble flooring, his boots scuffing the floor due to his struggle.

He squealed the moment Salem dug her claws into his lower belly, snorts and broken pleas spilling uncontrollably from his lips.

He’d clearly forgotten how cruel she could be.

“S-SAHAHALEM!” he cried out, curling into himself, burying his face into his shoulder as if that would somehow save him. “STAHAHAP—!”

Salem clicked her tongue. “Stop?” she echoed, almost mockingly. “Why on earth would I do that?”

She started squeezing around his navel, earning more broken pleas and squeals from the man.

“Knowing you,” she continued coolly, “The second I let you go, you'll go back to trying to tickle me.” she predicted, her claws tearing squeals and shrieks out of the alien.

A faint smirk tugged at her lips. “And frankly.. this is more entertaining.”

Akyra threw his head back, cackles spilling into the empty corridor, bouncing off the walls. He was completely helpless.

He HATED those damn claws — hated how easily they broke him, how they sent sparks of unbearable ticklish sensations shooting through his body.

Sweet Aurelian — he was going to die if she didn't get those claws off him.

Akyra let out a sharp squeal when the sorceress blew a firm raspberry against his neck, quickly switching to nibbling at his skin, her fangs grazing the side of it.

The alien tried to turn his head, pressing it against Salem’s, but he let out a panicked squeal when she grabbed his chin and forced his head to the side, exposing his neck even more.

“NOHOHOAHA! LEHEMME GOHO!”

Salem huffed, lifting her head slightly as her free hand began pulsing squeezes at his hip, drawing a loud shriek from the alien. Gods, he was pathetic.

“And why should I do that? You of all people should know that you shouldn’t attack me. It’s like you were asking for—”

The sorceress let out a small squeak at the sudden feeling of hands on her sides. Before she could process it, she shrieked as those hands began digging into her ribs once again.

Salem doubled over, squealing with loud, high-pitched laughter. Akyra immediately seized the opportunity, dragging her down to the ground beside him and digging his fingers into her ribs with a lopsided, goofy smile. Residual giggles slipped from his lips as the tingling in his neck and hips faded.

“Gotcha! Man, you really need to be on your A-game. What is it you always tell me? Stay alert?” he teased, his smile widening as Salem’s laughter jumped an octave. “Gods, you’re so ticklish! How are you able to rule with such sensitivity?”

Salem balled her hands into fists, immediately thumping them against Akyra’s chest. A loud snort escaped her as he found a particularly sensitive spot where her ribs met her armpit.

“SHUHUHUT UHUP! YOHOU’RE SO DEHEHEAD!”

Akyra couldn’t help the snort that escaped him, a small chuckle following as he focused on that particular spot between her ribs and armpit, digging his fingers in. “Aw… does that tickle? I bet it does—look at how much you’re squirming!”

Before Salem could protest further, she squeaked when Akyra grabbed her waist and pulled her back against his chest. She shrieked as those treacherous fingers made contact with her stomach, bubbly, almost childlike giggles spilling from her lips.

She grabbed at his wrists, snorting between laughs as Akyra rested his chin on her shoulder, smiling down at her.

“Yohou’re so gihihiggly! It’s adorable—I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of it,” he teased, burying his face in her neck to blow a raspberry, making the queen squeal.

Panicked giggles echoed through the corridor as Akyra blew another raspberry just below her ear. His leaf-like tail wagged quickly, his grin widening.

“Gods, are your ears ticklish too?” he cooed, quickly blowing a raspberry behind her ear, causing the witch to let out a loud squeak and hysterical giggles.

“A-Ahahakyra! Cehease this ahat ohonce!” she ordered, shoving at his face—only for Akyra to squeeze her sides again, sending her hands shooting back down to protect herself from those treacherous fingers. “T-Thahat’s an ohohorder!”

Akyra scoffed, his smile widening.

“An order? You do realize where you are, right? We’re not in Valencia, Sal. You can’t order me to do anything,” he teased.

“You know… I wonder what would happen if I—” he muttered before leaning down, his lips brushing her ear as he whispered, “Tickle, tickle, tickle…~ Kitchy kitchy koo!”

Salem let out a loud squeal, jerking her head away—only for Akyra to follow, continuing his teasing whispers in her sensitive ears. “Shut up—shuhut uhuhup! Rehelease mehe!”

The king let out a small chuckle against her ear, which only drew more giggles from the sorceress.

“You can stop me at any time, Salem. You’re not even trying to push me away.”

At the accusation, Salem immediately buried her face in Akyra’s shoulder, her giggles jumping an octave as he traced light shapes along her sides. She practically melted in his arms, laughing as she weakly shoved at his hands.

“Aw! Are you enjoying this? You’re practically melting,” Akyra cooed, continuing the teasing motions. “Guess what I’m drawing~,” he added with a playful smirk.

“Drohop dehead!”

The alien clicked his tongue, scratching his fingers just below her navel, causing her to shriek.

“If you don’t guess, I’ll go back to your ribs. Or maybe your thighs, depending on how nice I’m feeling.” He wriggled a finger into her navel, his smirk growing as she babbled out incoherent threats and squeals. “Guuuueeesss…~”

Salem groaned, though it came out more like a giggly whine. “Fihine, fihihine! Aha stahar!”

The witch let out a loud shriek, doubling over in Akyra’s arms as he blew a raspberry just beneath her ear. He made an incorrect buzzer sound, a small giggle slipping from his lips.

“Wrong! Every time you guess wrong, I’ll blow a raspberry against your neck or ears. Try again.”

“BAHASTARD!” Salem cried, snorting when Akyra went back to tracing shapes along her stomach. “Gohohods, stohohop!”

“Just guess what I’m drawing!” Akyra chuckled, his face aching from how much he was smiling.

“Ihi cahahan’t!”

“Yes, you can! I believe in you!” he cheered, continuing to trace random shapes on her stomach, just below her ribs. The queen’s heels scuffed against the marble floor, her hysterical giggles jumping another octave before she let out uncontrollable snorts.

Akyra cooed and complimented her relentlessly. “Ahaww… you’re so cute! I’ve never heard you laugh like this…” he teased, making her guess whatever shape he was tracing against her stomach.

Sometimes, he decided to be a bit mean and pretend her answer was wrong…Unfortunately for Akyra (and fortunately for Salem), their fun had to come to an end eventually.

The door creaked open, a butler stepping inside carefully—only to stop dead in his tracks upon noticing the situation.

“Pardon the interruption, sire, but your five o’clock appointment has arrived.”

Akyra glanced over his shoulder, smiling brightly as if there wasn’t a giggling sorceress trapped in his arms.

“Thank you! I’ll be there in just a moment—send them up for me, will you?” he asked, smiling when the butler nodded and stepped back out into the corridor, the door closing with a gentle click.

The king squeezed Salem’s sides a couple more times before finally releasing her, rubbing her sides to ease the lingering sensation.

“You okay? I didn’t go too far, did I?”

Salem panted, her head resting against Akyra’s shoulder, grumbling something in Vaelith.

“Ihi’m… I’m fihine…” she snapped, shoving at his chest. “Lehemme go.”

Akyra chuckled softly as he sat up, bringing Salem with him despite her resistance.

“C’mon, Sal. Let me help you up.”

“Noho. I aham capable of getting up myhyself,” she growled, pushing herself to her feet—only to nearly stumble before Akyra caught her by the shoulders.

“Yeah, you’re so independent,” he teased. “Here, why don’t you join the meeting with me? It’ll be nice to have your… opinion on things.”

“Juhust say you can’t make decisions on your own, Bernadotte.”

The alien chuckled softly as he helped the sorceress steady herself.

“Never. Though…” he smirked, ruffling her hair, “you might want to fix your hair before going inside. Looks like a rat’s nest.”

He quickly yanked his hand back before she could bite it, a snort slipping from his lips.

Salem punched his chest, grumbling something about never coming to Abyssia again as she used her dark magic to fix her wild hair, her heels clicking against the marble floor.

Boots echoed behind her as Akyra caught up, smiling broadly.

“…You still owe me that damn chocolate.”

Akyra burst into giggles as he held the door open for her, watching as she stepped out.

“I’ll place the order while we’re walking.”

Salem had to admit—it wasn’t… that bad today.

She huffed under her breath.

Maybe… she’d come to Abyssia again.

Azalea isn’t considered a threat as she’s only a tickle related supervillain. She’s in for it for the chaos and mischief—as well as for the laughter she gets to hear in her victims.

Despite her innocent look, she’s very mischievous and ruthless with her attacks. She CAN be gentle and nice.. if the lee wants it, of course. But her main goal is hysterics.

Her main abilities are her plants/vines, but she can also do a few other things as well:

She’s able to stick to walls and other surfaces—the bottom of her shoes stick to things as if they’re glue. She often takes that to her advantage to sneak up on people. You could be minding your business and she’d jump down from the ceiling:

“WHERE DID YOU EVEN COME FROM??”

“I was on the ceiling 😊”

Her hair is made out of literal vines/plants, so she can trap heroes or random civilians.

She has a flower clip in her hair—she keeps it as an accessory. Though, even if it is an accessory, it also shoots out a substance that sticks to her victim(s) and traps them. She would often leave them on walls, floors, anything that anyone is close to.

Some of her plants are dedicated to poison ivy, but instead of getting a rash or allergic reaction, the plant sticks to anyone that comes close contact with it, or, if Azalea were to attach it to them. The plant can wrap itself around the person it’s attached to as its leaves grows out—you can already imagine what it does

Azalea Headcanons:

Switch - 50% Ler, 50% Lee

Lee —

Azalea has the most squeakiest laugh you’ve ever heard—high-pitched, bubbly, and impossible to resist. She instinctively covers her mouth every time it slips out, cheeks burning red as she tries to muffle the sound.

She’s incredibly sensitive to teasing—painfully so, her face will turn a vivid shade of crimson in seconds.

When Azalea’s in a lee mood—her sensitivity skyrockets. The slightest touch, like a hand on her shoulder or a friendly hug, can make her jolt or flinch as if she’s been zapped.

She's the type of lee to start giggling before a finger even lands on her. Just the anticipation, a mischievous glance, or teasing wiggling fingers in her direction is enough to get her giggling nervously.

Overwhelmed and bashful, she often tries to escape the situation by locking herself in a room—or darting off to the nearest hiding spot she can find.

Overall, Azalea is a shy, adorable blushy lee—easily flustered, and even quicker to retreat when she knows what’s coming.

If her worst spots are targeted—especially her sides—she can’t hold it together. She’ll squeal, squirm, and if the ler is lucky, she might even let out a snort or a squeak that only makes her more embarrassed.

Ler —

Azalea can only be described as ruthless. She likes to listen to hysterical laughter, cackles, anything so she knows she’s getting to her victim(s). She can most definitely be gentle whenever she’s feeling nice, or when the lee wants more gentle tickles.

One of her favorite tactics? Using her vines to trap her victims. Vines snaking around arms and waists, pinning the unfortunate lee in place like a fly in a web. Once they’re secured, she takes her time—poking, prodding, and exploring every inch of her victim until she finds that perfect spot that gets them cackling.

Her technique is really effective. She starts off slow, fingers grazing lightly and almost teasingly over skin, just enough to build up the tension. But once she finds a spot that earns her a squeal or gasp, it’s over. Her tickling grows more intense, digging in with precision.

Despite being incredibly flustered when teased herself, Azalea is a relentless tease when she’s the one in control. She lives for the reactions, the blushing, and the flustered protests. Her taunts are smug yet playful: “Hm… looks like I found another spot that makes you shriek like a girl.”, “Is this a bad spot? Poor thing… I almost pity you. Almost.”, “You’re turning crimson. What’s wrong? Does someone not like hearing the word tickle?”, “Another spot? My, you’re full of surprises.”, “Tickle, tickle… there it is.. That lovely little squeal.”

When she’s tickling someone she’s close to—like a friend—Azalea softens. She still tickles them how she normally does, but she’s more gentle and kind. She laughs along with them and gazes down (well.. up.. she’s short ☹️) at them with a fond, almost protective gleam in her eye (strictly platonic, of course).

She loves the element of surprise. Azalea will silently sneak up behind her fellow teammates, wrapping her arms around them in a hug before digging into their sides, sometimes even going straight for their worst spots with a mischievous grin.

Her hair isn’t just for show—it’s made entirely of living vines that she can control at will. The vines sways and grabs, perfect for catching heroes off guard or restraining her lees.

On days when she’s feeling mean, Azalea enjoys wrapping her lee(s) in vines, then place her staff on the ground just barely within reach—as if giving them a chance to escape. She watches their struggle with an amused smirk, only to casually drag the staff away at the last second, delighting in the despair.

Zevulon tilted his head, an amused brow raised as he observed Aurelian’s silence. “What’s the matter?” he taunted, voice silk and velvety. “Cat got your tongue?”

Silence.

Zevulon chuckled, savoring the tension. He hadn’t expected a response. He knew his brother too well—knew that silence meant rage. And Zevulon reveled in it.

“If you’re going to hurt me, just do it already.”

Aurelian’s voice broke the heavy silence, edged with bitter resignation. His wings—once proud and radiant—now folded tightly against his back, feathers trembling with unease. The gesture, small as it was, betrayed more than words ever could. “You know I can regenerate in a matter of days.”

Zevulon let out a low, drawn-out hum, the sound curling in the air like smoke—slow and calculating. His claws slid down Aurelian’s torso, tracing a path with maddening patience until they came to rest lightly against his sides. His touch was gentle, but it carried the promise of something far more sinister. A wicked smirk played at the corners of his mouth as he watched his brother shudder beneath him.

“Hurt you?” he repeated mockingly, voice dripping with faux innocence. “Heavens, no.” He paused for a heartbeat, savoring the irony of the phrase on his tongue. “Well, it’s a tempting idea... but I have something else in mind. Something that doesn’t involve pain at all.”

His claws began to tap rhythmically against Aurelian’s side—light, sharp taps like a predator testing its prey. Impatient. Anticipatory. The sound echoed in the air between them, more threatening than any blade.

Aurelian instinctively twisted away, trying to escape the unnerving sensation. But the restraints bit into his wrists, glowing faintly with symbols, and Zevulon's weight atop him made resistance futile. He could only writhe slightly beneath his brother—trapped, tense, and at the mercy of whatever twisted game the demon god had planned.

Aurelian’s breath hitched the moment he felt Zevulon’s hands slither up his sides—slow, deliberate, and far too gentle for comfort. The sensation alone made his muscles tense, a sharp shiver rolling down his spine as the demon's claws ghosted over his skin. What was he doing? He wasn’t scratching, stabbing, or taunting—not in his usual way, at least. Just... crawling upward, inch by inch, with unbearable patience.

Aurelian’s eyes snapped to his brother’s hands, wide with confusion and dawning dread. If Zevulon wasn’t going to hurt him, then—oh no. His breath caught in his throat as the demon’s claws hovered, twitching just above the base of his wings.

He panicked.

That spot—right where his wings rooted into his back—were sensitive. Touching them was like poking at a nerve that sent shockwaves through his body, and Zevulon, of course, knew that.

“What’s wrong?” Zevulon purred, his voice velvet-wrapped venom. He leaned in, lips barely an inch from Aurelian’s ear as his claws hovered, ready to strike. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Aurelian didn’t answer, too focused on keeping every twitch under control. He could feel his wings betraying him, feathers trembling and shifting with each breath.

The demon let out a soft chuckle, claws now flicking ever so slightly above the wing joints. “Don’t tell me you’re still fucking ticklish,” he cooed, dripping with mock concern.

“I’m not,” Aurelian snapped—too fast, too defensive. His voice cracked just slightly at the end, and heat bloomed instantly down his neck, creeping to the tips of his ears. He hated how warm his face felt. He hated it more that Zevulon noticed.

“Oh?” Zevulon’s grin widened, wicked and gleaming. “Then why are you blushing?” He tilted his head, eyes flicking down. “And why are your wings twitching like they’re about to take off?”

Aurelian clenched his jaw, wings fluffing before snapping tight against his back. “They... don’t do well in heat,” he muttered, voice low and strained. It was partly true—but it was also a weak lie, and they both knew it.

Zevulon leaned closer, his breath warm on Aurelian’s neck, claws finally dipping just low enough to brush against the downy base of one wing. Aurelian flinched hard, swallowing back a sound he refused to let escape.

“Oh, angel,” Zevulon whispered, his voice thick with amusement and threat. “You’re practically trembling. Are you afraid I’ll tickle you there? Or... are you hoping I do?”

Aurelian swallowed hard, throat dry as he stared down at Zevulon’s hands like they were venomous serpents coiled and ready to strike. Every time those claws even twitched near his wings, his body jolted with a flinch he couldn’t control. Why wasn’t he starting already? The anticipation was unbearable—each moment stretching out longer than the last, until Aurelian thought he might combust from sheer nerves.

His breath came shallow, his cheeks tinged with a soft, embarrassed red. He glanced up at Zevulon for a moment—only to immediately drop his gaze, unable to hold eye contact under that maddeningly smug stare. It made his skin crawl and burn all at once.

Zevulon, of course, noticed.

"Aww, not going to look at me?" he drawled, his voice dripping with mock hurt, though the ever-growing smirk on his lips betrayed him. “That’s rude. Weren’t you always the one who preached about manners? Eye contact when someone’s speaking to you, right?” Behind him, his tail flicked once—slow, deliberate, satisfied. Torturing souls was one of Zevulon’s oldest pastimes... and right now, his favorite victim was shivering beneath him.

When Aurelian didn’t respond, Zevulon let out a sigh and rolled his eyes. “Silent treatment, huh?” he muttered, drawing close to a whisper in Aurelian’s ear, voice dark with amusement. “Fine. Let’s play it your way.”

Without warning, his hands withdrew from hovering near Aurelian’s wings, and for a moment, there was silence.

Aurleian only had a second to register it before—

Zevulon lunged forward with a blur of movement, his hands darting toward the base of Aurelian’s wings.

“ZEVULON–!” Aurelian shrieked, the sound sharp and humiliatingly high-pitched as he instinctively arched his back and squeezed his eyes shut. His feathers puffed out wildly in panic, shoulders tensing, breath hitching in preparation for impact—But nothing happened.

Slowly, cautiously, Aurelian peeked open one eye… only to find Zevulon’s claws nowhere near his wings. The demon had pulled back completely, now watching him with that signature predatory grin stretched wide across his face.

“Oh wow,” Zevulon cooed with a dark laugh, “Were you actually bracing for it? You poor thing. You looked ready to explode.” He leaned closer, eyes glittering. “I didn’t even touch you, and you made the most pathetic sound.”

Aurelian’s face burned a deeper shade of red, scowling as he averted his gaze again. “Th-That… Thahat was dirty,” he muttered, the words stammering out between clenched teeth, cursing himself at the small giggle he let escape.

“Oh? Was that a giggle?” Zevulon asked, an eyebrow raised as his smirk only grew. “I expected better from you honestly.. But then again, you could never handle your wings getting tickled.”

Aurelian started tugging at his restraints, yanking at his arms before he began flapping his wings, only for more chains to lock themselves around the large limbs, chaining them to Hell’s floors. The angel growled in frustration before looking back at Zevulon. “Zevulon–I’m serious. This isn’t funny. Let me go.”

Zevulon only hummed softly, a low, almost mischievous sound, as he lazily dragged a single clawed finger up the curve of Aurelian’s side. The reaction was instant—Aurelian jerked away with a startled breath. But before he could escape to his other side, Zevulon’s other hand joined in, a second claw teasing the opposite side in perfect symmetry.

The sensations made the angel writhe helplessly, his wings twitching as giggles threatened to bubble up from his throat. Zevulon, calm as ever, continued his slow, deliberate tracing, his claws dancing lightly along the sensitive skin as though he had all the time in the world—and in a way, he truly did.

The demon stared down at his brother, smirking at Aurelian’s face. It was dusting a bright pink hue and he was trying so hard not to crack a smile. But that, unfortunately for him, did not work. He has a wobbly smile on his face, small titterings escaping his mouth as he buried his face into his shoulder to hide the blush.

Zevulon let out a low, dark chuckle before suddenly lunging for Aurelian’s wings, sinking his claws deep into the base where feathers met flesh.

Aurelian let out a broken, frantic squeal. He instinctively tried to flap his wings, desperate to escape those wicked claws—but the effort was pointless. His wings were still bolted to the floor of Hell, pinned down helplessly.

“NOHOHOHO! Z-ZEHEHEVU—!” he tried to cry out, but the words shattered into hysterical laughter. He couldn’t form a single sentence. All he could do was laugh—and that was exactly what Zevulon wanted. Raw, desperate, helpless laughter.

“Struggle all you want, idiot. You're not getting away anytime soon,” Zevulon purred, grinding his thumbs into the tender hollows beneath Aurelian’s wings. He grinned as the angel let out a sharp, helpless scream.

“I wonder…” Zevulon murmured, voice low and teasing as his tail flicked behind him with wicked delight, “just how loud I can make you scream.”

“PLEHEHE— PLEHEHEHEASE–!”

“Please what?” Zevulon scoffed, sounding almost offended. “Don’t tell me you’re already begging. We’ve barely started.”

One hand stayed buried in one of the tender hollows beneath Aurelian’s wings, claws kneading mercilessly. The other drifted down to cup his ribs, a thumb pressing hard into the uppermost ones, grinding in slow, agonizing circles. Occasionally, Zevulon scratched between them just to hear another sharp, broken squeal.

“These ribs are so sensitive...” he mused darkly. “Makes me wonder—what if I really dug in? I bet you’d scream.”

Aurelian was unraveling fast. His muscles strained as he thrashed—pulling at his restraints, flapping his wings uselessly, kicking out blindly. Anything to shake the demon off. But it was hopeless. His laughter was high-pitched and frantic, slipping into pleading cries.

“PLEHEHEASE! MEHEHERCY!”

Zevulon just laughed, tail flicking lazily behind him. “Mercy?” he echoed, amused. “Oh no, I’m far from done, featherbrain.”

With a wicked grin, he slid his claws back to Aurelian's ribs, this time focusing on the right side—digging in, testing each rib, hunting for the one that made the angel jolt the hardest. “I’m gonna have so much fun with you.”

Aurelian threw his head back, cackling helplessly, his laughter echoing off the stone walls. Zevulon smirked, taking full advantage—he leaned down and blew a sudden raspberry into the curve of Aurelian’s neck. The sound that tore from the angel’s throat was a squeal so sharp it made Zevulon chuckle against his skin.

Instinctively, Aurelian turned his head, trying to shield his neck, his cheek pressing awkwardly against Zevulon’s head in a feeble attempt to block him. Annoyed, Zevulon let out a low growl and grabbed Aurelian’s chin, fingers firm as he turned his brother’s head to the side, fully exposing the vulnerable skin once more.

Without hesitation, Zevulon blew another raspberry—this time just below Aurelian’s ear—before letting his fangs graze teasingly along the length of his neck. Nibbling. Scraping. Just enough to make the poor angel completely unravel.

Aurelian let out a string of squeaks and snorts, his body twisting, laughter bubbling out in uncontrollable waves. He tried again to turn his head, but Zevulon held his chin firmly, forcing him to stay still.

“IT TIHIHIHICKLES! CUHUT IT OHOUT!”

“Of course it tickles,” Zevulon said dryly, rolling his eyes. “I’d be concerned if it didn’t—considering how you're laughing yourself hoarse.”

His grip tightened just slightly. “Now quit moving.” He snarled, causing his brother to let out a pathetic shriek. “Wow, that was a pretty big shriek. Do it again for me will you?”

Aurelian shook his head violently, snorting and squealing as his back arched off the scorched floor—only to slam back down the moment Zevulon’s claws scraped mercilessly across his lower ribs. His laughter turned choppy, hiccupy… and then fell completely silent. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes, his body trembling from the sheer force of his broken laughter.

“Aww... did I already break your voice?” Zevulon cooed mockingly, eyes glinting with wicked amusement. “And I haven’t even gotten your tummy yet.”

Aurelian's eyes went wide with panic. “N-NOHO—!”

“Sorry, what was that? Can’t hear you,” Zevulon hummed, grinning as the angel stared up at him with tear-filled eyes, silently pleading for mercy.Grinning, Zevulon wrapped both arms tightly around Aurelian’s waist and pulled him upward, forcing his back into an arch that left his tummy completely exposed. His claws traced lazily along the soft feathers of Aurelian's wings, tapping against them as if waiting for their turn.

Aurelian gasped for air, chest heaving. His face burned, flushed with exhaustion and humiliation. He was a God—but none of that mattered now. Not against this. Not against someone who knew every weakness, every unbearable spot on his body.

“Z-Zevulon,” he whimpered, hiccuping through lingering giggles. “Plehease…”

Zevulon tilted his head. “Please what?”

“Dohon’t…”

“Don’t what, idiot.”

“I’m nohot falling fohor that!” Aurelian snapped weakly, glaring through his tears.

Zevulon just smirked and shrugged. “Eh… I was gonna tickle you either way.”

“W-WAIT—DOHON’T—!”

Zevulon lunged down and blew a loud, vibrating raspberry into Aurelian’s tummy, shaking his head side-to-side to spread the maddening sensation. Aurelian let out a wild, high-pitched shriek, bursting into hysterical laughter. His legs flailed, kicking frantically—managing to land a few good hits on Zevulon’s thigh.

But it didn’t matter.

Zevulon didn’t flinch. Didn’t pause.He just kept blowing raspberries, over and over, as if feeding on his brother’s desperation.

Aurelian gave up on pulling at his restraints. It was useless. He wasn’t going anywhere unless Zevulon let him go—and that wasn’t happening anytime soon.

Still, he tried to twist away, hiccuping uncontrollably from the relentless raspberries being blown into his stomach. His laughter was breathless, frantic. This was pure torture. It felt like Hell.

Literally.

Zevulon showed no signs of mercy. After another long raspberry, he let his fangs graze around Aurelian’s navel, nibbling with precision. The squeaks it drew from the angel made his pointed ears twitch in satisfaction.

“Mmm,” Zevulon hummed into the skin, then slowly lifted his head. His claws didn’t stop, though—they drifted back to the hollows beneath Aurelian’s wings, scratching lightly, cruelly, just enough to keep his brother laughing like a madman.

“You’re not even squirming anymore,” he said in mock sweetness. “Did I break you?”

Aurelian couldn’t respond. He was drowning in his own hysterics, vision blurred with tears, cheeks flushed, and voice nearly gone from all the screaming and laughter.After a moment, Zevulon’s claws traveled again—this time digging deep into the base of Aurelian’s wings, sharp and merciless.

“I asked you a question.”

Aurelian let out a broken squeal, nodding frantically. “Y-YES! YEHEHEHES! GOHOHOD—GOHOHOD STOP!”

Zevulon paused, tilting his head thoughtfully as he looked down at his trembling, laughing mess of a brother.

“Hm... I could stop,” he mused, tail flicking lazily behind him. “But watching you suffer like this is just so... entertaining.”

“COHOHOME ON!”

Instead of stopping, Zevulon casually dragged one hand back down to claw at Aurelian’s tummy, while the other continued digging into the base of his wing. “Beg,” he said calmly. “Beg me to stop. And I’ll consider it.”

Aurelian’s eyes widened in horror. He shook his head. “I—IHI’M NOHOT—DAHAHAMNIT!”

Zevulon’s grin widened at the outburst. “Oh? Swearing now?” he taunted. “Didn’t you used to say that swearing was beneath you?”

His claws dug deeper into the delicate joint of Aurelian’s wing, making the angel shriek.

“IHI CAHAN'T HEHELP IHIT! YOHOU’RE T-TICKLIHING MY WIHIHINGS!” Aurelian cried, kicking out in protest—his legs landing a few solid hits against Zevulon's thighs.

Zevulon sighed dramatically. “Quit kicking. I was going to be nice and actually stop,” he said, voice dripping with mock regret. “But you decided to get violent. So... I guess we’ll be here a while.”

Aurelian's heart dropped as he watched Zevulon’s hands pause.

Then—slowly—they rose, fingers curling like claws, drifting ominously toward his wings again.

“No!” Aurelian gasped. “Z-Zevulon, plehease—PLEHEASE! Don’t—!”