Novel & Cerita Sublime Archangel

my lips moved alone and a low, childish laughter was heard. Remiel. The seventh archangel and the seventh angel to fall. Even after so many centuries, he still preferred that childish form. "You look excited, brother," he said playing with a lollipop on his small, pink lips. Ramiel’s hair remained blond as it was before his fall, his eyes remained bluish, as the mortal sky had been before Asra stained him with her rage and her skin... she resembled porcelain, but among all that made him look more like-if to the archangel who had been so long ago, were his wings.

The glory of the angel was overwhelming, and looking back to Corpseboy only made things worse, with his eyes silently mocking me. “What, frightened by an overgrown seagull? Because that's what angels are: dimwitted airborne pests,” my abductor said sagely. The angel's gaze hardened. “You're charming as usual, brother. Now tell me- what do you want?” “Are you an- an archangel?” I interrupted before Corpseboy could reply. The angel grinned. “I suppose.” “The archangel Michael? The one that defeated Satan?-” “Satan is a title,” Corpseboy said cuttingly. “Idiot mortals and their idiot theologies. Now stop interrupting me or I'll strangle you with that lovely sash-”

“All angels are blood thirsty. Look at Iraziel. How many people has he killed, trying to get to me?” “More than you think.” Noah replied, closing the book in his hands. Where Thorne was dark, brooding and the muscle of the trio; Noah was paler, louder and the brains. Well... as brainy as you could get, when you were a demon. “Archon is a thousand times worse. He is one of God’s highest generals, only just under the feet of the Arc-Angels. And let me tell you one thing… you don’t want those fuckers anywhere near you. If you think Archon has plans for you… The Arc’s are worse. They won't want to keep you alive, they will want to skin you and make an example out of you.”

A handsome British face, blue eyes and blonde hair, but I couldn't find a dark aura about him. "I haven't smelled heaven in a long time," I said with a smirk. Aubrey also smiled. "Tell me, what's your name?" "Aubrey D'souza." I raised an eyebrow. "D'souza?" I repeated his last name. Aubrey mentioned one of the renowned Heavenly Host Clans, it was a clan that had led a great war in the past. "So you are the Archangel." I guess. "Aren't you an Archangel too?" Aubrey replied easily, while I could only reply with a forced smile.

Turning around, they beheld six of the seven Archangels standing tall, their arrival striking fear into the hearts of the Fallen Archangels. Asmodeus, now healed and standing behind Maria, realized she sought to spare him from the impending judgment of the Holy Archangels. He attempted to leave her side, but Maria's gentle voice, still laced with her human essence, urged him to stay, "Please, Asmo, don't get involved. This is not a fight you can win." Archangel Michael, completing the squad, appeared behind Asmodeus, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder, and whispering, "Listen to her, Asmodeus. This is not your war anymore."

Sitting flawlessly at the head of the long mahogany table, illuminated only by the faint red glow of the emergency floor lights, was Julian Cross. The Archangel wasn't wearing a thermal re-breather mask. He wore a pristine, bespoke charcoal suit. His hands were folded neatly on the table. He didn't look surprised that they were alive. He looked directly at Zara, a slow, terrifying smile spreading across his aristocratic face. "Flawless architecture, Sovereign," the Archangel murmured smoothly, his voice echoing in the massive room. "I heard the exhaust turbines engage five minutes ago. You always were brilliant with infrastructure."

Cool fingers met his heated skin. ‘Cold!’ Angel whimpered and squirmed. “W-what is that?” he asked in-between kisses. The asshole answered simply: “Lube.” He poured it all. “Of course, you’re a fucking boy scout, you damned incubus…” his face was red as hell. The man only chuckled on the nickname. “You are a literal demon scout leader!” Angel continued. The devil laughed out loud again. Then one slick hand wrapped around Angel’s hardness. Pumped. Firm.

"My name is Marcus Aurelius one of the archangels of the creator, I was created by the creator as a replacement for Lucifer after he rebelled against the creator.i was given the role of an archangel immediately after my creation much to the envy of the lower Angela.i loved my position and attacked my tasks without delay until one fateful dayan incident happened that costed me my position u"

"Archangel of Mercy, take these Cursebane Pills into the 18th Hell. Question Aryella and Asketel. Find out what Sylvester and the High Marshal are plotting. Get everything." "As you command." The Archangel of Mercy was thrilled. The 18th Hell wasn't somewhere one could just stroll into. Even for an Archangel, access was rare—let alone meeting the infamous demons, Aryella and Asketel. However, the moment she stepped past the gate, a wave of murderous intent engulfed her. "Who's there?" The Archangel of Mercy went on full alert. When she saw the figure step from the shadows, she quickly bowed. "Mr. Barstaple, I am the Archangel of Mercy, one of the nine Archangels. I was sent to deliver the Cu

Mr Carter writes; My dearest love, You gave me the greatest joy when you agreed to be a part of my life and for that reason, I promised to love you no matter what. We happily got married and I gave you the kind of wedding you wanted. I gave you everything you wanted. I realized as days went by that I had only made you a prisoner. I felt sad as I watched you turn into something I didn't recognise. I gave you all you wanted and asked and the only thing I asked of you was to let me honour the woman who made me who I am and that one request you could not grant. Because of that one request, I made, you became a devil. You were a special soul, humble, and beautiful until the day I decided to take