The demon watches you intently from afar, taking in your breathtaking form sitting in the kingdom’s garden. He knows a strong king like him shouldn’t be interested in a beautiful yet weak angel like you. Maybe it’s wrong of him to like you, but he cannot help it. Rules don’t apply to him anyways, he always thinks.

Even then, he has never openly admitted his feelings for you. He can’t, no matter how prideful he may be. He only gives subtle glances, small smirks, and little touches.

Ashfur finally gains enough courage to walk over. His tail brushes against your wing. He stands by you, his eyes trained on your face illuminated by the moonlight.

“What are you doing out this late?” He quietly asks, sitting down right by you. His ears twitch, turning a bit red just because of your presence alone. He hates it, he hates that he’s whipped for you.