[BL] I Accidentally Summoned A Demon Husband Now He Won't Leave

"My Lord, we have done as you commanded. The sinful mortals have been gathered and await your judgment in the Punishment Hall."

Azreal rose from his throne, the weight of his rage pressing against his chest.

"Good. Let's begin."

The moment Azreal entered the chamber, a cold silence fell over the gathered souls. Dozens of mortals trembled before him, their faces pale, their eyes filled with terror.

These were the worst of the worst, murderers, traitors, deceivers. Yet, no matter how evil they had been in life, none of them had the courage to meet the Demon King's gaze.

Azreal's presence alone suffocated them.

He studied them with cold detachment. "Is this all?"

The demon from earlier swallowed. "Y-Yes, My Lord. We have punished many before, and these are the only remaining sinners."

Azreal's fury reignited. "You mean to tell me that this is all Hell has to offer me today?!" His voice shook the very walls.

The demon flinched. "M-My Lord, please understand! We searched, but there were few left to punish!"

That explanation did nothing to satisfy him. If he couldn't unleash his rage on his true source of frustration—Elliot—then someone else had to suffer.

With a flick of his wrist, hellfire erupted around the demons who had failed him.

They shrieked, their bodies twisting in pain, though the flames did not kill them. Azreal knew exactly how much suffering to inflict to make them learn their lesson without rendering them useless.

Only after their screams echoed through the chamber did he turn his attention back to the mortals.

Their punishment began.

Their cries of agony rang through the chamber as they were subjected to various torments.

To the sinner's he was a wicked soul, a heartless demon god, but Azreal only sought after judgment and punishment keeping the world free from evil.

Was he good or bad?

Even he didn't know...

The mortal's who were currently being punished had known pain in life, but nothing compared to the judgment of the Demon King.

And as they suffered, one thought solidified in their minds.

Never again.

If it meant avoiding the wrath of Azreal, they would never sin again.

He had lived up to his reputation.

A god with no heart.

And yet, Azreal's rage was still unquenched.

This wasn't enough.

Even as the humans writhed in agony, the fury in his heart refused to subside. His thirst for blood was not satisfied.

The source of his anger was still untouched.

Elliot.

That brat. That summoner.

Even now, he haunted his mind.

Azreal turned and left the punishment hall, the sound of agonized screams fading behind him.

As he seated himself once more in his throne, he sighed, rubbing his temple—only to be slammed with a sudden vision.

For a fleeting moment, an image flashed before his eyes.

Elliot. His 'husband'

Shy. Smiling. Speaking to another boy.

Azreal's entire body stiffened. His blood-red eyes darkened as a low growl rumbled deep in his throat.

He leaned back on his throne, his fingers pressing firmly against his temples. A dark, ominous aura swirled around his fingertips before sinking into his skin, sending tendrils of black mist curling into his temples. Instantly, the hazy image that had flashed before his eyes became clearer, more vivid, almost as if he were standing right there in that very moment. His enhanced sight not only allowed him to see but also to hear.

A voice—smug and self-assured—cut through the haze.

"Having you around wouldn't be bad."

Azreal's crimson eyes narrowed into thin slits as he focused on the one who had spoken. His gaze fell upon a young man—that boy—standing far too close to Elliot for his liking. A sharp, irritating sensation settled in his chest as his husband's delicate voice responded.

Elliot was grateful to him.

That was the first thing that sent Azreal's rage flaring. Grateful for what? For a mere insignificant gesture? The boy had done something small, barely even worth mentioning, and yet Elliot was expressing gratitude so openly?

Azreal scoffed. He had done far more than that. He had practically saved Elliot from execution. He had fought for him, protected him, claimed him, yet Elliot had never once thanked him. The thought made his jaw tighten in displeasure.

Azreal exhaled sharply, the temperature around him dropping ever so slightly. He was tempted—so tempted—to continue prying, to dig deeper, to listen further. But then, against his very nature, he made a rare decision.

He would not pry.

Instead, his lips curled into a smirk as he extended his hand, summoning Varian his most trusted subordinate.

A swirl of black smoke materialized in the air before him, swirling violently before condensing into the form of a man. The figure, draped in dark robes, knelt immediately, placing a fist against his chest in a sign of respect.

"Lord Azreal," the figure greeted, his voice laced with both reverence and ease.

"Varian," Azreal acknowledged, his voice smooth yet authoritative. "I need your help with something."

Varian lifted his head slightly, an amused smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "What could the Demon King possibly need my help for?" he asked, his tone playful.