Becoming The Strongest Angel With A Saintess System

Grace woke up to moaning.

Again.

She cracked one eye open and yep, there it was. Diana had her face buried between Alia’s spread legs, going at it like she was searching for buried treasure. Alia’s hands tangled in Diana’s short black hair, her back arching off the couch as she gasped something about "right there, fuck, right there!"

At the kitchen table, maybe three feet away, Petriel and Zephyr sat eating breakfast. Petriel nibbled on toast while reading some healing manual. Zephyr sipped tea and watched the show with mild interest, occasionally offering commentary.

"Try using your fingers too, Diana. She likes that."

Diana flipped her off without looking up from her work.

Grace rolled out of bed, stretching. Some time ago, waking up to her roommates fucking would have sent her fleeing in embarrassment. Now? Just another Tuesday in the rookie wing.

Except...

Grace found herself staring. Really staring. At the way Alia’s thighs trembled, at how Diana’s shoulder muscles flexed with each movement, at the slick sounds filling the room.

[Shit. I kind of want to join in.]

The thought hit her like a brick. She’d never felt that urge before, not really. Sure, she’d appreciated the view, but wanting to dive in herself? That was new.

Her Love attribute. Right. 60/100 now.

"Morning, Grace!" Zephyr called cheerfully. "There’s fresh bread if you want some."

"And j-jam," Petriel added, not looking up from her book. Her ears were bright red though.

Grace shuffled to the kitchen, trying very hard not to think about how easy it would be to walk over and kiss Alia while Diana worked. Or maybe help Diana out. Or—

"FUCK!"

Alia’s climax announcement saved Grace from that particular spiral of thoughts.

"That’s one," Diana said smugly, wiping her mouth. "Going for three today."

"You’re gonna kill her," Grace muttered, obviously exaggerating, spreading jam on bread.

Diana grinned.

"What a way to go though, right?"

---

The training arena buzzed with energy when Grace arrived. And by energy, she meant about thirty angels who’d shown up specifically to watch her spar.

"There she is!"

"Grace! You can do it!"

"Kick Seraph’s ass!"

Grace’s face burned. Even now, after all this time, and she still had a fan club?

"They’ve been showing up more and more," Diana said, appearing at her elbow. "Ever since word got out about you taming the Tide."

"I didn’t tame anything," Grace protested.

"That’s not what they heard." Diana’s smirk widened. "Something about tentacles and divine fingering?"

Grace wanted to die. Who the hell had been talking?

"LIGHTSINGER!" Seraph’s voice boomed across the arena. "Less chatting, more fighting!"

Grace grabbed a practice sword and stepped into the ring. Seraph stood waiting, all muscle and confidence in her training gear. Her red braid swung as she rolled her shoulders.

"Ready to get your ass kicked, rookie?"

"Ready to try not to," Grace replied quietly.

They circled each other. Grace had gotten better over the weeks, but Seraph was still Seraph. Many, many years of experience versus Grace’s handful of months.

Seraph struck first, a testing blow that Grace barely deflected. The impact jarred up her arms.

"Too slow!"

Grace ducked the follow-up swing, tried to counter. Seraph knocked her blade aside like swatting a fly.

"Is Grace going to win today?" someone in the crowd whispered.

"She’s gotten so much stronger!"

"Look at her form!"

[Great. No pressure or anything.]

Grace focused, trying to remember Diana’s lessons. Stop thinking, just move. She parried Seraph’s next attack, actually managed to force the commander back a step.

"Better!" Seraph approved, then promptly swept Grace’s legs.

Grace hit the mat hard. Air whooshed from her lungs.

"But not good enough."

"My turn," Diana announced, stepping into the ring. "You’ve had your fun."

Seraph shrugged and tagged out. Diana twirled her practice sword with annoying confidence.

"Same rules as always. First to three touches wins."

Grace hauled herself up. Her body already ached, but Diana wouldn’t go easy on her. If anything, Diana pushed harder than Seraph.

They engaged. Diana’s style was completely different—less brute force, more precision. She fought like she fucked, Grace realized with a start. Calculated, teasing, always in control.

"Focus," Diana snapped, tagging Grace’s ribs. "That’s one."

Grace growled and pressed forward. She managed to get inside Diana’s guard, their bodies close enough that she could smell Diana’s scent. Sweat and something spicy.

"Getting bold?" Diana’s breath tickled Grace’s ear. "I like it."

Then she hooked Grace’s ankle and sent her tumbling again.

"That’s two."

The crowd groaned sympathetically. Grace bounced up, determined. She would not get shut out in front of her... fans? Admirers? Whatever they were.

This time when they clashed, Grace didn’t think. She just moved, letting instinct guide her. When Diana went high, she went low. When Diana feinted left, Grace didn’t bite.

Her practice sword touched Diana’s side.

The crowd erupted.

"She scored!"

"Did you see that move?"

"Grace is amazing!"

Diana scoffed.

"Finally. Took you long enough."

She promptly disarmed Grace and tapped her throat for the winning point.

"Three-one. Better than last week."

---

Mara’s healing class was usually Grace’s chance to relax after getting beaten up in combat training.

Usually.

Today, Mara insisted on demonstrating advanced energy channeling techniques. Which meant standing directly behind Grace, guiding her hands, pressing close enough that Grace could feel every curve.

[Those can’t be real. They’re too big. Too soft. Too... everything.]

"Feel the flow here," Mara murmured, her breath warm against Grace’s neck. Her massive chest pressed firmly against Grace’s back as she adjusted Grace’s stance. "You’re still too tense."

Tense was one word for it.

"I-I think I’ve got it," Grace squeaked.

"Hmm, not quite." Mara’s hands covered Grace’s, warm and gentle. "Let me show you again."

This was torture. Sweet, soft, lavender-scented torture.

The healing energy finally flowed correctly, probably because Grace was too distracted to overthink it. Blue light sparkled between her palms.

"Perfect!" Mara beamed, stepping back. Grace immediately missed the warmth. "You’re improving so quickly."

"Thanks," Grace managed, trying not to stare at how Mara’s robes clung when she moved.

[Get it together. She’s your teacher.]

But her Love attribute didn’t care about appropriate student-teacher dynamics.

---

Venus’s class was where things went completely off the rails.

"Today we’re practicing advanced energy exchange through kissing," Venus announced to the assembled Love Sisters. "Partner up!"

A petite angel with cotton candy pink hair immediately latched onto Grace’s arm.

"Dibs!"

Grace found herself pulled into an enthusiastic kiss before she could protest. The girl—Lily? Lucy? Something with an L—kissed like she was trying to win a prize.

"Mmm," the girl hummed against Grace’s lips. "You taste good."

Grace’s brain short-circuited. The kiss was good. Really good. Skilled tongue, just the right amount of pressure, a hint of teeth that made Grace’s knees weak.

When they finally broke apart, the girl’s eyes sparkled with mischief.

"Want some extra tutoring?" she whispered in Grace’s ear. "I know all sorts of techniques Venus doesn’t teach in class."

The smart answer was no. Grace had a full schedule. She needed to research more about the Pillars. She should probably check in with Celestia about her next mission.

"Yes," Grace heard herself say.

The girl’s grin widened.

"Perfect."

Class couldn’t end fast enough. The moment Venus dismissed them, Cotton Candy Hair grabbed Grace’s hand.

"Come on! I know the perfect practice room."

Grace let herself be dragged away, ignoring the knowing looks from the other Love Sisters.

[This is a bad idea.]

Her Love attribute disagreed.

---

Two hours later, Grace stumbled back to the rookie wing with kiss-swollen lips and shaky legs. Cotton Candy Hair—Lila, her name was Lila—had been very thorough in her tutoring.

Very. Thorough.

Grace pushed open the door to find the usual chaos. Except this time it was Diana’s turn to make someone scream. She had Zephyr bent over the arm of the couch, that golden light construct pistoning steadily while Zephyr buried her face in a pillow to muffle her cries.

"Welcome back," Alia said from the other couch. She patted her lap invitingly. "You look tired."

Grace collapsed gratefully, resting her head on Alia’s thighs. They were slim but soft, perfect for a pillow.

"Long day," Grace mumbled.

Alia’s fingers combed through Grace’s white hair. "Want to talk about it?"

"Not really."

"Want to make out about it?"

Grace cracked one eye open. Alia grinned down at her, shameless as always.

"Maybe later," Grace said, closing her eyes again.

This was her life now. Morning sex shows, combat beatdowns, dangerous levels of distraction during healing class, and Love Sisters who wanted to teach her things that definitely weren’t in any official curriculum.

Somehow, it was starting to feel normal.

Alia’s fingers kept stroking her hair as Zephyr’s muffled moans provided background noise. Grace let herself drift, surrounded by the controlled chaos of the rookie wing.

Tomorrow would bring more training, more missions, more encounters with ancient beings who wanted to either kill her or fuck her. But for now, she had a soft lap pillow and friends who cared about her in their own weird ways.

[I could get used to this.]