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lustastarte · 1 year

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♡courting | avpol♡

genre: fluff

a victorian era egyptian prince unavoidably falls for his french fencing instructor

published: 2020

victorian era au

written by request

Jean stepped out of his drawn carriage, legs aching due to the long drive from the port. The Queen of Egypt had him shipped in from France to instruct her son in sword fighting, who he had never met. He bowed to the beautiful Queen when she stepped outside to greet him.

"Hello my beautiful Queen! Have you missed my presence?"

The Queen laughed, pigment coated lips parting to reveal two rows of straight white teeth. "I don't believe so," she giggled.

Jean threw his head back, laughing loudly. "Oh, don't sell me a dog! Grace me with an embrace, will you?"

The Queen eagerly stepped forward, pulling the French man into her arms, kissing him once on each cheek, leaning into his much taller frame.

"Have you grown since we last met, Jean?" She studied his buff, pale figure, barely hidden in a soft green cotton dress shirt and pants. His white hair slicked back, face powdered and kept cool with his fan.

"I am afraid not," he snickered, placing his hands on the Queen's shoulders. "Do you mind showing me around your new palace, mademoiselle?"

The Queen giggled, blushing. "You make me feel so young Jean! I would be honored to show you around, but first, I would like you to meet your student," she said through a bright smile, leading Polnareff through the towering, arched, polished Senegal Ebony doors. The sculptures in the foyer of the palace had been made long ago in Ancient Egypt by masters of the craft. They were set on pedestals amid the water of the fountains and the perfectly manicured flower planters that resembled splatters of neon gouache upon dark, eco green fabric.

"Abasi, fetch Muhammad for me, could you?" The Queen's assistant nodded and rushed off, returning with a young Prince. He was clothed in a beautiful crimson Egyptian cotton suit, and draped with a white wool robe, both with matte finishes that deflected the golden desert sun onto the decorative mass of jewelry and his glowing, flawless warm sepia skin and facial markings, spattered with deep golden highlights and undertones. His black hair, newly and carefully styled into Bantu knots, shone out from under his wrapped cotton headband, and glinted in the sunlight. The Prince took pride in how he looked, easily the most attractive man in his kingdom, because he worked for it. He never spent his mother's money, nor asked his father for his way. Each piece of pure gold jewelry decorating his shoulders, arms, and face were paid for with money he made off the local market for selling eggs, and were hand crafted by the kingdom's wisest woman, blessed with her mental clarity and wisdom.

"Good afternoon, Mama. Who is this?"

"Good afternoon son, this is your new fencing instructor. You do not have to be formal with him, he and I have been friends since I visited France a few years back."

Polnareff bowed quickly, freezing in his tracks upon coming up. His porcelain skin began to heat up as the blood rushed to his cheeks. "I-It is an honor, Prince Avdol."

"Please," Avdol chuckled, his deep, sweet sorghum voice seeping into the French man's chest and sending his heart into his throat. "Call me Muhammad. You are...?"

"Jean Pierre Polnareff, your highness," the French man said, placing his open red fan over his heart and bowing once more.

"Do you mind if I call you Jean?"

"That would be just as ideal as my last name, sir."

"Now then," Avdol flashed a smile. "Shall we begin our lessons?"

Polnareff nodded and followed behind the Prince to a ballroom. He gave Avdol his uniform and shrugged himself into his own. The French man provided the Prince with a weapon, and took his stance opposite him.

Avdol hefted his own weapon, studying Polnareff's pose. His feet were splayed at right angles, his left arm sticking out behind him like the handle of a teacup. His fencing armor made him look like a walking quilt. Even with his sword pointed straight at him, Polnareff looked more than silly. Still, it was quite adorable on the man.

"More weight on your back foot," he said, breaking his stance to place his sword on the polished lapis lazuli floor and nudge Avdol's boots further apart. "So you can push off when you attack... And always keep sideways to your opponent," he said, placing his hands upon the Egyptian's waist and gently turning him to the side. "That way, your chest presents the smallest possible target," Polnareff finished with a smile before shuffling back over to his sword.

"Thank you Pol- Jean," the Prince stuttered, heart fluttering from the unexpected contact.

"Of course. Now show me how you would begin..."

For the next three hours, Avdol only did the motions he saw Polnareff do and stare. He couldn't stop staring. What was it that made him so obsessed with a French man rather than the beautiful Egyptian women lined up to be his wife? They had dinner and bid one another farewell for the night, and still, Avdol had the man on his mind. No matter what he did, he couldn't get the sun-spotted milky skin and blue eyes out of his head. He sighed out loud, throwing himself and his silk sleepwear onto the plush bed. Pulling a pillow up against his chest, the Prince held it tightly and closed his earthy brown eyes, imagining his instructor unwillingly as he fell asleep.

Morning after morning came, and once again the Prince was sharing breakfast with his instructor before their lesson. He had improved quite a bit in the month Polnareff has been teaching him, but it wasn't because he was listening. He wanted to impress the French man, and so far, he had succeeded.

"Can I ask you something, Jean?"

Polnareff glanced up from his book and smiled. "Of course."

"How long will you be instructing me?"

"Well," the French man stopped to run a hand through his slicked-back silver hair. "At the rate you're learning, I shouldn't need to stay long."

"I suppose that's true, yes," Avdol muttered, face dropping.

"What's the matter, mon amie?"

The Prince's heart fluttered, Polnareff's French made his stomach fill with large, restless butterflies. "It is nothing, I just assumed you would be here longer than one month."

"I can if you would like me to be, Muhammad. I am in no hurry to return to France."

Avdol's face darkened with an influx of blood to his cheeks. "I am going to prepare for the less-"

"There is not a lesson for today your majesty, I would like to talk to you, if that is acceptable."

Sitting on the stage in the ballroom, the two conversed for hours.

"I have come to enjoy your company extremely, Jean..."

Polnareff blushed softly, looking over his shoulder as he hid the left half of his face briefly with an open fan. "I have come to enjoy yours as well, so much so that I-... ah, forgive me." He closed the fan and slowly drew it across his cheek, then half opened, placed it against his lips before closing it and placing it back into his lap.

Avdol froze, fighting himself over whether to kiss the instructor or not. He grabbed the other's dusty pink cheeks and placed his lips upon Polnareff's. On pulling back, he began to furiously apologize, only to be interrupted by another kiss.

"So you do understand fan language?"

The Prince nodded and glanced at the floor. "I love you too... I know it's early, but I'm not sure I want to give this chance up. Will you stay here?"

"Of course I will, mon cherie. Always."

Nearly a year later, Polnareff still had a place in the palace, yet now beside Avdol in his own bed and on the throne. The French man was set to become the second Prince of Egypt by marriage. The two enjoyed each day together, working in the garden, taking care of livestock, and running the kingdom. They slept cuddled together as if their lives depended on it, and the Queen praised herself each day for introducing the two.

#avpol #avdol x polnareff #jjba #jjba fanfic #fanfiction #fluff #victorian era au #fan language

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multiversetravelingjournalist · 30 days

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Victorian Grammar Idea 1

So basically plurals.

*Inhales*

you have the root and append a fricative at the end to indicate plural number. except, no, that encodes the paucal number. to get the plural you have to replace the last consonant in the root with the fricative. even then, in this and later cases, the fricative needs to harmonize with that same consonant in place and voicing.

then there is the phonotactics which only allow for two consonants of a similar manner of articulation to be together, so if there are two fricative consonants you need to insert a vowel before the paucal fricative which is the same one as the last vowel in the stem. to form the plural with that you just get rid of the last consonant before the vowel, effectively deleting it while keeping the vowel.

Then there is the case of pluralizing a root with just one fricative at the end. easy, you lengthen the coda fricative in the paucal and then, in the plural, change the previous fricative to a stop while keeping the new fricative at the end of a word.

*Takes another breath. let's it out. *

that's basically the gist of it. pretty tame compared to my other features and governances. but I like it. what do you think?

#mvtjournalist speaks #conlang #constructed language #artificial language #conlanging #language construction #language creation #fanlang #fan made language #fanfic conlang #arknights #arknights headcanon #arknights victorian

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mikacynth · 11 months

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mika imagine kaeya speaking french too you, calling you beautiful in the language, and expressing his adoration.

you ask him what he's saying and he just looks over at you in a teasing manner, a quirk of his lip as he smiles adoringly, eyes reflecting his heart. "just expressing favor over a certain something."

i'd lose it (<- is losing it)

#PEOPLE WHO SPEAK MULTIPLE LANGUAGES WILL FOREVER BE ATTRACTIVE #and french sounds so dreamy but i know it is a pain to learn #I AM FANNING MYSELF LIKE A VICTORIAN MAIDEN #sir kaeya if i swoon may i trust you to catch me

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lacryem · 16 days

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— A surprisingly long and in depth look about symbolism in the recent G-Fantasy cover by Yana Toboso ✦

Including references, flower language, how to decode the meaning of flowers, and a little too much brainrot. As well my personal interpretation drawn from all the sources I looked at. And of course what all of means (and maybe hints at?) for Sebastian and Ciel… and maybe even Sebaciel?

Originally posted as a twitter thread, but threads suck and I forgot a couple things. so here now.

Disclaimer :

I don’t know FOR SURE that all these things were directly referenced by Yana when creating this art. But being a fan of her work for over a decade I've become familiar with her use of symbolism and reference, and believe myself to have a good eye for it at this point! I'm also pretty familiar with the use of flower language, including different languages, due to having been involved in a project about it and having to read wayyy too much about this.

Some of it also includes my own personal interpretation, but the meanings and info I based myself off of ARE factual. I think I made it pretty clear when referencing my personal interpretation. You're welcome to reach your own interpretation based off of the stuff provided!

And lastly, I'm not a sebaciel shipper. I'm not an anti (the complete opposite, actually) and have nothing against the ship, I like the narrative around them and how they're written but I don’t actively ship them romantically or sexually. So I'd say this is actually a pretty unbiased interpretation. Personal taste is one thing, but I don’t deny the author's intention and whats written in front of me! That is what this post is about.

Kuroshitsuji takes place in the Victorian period (1837~1901) in 1889.

The following are both important Victorian books on the language of flowers that I will be basing myself off of.

Language of Flowers by Greenaway Kate (1884), and The Language of flowers: An Alphabet of Floral Emblems (1857).

(Also, I’m treating Ciel’s rose as a deep red rose. Which is a bit different than red roses. But I am adding some relevant information about roses in general, anyway.

Now, on what they say about these flowers.

Deep rose, meaning "bashful shame". White lily, meaning "Purity and sweetness."

— The White Lily

Most people assume that the lily refers to Ciel's purity, and that’s a fair assumption. But I disagree.

Firstly, the one holding the lily is Sebastian. Holding it on his right hand, tilted towards the right. However what's relevant here is the VIEWER. From the viewer's POV he's holding it to the left. Note he also holds the scissors on his left hand, where he bears HIS contract seal.

How you hold a flower, what position you give it to someone in, changes the meaning of the flower. These context clues are very important. It tells us that 'purity and sweetness' doesn’t refer to Ciel, but actually refers to Sebastian (…sorta).

This may be a little confusing. Purity and sweetness, Sebastian?! I know, I know. bear with me.

These books provide poems to help us understand how you may interpret the intended meaning. The lily poem is about enduring trials out of love because of the purity and sweetness he sees in his lover's eyes and soul. I believe Yana directly references the poems I will include in this post in her new artwork.

— My Interpretation

the meaning of Sebastian's lily is:

"I do all out of love for the sweetness and purity within you."

Him holding it to the contact seal and cutting the flower could stand for him destroying this sentiment (affection within himself) that has arisen in him as a result of their contract by destroying the sweetness and purity—the source of it—within Ciel (consuming his soul).

Note: This is debatable, as 'reversed' almost always means upside down. But if you consider the lily facing away from the viewer as reversed then it could mean "impurity and bitterness" which fits pretty well with Ciel, and it being held against the contract seal which is a physical representation of his impurity, brought on by his bitterness.

— The Deep Red Rose

There something I find very interesting. The rose is in a teacup, standing in for tea (I think there's even tea alongside it in the cup.) From Yana herself we know that Sebastian's eyes are a reference to the reddish brown colour of tea.

Like I said, I believe this rose to be a deep red rose, which is a bit more specific than the meaning given to red roses. However I think the poem included for roses in general very much applies here.

I was going to add my thoughts but I found this interpretation that sums it up pretty well if you replace the carpe diem theme with a more "running out of time" or "impending death" theme, which seems to be a more accurate reading for this artwork.

Looking at the rose itself, it has no thorns or leaves.

It is not a youthful rose as its already fully open and losing petals. "No hope, and no fear" fits with the poem, the rose is basically an hourglass referring to Ciel. His fate is unavoidable, but this isn't a deterrent. He's dancing on the ledge.

The deep red rose means 'bashful shame'.

When you compare it to the lily, which is a direct proclamation, the deep red rose is a quiet confession one cannot verbalize.

Debatable, to be fair but given the tie in to Sebastian's eye colour and the fact that he is always the one pouring tea for Ciel, I believe the Sebastian to be the speaker here too, but this time speaking on Ciel's feelings (Hence why he's the one holding it) rather than Sebastian's own.

— My Interpretation

The meaning of the deep red rose Ciel holds, speaking about Ciel's feelings of guardedness, and in response saying:

"Abandon your bashful shame, and let yourself be admired without expectations (hope) or fear"

Sebastian speaks about Ciel's feelings, the deep red rose acknowledges his feelings but they remain unspoken.

The Waller poem is a plead for his beloved to seize the day, for time is short, and allow herself to be loved completely.

Her beauty is one to be appreciated, she is not meant to be a rose unacknowledged (unloved) in the desert.

Regarding 'expectations', I think this is more about rigid ideas of how 'appreciation' or 'admiration, might be shown or received. Sebastian and Ciel's relationship defies normality or 'expectations'. So this, too, would defy expectations a young boy like Ciel, or a traumatised boy like Ciel, may have.

From Yana herself, we know Sebastian's dedication and how highly he holds 'beauty', specifically Ciel's beauty.

The author of the poem proclaims that beauty not appreciated is not beautiful indeeed, and so he calls his beloved to come to him and be appreciated wholly during the invaluable, limited time they have.

We see the deep red rose's petals fall away, in my opinion not only symbolising the withering away of time, but also the crumbling away of this "bashful shame" that Sebastian ascribes to Ciel.

How Sebastian wishes to "appreciate" this beauty is debatable. How he wants to "admire" and "desire" (per the poem) Ciel is rather open ended. Wether it be in a romantic way, a sexual way or by consuming his soul.

However, I don’t think these are mutually exclusive. And consuming Ciel can easily be a metaphor for the former two.

— The Lily and The Rose

The Greeneaway book has this poem which im sure was directly referenced. This poem speaks about the lily and the rose in a direct power struggle and fight for dominance, until they eventually unite and reign as one.

Now when speaking about this "union", you could say it refers to their contract, but I don’t think so.

The contract ties them to each other, but it doesn’t necessarily unite them. So I believe 'unity' to be about the appreciation Sebastian speaks of Ciel opening up to.

"The Lily" and "The Rose" might be interpreted as directly representing Sebastian and Ciel, and the unity that would come from them joining and becoming a truly complimentary pair. I think a power struggle and fight for being the one in control is very accurate way to describe their current dynamic in canon.

It may also be interpreted as "The Lily" and "The Rose" as being representations of their feelings and ideals previously. And then it would represent these two conflicting expressions—a loud unrelenting and destructive devotion, and a guarded, bashful, unspoken reluctance— coming together and turning from conflicting to complimentary.

Or as it tends to be with these things, both!

Either way all of this is expressed under the sense of impending doom created by their circumstances and the contract. So there's a sense of urgency permeating all of it.

Also clear to me is a sense of internal conflictedness coming from Sebastian's message that is usually only hinted at like this, and some people end up overlooking.

Sebastian desires Ciel deeply, but having him would also mean not being able to have him anymore.

Sebastian is torn and that’s why he attempts to cut the root of his wavering feelings represented by the lily.

All of this makes me wonder about what's next, and if we will see these things said more blatantly. Foreshadowing with flower language and references like this, isn't exactly rare for Yana. I wonder if we will see this 'unity' come to be, and what necessary development Sebastian and Ciel will need to undergo to make it possible. As well as what shape it will take.

I also wonder very much about Ciel's perspective in all of this, as this was almost entirely from Sebastian's POV, but I think that's intentional. Ciel has his own goals and a lot on his mind. Sebastian's goal IS Ciel. So I assume he spends a lot more time thinking about Ciel and this kind of thing.

Thank you if you read the whole way through. Like I said before, even though the sources defending it are, my interpretation is not law and you're welcome to reach your own with the things presented.

Links for sources, including free public domain PDFs of the books mentioned are found at the end of my twitter thread.

— Thanks for reading! —

#sebaciel shipper friendly post #kuroshitsuji #black butler #sebastian michaelis #ciel phantomhive #sebastian black butler #ciel black butler #sebaciel #please refrain from ship discourse on my post. I don't care if fictional characters upset you. I'm looking at the source material here.

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shatteredstarsart · 1 month

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I got some more Victorian era au stuff.

MK is a person here, he’s a kid Wukong used to work with when he was poor (because remember child labor was a thing in the Victorian era unfortunately) and he likes to hang out with MK sometimes, bring him some tea and hot coco. Wukong tries his best to help out MK financially and it’s enough to where he doesn’t have to work. Macaque also tries to teach Wukong common upper class Victorian social rules, like hat language, and of course it’s counterpart, fan language.

This next bit is a little bit in the future, Wukong and Macaque kind of get married. They can’t technically get legally married due to yknow, anti mlm laws ( :[ ), but they do just act like they’re married and wear wedding bands anyways. And this is them as old men. Wukong is the only one of the two that actually has fun wearing clothes, he has Lego Batman Style suit dress up parties on a daily basis.

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maquet591 · 9 days

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We need to talk about the Watcher "fans".

These are the top comments on Shane’s IG post. Just look at the number of likes.

“Steven Lim is a greedy, manipulative evil CEO that twists his white co-founder's hands and forces the said co-founder into his will!!!” – this narrative is being prevalent in this fandom since April 19. People harassed him all across social media on every platform. People wrote nasty comments not only to his social media accounts but also to his wife and friends.

People made a Change.org hilariously dumb petitions to have him leave the CEO post.

People gleefully demonize and tear down his reputation. Twist his words out of context in to something vile. Weaponize the years old inside jokes his friends made on camera.

“This is not racism!!!” they say. “These are just the facts!!!”

No they aren’t. And here’s why:

because this

is the same as this:

Covert racism in language, or coded racism, is the deployment of common stereotypes or tropes to elucidate a racially charged idea. Rather than expressly perpetuating racist tropes, covert linguistic racism is seen as rational or "common sense", and many are not aware of its impact.

Racial stereotypes. Racial or cultural stereotyping refers to generalizing a group based on a simplified set of norms, behaviors, or characteristics.

The Yellow Peril (also the Yellow Terror, the Yellow Menace and the Yellow Specter) is a racist color metaphor that depicts the peoples of East and Southeast Asia[a] as an existential danger to the Western world.

Fu Manchu is a fictional character created by Arthur Ward, a music hall writer and journalist in London in the early 1900s. Writing under the pseudonym Sax Rohmer, Ward had absolutely no knowledge of Chinese culture or Chinese people – but his invention of a Chinese supervillain struck a chord in Victorian Britain and became a smash hit.

Fu Manchu was the original fictional Asian villain, a trope which became embedded in popular culture and Western psyche spawning spin-offs, spoofs, pop songs, video games and even consumer goods. But how damaging is Fu Manchu and how much can he tell us about modern Asian racism?

Ward wrote Fu Manchu as the personification of the so-called Yellow Peril threat: exotic, alien and inhuman, a mastermind boasting degrees from top universities. Using sinister powers to control minds, he aimed to undermine Western civilisation.

"This led to the idea that the Chinese were deceiving – they weren't being honest, they weren't revealing who they really are as people. This spawned into stories of Chinese as cheats and liars and deceitful – never giving you the truth, always fabricating."

Seven Lim being labeled as “greedy” “evil” and “manipulative” (of his white co-founder) is rooted in Anti-Asian racism. Whether people admit it or not.

Racism is not always derogatory slurs or white hoods. Racism is also casual micro-aggressions and putting people of color in the metaphorical boxes of harmful stereotypes. Racism is twisting the narrative and shaping it into a vile stereotype straight from the 19th century.

Also, let's not forget that people are happy to jump on Ryan in the similar way for the same reasons.

#watcher #watcher entertainment #steven lim #watchertv #watcher tv #shane madej #ryan #ryan bergara #tw racism

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kingconia · 8 months

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Hello! I love your works. I wanted to know if I could request the S/O who writes letters (the one you did for Diasomnia), but with Rook, Riddle, Idia and Cater. I think these would be funny combinations. Thank you and have a good day!

A/N: Thank you! Have a nice day as well.

The Diasomnia post is here.

IDIA SHROUD, CATER DIAMOND, RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS AND ROOK HUNT WITH OLD-FASHIONED S/O, WHO WRITES AND SENDS THEM LETTERS, INSTEAD OF USING THE PHONE

Idia Shroud. 💙

— Idia is speechless. What do you mean you don't want to use your gadgets? What are, a victorian lady?

— He almost offended about your carelessness towards phones and messengers. Makes a whole PowerPoint presentations to help you understand the benefits of technology;

— If you accept his opinion, but still continue write him letters, Idia will easily get used to it, though, still through fuming. And, don't expect letters from him—he will only email you;

— But he decides that it is still a win. Because, you know what? You are almost from the pages of his favourite love interest in one of these manhwas he secretly consumes at nights.

•

”Hm,” Idia rests cheek against his palm, glancing at Ortho lazily. ”What is it?”

”Another letter from Y/n-sama!” The boy exclaims, extending a familiar beautiful blue envelope.

A tired sigh escapes Idia's lips, but he can't help but smile at this slightly.

There is something, indeed, charming in way you send him letters in a certain part of days, well-knowing when to catch him free.

’My dear king of the Underworld,

I recall you having an important meeting today, and so, I am sending you this letter only now, when there is less labour for you to deal with. Tell me, how was your day? Had you eaten well? Should I bring you some fruits when I come? Perhaps, a pomegranate?

My day was remarkable, yet...’

His cheeks flush instantly.

If you only knew how his heart aches for you...

Cater Diamond. ❤️

— Another chronically online person is here! Cater spends half of his free-time, scrolling through different social media, and so, he is surprised that you don't do that, too;

— But he is actually really amused by your unique habit. Cater sees it as a game, and he likes how interesting you make everything. Definitely will never judge you;

— He keeps photos of all your letters! He doesn't post them online—though, he can snap a photo of the closed envelope and write some teasing description—but he makes sure he has everything kept down;

— I think, sometimes he tries to write you letters, too. But it is rather an exception than something usual. And... He is much clumsier with words than you are.

•

”What are you doing?” Trey frowns, quickly glaring at his housemate.

Cater is sitting on the floor, with thousand of letters scattered around, shuffling through them desperately. There is a one piece of empty paper in front of him, and a ink paper that seems to be leaking for a while...

”I want to write letter for Y/n,” Cater announces, tongue sticking out as he searches for something in particular. ”But for that, I need to match this... Bummer language style they have... But, shit, it is hard.”

Trey huffs. He leans forward slightly, almost meaning to say that, surely, Cater can't be serious, when he actually stumbles across a few of your writings.

’Through the fleeting sounds of birds, singing their omnipotent hymns, I had heard a news worthy of a feast...’

’I have this ocean feeling, when I am looking in your eyes—which can be for hours, truly—and when I do so, it seems like the love consumes every inch of me, hiding in lungs, and...’

”Good luck,” Trey cracks out, clearly amused.

Cater sighs. Luck is exactly what he needs right now.

Riddle Rosehearts. ❤️

— Honestly, Riddle is not a big fan of social media himself, so he doesn't mind your habit of writing letters at all;

— If anything, he takes your hobby very seriously. He thinks, it is a perfect sign of how truly mannered you are For him, it is almost you are a princess. And he likes playing a knight very much;

— He doesn't keep all of your letters, but, he chooses the most important ones to save. And the same goes with writing you back—mostly, Riddle likes to have you for a personal date, so it is invitation to his dorm he sends you usually;

— But the thing is... Riddle gets easily flustered by your letters. You write so beautifully and gently about him, that he can't help but blush... Sometimes, he can just space out for hours, staring at your letters.

•

”I wonder what is wrong with housewarden...” Ace asks, trying sneakingly throw another stare at Riddle over his shoulder.

”What do you mean...” Deuce asks absentmindedly, staring in the given direction. ”Oh.”

Riddle, their housewarden, sits in the opposite side of library. There is a paper in his hands, which he glares at without blinking—for a minutes now—and his cheeks are terribly red. He doesn't even move. He just stares.

”Maybe, he is sick?”

”Dunno...”

”He is reading another letter from Y/n,” a sudden voice appears out of nowhere, and as boys hardly conceal their yelping, Chenya smiles at them radiantly. ”Can you blame him? Even my cheeks heated when I read it!”

As Deuce and Ace exchange looks, equally annoyed by this stupid cat's sudden teleportation, Chenya starts to declare what he had read aloud, in a very thin voice:

”Oh, Riddle, a petal to my stem! There is not a single day, when I don't think about you sticking to my heart as if thorns...”

But, oh, isn't it Chenya? Surely he just being over-dramatic...

Right?..

Rook Hunt. 💜

— Rook is absolutely happy to receive letters from you. After all, his eccentric character is very weak for such things—and here you are, spoiling him even more;

— He keeps all of your letters, and he hangs them all over the walls. Even the shortest ones! He just can't throw away anything coming from you;

— And, of course, he writes you back. Always. He would never forgive himself, if he does otherwise;

— Though, his favourite part of your games, when both of you hide letters in places, where only you could find them! Much like a hunt, but a very lovely one!

•

You sigh quietly, fingers massaging temples that harshly that it almost hurts. Sadly, it doesn't help in the slightest. Just as all medicine you took, in order to be saved from annoying headache.

There is a lot of things to do for you, but instead, you lay down on the bed, helpless and tired. But when you turn on your left side, you are suddenly met by the violet envelope with the golden seal that lays on the second pillow of yours. Instinctively, you smile.

You know from whom it is.

’Good afternoon, celui qui tient mon coeur.

I am aware of the headache that bothers you throughout this morning, and thus, I will not pester you with additional questions about the sudden absence of letters—please, keep your rest from me and the outside world.

I also made sure no one tries to take your time today. Teachers and classmates are warned. Tout pour toi, mon amour.

P.S: If you don't mind, I am planning to visit you later, with new made tarts of mine.

Much love, ton admirateur timide.’

You push the letter to you chest as you relax completely, knowing that you have unofficial day off.

Ah. What a caring lover you have!

A/N: Translation for Rook—’the one that holds my heart’/‘anything for you, my love’/’your shy admirer’.

#twisted wonderland #twst wonderland #idia shroud x reader #idia shroud #cater diamond x reader #cater diamond #riddle rosehearts x reader #riddle rosehearts #rook hunt x reader #rook hunt

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venusandsaturnsrings · 6 months

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Thoughts on Wriothesley?

I HAVE A LOT THANK YOU FOR ASKING!! cant wait for his bday so i have better art to use as a header… his bday is 3 days before mine >///< almost bday twins!!

synopsis: just a handful of general headcanons i have for him. some are relationship, some are just him!! ^u^

contains: some spoilers for his background, gn reader, trauma related hcs, substance mention, and kink mentions.

wrio is the kind of guy to dance around subjects he has no interest in sharing. he won’t outright tell you not to ask and instead twist it back to you. a lot of “well, what do you think?” or “hm… have you checked with others?” it’s polite but also frustrating at times.

you may think he’s a dog person but he’s actually a cat kind of guy!! i can see him liking dogs for practical purposes but he enjoys cats more because he bonds better with them. what’s better than a cup of tea and a happy cat purring in your lap?

can shotgun any beverage no problem.

he collects tea obviously but he also collects mugs to go with them!! big cabinet!! if you’re ever stumped on what to get him as a gift, you can’t go wrong with a cute mug and tea.

can’t play any instruments and feels a bit insecure about it?? wrio feels like he should have some extra talents or hobbies such as music but he can’t play anything and doesn’t know where to start!! please teach him!!

his favourite dates are ones spent in secluded areas of the over world. on beaches or in small towns, he just likes being away from work and in privacy with you.

wrio does expect you to understand and accept his job. if you’re not okay with the way he runs things or prioritizes then, even if it hurts him, he’ll let you go the other way.

he’s not opposed to suggestions or changing the way things run but, if you want him to restructure everything or quit, then he’s saying goodbye.

MELTS for massages. between being hunched over a desk and boxing, he’s sore constantly. please massage him!!

his primary love language to give is words of affirmation. if you’re ever feeling insecure or unsure of something, wrio is quick to step in and praise you for the smallest things.

his favourite love language to receive is, somewhat surprisingly, physical touch.

he isn’t big on being touched in general or into the beginning of your relationship (part of the ptsd related to his past) but once he’s comfortable, he’ll perk up at even a graze of your fingertips. very much a deprived victorian maiden.

on the topic of his past i do see him as having ptsd. when he was younger, he had oppositional defiance disorder and struggled a lot with containing those emotions before and after his parents. being in prison i think it’s likely he had some substance problems at one point, alcohol or benzodiazepines maybe, but he’s gotten clean!!

i think he’s a total straight edge now except for smoking cigarettes. doesn’t drink or do any other drugs but just can’t seem to kick his smoking habit. he tries drinking tea instead of reaching for his cigs though!!

getting intimate… was a struggle for him at first.

it’s very vulnerable!! he isn’t a fan of that!! so you’ll have to take it slow with him at first.

once he’s warmed up to it and gotten into a rhythm with you, i see his top kinks being: restraints, receiving head/cock worship, creampies, spitting on you, and mild exhibitionism.

wrio has a solid length but is significantly girthy!! it’s a tough fit at first and your jaw always hurts sucking him off :(( but he gives you a good face fucking!! plus it means he can plug you full of cum real well!!

he’s got a teeny tiny secret idea about sharing you with neuvillette but shhh don’t tell him i told you…

#cw: exhibitionism #cw: substances #cw: trauma #gn reader #wriothesley x reader #wriothesley x you #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin smut #chit chats

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strangestcase · 1 year

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For the people that are going to do Dracula Daily this year:

One of the subplots that Dracula covers, and arguably the most important subplot, is one centered around a psychiatric patient confined to an asylum- it touches upon the way he sees the world, his relationship with his doctor, and how he relates to and perceives the villain VS the heroes, since for most of the plot he believes the villain to be good and strives to serve him.

Both the patient and the doctor characters (who are part of the main cast and very important to moving the plot foward in their own ways!) are portrayed as sympathetic victims to the main villain and mostly on the side of good, but in different ways, and, of course, the way they are written is informed by the beliefs of the time.

I won't spoil anything too important about it, just warn you that this subplot depicts Victorian Era ableism, which is... pretty extreme, and forms of medical abuse (specifically, psychiatric abuse) that still exist today!

This plotline involves:

-depictions of hallucinations, delusions, and irrational thinking

-medical malpractice: delusions being encouraged, patients being dehumanized, prolonged use of dangerous restraints

-unsanitary behavior (eating live animals)

-ableist attitudes from most of the hero characters

(other Dracula fans pls tell me if I've missed something)

What do I make of this? you ask. Well...

Do not excuse medical abuse, even if it's fictional. The doctor character is, for all his medical malpractice, depicted as a complex person that has some likeable traits and he undergoes a pretty sad arc relating to loss and trauma, like most of the heroes of this novel. This doesn't make him any less of an abuser, nor makes his patient any less of a victim!

Refrain from using ableist language or rethoric. The patient character, being written for a very old horror book, is often depicted as "unsettling" and his strange behavior is sometimes played for horror. This 1) doesn't make his situation any less deplorable 2) doesn't make him any less sympethetic and most importantly 3) doesnt give you a free pass to treat him as a scary horror monster. He's a victim of both the real monster of this story and the system he lives in.

Listen to psychotic fans. Research the history of Victorian asylums. Understand the historical context. Look at this subplot from a holistic perspective instead of treating it as a horror story within a horror story (although, it is a horror story, but not for the reasons some think it is!). Just don't be a dick to disabled people.

If any part of this subplot triggers or squicks you, you are not obligated to read it, just be aware that it exists and that it is important to avoid perpetuating ableist stereotypes, be they present in the original text or not. (Hell, you are not obligated to read any part of the book if you don't want to do so. Dracula Daily is supposed to be fun. Analyzing literature is supposed to be fun. Enjoying literature is supposed to be fun!)

For the love of God, don't get angry if some fans dislike the doctor character for what he's done and take the patients' side. This was an issue during the last Dracula Daily run. He's literally the victim in this relationship. I'm not saying you can't like or dislike either character but I have to reiterate: do not erase either character's contribution to the plot, do not demonize the patient character for being mentally ill in an "ugly" way and beliveing the villain is good, and don't woobiefy the doctor character because he said a funny thing once. Both are complex adult human beings so don't expect them to be caricatures.

Do not be afraid to call out ableist behavior from other fans, but also be careful to not overstep or talk over disabled fans, especially psychotic fans.

During the Dracula Daily run, some blogs will warn about the entries in which this subplot takes place, and what triggers apply for each one of them. If you need those warnings, don't be afraid to reach out for them!

Happy reading!

#dracula daily #dracula #dracula daily 2023

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flowerandblood · 10 months

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Green Snake, Red Lion (5)

[Slytherin • Aemond x Gryffindor • female]

[warnings: sex content, smut, safe words, fluff]

[description: Aemond is a Chaser and captain of the Slytherin team. His biggest rival on the pitch from the Gryffindor team, turned to be his biggest fan, and he hates her with all of his heart. His hatred towards her slowly turns into something else, when she one day stands up for his sister, Helaena. This is slow burn love story.]

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Previous and next chapters: Masterlist

_____

Aemond kept a straight face as Solren appeared with her luggage and an owl in a cage at the front door of their house, throwing herself around Helaena's neck. He stared at her as his family stood together in the hallway, leaning against the wall with his arms folded, pretending that the sight of her didn't move him at all.

In fact, everything inside him tightened, his stomach filled with heat. He wanted to pounce on her, pick her up, carry her to his room and lock her up there, doing everything he'd dreamed in the last few weeks when he thought about her.

He shuddered when he heard his mother's voice, who invited the girl inside and slowly began to explain to her where her room would be. Solren stepped timidly inside, offering everyone a polite greeting. When his eye met hers, she blushed and looked down.

A menacing grin of satisfaction crossed his face but she didn't see it, as she headed for the stairs with her luggage. Their mother waved her wand and her trunk flew down the stairs along with her other belongings. However, she did not want to give them the cage with her black owl, saying that she would carry it herself.

Aemond had to admit that Henry, which turned out to be her owl's name, was the most sullen and indifferent animal he had ever seen. He stared straight ahead as if he were made of stone, not looking at anything around him. Aemond offered to take the cage from her, thinking it impolite for her to carry it around their house. She smiled at him and they both went upstairs.

Aemond and his family lived in a huge old townhouse that had been passed down from generation to generation. There were a lot of furnishings inside that were a hundred years old or more, so it felt like they were walking around a small Victorian mansion rather than a house.

Their house was dominated by dark shades and greens which his mother loved, so it was both gloomy and elegant at the same time. Aemond thought those two words perfectly described his family.

He walked down the hall and opened one of the small spare bedrooms. He went inside, her bags already there waiting for her. Solren looked around, dumbfounded and intrigued, a huge smile on her face.

She paused in the hallway, looking at the moving paintings and photos of his ancestors. Aemond looked at her expectantly and pursed lips, slightly frustrated that she paid more attention to the decor of his house than to him.

"Come here." He grunted low, impatient, looking at her out of the corner of his eye.

He saw her blush at his words, swallowing softly and blinking rapidly. She hesitated for a moment as if afraid of what was about to happen. Aemond couldn't help seeing her confused expression and just chuckled low, his gaze softer.

"I won't do anything to you."

Solren pursed her lips and approached him timidly. Aemond noticed her big, cute winter-print sweater, her pleated skirt and her bright tights. He swallowed hard at the thought that without her school uniform, emblazoned everywhere with the frustrating crest and colors of her house, she just looked adorable and innocent.

He grabbed her cheek and pulled her to him, cupping her face in his hands, making her gasp, her lips parted in surprise. He took the opportunity and leaned towards her. He squeezed her bottom lip between his, sucking it lightly, releasing it with a loud, wet click that made her mewl softly.

The sound made him shiver as he dug into her lips. He tried to caress her as gently and tenderly as possible, massaging her fleshy, swollen skin. He flinched when he felt her hands wrap around his neck. She stood on tiptoes to deepen the kiss, returning his touch so subtly and devotedly that he was out of breath.

He pulled away from her, pressing his forehead against hers, both of them breathing uneasily, staring into each other's eyes with misty gaze. His thumb rubbed her cheek in a slow, circular motion, trying to enjoy her momentary closeness, her scent filling his lungs.

She finally smiled, so sweet, warm, light, that he kissed her again, more greedily this time, parting her lower lip with his thumb. The tip of his tongue slid into her mouth and brushed her palate. She shivered all over, letting out a muffled, sweet moan.

A soft, quivering "I missed you" escaped her mouth straight into his lips, swollen with desire. A shudder went through him, a helpless, low moan escaped his throat.

Unable to stop himself, one of his hands slid down to her buttock, grabbing it under the fabric of her skirt, pressing her against him and making her stomach feel how hard he was.

They broke apart, staring at each other in disbelief, his hand making her rub against his pants again and again, all red with embarrassment, her lips glistening with sucking and squeaking, parted in silent desire.

"I've been like this for a weeks because of you. Continuously." He purred, feeling his manhood throb through his pants in delight at her closeness, his hips rubbing against her body, searching for any way to find relief and quench his thirst.

He parted her bottom lip with his thumb and slipped his finger into her mouth. He gasped in delight as her fleshy walls pressed against him, her eyes dreamy and hot.

Unable to stop himself, he began to slide his thumb in and out of her mouth. He barely suppressed the throaty groan when he felt her start to suck on him, her tongue teasing his skin.

He stared hypnotized at this perverted, ambiguous scene without blinking, wanting to remember it exactly. He thought with delight that someday he would make use of those sweet lips on another part of his body.

He slipped his thumb out of her mouth. He wanted to kiss her again to soothe her, feeling her whole body tremble with emotion, but he quickly removed his hand from her buttock when they heard someone running up the stairs.

Aegon glanced at them blankly and said that it would be dinner in a moment. Solren nodded and left quickly, all red, not even turning back. Aemond left with her, not wanting his brother to see what was happening in his pants.

They all sat down at the table, plates, tablecloths, cutlery and ornaments fluttering around them in their proper order in a large dining room. Room had high windows on one side, illuminating a long, dark wooden table and old, antique chairs, adorned with beautiful carvings. Solren approached his mother, asking if she needed help in the kitchen. Alicent blinked, not understanding for a moment what she meant.

"There will be no need, Trembly takes care of everything." She spoke softly, and Solren froze suddenly and turned pale as if she had just realized what was happening.

They had their own house elf.

Solren sat down at the table, looking around uncertainly. Trembly paused in the dining-room aisle but did not cross the threshold. A petite elf with huge eyes snapped her fingers, and a variety of food appeared in front of them on silver platters. Aegon immediately served himself a roast, without waiting for anyone.

Aemond sat across from the Gryffindor, but he saw that her enthusiasm had suddenly faded and she wasn't looking at him. He wondered if it had something to do with Trembly and the fact that aristocratic habits such as servants were increasingly moving away these days.

He pursed his lips at the thought that she probably thought them vain, and indeed, she wouldn't be far wrong in assuming so.

The Targaryen family had a rich purebred pedigree, one of the few families in Britain to boast of. His father was no henchman of Lord Voldemort and refused to cooperate with him when he had the greatest strength. Nor did he become a Death Eater, although he was blackmailed and threatened with the death of his, then, still small children.

Whatever one may say about his father he may not have been a good man, but he wasn't a person who took pleasure in suffering or killing others either. He considered himself superior to others as a pure-blood wizard, but he had no intention of hurting the Muggles, simply regarding them as fools that he paid no attention to.

Nevertheless, he used all the privileges that his status and his position in the Ministry of Magic afforded him, completely and shamelessly, just like his grandfather, Otto, his mother's father.

He, unlike Viserys and Alicent, had been working with Voldemort throughout his entire existence until his downfall. Aemond had no idea how the Minister of Magic hadn't fired him after such a massive betrayal. He believed that his grandfather simply had the political influence that the minister needed.

Trembly had been with them for as long as he could remember, helping his mother with household chores and keeping their house clean. She was an excellent cook, his parents never had any objections to her and treated her gently.

They never hit her or insulted her, considering her a creature so intelligent and necessary that they did not want to humiliate her or cause her pain. Sometimes his mother had to reassure and comfort her when one of the guests said that he didn't like something, that she cooked.

Aemond taught Trembly to read.

After an unfortunate accident and the destruction of his eye, Tremlby would come to him every evening, bringing him cocoa.

No one had asked her to, but there was no other way she could show her concern about his condition that didn't go beyond the generally accepted master-servant relationship. He didn't talk to anyone then and plunged into the world of books, the world of imagination, the only one where he had both eyes again.

Keeping the spell on his face would require constant concentration and tire him, so he gave it up and covered his artificial blue eye with an eyepatch. His mother had made it sparkle like a precious stone, but he didn't like looking at it anyway.

Once, Trembly, placing her mug next to his bed as she did every night, looked at his book and asked what story her young master was reading about this time.

Aemond had told her then without thinking that if she wanted to he could teach her to read, so she could see for herself.

He was the loneliest in his life then. He completely closed himself off from his family but he couldn't deal with what was going on in his head. He wanted someone to break his resistance, let him cry and scream, but his parents and siblings couldn't do it, accepting his half-desired isolation, although he tried to tell himself otherwise.

Alicent secretly from her husband - and Viserys secretly from her wife - gave the Trembly a small amount of money once in a while. Trembly loved to embroider and crochet so she went to the haberdashery once in a while to buy new yarns, threads, and whatever she needed.

Aemond felt that Trembly was treated like part of the family in a way. When she fell ill, her mother and Helaena took care of her, allowing her not to do her daily chores. They barely cooked anything together in the kitchen, even bringing a poor-quality chicken soup to Trembly, which she ate out of sheer courtesy.

He knew, however, that Solren didn't know all this. He stared at her tensely, hoping that her inner Gryffindor wasn't now telling her to moralize his parents, or worse, accuse them of promoting slavery.

Solren, however, whatever her thoughts were she kept them to herself. Everyone began to eat, and Viserys obviously wanting to cheer their guest up as host decided to talk to her.

"What do your parents do?" He asked, slicing a piece of meat and putting it in his mouth, looking at her with unfeigned curiosity. Solren swallowed the bite of roast that she had just put in her mouth and cleared her throat softly.

“My dad owns a small bookstore in our town and my mom works for the town council.” She said calmly, taking a sip of juice, stressed that now the attention of the whole table was on her. Viserys nodded approvingly, looking up at her over his plate as he helped himself to more potatoes.

"They're both wizards?" He asked lightly. Alicent and Aemond gave him a shocked look as they tossed uneasily in their seats.

"Husband, this is not appropriate." His wife chided him in a slightly trembling voice, looking at her apologetically. Solren swallowed hard, ashamed.

"Yes." She said, lowering her eyes. Viserys smiled, not caring at all about the fact that he might have led to an awkward situation to say the least.

"They studied at Hogwarts? Which houses did they belong to?" He asked curiously and Aemond sighed softly, taking a sip of water from his glass, impatient.

Solren nodded.

"My dad was in Ravenclaw and mum was in Slytherin." She said softly, playing with her fork and the piece of meat that she was dipping in the sauce. Viserys raised his eyebrows in surprise, nodding.

"So where did Gryffindor suddenly come from?" He asked, amused, looking around the table to see if the others found it funny as well. Solren giggled lightly at his words, relaxing slightly.

"The Sorting Hat took my request into consideration." She said with a smile.

Aemond looked at her intrigued. He had heard that when the Sorting Hat hesitated, she allowed the child she was choosing a home to express his opinion and desire.

In the case of Aemond, she exclaimed "Slytherin!" practically without even touching his head. His father also looked curious, but didn't elaborate as dessert suddenly appeared in front of them and he reached for his favorite cheesecake right away.

The rest of the dinner passed in a pleasant atmosphere. Helaena and Solren went upstairs to talk to each other, wanting to spend some time together. Aemond, after a while, also went to his room.

He read a book for a while, and when he felt drowsy, he changed into sweatpants and the loose T-shirt that he always wore to sleep. He lay down on the bed, sighing heavily. He felt his whole body tense, he couldn't lie to himself any longer.

He wanted her.

He turned his head and looked at his walls, which were full of posters of flying Quidditch players from his favorite Bulgarian team. He thought that he had watched these characters all his childhood, promising himself to be like them.

Now, that he was the captain of the team and a successful player he realized, that he still didn't feel fulfilled. He wondered if he would ever experience that feeling in his life.

He flinched as he heard a soft knock on his door. He walked over to them and opened them. He shivered when he saw Solren, also dressed in pajamas, a T-shirt with a small Gryffidnor logo and red shorts. She looked at him uncertainly, scared.

"I wanted to wish you good night." She whispered softly, apparently afraid that someone would hear her. He swallowed loudly, his gaze involuntarily falling to her breasts and nipples which showed slightly through the material of her shirt.

"Mhm" He hummed low, unable to say anything more.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw her shift uneasily as she realized what he was looking at. She wanted to pull back but he wouldn't let her, grabbing her waist, lifting her up and pulling her into his room, closing the door.

He didn't let her react and smothered her startled squeal with his lips, kissing her hungrily and loudly, panting, feeling that he was at his breaking point.

He massaged with his lips her wet, wonderfully moist, hot skin, feeling her rapid breathing, her legs and arms entwining over his body. He sighed in delight, keeping his hand slid into her hair, not letting her leave his lips for a second.

He set her down on his bed, kneeling between her thighs, breathing heavily, looking at her with a look so dark and hot that she turned her face away. Her cheeks were red, her whole body trembling with emotion. He felt his cock throbbing in his pants, completely hard. He thought devastated that he couldn't hold on any longer.

"Have you ever done that?" He asked low, and she looked at him wide-eyed, inhaling quickly.

He saw her chest heave unevenly. He stroked her thigh with his hand, trying to calm her down. She shook her head slowly, and he pursed his lips. He was silent for a moment.

"Would you like to try?" He asked quietly, and she swallowed hard, a powerful shiver ran through her body. He could see that she hesitated, terrified of what was happening to her.

"I don't know." She sputtered softly, scared, not knowing what to do, how to behave.

Aemond's jaw clenched at her words, desperate. He looked at her helplessly, imploringly. He ran his fingers across her cheek. She buried her face in his hand, shivering all over.

"I want to touch you. Everywhere. I'll do it and you'll tell me if you want me to stop, okay?" He whispered, his heart pounding like a hammer, his thumb stroking her soft, hot skin.

She drew in a breath and nodded, but he frowned.

"I have to hear it, okay? You have to say it." He said, feeling tightness in his chest. He didn't want her to agree to this just to please him, terrified of rejecting her otherwise.

She looked as if her voice was stuck in her throat, her whole body trembling with uncertainty, desire and hot feeling that just fought with each other inside her. She parted her lips, breathing unevenly, staring at him with hazy eyes.

"If something goes wrong, I'll tell you to stop." She whispered softly, swallowing hard.

Aemond hummed low and leaned in, his lips brushing her thigh, pressing against her soft skin. She squealed softly in surprise, leaning back. He pulled away from her, his hands going to the fabric of her shorts and panties. He pulled them slowly from her legs, her eyes huge and terrified, staring at him in disbelief.

“Four colors, just like the colors of the houses at Hogwarts. Green will mean that you enjoy it, yellow that you want me to slow down, blue that you feel discomfort and red that I am hurting you and you want to stop. Repeat.” He said softly, parting her thighs in front of him, showering her bare legs with soft, light kisses.

He heard her mouth open with difficulty, any sounds frozen in her throat at the sight of what he was doing to her, the way he touched her shamelessly. She swallowed hard. He thought fondly that her throat was dry with emotion.

"Green means… means it's feels good − yellow means − ah!" She sucked in a breath, feeling his mouth move down her thigh, sending a shiver down her spine. Her fingers tightened on the sheets around her, her legs trembling with excitement and horror at what was happening to her.

"Easy. Yellow means what?” He hummed low, marveling at how she reacted to his slightest movement, how sensitive and gentle she was.

He wanted to purr every time his lips pressed against her hot, soft, firm skin. He wanted to lead her to spasms, to make her cry with pleasure and overstimulation. To see what he can do with her. His cock throbbed hard in his pants at the thought.

"− t-that I want you to slow down." She sputtered, gasping for air as she saw his face bent down between her thighs. A choked moan escaped her lips as she felt the tip of his tongue brush over her throbbing womanhood, wet with lust.

"− Aemond −" It escaped her lips like a plea, but she didn't finish the sentence, she moaned again, trying her hardest not to be loud, afraid someone would hear them. She couldn't help it feeling how wonderfully he teased her clit, licking and massaging her gently, making the tension in her lower abdomen unbearable.

"Blue?" He murmured, continuing to caress her, his large hands gripping her thighs and spreading them wider in front of him, his nose brushing over her clit as his tongue timidly slid inside her hot, moist core, tasting her.

Solren slipped her hand into his hair, feeling her whole body tremble with desire, a pleasure that she had never known before spreading over her belly, making her head buzz. She was all red with embarrassment, seeing him between her legs, kissing and licking her there. She had to concentrate very hard to get any words out of her mouth.

"− that I − ah − t-that I feel discomfort −" She sobbed as he felt his tongue slithering deeper and deeper, pushing her insides apart, his tip once in a while running through the spot that sent shivers of pleasure through her. He noticed it and she felt him smile.

"Very good. Red?" He grunted, breaking away from her for a moment, then went straight back to his previous caresses, beginning to deliberately lick her and press his tongue to the point where her body spasmed.

"I − oh Gods − that I want you − to − t-to stop − ah!" It escaped her throat like a helpless moan as he sped up suddenly. She didn't even know when her hips began to respond fervently to his caresses, her hand clenched in his hair pressing his face to her, wanting to feel him deeper, stronger.

"What's your color?" He panted, his fingers tightening on her thighs, his tongue sliding in and out inside her with a loud, perverted, wet click. Her whole body trembled, he knew that she was close to fulfillment.

"− green, green, God, so green −" She sobbed helplessly, moving her hips rhythmically towards him, feeling something coming.

When she was on the edge, he pulled away from her abruptly, pausing, and she let out a clumsy, disappointed moan, staring at him with wide eyes. He paused, looking down at her, undoing his sweatpants, a smirk on his face.

"Look at you, what a little mess you are. Who would have thought, hmm?" He asked as he climbed onto the bed, forcing her to lie down on her back, her breathing ragged and rapid, her mouth parted in desire.

He licked his lips at the sight, already on the brink himself. He thought that a few thrusts inside her would be enough for him to just come.

“I want to do this with you so fucking much, little one. Do you want it too?” He asked, breathing quickly, wiping her moisture from his face, looking at her expectantly. She swallowed loudly, a huge shiver ran through her body, her cheeks all red, her lips swollen with desire.

"I…yes." She mumbled softly, obviously devastated that she couldn't say no to him, that she wanted it as much as he did.

He let out a loud exhale of relief, squeezing his eyelid shut, feeling like his cock would just explode if he didn't put him inside her.

He took her thighs in his hands and spread them on either side of his hips, watching her carefully, searching for any sign of discomfort on her face. He didn't want to hurt her but he was desperate.

He saw her look away in embarrassment as he slipped off his boxers, his swollen, throbbing cock completely hard and sore. He placed one of his hands by her head, leaning into her, the other guiding tip of his member to her entrance. He heard her draw in a sharp breath, her hands clenching the fabric of the quilt around her, her body tense in horror.

"Easy, little one." He hummed tenderly, his manhood rubbing against her entrance, all sticky with her juices. "We're going to do it very, very slowly. All right?" He asked, and she nodded fervently, her lips parting sweetly.

He grunted contentedly and leaned over her, placing a tender, hot kiss on her mouth, her fleshy lips deliciously wet and full. He pressed his forehead against hers as he began to push against her, causing both of them to inhale loudly.

"Spread your thighs wider. Yes, that's right, such a good girl." He hummed appreciatively and kissed her again, muffled her loud moan. He slided into her a little, throbbing all over, his tip feeling her wet, tight walls pressing down on him in horror.

"Easy." He whispered, squeezing his eye shut as he tried to push himself deeper into her. Another helpless moan escaped her lips as she felt him stretch her walls, swollen with desire to the limit.

" I − blue, please, blue −" She mumbled in horror, feeling pleasure and immense discomfort mixed with pain at the same time.

Aemond looked at her in surprise and stopped immediately. He leaned over her again, cupping her cheek in his hand. He pressed his face against hers, and she wrapped her arms around him tightly, seeking shelter for comfort, trembling all over.

"It's okay." He whispered, planting sticky, slow, loud kisses on her lips. He grunted in satisfaction as he felt her start to reciprocate, her walls slowly starting to loosen. "It's okay. We have a lot of time."

They kissed like that for a long time, tenderly and passionately. He wanted to tell her that what he felt was not just physicality. He wanted to have her, possess her, to be in her and feel her.

He needed her.

The thought of him being her first men filled him with indescribable pride.

She finally broke away from him and looked at him so tenderly, so warmly, that his heart sank.

"− I think − I think you can slide deeper, if you want to −" She whispered softly, slightly embarrassed as if she were talking about something lewd and unclean, something not to be spoken about aloud.

He grunted in satisfaction at her words, rose a little and tried again. They both moaned loudly in surprise as he managed to slide all the way in right away, filling her completely.

He couldn't help himself, his hips automatically slipping out of her gently and all the way into her again. He repeated these movements slowly and tenderly, looking at her intently, panting loudly with her, feeling the heat of her body, her rough, fleshy walls pressing against him so wonderfully.

"− yes, that's right, little one − ah − you're so fucking tight −" He panted as he stared at her in delight, her parted lips letting out a soft, sweet moan every time he thrust inside her again. Her hair spread in a mess around her head, her eyes full of hot emotion that made his cock throb even more.

He leaned over her and kissed her again, repeating his slow, gentle thrusts, sliding into her easily with the wet sound of her juices, already sticking to both of them. Her hands tightened on his hair, pulling him to her, their noses and mouths touching their faces chaotically, placing small, tender kisses on their skin.

Unable to take the tension any longer he set a slightly faster pace, making a shiver of pleasure run through him, the heat in his belly unbearable. He rose on his shoulders, looking at her, his thrusts getting faster, more aggressive.

She just moaned helplessly under him, looking at him pleadingly, feeling him deliberately rubbing his cock against the place that he had previously caressed with his tongue, driving her crazy.

"− Aemond − I − please −" She mewled, both of them panting loudly, their bodies covered in sweat, the mattress creaking softly beneath them.

Aemond couldn't think straight anymore, focused only on how badly he wanted this, how long he had dreamed of it. About her, about being inside her as now, about this wonderful feeling that filled him, about the pleasure that he felt every time his cock pushed against her walls again.

He shifted his position, grabbing her hips and pulling her closer to him, squeezing her lovely spot at a more intense angle for her. He sped up and she pursed her lips to keep from moaning too loudly, afraid that someone might overhear them. He couldn't help but chuckle lowly at the sight, his thrusts getting faster and more brutal, entering her and tearing her walls apart mercilessly.

“My little girl is about to come, huh? Feels good?” He hummed in delight at the way that she writhed beneath him, no trace of pain or discomfort on her face anymore, only pure euphoria, desire and delight.

"Mhm" She choked out, focusing on how wonderful he filled her, the way his thighs slammed against her butt each time that he entered her again. The way his fingers tightened around her hips as he thrust his cock into her greedily, panting heavily and moaning with pleasure, just like her.

"Color?" He gasped, moaning helplessly, unable to construct any longer sentences either because of the pleasure that clouded his mind. His hands clenched around her buttocks in a quick, brutal rhythm, his thighs slapping against her skin with a sticky, perverted slap.

"− Green, Aemond, please − I-I think − ah! −" She sobbed, leaning back suddenly, a strong, aggressive orgasm rushing through her body in hot, long waves, blacking her eyes. She threw her head back, moaning softly beneath him, her body convulsing, overstimulated as he continued to fuck her with all his strenght.

"− I − oh, sweet God − fuck! −" He panted low, clenching his teeth, stopping himself from expressing the pleasure that he felt aloud.

He slid out of her and he came onto sheets, his hot cum flowing out of him in a stream. He squeezed himself for a while longer with his hand, panting heavily, strands of his long hair stuck to his face.

She stared down at her, delighted to see her, her soft, relaxed body, her restlessly heaving chest, her closed eyes, her lips parting sweetly in a loud, ragged breath. He thought that she was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. Surprised by his own discovery, he lay down on top of her and just cuddled up to her.

"Sleep in my bed tonight."

_____

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@its-actually-minicika @notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess @sweethoneyblossom1 @watercolorskyy @astral-blossoms @randomdragonfires @amirawritespoorly @apollonshootafar @padfooteyes @darylandbethfanforever9 @fudge13 @snh96 @diosademuerte @rwdkarla @echos-muses

Others: @fangirlninja67 @helaenaluvr @queenofshinigamis @scmdsblog @talesofoldandnew @godrakin @nina2697 @saminalloxo

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cowboylor · 1 year

Text

domesticated

matty is under the weather and you take it as a rare opportunity to play house.

wc: 0.7k

warnings: language?, nothing weird, this is self-indulgence for my 2014 self, BUT a little angst if you squint

By the time you enter your apartment, he’s already stolen your freshly-washed blanket and deep diving through your Netflix. He glosses over the recently watched Gilmore Girls with an unjustified look of contempt.

You announce your arrival with a boisterous display of the holiday-colored cup in your left hand and the grocery bag of Tylenol and saltines in your right.

“One tea for a very, VERY–” Matty glowers and you limit it to two verys. “–sick and malnourished man.”

“And abandoned,” He mutters as you shove the tea into his hand.

You fight the urge to smile at the rasp in his voice and the way he’s wrapped himself in your blanket. Instead, you look amused as he examines the brightly colored cup with suspicion. He glances up at you with reluctance.

“Me and millions of others swear by it,” You assure.

You set the grocery bag by the foot of the couch before joining him on the loveseat.

He brings it to his lips and grimaces, “Smells like piss.”

“That’s a downside for you?”

He leans over to lightly flick the base of your chin, and grins: “Cheeky.”

You busy yourself by shuffling through the bag, listing off medication and time periods when he can take said medications as Matty watches you spew while also shuffling bottles and condiments to him.

“How are you feeling?”

“Like shit,” He says, his raspy voice evident. “My head aches, my throat hurts. It’s razors.”

“Poor baby,” You coo, before pressing a kiss to his neck and springing off the couch. His hand trails your arm until you’re too far away. “What will we ever do without that sweet voice?”

Matty turns over against the couch, pulling the quilt with him. “Don’t patronize.”

“I was thinking of making soup–” He hums against the cushion as you speak as you round past the kitchen. “–chicken if it’s all the same to you. You’re probably not hungry, but I’ve found that as long as you keep your appetite up, the faster the road of recovery is, you know?”

You feel his gaze on you as you shuffle with pots and pans and the half-empty chicken broth in the back of your fridge. But you continue to babble on about soup and proper medication intervals but soon you can’t ignore the staring. You glance up to meet his eyes and notice the faint circles under his eyes that make your heart twinge and for a second, you think something’s wrong.

You set the pan aside, “Everything ok?”

“I think you enjoy this,” He says, a smirking through semi-cracked lips. You tilt your head. “Me being at your mercy and all.”

The choice of words makes you snort and it just makes his grin widen. You’d never voice it to him because you don’t want to come off as clingy but Matty smiling on your couch is one you want more of. You’re used to seeing him smiling in front of fans and large crowds, but this one feels the most personal.

You fight a smile, before turning your back to the stove: “Never.”

In your life, you’ve heard from others how men tend to resemble sick, Victorian children whenever they catch a cold—groaning in misery whenever their heads ache or flipping under the covers in agitation when their throats dry up. And this, you’re becoming more convinced is true with every hour of a sweaty Matty muttering into your neck how the end is finally here.

But–

When you’re looking at him sip honey citrus tea buried under your throw blanket with his legs draped over yours, you can’t help but think how you wouldn’t mind putting up with this every now and then. But, you know that would be nearly impossible.

You fidget with the edge of the quilt fabric as he catches your wandering stare.

“What is it?”

You hum, pick at the pattern, and then shrug, “You look properly domesticated.”

The corners of his mouth quirk up and you think he’s going to refute the statement venomously. But then he pauses and you think he’s about to say something corny. You’re not sure which makes your stomach churn more, but you watch him and how his dark eyes seem to be taking you in all at once.

After a beat of silence, he turns to you, eyes flicking to yours like you have an unspoken understanding of the timeline and depth of your relationship.

He gently flicks the tip of your chin again, grinning like a devil: “Best not to get used to it.”

Crowds will have to suffice.

You brush his hand over the blanket, “I won’t.”

#matty healy x reader #matty healy imagine #the 1975 #the 1975 imagines #yeah.............#anyway #*my writing

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treasureofmammon · 7 months

Text

How would their engagement rings be? (2/2) 💚🩷❤️💜

Characters: Satan x gn!reader / Asmodeus x gn!reader / Beelzebub x gn!reader / Belphegor x gn!reader

Warnings: Gender neutral reader. Long (sorry, not sorry). Also, s3x is heavily implied (so Minors don't interact, please). After that, just fluff.

Summary: You and him have been in an official relationship for quite some time now. During the daily life of your relationship, he realizes that he can no longer live without you. He needs to show you that his love for you is eternal. The first step is to buy the engagement ring, but what is it like? How did he come up with the idea?

[Part 1 here - Lucifer x gn!reader / Mammon x gn!reader / Leviathan x gn!reader]

[Notes: The following characters belong to the mobile game "Obey me: shall we date", and are owned by Solmare Corporation. This is a mere work of fan-fiction. | GN!Reader | This is one of my first times sharing what I write, so please be kind. English is not my first language so there might be orthographic and syntax errors. | I had this idea after looking at jewelry in Pinterest. If someone has already done something similar, I was not trying to copy anything or anyone's ideas. | Details may vary from original storyline. | I hope I did justice to these characters; I had a hard time writing, but I still wanted to make beautiful stories].

💚Satan💚

What type of ring?

Satan knows these human streets too well. As he strolls down the path, his gorgeous green eyes and his blonde hair go almost unnoticed. He could very well blend in as any other human in this old city; that is if he wasn't so handsome. Not that he cares about something so shallow as looks.

As he approaches the antiques' store, he feels his heart throb fast. He takes a deep breath and enters the small and cozy shop. To his left, old victorian furniture; on the ceiling, rare lamps with creative details; in front of him, vintage clothing, similar to the ones he got once inspired in Sherlock Holmes' tales. And, to his right, human books from all over the world.

Satan's eyes widen, and a genuine smile bursts into his face. It's a delightful sight that only occurs at rare moments like these, and if you were there with him, you'd be so enamored by it. "Those just came in yesterday, sweetheart"—, the old woman says with a kind demeanor —"These are from Mexico, and those came from Ethiopia...".

Of course, Satan had already noticed. The moment he got in, he knew just by the smell that the store had "new" merchandise. These books, from all over the world, texts with stories and magic so diverse and so interesting: Cuba, Mexico, Nicaragua, Ethiopia, Morocco, Egypt, Spain, China, Thailand, and Japan. All of these with their own human incantations and curses.

Satan feels the temptation to check them all, meticulously. His index finger follows each of the book's spines: "Enciclopedia de amarres", "妖怪", "من اللعنات والسحر", "Black magic and love potions", "Tarot et avenir", etc.

However, suddenly, he feels like being pulled back from his trance, because there's a buzz in his right pocket, announcing a text message from his brother, Lucifer: "Lord Diavolo and myself are waiting for you in front of the Louvre Museum". And so, he remembered. How could he deconcentrate like that? It's because of you that he is here in the first place. He has no time to lose. Lord Diavolo, and definitely, Lucifer can't know his intentions today.

—"Sorry. Actually, today I want to check other type of... product"—

—"Is that so?"— the old woman's question is rhetorical, Satan could tell just by her saucy smile. He decides to ignore her and walks towards the counter, looking at the jewelry in display.

—"Oh, Satan, dear..." — she says. Satan's eyes meet hers with a growing impatience. She continues: —"Is this because of that cute little lamb that came with you last time?"—. Only witches and sorcerers are foolish enough to communicate with demons in such mocking manners. But Satan knows this woman from long ago to understand that she knows better; after all, she's an old friend of theirs.

Her teasing behavior turns back to her initial sweet grandmother's attitude as she tilts her head and reaches something at her right. —"I know what true love looks like, darling..."— she says as she opens a big jewelry box: —"You can look at the other rings, but I chose these ones for my good ally... and I don't mean you, darling. I mean them. After all, humans should stick together"—. Satan chuckles, thanking her.

In the box, vintage antique engagement rings with emerald, jade, and/or green sapphire gems. Each of them embedded in golden rims. Some with such intrinsic details that are hard to notice unless you take the time to look at them with patience.

Satan grins, almost as making fun of himself, because he thought it was impossible for something material to reveal feelings that go so deep. Yet, here he is, with a ring that reminded him of you and your innocent, sweet, and inquisitive nature.

How did he decided to get an engagement ring?

You lay in Satan's arms, your head resting in his chest. He smells so good, and his voice is soothing as he reads you one of his books from the human world.

His selection of books is exciting and amusing: texts from everywhere, from every realm, stories that you've never heard, and antique knowledge, much older than you can imagine. Yet, it doesn't matter what topic the book is about, hearing Satan read to you is always so calming.

And how couldn't it be? Every single night, Satan takes the time to cast a spell in every book he reads to you so that it can levitate in front of him and then, it can turn the pages by itself once read. That way, he can wrap both his arms around you, firmly and yet, gently. While he reads, he rubs your arms to warm you up, then draws small circles in your back or caresses the soft skin of the crook of your neck. Throughout this intimate moment, he lays small pecks in your head from time to time or plays with your fingers and then kisses the palms of your hands as a reminder that he loves you.

He won't admit it, but holding you like this while reading to you is probably the best routine that he has ever had.

As your eyelids struggle not to close, Satan looks down at your sleepy face supported on his chest. He feels like he could melt around you just from this ordinary moment. It's just that the way your eyelashes fall gracefully over and over again as you fight yourself to stay awake, it's so endearing to him; especially when you beg him to continue.

He pets your head and lays a kiss in your forehead. —"Whatever you want, kitten"—. The truth is that he could stay like this forever, just looking at you, while you softly snore in his arms. The warmth of your body feels so comforting that it makes him almost forget that he's the Avatar of Wrath. Wrath, rage, and anger. If anything or anyone makes him feel so grounded, it's you.

—"I want to have this forever, with you", he thinks.

As he goes back to read the story in front of him, the word "marriage" appears, and Satan's eyes illuminate with a marvelous idea. Just, what couldn't express the eternity of his never-ending love better than the physical representation of it that you, a human, know so well?

🩷Asmodeus🩷

What type of ring?

Shopping is usually fun. Then why is it frustrating lately?

It doesn't matter how many stores Asmo visits in the Human world or in the Devildom, even asking Simeon to check the jewelry shops in the Celestial Realm and report back with photos, all of it has proven unfruitful.

Asmodeus has a vision of what the ring is supposed to look like: a beautiful big pink gem surrounded by intrinsic details that resemble roses and/or hearts, inspired in rococo art. It must be romantic and it most be perfect.

It must be. Because you're the only one that can make him see beyond himself. He never thought there'd come the day that another being would blind him from his own reflection, to make him look away. It's you. You are so radiant, so stunning, so wonderful; you're gorgeous and yet, it's not only your looks, it's your lovely heart and your divine charm.

Obviously, proposing to you must be perfect. Starting with the ring. A long lasting reminder of his love and his thoughts about you.

But it's pointless to continue roaming the streets with no results, or making his minion brothers and friends to search for his perfect ring when nothing can meet his expectations.

Asmo walks out of another shop disappointed, and decides that if anything, he could at least surprise you with new sexy lingerie and with a steamy night until he finds a solution, because the perfect ring is the only thing that is missing for his flamboyant proposal. He sighs but then thinks about you in his arms and him in yours, and that calms his sadden heart a little.

Asmodeus walks back home. Bags and boxes stack up in his arms, barely letting him see the sidewalk where he strolls. Suddenly, a pull on his shirt makes him stop abruptly, making the packages rumble and almost falling to the ground, which would have happened if he wasn't so quick to contort so they don't fall.

Asmo looks back angered, but is met by a cute little demon girl.

—"Hi, darling. Oh! You're so cute. Are you ok? What is it?"—

Between stuttering and stuttering, the girl expresses her admiration for him, stating his great abilities to design beauty products. A brilliant idea comes to Asmo's mind, and after the adorable kid leaves and he continues walking his way, Asmo knows what he'll do.

There's nothing like himself to design the perfect dreamed engagement ring. Is there? No other could know what this ring needs to be: a tiny and yet stunning jewelry item, the ring that you deserve, and the ring that he must give you.

How did he decide to get an engagement ring?

For no expert eyes, the Devildom's day cycle is nonexistent, always drowning in the profundity of an endless night. Yet, when the "morning" comes, you've noticed that the sky is slightly clearer, as if a pinch of sun rays want to come through the darkness. And so, you wake up to this dim light coming through the window, in a bed surrounded by pink and red roses.

To your right, a glimmer candle about to die, freeing a sweet scent of flowers. To your left, the demon that you deeply love. He is sound asleep. And you take this rare opportunity to watch him in detail since Asmodeus usually wakes up earlier than you and starts his beauty routine.

Once you asked him why does he always wake up before you so eagerly, just to be met with the cutest response ever:

"Because I don't want you to see me when I look the ugliest!"— he said, pouting.

Although he claims he is the most gorgeous being ever, the truth is that Asmo usually hides his fears behind a curtain of exaggerated "self-love". Despite the fact that his brothers like to describe it as "narcissism", the word "narcissistic" cannot be farer from the truth because Asmo, although sometimes selfish like the rest of his brothers, is adorable and sweet, and specially caring with you. He's not one to manipulate you, gaslight you, or guilt-trip you. Not even once in your long relationship. Never.

And as you observe him, you think that, even when asleep, Asmo is stunning. When you get to see him like this, in his most vulnerable moments, you know he was an angel once, because he's absolutely beautiful: his face is like a marble statue sculpted by the most skilled hands, like a Renaissance piece of art. But he's real, he breathes, his heart pounds, his skin is warm, he loves you, and you love him.

How come you got so lucky? Is he even aware of how much you love him? If it was only by looks, but no. Does he even understand that? Does he even understand that you love him because of who he is: flaws included?

Now your fingers are about to touch his face. But as if he sensed it somehow, Asmo opens his eyes. Even such normal action fills your heart with love. He's surprised. Quickly, Asmodeus has his hands on his face, whining about you looking at him in his most deplorable state: without a bath, without make-up on and before his morning beauty routine. You think his voice breaks for a bit, and yet, you can't help but smile a little.

Suddenly, Asmo's hands are on top of his head, you grab his wrists, and you're on top of him. For such a forceful move, your grin is candid. Asmo's shock and surprise leave him speechless.

—"I think you look more stunning when you just wake up, so let me see your face some more"—

Asmo's eyes widen. He feels like he could cry right now. And so, as he looks at you, a simple human making his heart squeeze and his body melt under your touch, he swears that he has never felt this before: an absolute and eternal adoration for someone else than himself.

—"I gotta show them, I gotta let them know that I love them forever".

Now he's a romantic fool under your touch, even the Avatar of lust, the one who plays with mortals feelings and desires, has succumbed to love. And so, a brilliant idea comes to his mind: a fairy tale wedding, a big dramatic proposal, and a beautiful ring around your pretty finger.

❤️Beelzebub❤️

What type of ring?

It's darker than usual in the forever darkness of the Devildom, and Beel realizes that his practice must have taken longer than expected, calculating by the deep blue hue of the sky converging with the black void of space, that it is almost time for dinner. He takes a quick shower in RAD's dressing rooms, changes to his usual uniform, and heads out to a bench near the school's exit. There, Belphegor sleeps soundly while waiting for his brother.

Beelzebub looks at his twin's adorable face, and remembers the rest of his family, which only brings him a sad guilt since he hasn't told his brothers about the decision that he has made: to propose to you. But between Belphie and him, he's sure they can find the perfect dreamed engagement ring for you.

Beelzebub walks from RAD to home, and in his way, he walks around the commercial area of the town, to check on some jewelry stores for a ring with a fabulous style for you. Although "fabulous" is a vague word, because Beel doesn't really know what he wants to buy you.

Much worse, he isn't so skilled to detect if some of rings have curses, and so, he drags Belphie around to help him out carrying him around town in his back until he needs his help, waking him up when necessary.

—"It's impossible. I can't find the perfect ring".

Belphie looks at Beel with compassion and decides to help him a little:

—"Aside from food analogies, what is they to you?"

Beel stops for a moment to scratch the back of his head, repeating his brother's question, every word less audible until it's just a dim whisper.

—"They are like a sun".

For Beel, you are full of happiness, optimism and warmth. You have brought tranquility and, at the same time, fun. Belphegor smiles, knowing he can't ever doubt Beel's big heart, and he responds: —"I think you already have your answer".

Beelzebub runs back to the last jewelry shop and buys you an eye-catching ring with a bright red ruby in a circular shape, in a gold rim; around the gem, a design of a sun. Beel smiles truly relief. Then he wonders if, when preparing the proposal, he should include adding the ring to your dessert.

How did he decided to get an engagement ring?

The kitchen is filled by sounds of clanking pans and silverware. On your right: a huge bowl of soup slowly boiling while small pieces of carrot levitate above and from time to time, let themselves fall into the liquid; on your left: the second stove is cooking huge steaks, emanating a delicious smell and equally appealing frying sounds. Behind you, eggs cracking open and getting mixed with milk and sugar to create a sweet cream. You're cooking for an army, and you wouldn't be able to do so if you didn't use your magic.

Like dance steps, you repeat: ,"one, two, three and one, two, three..."— enough to make you focus on your task: to cook several meals at the same time, each with gigantic portions on end: a huge surprise dinner for you boyfriend, Beel.

Curious sets of eyes spy on you from the kitchen threshold.

—"Mammon, Asmo, Belphie... I know you are there"— you admit.

Mammon makes a complaining sound and crosses his arms looking at you with an angry, yet adorable, face expression. Contrary to that, Asmo and Belphie smile brightly and ask what Mammon couldn't without overthinking:

—"What are you doing?"

—"Are you cooking for Beel?"

You nod and let a gentle grin scape your lips. The boys look at each other and sigh. Although they wanted to let you know that they could be of use, they realized that this is one of those moments when it's much more meaningful if you do it by yourself.

Especially since, lately, Beel has been down, eating half his usual, leaving untouched snacks and complaining about lost desserts that he has already eaten. And you all know what's up: the Devildom finals are coming up, and Beel seems to be nervous and anxious. A rare state for Beel. However, the pressure to win the whole realm's tournament mixed with the stress that his team-mates share, make him susceptible to the pre-game anxiety.

Right now, Beel is back in the school grounds, concentrated with his teammates before the great finale, which has given you enough time to cook.

Even if it's exaggerated amounts of food, you're happy to do so because, over time, it has turn into one of your favorites hobbies; especially when you share it with your boyfriend; even if he eats the ingredients and leaves you half way into the cooking process. To you, far from making you loose your patience, it's adorably funny.

But right now, it's only you in the kitchen and that's the way you intend it to be, because you're preparing a romantic dinner for Beelzebub for after the finals, regardless of the result: Fine demonus, gigadeath home-made burgers, devil zebra steak, hellfire mushroom-filled soup, Quetzalcoatl brain mousse with bloodberry sauce, and, of course, two black cloud cakes: one with a congratulation message in case he wins, and another one in case he doesn't. Then you prepare a dinner table for two in an intimate place of the house, lighted up with candles, decorate it with red roses and table set with fine silverware. Not that he will notice all the details, but he will definitely love the effort.

You sigh happily, after all, you've been pouring your heart and soul into this, that you forget the time. So when a buzz brings you back to reality, is then only when you realize that you have tons of messages from the brothers. Much worse, you realize that the game is about to start.

You rush out of the HoL, making sure you forget nothing and then, you run like your life depends on it. You help yourself with some magic, but it's mainly a heavy job on your legs. And, although getting there prove to be a difficult task, you were able to arrive some minutes after the game have started. Gasping, trying to recover your breath, sweating like crazy, you find your sit next to the brothers, letting yourself feel the adrenaline rush go down; but you don't let your exhaustion take over. So with your last energies, you make sure to support Beel in his last game of the season.

After a couple of hours and the double whistle of the referee, Beel and his teammates celebrate a glorious victory. You sigh happily and finally let yourself sit down to rest. It's only then that the tiredness takes over your body, your eyelids struggling to keep you wide awake... On your way home, you barely register that you're being carried in someone's back, a broad and strong back with a tranquil scent.

"Beel..."— you think, knowing that fresh soap smell.

Beel opens the door to the house and leaves you on your bed; you don't even realize that you are home already, profoundly asleep. Beel sigh with a gentle smile, as he looks at your gorgeous face.

But it's interrupted by a wonderful smell of food. Like a magnet, drawn to its opposite pole, Beel leaves you in your room to find the source until reaching the planetarium. In it, a small two seats table with a white tablecloth, two tall demonus glasses and the house's fancy silverware that Lucifer doesn't let anyone touch. His favorite dishes piled up in silver metal bowls.

Suddenly, Beel feels overwhelmed by a peaceful happiness, just as if he was back in the Celestial Realm.

—They did all this... for me!— he says, almost inaudible. Then, he sits down, enjoying a plate of food after another; but, unlike other moments when he only engulfed the food, this time he takes the time to enjoy it.

Beel tears a little, feeling loved, validated, accepted just as he is, so he smiles brightly: —They really love me— he whispers to himself again.

—Yeah, I love you Beel— you answer, taking your boyfriend by surprise. You scratch your head and try to comb your hair in place with your fingers,—I'm sorry that I didn't tell you about my surprise... and I'm sorry I'm so unpresentable right now. This was supposed to be a romantic surprise dinner—.

Beel smiles happily, like a puppy looking at his most beloved beings —You look just perfect—.

Beel feels his heart so full he might explode, finally satisfied of his never-ending food demand; but this time it isn't because of food. Is you. Only you can make him feel so happy and complete. So Beel looks at you at the other side of the table, and sighs happily —"I think I'll marry them", he thinks. A sweet resolve that he must keep to himself, for now.

💜Belphegor💜

What type of ring?

Belphegor sits up. He stretches his arms, and with it, his back cracks a little, letting the stiffness of a well-deserved one hundred and twenty-three hours nap scape his body. Beel is right next to his bed, looking at him with a worried look, repeating about how there's no time left if he wants to go on with his plan.

But Belphie barely registers what his brother says, still too numb from the long sleep that has taken almost all of his week. He yawns, blinks a couple of times and scratches his eyes, trying to recover himself and get his usual personality back.

Beel continues rambling about how sorry he is from letting him sleep for so long, but that he looked so peaceful and cute that he couldn't bring himself to interrupt his twin's sweet dreams.

"Sweet dreams? Sweet? Dream?"

Those words remind him of something important: —"Beel! What day is it today?".

Beelzebub sighs and with a sad expression tells him the truth for the nth time.

Belphegor jumps from the bed. An unusual action from the Avatar of Sloth who would rather drag his feet through the HoL hallways than walk. He takes Beel's hand in his and runs out of the room to the attic. There, he frantically searches for something important in the boxes. Since Lucifer gave Belphie access to the attic, he has come to the realization that some of the stuff there are his.

He throws some boxes to Beel and urges him to look for a small box in a deep purple color. Beel does as his brothers say. And for hours that feel more like decades, Belphegor finally finds the small box. Beel smiles in relief, not only because they finally found what they were looking for, but because, finally, he can eat.

Belphie thanks his brother as Beel leaves the room. Then, with a soft smile, he opens the tiny box: inside, a ring with a purple gem in silver rim with small curves and details that look like moons and stars.

Belphie caresses the cold metal, and his face expression turns into a longing one, yet, he doesn't drop his sweet smile: —"I guess this thing belongs to them anyway" — he thinks, —"because this was Lilith's".

How did he decided to get an engagement ring?

Belphegor sleeps hugging one of his large pillows. He looks so peaceful, surrounded by soft fabrics and cotton blankets. Not laying down next to him is hard to resist, specially when you know that he smells so good.

Gently and quietly, you get on the attic's improvised bed and curl up against his back feeling the warmth of his body. You wish he'd wake up for a second, turn around and hug you instead of his big pillow; but even sharing the bed like this is fine.

Actually, it's more than fine. It's great.

His scent, his calm breathing, his relaxed nature. Yes, all of it, it's enough to make you happy and you can't help but whisper to your sleeping boyfriend a sincere "I love you", while you start to snooze yourself.

Even if Belphegor is slim, his back looks wide to you, and that's inviting somehow, so you run your hands gently on his shoulders and arms, trying not to wake him up but feeling the soft fabric of his favorite sweater and his defined muscles underneath it.

You nuzzle your face between his scapulae, taking in his addictive aroma. "I really, really love you"— you repeat, this time your whispers are less audible, as you start to find your eyes heavy, and your face expression turns lighter and relaxed.

"I want to spend my life sleeping next to you Belphie"— you think one last time before giving in to Belphegor's power.

A rumble under the sheets brings you back from the trance, though, and a well-known arm traps you: "When you say things like that, I can't sleep peacefully. Am I so alluring to you that you are willing to take advantage of me like that?"—. Though he jokes like the cocky brat that he is, you know his teasing is full of desire because you notice his growing heat: he has a mischievous grin while he gazes down on you bitting his lower lip, showing a familiar expectancy. Your hands lay on his chest, and you can also feel that his breathing becomes a little more rapid, and his heart's pounding faster with excitement. You know what he's thinking.

He lays a longing kiss in the corner of your lips, and when he separates his from you, his and your gasps reveal a burning urge to and for the other, —"I hate to admit how much you agitate me"—, he confesses between pecks —"I'm the Avatar of Sloth after all"—. You gasp silently, feeling Belphie drop multiple kisses all over your face and neck.

In his thousands of years, Belphegor has never given in to his lustful temptations so strongly. But you have changed that.

—"I could kiss you like this forever. I want to have you sleeping by my side for eternity".

Sharing these intimate moments in your not-so-secret space, chanting eternal love to one another, and sharing sloppy kisses makes Belphie realize how he can't live without you anymore. How was life before you again?, when you weren't melting in his arms?, when he wasn't thinking about you in-between dreams and real life?

As he feels your growing desire in your gasps against his mouth, Belphie understands something: although he was not one to believe that a contract like marriage could mean more than that, as he snakes his arms around you, gently topping you, and your warm hands caress his skin, slowly undressing him, he thinks he can finally understand why it means so much to so many people, specially humans: because you are so incredibly precious and fragile, and even if it's decades ahead, he will loose you one day. How can he show you the depth of his love while he has you by his side? He breaks the kissing to ask:

—"Would you like me to propose to you?"—

As always, there's no secrets between you two. He's always ready to say exactly how he feels and what he thinks, and drop it just as it is. Meanwhile, you are surprised, trying to process the question. But Belphegor kisses your lips passionately one more time, not giving you any more time to think.

Against your semi opened mouth, eyes closed, feelings the lust take over both of you, he finally responds: —"By the way, I love you too".

⏮️ Go to Part 1 (Lucifer x gn!reader / Mammon x gn!reader / Leviathan x gn!reader)

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