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blackmoonlightexpress · 10 months

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Luo Yunxi Appreciation Master Post: How can someone be so multi-talented?!

In case you did not already know, here are LYX's many talents. It's insane how many different things he can do at a near-professional level beyond acting!

1. Dance/Ballet

LYX graduated from the Shanghai Theatre Academy majoring in ballet with over 11 years of professional experience.

This is him doing 13+ pirouettes in a performance of Tchaikovsky Rhapsody (full video, he's on the right)

Interpret dance solo (燃烧的火苗) where he won the first gold ever for STA (video, news)

Swan Lake solo at the Taoli Cup Dance Competition in high school (video)

Modern dancing solo (黑白影画) at his graduation performance (video, he's the only guy in white)

He also taught at the Macao Conservatory for a year and danced in front of national leaders in Flying to the Moon (奔月) at the Macao 10th Handover Anniversary (video)

He's super flexible and has a strong core (despite being naturally thin)

In response to request from fans, he performed the Black Moonlight dance in a now viral video on Douyin.

2. Wuxia / Posture

LYX is known as one of the best actors working today for wire work - you can see him here doing 3 consecutive jumps 2-3 stories above ground (compilation videos 1, 2)

He does a lot of his own stunts and is often better (i.e. more graceful) than his stunt double, even though it's really risky and he's sustained some serious injuries from being dropped accidentally (And the Winner is Love: B roll video, actual scene, other BTS, other fight scenes)

He moves with elegance, not just in action sequences (Ashes of Love fight compilation 1, 2), but people have made video compilations of how he walks, kneels, works his sleeves and train

Of course, it's thanks to his dance foundation, but he also puts a lot of hard work into stunt training. Not something a lot of actors do because it eats up time to make more TV or go on variety shows (Ashes of Love stunt training, BTS)

3. Diving

He played a diver once in Flip in Summer (夏日心跳) and actually learned to dive... I mean he's no Tom Daley but this looks pretty good for an amateur... (full video)

4. Voice Acting

He’s always dubbed himself since circa 2018 (with the exception of And the Winner is Love due to Covid logistics issues), which is not the norm in Chinese drama (Ashes of Love dubbing BTS). In fact, he is sometimes the only person in the cast to use his original voice (e.g. in Princess Silver)

He also lends his voice to animations - he was the voice of Viktor in Arcane (BTS video), which received positive feedback (most people didn't realize he was not a professional voice actor)

He appears as a judge and live dubbing performer in Voice Monster alongside the top voice actors in China, Bian Jiang (aka voice of Yehua in Eternal Love, Nan Wangj in the Untamed) and Zhang Jie (aka voice of Donghua in Eternal Love, Sifeng in Love & Redemption). He has so much respect to those working behind the scenes, and it really shows (full video)

5. Singing

Some of you may know that he started out in a boy band called JL with Fu Longfei - these videos didn't age well, but here you go: JL (MV), 我们 (MV)

He has released a number of solo singles, including 缘起 (MV), 星星之火 (live), 不是我 (MV), 等风停 (MV). and 勇 (soundtrack), which he composed and wrote the lyrics himself (these are all mando-pop ballads if that's your jam)

He performed Big Fish 大鱼 at Tmall's 11/11 Festival (live video) - while his rendition is not as powerful as the original, he can hit really high notes with an impressive falsetto - I think it goes up to G5 (one octave above middle C)

He performed Pipa Xing (琵琶行) at the Douyin Festival (live video) - the notable part is his Peking Opera style singing at the end

He occasionally releases covers of songs on Chinese karaoke app Changba or Douyin: 要不然我们就这样一万年 (youtube), 黑月光 (youtube), 不染 (youtube), 山水又一程 (youtube)

He can also sing in other languages, including 喜欢你 in Cantonese (recording) - it's actually a very good cover and his Cantonese pronunciation is >95% accurate - there are parts where you can't tell he's not a native speaker.

6. Musical Instruments

He's an accomplished classically-trained pianist, which you can see in...

JL MV (video, starting around 3:30 mark) - don't mind the makeup, it's from ages ago

Mr Mossie season 2 (video)

Love is Sweet (BTS video) - impromptu jazz, he was deciding which song to play

Fan thank you recording (video)

He also plays the guitar, though probably at an amateur level

7. Music Gaming

During college he was obsessed with this music game called O2Jam (劲乐团) to the point where he created new tracks (i.e. arrange/compose the music) for the company under the username Dinoroy (explained by himself here, videos of him playing).

He became well-known within the fan community as the legendary D神 (D God). There are a lot of funny comments from old players saying that they thought D God is a bitter middle-aged recluse trying to screw them over with difficult tracks (read comments here).

D God was so prolific and reliable that gaming company accepted his submissions without review. Here are some of his best tracks - game arrangement only (Lydia, Croatian Rhapsody, Digital Emotions), music & game arrangement (黑暗魅影), original composition (光之乐章)

8. League of Legends

He's an LOL super fan, commentator, and player since season 2, went to see worlds in person twice, and was a cast member in a gaming show called Beyond It! Hero (episodes here)

He played the 2018 All-Star Event in Las Vegas teaming with reigning world champion Rookie and delivered the final blow that beat the other team 2:1 (video)

He got a quadra kill at a celebrity mobile game even though his team was crap (video clip)

He co-invested 1M RMB in a team led by Misaya 若风 - you can see them playing together in a live broadcast of the mobile game (video)

Update: Our longtime fan boy has become spokesperson of League of Legends and official commentator at the Asian Games 2023 in Hangzhou! The love is reciprocated!

9. Calligraphy/Drawing/Culture

LYX is known for his Chinese handwriting (he practices regularly) - there's even a font based on his handwriting called 汉仪罗云熙体 (download here)

He does all his own handwriting for marketing materials (e.g. Immortality below) and doesn't need a hand double for scenes where his character is practicing ancient Chinese calligraphy

He's also got amazing drawing skills - check out the Queen of the Night 昙花 he drew as Runyu while waiting around on set in between takes (video)

While he doesn't go on a lot of variety shows, he's often a guest on cultural programs, like the beauty of Chinese Calligraphy 书法之美 (video), Chinese Fans in 指尖上的非遗 (video)

His self-produced Mr. Mossie covers a lot of cultural topics (seasons 1, 2, 3), the segment on Hanfu was featured in the UNESCO Chinese Language Video Festival (video)

10. Photography

Luo Yunxi is often seen taking photos on set with his top-of-the-line Leica camera. Here are some of the photos he has shared:

#luo yunxi #cdrama #till the end of the moon #chang yue jin ming #chinese drama #c ent #ashes of love #2ha #immortality

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visit-new-york · 8 months

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Central Park is a famous and iconic urban park located in the heart of Manhattan, New York City. It is one of the most visited and well-known parks in the world, covering an area of approximately 843 acres (341 hectares). Central Park offers a wide range of recreational, cultural, and natural attractions for both residents and visitors to enjoy.

Here are some key features and aspects of Central Park:

History: Central Park was designed by landscape architects Frederick Law Olmsted and Calvert Vaux and was officially opened in 1858. It was created to provide a green oasis in the midst of the rapidly growing and industrializing city, serving as a place for relaxation, recreation, and cultural enrichment.

Landscape and Design: The park's design incorporates a diverse array of landscapes, including open meadows, woodlands, ponds, lakes, and formal gardens. It features winding pathways, picturesque bridges, and scenic vistas. The design was influenced by the "romantic" or naturalistic style, with the intention of creating a harmonious environment where visitors could escape the hustle and bustle of the city.

Attractions: Central Park boasts numerous attractions, including:

The Central Park Zoo: A small but popular zoo within the park.

The Central Park Conservatory Garden: A beautifully landscaped formal garden.

The Great Lawn: A vast open space often used for concerts and events.

The Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis Reservoir: A scenic jogging and walking track around a large reservoir.

Bethesda Terrace and Fountain: An iconic gathering spot with stunning architectural features.

Strawberry Fields: A tribute to John Lennon, featuring the "Imagine" mosaic.

The Loeb Boathouse: Offering boat rentals and dining with a view of the Central Park Lake.

The Metropolitan Museum of Art: While not technically part of the park, it is located along its eastern edge, often referred to as the "Museum Mile."

Activities: Visitors can engage in a wide range of activities within Central Park, such as jogging, picnicking, biking, bird-watching, horseback riding, and ice skating in the winter. The park also hosts various events, including concerts, theater performances, and outdoor movies during the summer months.

Conservancy: The Central Park Conservancy is a private, nonprofit organization that plays a significant role in maintaining and preserving the park. It raises funds for park improvements, restoration projects, and ongoing maintenance efforts.

Filming Location: Central Park has been a popular location for movies and television shows over the years, making it instantly recognizable to audiences around the world.

Central Park's enduring popularity and iconic status make it a must-visit destination for anyone traveling to New York City. It provides a peaceful and natural escape in the midst of the urban jungle and serves as a testament to the value of green spaces in urban planning.

#Central Park #new york city #new york #manhattan #newyork #new-york #nyc #ny #urban #city #usa #United States #buildings #travel #journey #outdoors #street #architecture #visit-new-york.tumblr.com

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hometoursandotherstuff · 7 months

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Here's a lovely contemporary dark house built in 1982 in Craryville, New York. It has 7bds, 6ba, $7.950M.

Isn't the living room pretty and bright, even though the decor is dark? I like it better than all white.

This is different, the kitchen is separated from the living room with a half-wall. It's a very large, stainless steel chef's kitchen.

This hall is beautiful. And, is the one of the entrances to the main living area.

Love this conservatory.

Up on the mezzanine the hall leads to the bedrooms.

The primary bedroom is lovely- look at the fireplace and sink/makeup table.

Very nice family room.

One of the spacious secondary bedrooms.

Gorgeous naturally shaped poos and patio with a large modern art sculpture.

There's a lot of stunning land to explored- 134.39 acres.

Look at all this beautiful lane.

They have a cute treehouse.

And, horse stables. I wonder if he conveys.

Plus a very large garage.

Beautiful lot.

The property is on the banks of the Copake Lake.

#modern house #contemporary home #houses #house tours #home tour

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eleanor-bradstreet · 1 month

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Let Me Be Your Anchor

Chapter 15: The Drawing Room

Benedict Bridgerton x Sophie Beckett An Offer from a Gentleman reimagined Chapter rating: 18+ - explicit sexual content, language Word count: 5.7k

Masterpost Previous Chapter Next chapter

Author's notes: Thank you all for your patience waiting for this chapter. I'll have to request some more because the next three chapters aren't completed yet. Lately life has been full of busyness and change, in a good way, but it's leaving me with little time or energy to write. Know that I'm always endeavoring to do so. 💙 Now that our lovebirds have had a taste of each other, they are all aboard the horny train. Enjoy 😉

For the rest of the day Benedict never had a moment to himself. The house was bustling as every nook and cranny was cleaned, every guest room opened, and every surface beautified. A parade of tradesmen rolled down the drive throughout the day hauling carts of meat, wine, candles and firewood. While Daphne began taking scrupulous inventory, she sent him and Simon off to meet with the groundskeeper to make sure there were plenty of pheasants and fish on the grounds and plenty of fresh horses in the stables to accommodate any outdoor activities the visiting men would want to partake in.

He saw Sophie only twice that day. Once amidst a group of maids who were clearing away tea trays midday, and once when she came to tend the fire in the smoking room where he and Simon were enjoying an after-dinner brandy. His breath caught each time he saw her, noting how she stood out as the brightest spot in the room. She did her best to avert her eyes but stole a quick glance at him each time. How he longed to shove her into a corner, tear off her silly apron and make her moan. But he kept himself in check and pretended to ignore her.

After he had bid the Hastings goodnight he was so bone tired he collapsed into bed without even thinking to seek Sophie out. He had no doubt she was overwhelmed too.

The next morning he woke from a particularly salacious dream about her to find himself stiff under his sheets. God, he needed to see her. He managed to calm his racing blood by splashing cold water onto his face, then went to join everyone for breakfast.

He didn’t see her as he took an unnecessarily winding path to the dining room, and he didn’t see her while they ate. He distracted himself by teaching little Barnaby how to crack open a soft boiled egg. Daphne sighed as yolk was predictably spilled across the table, but Simon just laughed and slid his own egg over for the boy to try again, successfully.

When the meal was over Benedict attempted to leave, but Daphne and Simon pulled him into serious debate over the seating arrangements for their guests. The Viscountess had provided a preliminary plan but Daphne had concerns about certain pairings based on recent gossip Kate may not have heard. Benedict closed his eyes to hide that they were rolling. The last thing he wanted to do was chatter about the scandals of the ton, but he had no excuse to leave without seeming rude. He did his best to grin and bear it, passing quiet commentary on people he couldn’t care less about, and all the time thinking of the color of Sophie’s bare skin in candlelight.

When a seating plan was apparently agreed upon, Simon suggested an outing to the lake which made Benedict perk up. He supported the idea, perhaps over-enthusiastically, and insisted on staying behind at the house to keep an eye on everything. Then, as politely as he could, he bowed out of the room and began to hunt.

Sophie wasn’t in the morning room or the music room or the conservatory. She wasn’t on any of the staircases he passed. He even walked to the far end of the house and looked out to the kitchen garden only to find that she was not there. He debated going down to the servants’ level and asking for her, but wondered how odd that would be. He was doubling back through the halls when he turned and stopped short.

Sophie stood at a small credenza outside the drawing room, setting down a vase filled with a huge spray of flowers. Blues, purples and pinks all evidently picked from the grounds outside. Her fingers ran over them delicately, fanning out the blooms.

Benedict moved to her side. “There you are,” he breathed, his eyes locking onto hers. She was so lovely, her features alight with excitement at seeing him.

“Benedict…”

The flowers were fragrant between them, the pink blossoms calling out the soft hue of her lips. He couldn’t help but bring his fingers to rest over hers on the vase, standing close enough to whisper in her ear.

“The family are going to the lake for the afternoon. Meet me…”

“Ah! Brother.” Daphne’s voice cut in from behind them, causing them both to jump and retract their hands. Without a word or a glance back, Sophie bowed her head and scurried through the drawing room door.

Benedict whirled around with a well-practiced smile on his face. “Sister!”

The Duchess paused, hands clasped in front of her with a curious and discerning look on her face. But it passed so quickly, Benedict wasn’t sure if he just imagined it. She continued. “I just wanted to tell you we were about to leave. You’re sure you won’t join us?”

His mind was racing. Overcome with thoughts of Sophie, he had forgotten why he had said he would stay behind. He stumbled over his words. “Sadly, no. I have…correspondence that needs my attention.”

His sister arched a brow at him. He knew she was keen at sniffing out the truth, so he reasoned it was better to feign deception than feign truth. He gave her a devilish grin. “Or maybe a mallet that needs hiding…”

That seemed to do the trick because she returned a competitive smirk and nodded her head curtly. “Very well. We shall return in a few hours.” Then she turned and walked out of sight.

Benedict released an exhale. He didn’t know how much she had seen or intuited, but it surely couldn’t have been much. He was standing next to a maid. He could have been helping her with the heavy vase for all she knew. But thoughts of his sister detecting them would have to wait. He now had hours alone with Sophie. He moved into the drawing room and locked the door.

Sophie was standing at the far end of the sunlit room, pacing in front of a bookshelf. He rushed toward her.

“Sophie! They’ve gone.”

Taking her face in his hands, he pulled her into a kiss and she melted against him, her lips opening to the soft caresses of his tongue. It was sweet, breathless.

He pulled back, whispering against her lips. “We haven’t been able to talk. The other night…”

She gave him a small smile, her fingers wrapping around his wrists. “It was perfect.”

Benedict sighed, pressing his forehead against hers and matching her smile. He was so relieved to be with her again. So happy that she was happy.

She continued, “I hadn’t expected everything would feel so good. Thank you for teaching me. For being so gentle with me.”

A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth and his hands dropped to her waist. “So you enjoyed it?”

She rolled her eyes. “I thought that was rather obvious.” Then she lowered her gaze and started to blush. “In truth, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it.”

Benedict’s heart beat faster at discovering she had been feeling the same way he had. His voice became a purr as he bent to her ear. “Is that so? What precisely is running through your mind?”

“Ben…” Sophie shuddered. She knew she was being coy by revealing her thoughts. Perhaps it was not ladylike to be so honest about one’s desires. But she had never stopped thinking about him since she had left his bed the prior morning. While she carried linens to guest rooms, she remembered the feeling of him pressing her down onto his sheets. While she drank her tea, she remembered the warmth of his tongue in her mouth. While she looked down to see her hand dusting furniture, she remembered the grip of his long fingers around her ribs and in her hair. The previous night she had felt such an ache for him that she throbbed between her legs. All this morning she had been overheated, fanning herself between chores. Now she was in his arms again and all she wanted was to share that heat, to be lost to it and satisfy the overwhelming yearning.

Benedict began planting small kisses down the curve of her jaw. “Come now, you can’t say something like that and not elaborate.” One arm pulled her by the waist to press fully against him while his other hand rose to cup her face, a thumb toying at the corner of her lips.

He whispered in her ear. “Because I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it either, how glorious it was feeling you come apart.” Sophie’s eyes fluttered closed, her breath grew heavy. “Tell me what you’re thinking,” he coaxed.

Her mind was growing foggy, only able to focus on sensations. “Your hands,” she sighed. “The way they held me.”

In one swift motion he tore her apron off and flung it across the room. Then with a rip he whisked away the sheer collar at the top of her dress, the ruffle that made a maid’s uniform more modest than that of a lady’s. He traced his fingers across her collarbone and wrapped them behind her neck, holding her tightly against him. He continued his kisses, feathering across the new, lowered neckline of her dress.

Sophie could not bring herself to care about a torn servant’s uniform. It wasn’t hers anyway. It belonged to the house and she was just wearing it while she stayed at Aubrey Hall as a…whatever she was now. She was drowning in his touch, her voice far away and heady. “Your lips…everywhere.”

His tongue flicked across the top of her breast before he pressed his mouth just below her ear, sucking with an undeniable possessiveness.

Sophie’s whole body was tingling, the sound of her racing blood filling her ears. She could feel the ache building between her thighs.

“The feeling of you inside me,” she rasped, scarcely able to breathe anymore. “Things I could never imagine. Everything was so warm…so beautiful.”

Benedict’s breath was heavy. He moved his hands to grasp her breast and her bottom, squeezing and kneading, his weight pressing into her.

She couldn’t stand the seduction any longer. She needed him. Now. Desperately. “Take me there again,” she whispered, gripping into his hair. “I don’t want you to be gentle.”

Benedict paused, expletives echoing in his mind. He certainly hadn’t been expecting this. This lusty and adventurous side of Sophie. Though he supposed he should have known better. She was a strong willed woman. Why wouldn’t that extend to her romantic desires now that she knew how many possibilities there were?

“Sophie,” he groaned, nuzzling his cheek against the soft waves of her hair.

“Ben, please.” But it was more of a command than a plea. His stomach fluttered at the sound of his nickname on her lips. He wanted to take her in the fullest way with his whole body, but he didn’t know if that was her request. It would be a hell of a thing to take her maidenhood in a drawing room. But as scandalously exciting as that seemed, Sophie deserved better. When she was ready he would take her in a bed, in privacy and comfort.

Happy to do whatever else she ordered, he grasped her at the nape and began to devour her with ravenous kisses. Their lips never parting, he pushed her across the room until her back hit the wall.

Sophie was giddy with the whirlwind of their passion and couldn’t help herself from grinning between their frenzied kisses. She frantically stripped him of his jacket while he dug beneath her skirt, lifting and pulling layers of fabric until they bunched around her waist. She watched, mouth open with shock, as he laved one hand with a long swipe of his tongue then brought it between her legs to ready her. Gasping at the sensation, she barely had time to think before he lifted her off the floor, pressed her against the wall and buried his fingers inside of her, exhaling with a wide grin at the rapturous look it brought to her face.

Sophie actually cursed under her breath, thrilled at the familiar feeling, the rhythmic stretch ready to drive her into a delirium of pleasure. Her arms clung around his shoulders while he began drilling his hand into her wildly, teasing her nub with his thumb. He pinned her against the wall with one shoulder and held her thigh with his free hand. Sophie locked her ankles around his waist to hold on. This was desire, this was passion, this desperate need to be as close to each other as possible, to give and seek pleasure. She couldn’t believe she had found it with Benedict Bridgerton of all people. She ached with the suffocating joy of it, all other thoughts about her secrets or their doomed future banished for the moment from her mind. She didn’t even worry that they were in a public room of the house or that anyone might hear them. He was everything she could feel, everything she could smell and see and think about, and it was rapturous.

Benedict grunted against her neck. Every part of Sophie felt so damn good. Her gasps were so exquisite, her arms around his neck and her legs around his hips locked him against her, feeding his own arousal. And all of it was heightened by the unexpected discovery of her deviancy. She was no wilting wallflower, no meek and submissive young miss. She was a woman, intent and purposeful in her actions and words. A woman who could excite and entice and challenge him. Of course he had been with an array of sexually promiscuous women before, but this was something else. He was not passing in and out of a repertoire of men that Sophie sought pleasure with. He knew that she felt this way only toward him, now being the one man she had indulged with. He could sense the trust between them and it’s what made him ignore his better judgment and cavort with her all over his family home. He certainly would never have done so with any of the other women he had been with.

This too made his blood race, the scandalousness of it all. How he had tasted and pleasured and lost himself to this woman wherever he found her - in the nursery, the orangery, in his sister-in-law’s damn drawing room. It was licentious and he loved it. He slowed the pace of his hand as his arms began to shake with the effort. He wanted this to last and he wanted to ensure her the release that she was so clearly longing for. Perhaps it was time for another lesson.

Sophie’s eyes opened as Benedict slowed his movements. He cupped her backside and pivoted to set her atop the nearby writing desk. He pulled one of her arms from his neck and brought it down between their bodies, keeping his eyes locked on hers. He kissed her as he pressed her own fingers against her bud and guided them, swirling in small circles as he had done before. The electricity that shot through Sophie’s muscles hitched her breath and she mewled against his lips. She could feel him smiling through his kiss as he guided her hand for a few more moments and then left her to her own devices.

Sophie was sure she would have felt self-conscious touching herself in front of Benedict if he didn’t clearly enjoy it so much. He watched her with the hint of a smirk on his face, his hooded eyes urging her to continue what he started. For a moment she felt like an absolute fool. She hadn’t attempted to pleasure herself after he had shown her what was possible. Whether she was ignorant or because it just felt so frighteningly good when he did it that she wanted to reserve the act for him, she wasn’t sure. But now he had put her in control and she knew she needed to try. She should be able to bring herself to her pinnacle, and there was the practical matter of being able to address her own needs when they arose. She certainly couldn’t go leaping upon Benedict in drawing rooms every time she felt desire, despite how tempting that was.

Following the motions he had shown her, she circled and tickled her fingers, chasing that tightening, maddening feeling.

“There you are,” his voice was husky. He pressed himself between her spread thighs and looked down at her ravenously. “You look so magnificent, Sophie. You know you can touch yourself whenever you feel that ache.”

She whined in the back of her throat, fingers pressing harder. He bent forward and whispered, breath hot against the shell of her ear.

“Will you do that? Promise to think of me and touch yourself when you are alone.” He had the very voice of the devil but damn it if it didn’t make sparks fly behind her eyelids and make her grow even wetter.

“I promise,” she choked, twirling her bud faster, thighs squeezing to hold him against her.

“Because I have thought of you,” he confessed, slipping his fingers into her once again and sliding rhythmically. “I have thought of your lovely voice and beautiful body…the emeralds in your eyes…and taken myself in hand.”

His every confession pushed her higher. The thought of him pleasuring himself out of desire for her made her clench and she knew he felt it. She knew he was goading her on, pushing her into such a fuzzy, naughty place with just his words. How was it possible? She swore under her breath again and bore down upon his hand, chasing sensation, unable to control herself.

He chuckled darkly. “That’s it. Fuck yourself on my fingers. Take what you want.”

“I’m sorry,” she gasped, suddenly aware of how blatantly wanton she was being.

His nose brushed her cheek. “No, I like it. I want to hear more curses from your lips.”

It was getting harder to breathe, harder to think. Sophie wasn’t sure she could come up with anything enticing or clever to say. But true to form, Benedict seemed to anticipate her and took the lead.

He wrapped an arm around her back, cradling her head in his palm. He sucked a small trail of kisses from her earlobe to her lips, nibbling at the corner of her mouth. Then he drove his fingers into her harder, building a steady pace, making the contents of the writing desk clink and jitter.

“Press yourself down and say you love fucking my fingers.” His voice was low.

The sin of his words cut through her and she paused.

“Don’t stop touching yourself,” he ordered.

This man was ruinous, but Sophie could not hide that she loved it. She swirled her fingers around her bud and began to push back against his thrusting fist, bouncing lightly up and down in his arms.

“I love fucking your fingers,” she whispered. There was no exaggeration in it. The rhythm they built together, working her sex inside and out, was a rapture she could barely stand. Benedict’s hand plunging into her and his body pressing against hers as they rocked fed the fire building within. Sophie discovered new sensations, new exclamations that her body made when she touched herself in certain places, in certain ways. Tinglings that Benedict had not yet elicited. It was engrossing and she wondered if she was in danger of not being able to stop exploring herself when left alone.

“I love fucking your fingers, Ben.” She said with more gravity, forcing his eyes to meet hers, both of their pupils blown wide. The pressure of his hand and her body driving together, the scent of his cologne, the intuitive dance of her fingers, and the rhythmic jangling of the writing desk propelled her to the brink quickly. Gasping, her thighs began to quake. She gripped his shoulder tightly and let her head loll his hand.

“Yes, come on, Sophie.” He hissed. “Make yourself come on me.” The absolute wickedness of his tongue caused her to snap. Waves of gratification pulsed through her, making her shudder and against all attempts to stop it, moan. Benedict surged forward and kissed her open-mouthed, trying to swallow her sounds. Her whole body bucked against him as she rode out the wave, every part of her fluttering and squeezing, her channel, her fingers, her toes. Once she managed to quiet herself he broke the kiss and grinned, peppering her face and neck with little nips as she caught her breath.

Sophie felt numb with ecstasy and decidedly proud of herself. Now she knew how to bring herself pleasure when alone, but she knew it could never be as intense as what Benedict helped her achieve. She would have to imagine his voice and his fingers and it would no doubt pale in comparison to the real thing.

As she was tingling and floating down from her high, Benedict nuzzled her ear, rumbling. “Was that everything you needed?”

She shuddered. Her hunger for him persisted. She wanted to make him moan and tremble too. She had an image of him in her mind that she wanted to act out, a way in which she was desperate to feel him against her body. She knew how she wanted him to finish. Once she could form words again, she whispered, “I want to be on top of you.”

Benedict paused and she could feel his heart pounding against her. Then he let out what she could only describe as a growl as he lifted her off the desk and carried her over to the nearest sofa. Easing down, he sat so that she was astride him and looked up at her expectantly, hungrily, the midday light dancing in his stormy eyes. The tent in his trousers protruded just in front of her body and she was desperate to touch it.

“Lie down,” she said gently.

The excited spark in his eyes was undeniable as he twisted to recline against the cushions, holding her by the hips. His legs hung over the sofa arm. It wasn’t a long piece of furniture and couldn’t contain all of him, but she estimated it was wide enough for what she wanted to attempt.

He watched her, brows raised in curiosity as she rested her weight on his thighs. Breathing unevenly, she leaned forward and pressed her palm against his bulge. She moved her hand slowly but firmly across his length, gripping him with the pressure he had shown her before.

He arched back into the cushions with a groan, causing a playful smirk to dance across her lips. Then she shifted forward and sank her hips down onto his. She could feel the rigidity of his cock against her most sensitive spot even through their clothing and it made her muscles seize. She spread both hands across his abdomen to steady herself.

Benedict looked up at her with hazy eyes.

“Sophie…what are you…?”

“I want to ride you.” She said huskily.

A stab of bashfulness was quickly overridden by the heat building again between her thighs. She felt driven by instinct; something primal telling her precisely what to do. She had found release against Benedict’s thigh before and now she wanted to find it against his cock in the hopes that she could bring them both pleasure simultaneously.

Slowly she rolled her hips forward and back, testing, dragging her bud along the length of him with steady pressure. A tightening sensation shot up her spine and her breath hitched.

“Like this,” she rasped, repeating the motion. “Just like this.” She began to move faster, rocking against him, her hands pressing down onto his stomach. “Is this alright?”

Benedict’s eyes rolled back into his head and he felt as if he would choke on his tongue.

“God, Sophie…” He could feel the delicious heat of her wet center through his clothes and the press of her pubic bone stroking him rhythmically. He gripped her hips and pulled her down even tighter.

Encouraged, Sophie grinned and rocked faster, pressing harder.

“Will you come this way?” Her voice was breathy and bouncing with her movements.

Benedict squeezed his eyes shut, tossing his head back against the cushions.

“Yes…fuck!” He ground out, teeth clenching. “Please don’t stop,” he pleaded. “Just please, don’t stop.”

Spurred on by his array of needy noises and the desperate dance of his brows over his clamped eyes, Sophie rode him steadily, grinding their bodies together as her knees propelled her up and down. Benedict’s grip on her hips was almost painful but she relished being held so tightly, being needed so badly. The rising wave of climax that was now growing familiar to her was starting to build where their bodies met, pulsing and warming with each drag across his stiffness.

They were both doing their best to stay quiet, the only sounds in the room were the cadenced rustle of fabric and their tight, short breaths as they both climbed toward release.

Benedict’s mind was fuzzy, overwhelmed with the beauty and surprise of Sophie’s intuitiveness. She knew how to listen to her body, even though each experience was new to her, and she was fearless in taking charge. God, how he admired those traits in a woman, and to find them in a housemaid was the most exciting revelation. Through the blinding pleasure he managed to look up and watch her, marveling at her steady pace, her hair mussed from passion, her lips parting to release her nearly silent whimpers.

“So you like this?” He rasped, causing her eyes to fall to his. “Being on top of me?”

Sophie nodded. “Yes.” She panted. “I just need to press against something hard. And your cock is so hard, Ben.”

The filth of her narration rattled him and he felt his cock begin to leak. His head fell back again as he spouted a stream of curses and unintelligible nonsense. Madness. That’s what this was. Romping with this woman wantonly on a sofa he had clambered over since childhood, with household staff listening on the other side of the door no doubt. But he didn’t care, couldn’t care. The freedom, the excitement, and the intensity he felt with Sophie was unlike anything he had experienced. This beautiful housemaid that he had randomly encountered on the side of the road was leading him to absolute ruin and he wanted her to. That she was willing and eager to be with him and that they could continue their secret rendezvouses flooded him with joy. The thought of future afternoons spent like this with Sophie made him impossibly stiffer.

They were bucking against each other frantically now, any concern for subtlety or gentleness gone. Benedict pushed his hips up while his hands pulled her down hard, pinning her tight against his cock. Her fingers curled into his clothes. They both grew breathless, rubbing themselves through the heat they had built together.

Suddenly, Benedict hissed. “Sophie…unbutton me.” His hand left her hip and dragged her fingers to his waistcoat. She moved deftly, working bottom to top to loosen the luxurious plum colored fabric. She pulled it away to either side of his chest, as he pushed up the hem of his shirt to expose his rippled abdomen. Sophie brought her hands back to rest on his bare skin, groaning at the firmness of his muscles and how they were contracting with each thrust against her.

“Sophie,” His voice was deep and urgent. She met his eyes, dilated black. “I need you to come for me. I can’t hold out much longer.”

She grew a look of desperation as she bounced above him, face flushed. “Ben…I don’t know…I’m almost…”

“Quickly…lift your skirts,” he ground out, easing his thrusts as she obeyed. “Come here,” he huffed, his large hands grabbing her rear and pulling her suddenly forward. Her knees shuffled and she fell to grip the far sofa arm before she collapsed on top of him. Then the molten heat of his mouth enveloped her under her skirts and sucked hard. The shock of it made her instinctively lurch away, but he held her firmly in place, grunting against her sodden flesh as his strong tongue nudged her toward the end.

One hand locking Sophie to his face, Benedict slid the other to maneuver his cock out of his trousers and pump himself ferociously. He felt wild, animalistic with need, with the mindless race to grant them both release. He hadn’t felt heat like this in years, maybe ever in his life. She had ridden him to steely stiffness and he gave way, groaning against her folds as he spattered hot across his bare stomach.

His sounds must have helped to finish Sophie off because her thighs went rigid on either side of his head and she bore down, writhing on his tongue as he felt the faint pulse of her muscles seizing within. To her credit she did not cry out, or at least he didn’t hear her, deafened as he was under her skirts and lost in his own fog.

Sophie squirmed a moment more, then shuffled off of him. He was still descending back to himself, his eyes still focusing, when he saw that she had retrieved her apron and was laying it across his stomach to clean him. As he regained his senses he felt a sudden pang of shame. Some of his devil-may-care enthusiasm evaporated with the cooling of his sweat, making him question the recklessness of his cavorting all over the grounds with Sophie, especially when his sister and her family were visiting. Any of the servants could have heard them just now, or gotten the spare key and opened the door. He wondered if he had stained the sofa…

And poor Sophie was always left to clean up and scurry back to work when he wanted to leave her lounging in luxury, basking in the gratitude she deserved for bringing him such untold pleasure. He gently pushed her hand away and cleaned himself with the apron, tossing it to the floor and buttoning himself back into his many layers of clothes. Sophie found her collar and discovered that it had only lost one clasp. She was able to tuck it back under her neckline and fasten it to look pristine again.

Once she had straightened everything she sat beside Benedict on the sofa. He was breathing deeply, lost in thought.

She opened gently. “I suppose we still haven’t talked properly.”

“No.” His eyes turned to her, indecipherable. “I just…I’m not sure what this is. I feel like a cad. Keeping you hidden and watching you work for my family.”

“I want to work.” She offered a small, reassuring smile.

Benedict shook his head. “You say that but…are you sure I can’t take care of you?”

She knew what he was thinking. As much as she wanted this conversation settled and not repeated, she couldn’t deny that their current arrangement was confusing. That they were dancing in an undefined limbo. It would be simpler if she would simply end her life of servitude, take his money and let him house and clothe her somewhere, keeping her in comfort for his secret, exclusive visits. But she just couldn’t do it. The day would come when she would fall pregnant or he would tell her he was engaged and then everything in her life would shatter.

She could feel her jaw locking into place. “Benedict, you said you wouldn’t ask me to be your mistress.”

His eyes turned back to the floor, his tone exasperated. “I know, but I just…”

“What do you want?” She rested a hand on his knee, leaning toward him. She couldn’t understand his resistance to her proposal. Clearly it wasn’t just the risk that they may be caught, given how he had advanced on her in so many common areas. Wouldn’t he be happier to keep her as a dalliance rather than a full blown mistress? Wouldn’t he be glad of the money and effort he would be saving?

Benedict inhaled deeply and met her eyes, piercing through her with his pale blue stare. “To be with you.” He said softly. “To have moments like this.”

Sophie’s heart fluttered. His tenderness seemed to have no limits. She gripped his knee and his hand came to rest over hers. “Then be with me,” she insisted, “and the rest of our lives can stay the same.”

He nodded, swallowing. After a beat, he asked, “So you will stay?”

She nodded back. “If you’ll let me. I’ll work during the country visit as you suggested.”

Benedict squeezed her hand then stood, raking his fingers to smooth his hair and shrugging his jacket back on. “My family will be here in two days, then the guests will arrive.”

Sophie stood too but kept her place by the sofa. “We should keep our distance once they are in residence.”

Paces apart, they stared at one another, the midday sun reaching across the rug to where they stood, betraying the small expressions of sadness on both of their brows. “Of course.” Benedict mumbled. Sophie bent and collected her soiled apron, feeling equally like she wanted to dart out of the room and throw herself back into his arms. This was complicated, painful. But not as painful as being without him had been. And not as painful as devoting herself to be his mistress then returning to a life of nothing before she had to share him with another woman. This was odd, but it was still the most joy she had experienced in her life. It was in between. Just as she was in between. An aristocrat’s daughter but not accepted among the ton. Raised as a lady but living as a maid. Hers was a life of contradictions, of complications, of halves. But in these moments with Benedict she could forget that and she could feel whole. Even if just for an hour, it was worth it.

Tagging: @angels17324 @broooookiecrisp @secretagentbucky @eg-dr3amer3 @time-to-hit-the-clouds @lyta2323 @autumn-grace @sadprose-auroras @the-other-art-blog @goldrambutan @colettebronte @heeyyyou @musicismyoxygen84 @faye-tale @ambitionspassionscoffee @starchaser325 @malna4903 @sincere-sarcasm @kmc1989 @makaylan @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @alexandrainlove

#let me be your anchor #an offer from a gentleman #benedict bridgerton x sophie beckett #benedict bridgerton fanfiction #sophie beckett fanfiction #benophie #benophie fanfiction #benedict bridgerton smut #benedict bridgerton #sophie beckett #bridgerton #bridgerton fanfiction #head canon

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alldancersaretalented · 1 month

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YAGP Hope Award/(Youth) Grand Prix Winners 2023/24

Hope Award

Los Angeles: Spencer Collins, Age 10 (Westside School of Ballet, CA)

Austin: Yihan Jiang, Age 10 (Movements In Time, TX)

Chicago: Evelyn Allen, Age 11 (Elite Classical Coaching, TX)

Philadelphia: Amelia Sias, Age 11 (Pennsylvania Ballet Conservatory, PA)

Salt Lake City: Ellary Day Szyndlar, Age 11 (Master Ballet, AZ)

Boston-Worcester: Juliana Kuang, Age 11 (N&D Ballet, MA)

Atlanta: Elynn Nie, Age 11 (MorningStar Dance Academy, GA)

Dallas: Lydia Bachman, Age 11 (Independent, TX)

Phoenix: Victoria Carrillo, Age 11 (Master Ballet, AZ)

Kansas City: Calla Massey, Age 9 (Independent, KY)

San Francisco: Athena Hu, Age 11 (Ju Lu Performing Arts, CA)

Denver: Reagan Neuhoff, Age 11 (Dallas Conservatory, TX)

Toronto: Owen Simmons, Age 11 (School of Cadence Ballet, ON)

Indianapolis: Eva Julia Sutanto, Age 11 (Academy of Russian Ballet, VA)

Youth Grand Prix

Chicago: Ekaterina Pichkova, Age 13 (Osipova Ballet Academy, CA)

Austin: Melissa Plishchadina, Age 14 (Pavlova Professional Coaching, TX)

Chicago: Chloe Helimets, Age 13 (Bayer Ballet, CA)

Salt Lake City: Annie Webb, Age 13 (Moga Conservatory of Dance, UT)

Winston-Salem: Eric Poor, Age 14 (Cary Ballet Conservatory, NC)

Pittsburgh: Ela Sevillia, Age 14 (Ellison Ballet, NY)

Kansas City: Quinlin Maconachy, Age 12 (Dallas Conservatory, TX)

San Francisco: Fiona Wu, Age 13 (Yoko's Dance, CA)

Denver: Keenan Mentzos, Age 14 (Ballet Bloch Canada, BC)

Los Angeles: Kiera Sun, Age 13 (DKCBA, CA)

New York: Lisa Kamiya, Age 14 (Ellison Ballet, NY)

Nashville: Angelina Tan, Age 14 (Elite Classical Coaching, TX)

San Diego: Leon Yusei Sai, Age 12 (Southland Ballet Academy, CA)

Grand Prix

Los Angeles: Izzy Howard, Age 16 (DKCBA, CA)

Austin: Isabella Keesee, Age 15 (Elite Classical Coaching, TX)

Tampa: Crystal Huang, Age 15 (Bayer Ballet/The Rock Center, CA)

Philadelphia: Carson Willey, 17 (The Rock School for Dance, PA)

Atlanta: Miharu Kikuchi, Age 16 (International City School of Ballet, GA)

Pittsburgh: Kaitlin Natili, Age 15 (West Point Ballet)

Phoenix: Parker Rozzano-Keefe, Age 18 (Master Ballet, AZ)

Houston: Sophia Jones, Age 17 (Feijoo Ballet School, TX)

Los Angeles: Maddux Ellison, Age 15 (DKCBA, CA)

New York: Ivana Radan, Age 15 (Ellison Ballet, NY)

Toronto: Madison Bevilacqua, Age 16 (Timothy Draper Center, NY)

Indianapolis: Everly Nedza, Age 16 (School of Cadence Ballet, ON)

#dance #dancers #talent #ballet

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poisonously-alluring-sev · 5 months

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Snape Preference ~ Books He Recommends

Severus Snape Masterlist

Context You ask him for something good to read and he gives you a pile of books he thinks you'll enjoy. (This is excluding the obvious amount of potions and herbology books he probably has)

The Secret History by Donna Harett Under the influence of a charismatic classics professor, a group of clever, eccentric misfits at a New England college discover a way of thought and life a world away from their banal contemporaries. But their search for the transcendent leads them down a dangerous path, beyond human constructs of morality.

The Resurrectionist: The Lost Work of Dr. Spencer Black by E. B. Hudspeth

Philadelphia, the late 1870s. A city of gas lamps, cobblestone streets, and horse-drawn carriages—and home to the controversial surgeon Dr. Spencer Black. The son of a grave robber, young Dr. Black studies at Philadelphia's esteemed Academy of Medicine, where he develops an unconventional hypothesis: that the mythological beasts of legend and lore—including mermaids, minotaurs, and satyrs—were in fact humanity's evolutionary ancestors. And beyond that, he wonders: what if there was a way for humanity to reach the fuller potential these ancestors implied?

Masters Of Death by Olivie Blake

There is a game that the immortals play. There is only one rule: Don't lose.

The Maidens by Alex Michalides Edward Fosca is a murderer. Of this Mariana is certain. But Fosca is untouchable. A handsome and charismatic Greek tragedy professor at Cambridge University, Fosca is adored by staff and students alike—particularly by the members of a secret society of female students known as The Maidens.

What Moves The Dead by T. Kingfisher When Alex Easton, a retired soldier, receives word that their childhood friend Madeline Usher is dying, they race to the ancestral home of the Ushers in the remote countryside of Ruritania.

What they find there is a nightmare of fungal growths and possessed wildlife, surrounding a dark, pulsing lake. Madeline sleepwalks and speaks in strange voices at night, and her brother Roderick is consumed with a mysterious malady of the nerves.

Murder Your Employer by Rupert Holmes Who hasn't wondered for a split second what the world would be like if a person who is the object of your affliction ceased to exist? But then you've probably never heard of The McMasters Conservatory, dedicated to the consummate execution of the homicidal arts. To gain admission, a student must have an ethical reason for erasing someone who deeply deserves a fate no worse (nor better) than death. The campus of this "Poison Ivy League" college—its location unknown to even those who study there—is where you might find yourself the practice target of a classmate...and where one's mandatory graduation thesis is getting away with the perfect murder of someone whose death will make the world a much better place to live.

Botanical Curses & Poisons: The Shadow-Lives of Plants By Liz Inkwright In both history and fiction, some of the most dramatic, notorious deaths have been through poisonings. Concealed and deliberate, it's a crime that requires advance planning and that for many centuries could go virtually undetected. And yet there is a fine line between healing and killing: the difference lies only in the dosage! In Botanical Curses and Poisons, Fez Inkwright returns to folkloric and historical archives to reveal the fascinating, untold stories behind a variety of lethal plants, witching herbs, and fungi.

Dracula by Bram Stoker Irish author Bram Stoker introduced the character of Count Dracula and provided the basis of modern vampire fiction in his 1897 novel entitled Dracula. Written as a series of letters, newspaper clippings, diary entries, and ships' logs, the story begins with lawyer Jonathan Harker journeying to meet Dracula at his remote castle to complete a real estate transaction. Harker soon discovers that he is being held prisoner, and that Dracula has a rather disquieting nocturnal life. Touching on themes such as Victorian culture, immigration, and colonialism, among others, this timeless classic is sure to keep readers on the edge of their seats! Now available as part of the Word Cloud Classics series, Dracula is a must-have addition to the libraries of all classic literature lovers.

A Deadly Education by Naomi Novik I decided that Orion Lake needed to die after the second time he saved my life.

Everyone loves Orion Lake. Everyone else, that is. Far as I'm concerned, he can keep his flashy combat magic to himself. I'm not joining his pack of adoring fans. I don't need help surviving the Scholomance, even if they do. Forget the hordes of monsters and cursed artifacts, I'm probably the most dangerous thing in the place. Just give me a chance and I'll level mountains and kill untold millions, make myself the dark queen of the world.

Hope you enjoyed this quick idea I had. Also, all of these books are amazing and I 100% recommend all of them!

#no snape hate #if you hate on this blog i will end you #safe blog #no hate #safe snape blog #snape #safe place #sev #no antis #severus snape #safe for snape #safe blog for snape #professor snape #preferences #severus snape one shot #one shot #severus snape love story #severus snape art #severussnape

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galaxysharks · 7 months

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Proposal for the Mermaids! AU

Human

Miss Jenn - Guide and Translater

Mr Mazzara - Researcher of Nautical Societies.

Dewey - director of the Shallow Lakes Conservatory for Endangered Species.

Mermaids

Gina (Leopard Shark)

Kourtney (Lemon Shark)

Ashlyn (Tiger Shark)

EJ (Tiger Shark)

Dani (Angel Shark)

Mack (Longfin Mako Shark)

Selkies

Maddox (Leopard Seal)

Jet (Leopard Seal)

Carlos (Harp Seal)

Sirens

Ricky (Hector's Dolphin)

Sebastian (Striped Dolphin)

Nini (Dusky Dolphin)

Lake monster (black lagoon style)

Big Red (Salt Water)

Madison (Fresh Water)

#hsmtmts #hsmtmts maddox #high school musical the musical the series #hsm the series #hsmtmts season 4 #hsmtmts jet #ashlyn caswell #madlyn #hsmtmts ej #hsmtmts gina

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tadpolesonalgae · 2 years

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Azriel x Reader: Rainstorm

A/N: it’s raining super heavily at the moment where I am and I kind of like the rain so here we go! Also I was listening to Swan Lake, Op. 20, Act II by Pyotr Tchaikovsky if anyone wants to give that a listen while they read - it’s not really the mood but it’s a great piece ^_^

Visual Prompt here!

There was something deeply calming about listening to the rain tip-tap on the glass ceiling that formed your conservatory. The blank grey of the sky forming a pleasant reprieve from the usually intricately detailed mix of sun and fluffy cloud.

You were lying on your stomach in the centre of the room, a manual on plants splayed out before you with your little dog shoving some pillows with his snout, huffing indignantly before circling thrice then settling in the plush cushions that formed the sofa.

The rain grew heavier, pounding at the roof while you watched the water gush down the sides, spilling over into the streets - your plants would drink well. A knock rocked through the glass walls coming from behind you, where the door lay.

Moving stiffly from your reclined position, you stood up, stretching your arms and elbows above your head as you made your way through the various shelves of plants, aiming for the door. A cold drop sploshed down the back of your neck; you sent a simmering glare to where the leak was coming from, the rain finding a way to slither its way into your warm and dry abode.

You hurried over to the glass door when you saw it was the Shadowsinger waiting on the other side. You gestured for him to come in, rainwater gushing in rivulets from his wings and hair. He was thoroughly soaked.

“You should’ve just come in!” You looked at him, exasperatedly. “Look at you! You’re soaked!” You moved away, searching for a towel. Azriel silently closed the door behind him as he stepped onto the welcome mat.

It had become a sort of routine, one that you apparently hadn’t picked up on yet since you acted like you hadn’t been expecting him. Whenever it rained heavily, he would always end up seeking you out in your conservatory that branched off from your house. The time you spent together would sometimes lead to long chats ranging from music taste, to the arts, or even to small inconveniences that had passed recently. Sometimes more personal experiences were exchanged, memories neither of you wanted to hang onto but that stuck none the less.

He waited quietly by the door for you to return, not wanting to drip-drop all over the stone floors - stone because it was easier to clean than wood, and rot wouldn’t be a problem. He knew where you liked to lie, had bought you a soft rug to unroll whenever you fancied laying down to have a rummage through one of your dangerously large encyclopaedias.

You returned, bundled beneath some large towels - all in earthy colours that ranged from ochre yellow to a maroon red. You chucked a shorter one over his head, terracotta, to dry his inky black hair that had a silken quality to it when wet. Unsurprisingly the towel landed perfectly atop his head, covering his hair but staying out of his eyes. For how many times this had happened, your aim had steadily improved until it was flawless.

A larger one was thrown at his torso that he caught, to use for drying himself down while you still had one strung over your shoulder as you knelt down to untie his boots. The first time this had happened, he had vigorously objected, saying he could manage by himself and did not need - or want - you to lower yourself before him. But now he knew well enough that it was just your way of helping him out, just another small thing you offered. So he didn’t shuffle awkwardly as you unknotted the strings.

“Why didn’t you come through the door? You could have remained dry,” you huffed from your crouched position. He didn’t have the heart to tell you it was because he enjoyed the way you doted on him. It was a relieving change and one he allowed only with you, the only time he would let someone else look after him even when he could manage fine by himself.

“I didn’t know if you were in here,” which was a lie. You were always in here when it rained. “I tried the front but you weren’t there so I came round here,” actually he’d gone straight to the conservatory, flying over your roof to land in your affectionately cared-for garden. You sighed as you held down his boots so he could step out of them, “just come in next time,” you murmured, pushing his shoes to the side. He nodded, just as he had every other time.

“I think I should invest in some towels that I keep by the door especially for you - seeing as how you seem to drop by so frequently,” you chuckled, inviting him further in to where you were previously laying. A smile graced his mouth as he followed you in, still dripping slightly.

“Buuuut, guess what I did get…?” You twirled on your toes when the two of you reached the more comfortable section of the conservatory, where the rug had been rolled out and two arm chairs were spread about the clearing with a sofa pushed up against the glass wall, a small black bundle curled up, half hidden beneath a large cream cushion.

“More plants,” he took an educated guess, knowing your habits fairly well at this point. You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms, but a grin was playing on your lips as you moved over to one of the tables that had draws beneath it, pulling out some fabrics that were folded up. “I got you some ‘dry clothes’,” you offered him the bundle.

He took them, hesitantly, “thank you,” he murmured, taking in your pleased expression. His heart warmed a little more at the delicate smile.

You nodded over your shoulder, “feel free to change in the house, I’ll be out here,” your gaze shifted to the oval of darkness half-hidden beneath a pillow, “with this little boy,” you spoke in an overly affectionate voice, the dogs head lifting from beneath the pillow to look at you, recognising the tone you used to speak to him in. “Good boy,” you murmured again, in the same tone, his head resting atop the pillow as he looked at Azriel, finally deigning to notice the male.

You looked back to Azriel who was watching the dog fondly. His gaze turned to you and you nodded as the male gave you a slight smile in thanks for the clothes, padding away behind you. To your surprise, your little dog shuffled to his paws, stretching out then shaking, jumping off the sofa to pursue the male. You huffed, “traitor,” you muttered at the receding tail as it disappeared behind a stack of plant shelves.

Instead, you returned to lying on the floor, splayed out over the thick, fluffy rug, already warming you up. The book seemed to have become significantly less interesting since Azriel had arrived, and you found yourself staring through the plant shelves, looking for his return. Realising what you were doing, you shook your head and got to your feet, heading for a watering can that would definitely be full by now thanks to the rainstorm that was still washing over the clean rooftop.

You watered three shelves before the male returned on silent feet, walking up behind you and leaning over your shoulder as he spoke, “looks like you’re taking care of them well.” You jumped, water spilling over the sides of the watering can and running down your wrist. You huffed, setting the can down and drying your skin before it could run down your sleeve, “Azriel.” You sent a mocking scowl at him, for sneaking up on you, until your gaze caught on the clothes.

The male stepped back, allowing you to scan him from heat to toe as you took in his appearance. The shirt was white and came down to his wrists, the neckline hanging a little low but suitable for the hot summer temperatures, the trousers were loose but warm, over all resting comfortably on his figure, even if the material stretched a bit over his biceps and put his broad shoulders on display, the white of the shirt contrasting with the rest of him - in a pleasant way. He looked more approachable.

You sucked in a breath, opening your mouth to speak before you had thought of anything. “Um,” you started, “looks good?” He gave you a questioning look. “Well how do you— What do you think?” You managed, forcing your eyes not to dip to his chest, the top of which was exposed by the loose neckline.

Azriel peered down at himself, hands lightly tugging on the shirt, the hem lifting enough to reveal the skin beneath and you swallowed heavily. “It’s good - breathable. And light, not too tight but covers enough,” he replied, a pleased look in his eyes at the comfortability of the hand-picked clothes.

You nodded once, twice. Three times as you acknowledged his words, “good,” you murmured, still nodding your head, “that’s—that’s good.” He looked good. In a disarming way. You dipped your head, swallowing at the silence. Finding your words again, you spoke, “I’m glad you like them. And that they fit. Kind of?” You mumbled, swallowing again.

The male’s lips tilted in a soft grin, eyes tipping at the sides to form a slight smile, “they fit very nicely, thank you.” He was watching you intently, memorising your reactions: how your eyes had widened a little when you had first seen him, how they had raked over him then you had seemed to haul yourself back together, how there was a flush on your cheeks and your brows were slightly furrowed as you seemed to be refusing to look anywhere but his eyes. He couldn’t say he minded the eye contact.

“Do you need some help with watering?” He asked when you didn’t say anything. That seemed to knock you back to consciousness as your gaze snapped down to the watering can at your feet. “Uh, yeah - that would be great,” you spoke, leaning down to pick up the can. “You can have this one, I’ll fetch another from the garden. If you do those two,” you pointed to the shelves on the left, behind the chairs, “then I can water the other two. The rest I watered this morning so they’re healthy.”

You moved to pass the watering can to Azriel but he spoke, “I can get the one from outside. No need for you to get wet.” Heat span down his spine at the wording. Bless your heart you were too preoccupied with your plants to notice the warmth on his cheeks or the poor phrasing. “Don’t be ridiculous, Azriel. You’ve already been drenched once.” You smiled as you pushed the can into his hands, the heat from his fingers brushing against you slightly colder ones.

When he looked as though he was going to protest, you shot him down, “Plus, you’re wearing the dry clothes. I can’t let you go out in those,” you tutted. “Besides, it’s only a couple of feet outside the door. The rain won’t even touch me,” you smiled again, one that shut him up just from seeing it.

Making your way over to the door, you opened it, preparing to dart out to collect the watering can when a large wing arced around the side of the door, proving shelter far enough for you to get the can. The heat at your back told you Azriel was stood directly behind you. Warmth rose to your cheeks at his closeness but you gingerly ducked beneath his taut wing, remaining dry as the rain gushed off the leathery skin.

Upon returning, Azriel shut the door behind you, wing folding inward with rain puddling on the floor as it gushed from the rain water. You sighed, looking up at him, “you didn’t have to,” you huffed softly. He shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly. “Now your wing’s wet again,” you pointed out, right as he flared it sharply with enough force to send small droplets shooting toward you, spraying your face. “Azriel!” You laughed in disbelief, lifting one hand in attempts to shield from the wetness. Your mouth hung open slightly in exasperation as a smile tipped your lips, glaring at the Shadowsinger.

Before you could think any better of your actions, you dipped your hand into the watering can and splashed the male, aiming for his face as the droplets flew from your fingertips. You laughed hard as he shut his eyes against the water, a look of displeasure crossing his features, only making you laugh harder.

“Something funny?” He asked, though you could hear the amusement in his tone. “My dog wears the same expression whenever he’s caught in the rain,” you wheezed, laughter spilling from your lips as you took in the Shadowsinger’s accusatory glare. Another fit rolled through you at the glower.

“I don’t see what you’re finding so amusing,” he drawled, folding his powerful arms over his broad chest, the breath catching in your throat at the material stretching smoothly over the taut muscles. “Take a look in a mirror. You’ll find it pretty quickly,” you chuckled, covering your mouth with your hand.

Azriel released a disbelieving scoff, unfolding his arms as he turned and headed for his own watering can, you following behind, small bubbles of laughter try to escape as you replayed the expression in your mind over and over again. It got funnier each time.

The male rose a brow when he turned to see you still trying not to laugh. “I really don’t think it was that funny,” he laughed slightly, his spirits being lifted by your own huffs of amusement. “You didn’t see your expression,” you spoke with your brows raised, and with that, you set off to water the plants, a soft smile tipping the edges of Azriel’s mouth as you walked off.

Between the two of you, it didn’t take long to water all the plants, despite you having to use a stepping stool to reach the higher levels - the ones Azriel could easily reach to your slight annoyance.

When you reconvened on the sofa, you noticed how his hair was still damp and his wings still possessed a wet shine to them. You looked at him with a single brow raised, “You didn’t even dry yourself properly,” you chastised, “what if you caught a cold, hm? I would feel awful, and I bet you would feel worse,” you reasoned, standing to fetch a towel for his hair.

He remained silent, a smile playing on his mouth as his heart swelled, privately enjoying your doting nature. He felt warm around you, like he didn’t want to shut you out. You made him want to relax. He wanted you to take care of him, took pleasure in allowing it.

The sofa dipped beside him as you sat down, towel in hand. He looked at you curiously as you raised it to his head, patting down his hair that curled at odd angles in the rain. “I can do it myself,” he murmured, though he wanted it to be you, feeling he should at least offer to take care of himself. Not wanting to weigh you down.

You scanned him once, then nodded, and he wished he hadn’t offered. If only so you would lean closer to him, so he could feel your warmth against his skin. He was delighted enough by the shirt and trousers, that having been in your care for however long still held your scent. It made his heart bump against his rib cage as your scent enveloped him, like a hug of sorts. He focused in on drying his hair, attempting to dull the flush of his cheeks, watching as you stood.

“Where are you going?” He asked softly as you moved toward the exit that lead to your home. “I’m getting another towel,” you threw over your shoulder, sending him a sweet, teasing smile that had his heart rate picking up despite his best efforts to calm his breathing.

Upon returning with a similar sized towel in hand he gave you a questioning glance, confused over what use it could have. It was only his hair that was wet? You spotted the look on his face and offered him a secretive smile, one that gleamed with mischief. “Your wings are soaked, Azriel,” you spoke, mischief lacing your words and he could do nothing against the heat that lifted to his cheeks, dusting them with a delicate flush.

He was frozen still as you approached, twirling the towel in your hand, spinning it in a mocking manner that had heat twisting down his spine. His intense gaze remained on you when you sat down beside him, except further back so you were positioned behind him. “I promise I’ll be gentle,” you whispered, closer to his ear than you should have been. Close enough to see the shiver that ran down his spine and you held back the laugh that wanted to bubble from you at the reaction, it was so unlike him to be ruffled by anything. But you delighted in the reaction, the heady power you had over him, only now realising the beginnings of it.

It was only the wing he had shielded you with that was still wet, so that was the only one he flared, allowing you to touch it. You knew what that meant, what he was trusting you with. The vulnerability he was showing in allowing you access to his wing.

You didn’t take it for granted, delivering only the softest of brushes against the leathery back of his wing, the intention being to make it easier for him. But the feather light touches only made the heat boil hotter beneath his skin, the brushes only teasing imitations of what he wanted. He blocked those thoughts out before they could shift his scent, with you being so close you would be able to figure out instantly the direction his thoughts were travelling in. Still you kept up the gentle touches, tracing lightly down the dark skin, making sure not to agitate him when he had offered you such an intimate task.

“I know you said you would be gentle, but you can be more thorough than that,” he spoke, not sure for how much longer he could take the soft touches. “I don’t mind if you press harder,” he murmured, unable to manage to look at you while he spoke. He felt you shift behind him, hands clenching into bone-white fists when he felt your hand press between his shoulder blades - between his wings - as you moved onto your knees behind him, legs aching from sitting cross-legged.

Your brow furrowed though he couldn’t see, “I don’t want to hurt you, though,” you murmured, breath fanning the back of his neck.

“I like it,” he replied before he had realised the reassurance sounded more like a confession. Azriel huffed a heavy sigh, “I mean it feels ticklish, I’m not getting turn—”

“Dirty male,” you laughed from behind him, the teasing lilt in your voice showing how much you were enjoying his slight embarrassment.

He gritted his teeth together, trying to bite back the smile that wished to play on his mouth at your joy. Still, he felt the pressure increase, the full touches somehow easier to bare than the light brushes you had been giving him before.

Maybe it was because of you being more relaxed - more playful - than usual, but he took a step forward, “you don’t get to call me dirty,” a slight grin lifted his lips as he turned to peer at you over his broad shoulder, wing lowering momentarily, “when you were practically devouring me earlier.” Oh how he revelled in your reaction: the deep flush that spread over the crest of your cheeks, pupils expanding as you took in the victorious, and somewhat teasing, smirk that was playing on the Shadowsinger’s glorious mouth.

He marked every reaction as he shifted on the sofa, so he was facing you properly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you replied primly, attempting to deny it though you both knew he was right, the fact you were refusing to look him in his eyes the damning evidence that he had been spot on the mark.

Azriel placed one hand down on the sofa, on the far side of your knees so he was fully turned toward you, shirt hanging loose enough from his broad shoulders that you could see down his chest, see the skin that looked as though it would warm you to the bone. “Filthy female,” Azriel mumbled, the triumphant grin clear on his mouth, though his own pupils had expanded to match your own, the atmosphere now hot and tense.

Your eyes snapped up from where they had been slowly trailing down, indeed devouring the glimpse he had offered you. You couldn’t think of anything smart to say, so you leant forward a bit, almost imperceptibly. But the Shadowsinger was a spy for a reason, marking and seeing everything, so he saw the invitation in your gesture. And took it.

Azriel met you the rest of the way, mouth meeting yours in a soft collision, lips moulding over one another sensually. Slowly. As if both of you were scared at this new development, the ground you were treading with each other entirely unfamiliar. Your hearts were beating rapidly, hands wanting to find purchase on the other, but holding back for fear of pushing too far, too quickly.

The pitter patter of the rain was a secondary experience, the sounds feeling like they were from a different world - muffled and softened. From some corner of your conscious you were aware of Azriel’s other hand moving to the other side of your knees, grazing over your thigh to curl around your waist, his shadows coming forth and softening the harsh grey of the light.

Your shared moment was broken as your dog padded toward the two of you, hopping up onto the sofa and comfortably nestled down between the two of you, huffing once then closing his eyes, oblivious to where the mood had been leading. The two of you pulled away from each other, waiting to see if either would say something, try to back out of what just happened, or try to deny it. But both of you remained silent in the charged space, hearts pounding as you realised what line had been crossed.

You sucked in a breath, “I…erm,” you swallowed. Azriel blinked, removing his gaze from you. You could have sworn there was a flush on his cheeks as he turned away. “Azriel— I,” you stopped short, not knowing what to say, not sure how to express what you were feeling.

He kissed you again, one arm coming around the back of your neck to tilt your face upwards, so he could have better access. His mouth felt like heaven over yours, lips moving fluidly over your own in a way that had your heart keening from within your chest. Unable to help yourself, you released a soft moan into his mouth, the sound passing through into his own and he pressed deeper.

Azriel pulled away, pupils expanding as he took in your plumped lips, heard the soft breaths you were exhaling. His heart did something akin to a flutter upon seeing the hazy look in your eyes as they traced over his mouth, longing. His thumb brushed over the crest of your cheekbone, eyes scanning your own. “How are you feeling?” He mumbled softly.

Heat was warming your face under the intensity of his gaze. You nodded slightly, “is this in return for the clothes?” You joked softly, your own eyes taking over him, the dip of his collar bones, the broad muscle of his shoulders. “I’ll have to buy you things more often,” you laughed quietly, your own hands raising to cup his face, bumping your nose against his affectionately.

“If it means I get more of this, do whatever you want,” he mumbled against your mouth, your hands having dropped to his shoulders, splaying out and feeling his powerful build beneath the fabric. Your mouth watered. “I think I’d like that,” you murmured. “I’d like that a lot.”

You remained still, both of your eyes closed as you pressed your forehead against his, leaning into his warmth as one of his hands squeezed your waist gently, comfortingly. Then you pulled away slightly, to look at him, “Azriel?” You called quietly. He opened his eyes halfway, looking up you with a contented affection in his eyes that made your heart soar. “This,” you indicated between the two of you, “what is it?” Because you really didn’t know. Didn’t know if it was going to be a one time thing, or if it would lead…further.

Azriel took in a breath, hand dropping down to cup the side of your neck, “what do you want it to be?” He asked softly, a tender light in his eyes that you’d only seen when the two of you had deeper talks during your rain sessions. The openness that was summoned from the shared intimacy. You swallowed at how broad the question was. “I like spending time with you,” you replied in a hushed tone, “I like…talking with you — your company,” you settled on.

He watched you quietly.

“And I liked the kiss,” you mumbled, a small smile lifting your lips as you took in the mischievous gleam in his eyes, “a lot.” You moved your hands back up over his shoulders and he lifted into the touch. “I can give you more,” he whispered against your mouth, the rain still pounding on the conservatory panels, your dog still huffing softly between the two of you. Heat pooled in your belly at the drop in his voice, the openness he was talking to you with.

You felt safe in this environment. The rain pouring down the glass sides, your luscious plants - the life that was flowing from them and warming up the room - filling the space and making it feel alive, the warm tones of the rug Azriel had bought you plus the light colours of the sofa, the cushions and the blankets rounding everything off in soothing lighting. Then there was the male himself before you, the inky black hair that was silken to the touch, his large wings that were also surprisingly soft, and his eyes that had a gentle gleam to them, a shine of sorts that mellowed him out.

Everything about him, you realised, put you at ease. His calming nature, how he was quiet, speaking only when he had something to say, rather than without need. It was refreshing. He was reassuring to have by your side. A steady presence you could rely on. “I would like that, Azriel,” you murmured softly, affectionately, “I would like that a lot.”

Your fingers played with the strands of hair at the nape of his neck, twirling them lightly as both his hands dropped to your waist, pulling you somewhat closer as your back arched into his grip, wanting to move with him. You decided to offer another small truth since you seemed to be exchanging so many intimacies in this encounter, “I like you, Azriel,” you murmured, pulling him closer to you mouth, desperate for his lips to be on yours.

“Good,” he mumbled against your lips, pressing lightly against them, a shadow of a touch, “I like you too.” Then his mouth was on yours and he was leaning in to you, arms wrapping around your waist and legs as he lifted you from the sofa, carrying you toward your home. Your bedroom.

#acotar #azriel #azriel acotar #azriel x reader #acotar fluff #azriel fluff #Azriel Shadowsinger #Shadowsinger

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princessasmosprincess · 9 months

Text

Charmed, I'm Sure

Chapter 27

Summary: No human has ever avoided Asmodeus's charm. Except for you.

Pairing: Asmodeus x GN Reader/MC

Genre: Drama, angst, a little fluff.

Warnings: None for this chapter.

***

“When the snow melts, what does it become?” Simeon read from the list.

The three of you were down to your last few riddles. Your team was doing fairly well, working together and completing the prompts quickly. Now, you sat on a bench near the main foyer of the castle, having just taken a picture of the Demon King’s portrait.

“That’s an easy one,” said Asmo. “It becomes water. So that would mean the lake, right? Or maybe the fountain in the middle of the garden?”

“Every other prompt has had us running from one end of the castle to the other. I don’t think they would choose two items in the same location, it goes completely against the pattern,” Simeon mused, reading the prompt again, slowly. “When the snow melts… what does it become?”

The second recitation jogged your memory. You knew the answer. A small smile crept up on your lips. “It becomes spring.”

“Spring?” Asmo cocked his head.

“Yes, the answer is spring.” You knew it from that anime you’d watched with Levi. Diavolo really had thought of everything, even tailoring the riddles so everyone would have a chance to figure out an answer at least once.

“Spring… But not the garden?”

“Not the garden.” You shook your head, “Is there anything else in the castle associated with spring?”

Asmo put his hand on his hip, thinking deeply, “Spring, spring, spring, spring…” He gasped suddenly. “Could it mean the late Queen’s conservatory?”

Diavolo’s mother, the Queen, had been long gone before Asmo and his brothers fell, but her presence could be felt in the castle’s gardens and the yearly flower viewing events at the turn of the seasons. It was known throughout the kingdom that she’d had a passion for cultivating flowers of different varieties. Some were used for tea blends, another passion of hers, and the rest were simply meant to bring a viewer joy.

“The last time I was here, it was all closed up and off limits, but you can see it from the House of Lamentation. I bet that’s where all these pretty flower arrangements around the castle came from.” He plucked a single flower from a vase on a nearby table. It was some sort of Devildom rose, the petals were such a deep red, almost black.

“That sounds like spring to me,” you said.

“Good thinking, Asmo,” said Simeon. “We kind of glossed over that part of the tour yesterday after you were all sucked into that portrait, but I think you must be right.”

Asmo beamed at the praise, bouncing on his heels, “It should be…” He pictured the direction the moon moved across the sky in conjunction with his view of the castle from his bedroom window, “In the east wing!”

Asmo ran ahead again, leaving you and Simeon behind.

“Boundless energy, that one,” Simeon chuckled, taking your arm, “Are you doing ok with this pace, MC?”

You’d needed to take quite a few breaks throughout the scavenger hunt because of your fatigue. Simeon had noticed right away and supported you when you needed it. Maybe it was due to his angelic powers, but just touching him had you feeling a little better.

“I’ll be fine,” you said. “We’re almost done so I don't see any reason to slow down now.” You could rest later. The schedule allowed for a few hours of free time in the afternoon.

As you and Simeon turned the corner, you spotted Satan as he checked off something on his list, sighing heavily.

“Hey there, Satan.” Simeon smiled warmly, “How're things going for your team? Well, I hope?”

Satan scowled, “Oh please. Don't think I don't know what you're up to. You hatched a plot to keep us from winning, didn't you?”

You and Simeon shared a confused look, “I'm sorry, what are you referring to?” He asked.

Solomon joined Satan, “He's referring to Asmo, who's preventing us from making any progress at the moment.”

You could hear some sort of commotion happening down the hall but before you could piece together what it was, someone shoved a D.D.D. in your face.

“Check it out!” Mammon said, swiping through a burst of photos. In each one, Asmo posed in front of a somewhat blurred marble figure. Though he was in motion in many of the photos, Asmo’s face was perfectly photogenic and in focus. “We found what we were lookin' for, so we tried to take a picture. But then HE went and jumped in front of it so we can't get a clear shot!”

You and Simeon glanced around the corner to find the entrance of the Queen’s conservatory. The glass door was closed and appeared locked, but you could see flowering vines blooming inside. It was guarded by a life size statue of a solemn goddess on a pedestal, holding a flower bouquet.

“A Goddess of Spring,” said Simeon, “The one whose presence chases the gloom of winter away. There’s our answer.”

A camera flash lit up the hall.

“Asmo, stop,” Beel pleaded.

Asmo leapt in front of the camera as another flash illuminated him and the goddess. “Whaaat? Oh, come on. Wouldn't you rather have a picture of ME than this boring old piece of art? I'm much better looking. Your camera will thank you!”

Maybe it was playing a little dirty, but when Asmo had seen Luke's list with two more prompts checked off than his own team, plus Satan’s smug grin when he entered the hall with Solomon as the two of them discussed their next riddle, he’d felt compelled to sabotage them.

Asmo had gotten here first, and the picture couldn't be taken until his whole team was present, as all of the photos thus far had been collected in your camera roll. It wasn't his fault you were trailing behind.

Well maybe it was, a little bit, and that's exactly why he needed to win this. To make up for that dumb mistake he'd made. Because it was still bothering him. Once again you’d seen him at less than his best. Winning would absolve him from that.

And of course he also wanted to win so he could rub it in the faces of his brothers and Solomon. They all underestimated him. But Asmo was more than just a pretty face, even if that was what he tended to spend most of his energy on.

“Ooh, yes...nice picture!” Asmo looked over Luke’s shoulder. “That was a good shot you got of me. You know, I think I look best photographed from just above at maybe a 45-degree angle.” He moved Luke’s arms, still holding his D.D.D., to the perfect angle, “Oh, though I always look good, naturally. As if I even need to tell you that.” He made eye contact with the statue, flashing his perfect smile.

“D'aaaaah!” Luke shouted.

“Luke, what's wrong?” Simeon asked the little angel.

“What's wrong? I'II tell you what's wrong! I was trying to take a picture of the goddess statue here, but before I could get the shot, Asmodeus CHARMED the statue!”

You and Simeon both looked back at the statue,

“Oh dear,” he said.

The goddess, a voluptuous and beautiful woman, all lush curves and softness, now knelt on her raised pedestal, leaning in as if to give Asmo a passionate kiss. The loose straps of her chiton slipping down her shoulders. What little she was wearing was threatening to come undone to reveal her generous bosom. Gone was the demure young goddess who peered over her flower bouquet, cautious and afraid. The pink glow of Asmo’s charm was just leaving her eyes.

“Do you think Lord Diavolo will care if she's in a different pose?” Luke held his D.D.D. out in front of him with one hand, trying to snap a picture for the scavenger hunt as he covered his eyes with his other, to avoid seeing the goddess’ immodesty.

“Beel’s good at rock magic,” said Levi, “Think you can get her back to her original pose?”

“I don't know…” Beel appraised the marble of the statue, “Does a statue even count as a rock anymore? I don’t want to break it.”

Asmo giggled, “Are you sure she’s not better this way?” He leaned against the pedestal to let everyone get a good look at his work.

“Hey, Asmo!” Mammon gave him a little shove, “Whaddya think you're doin', huh?!”

Asmo brushed him off angrily, “Well, I can't help it, now can I? It's not my fault that I'm so charming and ridiculously good-looking. Also, I don't believe it said anywhere in the rules that we're not allowed to get in the way of other teams.”

You frowned, taking a picture of the newly posed statue. Asmo caught your eye as the camera flashed. He straightened, crossing his arms and backing away from the statue, breaking eye contact with you.

“Hey, where do you think you're going? We're not done talking to you, Asmo!” Mammon called after him but didn't make much of a move to follow him.

“Where am I going?” Asmo sneered. “Oh, I dunno, maybe somewhere where I don't have to listen to someone lecturing me?” He turned on his heel and sauntered out of the hall.

“He really is a handful.” Simeon sighed, checking off the riddle on his list.

You watched Asmo disappear down the hall before letting go of Simeon’s arm.

“What are you going to do, MC?” He asked.

You handed him your D.D.D.,“I’m going to talk to him.”

***

Asmo hadn’t even meant to charm the goddess statue that much, just liven her up a little. Wasn’t she “cursed” to spend half the year in the underworld? As far as Asmo was concerned, that was a good thing and her face should show it.

He thought for a moment. Maybe she was so despondent because the statue of her husband was stationed on the other side of the castle. Being doomed to an unfamiliar place without the one person you loved was an awful fate… Asmo would have to remember to ask Lord Diavolo to have him moved to where she was. Maybe her husband would like this new, sexier side of her. Hopefully he would, because Asmo didn't think getting her back into her original pose would be as easy as charming her in the first place.

You had to run to catch up with Asmo as he raced down the twisting and turning halls of the castle, almost as complicated as the labyrinth below.

“Asmo, wait!” You called.

He turned down a familiar hall, stopping where Helene’s portrait still hung, now shrouded in black silk and bound with magic so she couldn't cause any more mischief. It was a temporary solution until Diavolo could come up with something more permanent.

“Hm? Ah, I was wondering who was behind me. So it's you, MC.” He didn't look at you, instead he ran his fingers over the silk, feeling the magic it possessed. “What? Did you follow me hoping we could have a little alone time?” The corner of his mouth quirked.

“Come on, let's go back.” You panted, needing to lean against the wall for support as you tried to steady your breathing.

“Go back? Eew, no. I don't want to have to deal with them.” Whatever spell had been cast to subdue Helene, it was a strong one. He could sense both Barbatos’s and Lord Diavolo’s magical signatures on it.

“You should apologize to the others.”

“Apologize? Me? Why?” His eyes flicked over to you and he let the enchanted silk shroud slip through his fingers. “I'm afraid I don't quite follow you.”

You gave him a look, he was playing dumb and you knew it.

“What?” He snapped. “So now you've come to lecture me, too? Is that it?”

Asmo was getting tired of this back and forth. Was this the thanks he got for trying to help you win? He made a mental note to never put in the effort for something like this again, not when the recipients were so ungrateful.

“If we're going to win, let's do it fair and square!” You said.

“Pff..haha! Fair and square?” Asmo threw his head back, laughing in your face, “You know you're talking to a demon, right? Fair and square...oh, that's funny, haha.”

You pushed off the wall, coming to stand right in front of the painting, in Asmo’s direct line of sight so he’d have to make an effort to look away from you. “What you did back there wasn't cool.”

“Oh, was it now?” He raised an eyebrow, slinking towards you,”You don't think I should've done that? Reeeally?” His lips curved into a roguish grin. “MC, I see you looking into my eyes right now.” he said, leaning in closer, his eyes filling with the glittering pink glow of his charm.

You took a step back. “Asmo, don’t.”

It wasn’t going to work. You knew that as well as he did.

Asmo was determined to try as many times as it would take. But the result was inevitable. It was like he was pressing on a bruise over and over to see if it still ached. You didn't want to see him hurt again.

Yesterday in the labyrinth he hadn’t had the chance to invoke his charm fully, but you didn't try to stop him then. You weren’t sure why. Morbid curiosity, perhaps? That had been a mistake. It was a good thing Solomon had been there to distract both of you then.

He pulled back, the glow leaving his gaze. “You don't feel anything? Like, really? Nothing at all?” Asmo’s brow creased and he gave a rueful smile, “I was trying to charm you. You know, like I did down in the labyrinth. You saw how I tamed Levi's old pet snake, right?”

It had taken barely any of his power to charm that big, disgusting, but magically strong creature. And yet you were the one who always tripped him up.

“You're just a human. Yet, for some weird reason, it seems like my power doesn't work on you.” He turned, wrapping his arms around himself protectively, “Even so, if you think you can control me, well you've got another thing coming!” He began to walk away, deeper into the castle.

Maybe it was the headache beginning behind your eyes, or maybe it was your fatigue, “I could control you if you made a pact with me.” You muttered under your breath.

As soon as the words left your mouth, you wanted to take them back. You bit your tongue, hoping you hadn’t said it loud enough for Asmo to hear.

But he had. He stopped in the middle of the hall.

Asmo’s hands shook with anger. As if he would ever let anyone as weak as you control him. It was an insult to the very power he possessed and had cultivated over the centuries. Any beauty he found in your humanity was inconsequential. You were not worthy of him, even if you were somehow immune to his charm.

And yet.

Hearing you say that made his heart ache.

No one ever wanted Asmo for himself, they wanted him for what he could do for them. To mold him into their ideal and use him for their own purposes. And yeah, that’s what pacts were for, an exchange between humans and demons for their own desires but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt. He was a body, their ticket to fame and beauty, a diversion from their sad, miserable lives. Never just Asmo.

Even for the few pact holders he cared about, the ones he felt close to and trusted, like Solomon, he was a tool first and himself second.

You were no different than anyone else.

Asmo turned back around, “Me? Make a pact with you? Hahaha!” His eyes blazed with thinly veiled rage even as he laughed. “What? Do you think that because I made a pact with Solomon, I'm willing to do it with any human who comes along?” He scoffed, backing you against the wall, decidedly not in the way of seduction. “Please. If you think I'm that easy, you're mistaken– very mistaken.”

“Asmo,” You shifted a little under the close proximity.

He reveled in your discomfort, if only for a moment. You deserved it. Even so, it was frustrating how cute you were, all flustered.

“Still...hmm.” He studied your face with narrowed eyes. Maybe he would tease you, just a little. Rile you up and watch you squirm. He had the power to dangle exactly what you desired in front of your face and watch you beg for it as he kept it just out of reach. “If you want to make a pact with me that badly, then what do you say to this? If you can manage to outwit Lucifer somehow, then I'll be willing to recognize you as someone worthy of me.”

He backed off of you, triumphant. You would cave, he knew you would. You were foolishly brave but you had seen Lucifer’s power firsthand. No human would voluntarily tangle with the Avatar of Pride when they knew what he could do. Humans were terribly selfish, something about their instinct for self-preservation.

“How?” You asked.

He looked back at you, sure he hadn’t heard you right. “Hmm?”

“How would you like me to outwit him?” You repeated.

Asmo’s eyes widened. You really were that stupid. He wanted to laugh.

“You want to know how I want you to outwit Lucifer? Hmm...good question…” Well, now he would have to come up with something.

Asmo thought for a long moment as you waited patiently, your rapt attention on him. Oh how he did love an audience.

A devilish smirk crossed his face as he came up with just the thing, “Okay, how about this? I want you to get a picture of Lucifer's face while he's asleep. You, Beel, Satan, and Mammon tried that once, right? Though I heard that your attempt ended in failure.”

You nodded. Lucifer seemed to be able to be able to sense even the most covert of pranks, not to mention his skill for avoiding curses. It was difficult to get anything past him.

“Well then, this sounds like the perfect task to me. An excellent opportunity to get revenge. If you can manage to get a picture of Lucifer asleep, then sure, I'll make a pact with you.” Asmo gave a satisfied grin.

Of course the task was impossible, so Asmo would never have to go through with making a pact with poor, little you. And on the off chance that his father allowed a miracle in the Devildom that somehow let you succeed, he’d at least get a rare picture to add to his collection, with the comforting reality that you’d never be able to control him under a pact without any skill in magic.

Asmo’s voice dropped low to a whisper, leaning in once more, “If you really want to make a pact with me, then…” He trapped you between his arms, against the wall. So close your noses were almost touching, but this time you didn't flinch or falter. “Surely you can do something like that, right?”

***

Cross-posted on AO3

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