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princesssarisa · 1 year

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In the past I've shared other people's musings about the different interpretations of the myth of Orpheus and Eurydice. Namely, why Orpheus looks back at Eurydice, even though he knows it means he'll lose her forever. So many people seem to think they've found the one true explanation of the myth. But to me, the beauty of myths is that they have many possible meanings.

So I thought I would share a list of every interpretation I know, from every serious adaptation of the story and every analysis I've ever heard or read, of why Orpheus looks back.

One interpretation – advocated by Monteverdi's opera, for example – is that the backward glance represents excessive passion and a fatal lack of self-control. Orpheus loves Eurydice to such excess that he tries to defy the laws of nature by bringing her back from the dead, yet that very same passion dooms his quest fo fail, because he can't resist the temptation to look back at her.

He can also be seen as succumbing to that classic "tragic flaw" of hubris, excessive pride. Because his music and his love conquer the Underworld, it might be that he makes the mistake of thinking he's entirely above divine law, and fatally allows himself to break the one rule that Hades and Persephone set for him.

Then there are the versions where his flaw is his lack of faith, because he looks back out of doubt that Eurydice is really there. I think there are three possible interpretations of this scenario, which can each work alone or else co-exist with each other. From what I've read about Hadestown, it sounds as if it combines all three.

In one interpretation, he doubts Hades and Persephone's promise. Will they really give Eurydice back to him, or is it all a cruel trick? In this case, the message seems to be a warning to trust in the gods; if you doubt their blessings, you might lose them.

Another perspective is that he doubts Eurydice. Does she love him enough to follow him? In this case, the warning is that romantic love can't survive unless the lovers trust each other. I'm thinking of Moulin Rouge!, which is ostensibly based on the Orpheus myth, and which uses Christian's jealousy as its equivalent of Orpheus's fatal doubt and explicitly states "Where there is no trust, there is no love."

The third variation is that he doubts himself. Could his music really have the power to sway the Underworld? The message in this version would be that self-doubt can sabotage all our best efforts.

But all of the above interpretations revolve around the concept that Orpheus looks back because of a tragic flaw, which wasn't necessarily the view of Virgil, the earliest known recorder of the myth. Virgil wrote that Orpheus's backward glance was "A pardonable offense, if the spirits knew how to pardon."

In some versions, when the upper world comes into Orpheus's view, he thinks his journey is over. In this moment, he's so ecstatic and so eager to finally see Eurydice that he unthinkingly turns around an instant too soon, either just before he reaches the threshold or when he's already crossed it but Eurydice is still a few steps behind him. In this scenario, it isn't a personal flaw that makes him look back, but just a moment of passion-fueled carelessness, and the fact that it costs him Eurydice shows the pitilessness of the Underworld.

In other versions, concern for Eurydice makes him look back. Sometimes he looks back because the upward path is steep and rocky, and Eurydice is still limping from her snakebite, so he knows she must be struggling, in some versions he even hears her stumble, and he finally can't resist turning around to help her. Or more cruelly, in other versions – for example, in Gluck's opera – Eurydice doesn't know that Orpheus is forbidden to look back at her, and Orpheus is also forbidden to tell her. So she's distraught that her husband seems to be coldly ignoring her and begs him to look at her until he can't bear her anguish anymore.

These versions highlight the harshness of the Underworld's law, and Orpheus's failure to comply with it seems natural and even inevitable. The message here seems to be that death is pitiless and irreversible: a demigod hero might come close to conquering it, but through little or no fault of his own, he's bound to fail in the end.

Another interpretation I've read is that Orpheus's backward glance represents the nature of grief. We can't help but look back on our memories of our dead loved ones, even though it means feeling the pain of loss all over again.

Then there's the interpretation that Orpheus chooses his memory of Eurydice, represented by the backward glance, rather than a future with a living Eurydice. "The poet's choice," as Portrait of a Lady on Fire puts it. In this reading, Orpheus looks back because he realizes he would rather preserve his memory of their youthful, blissful love, just as it was when she died, than face a future of growing older, the difficulties of married life, and the possibility that their love will fade. That's the slightly more sympathetic version. In the version that makes Orpheus more egotistical, he prefers the idealized memory to the real woman because the memory is entirely his possession, in a way that a living wife with her own will could never be, and will never distract him from his music, but can only inspire it.

Then there are the modern feminist interpretations, also alluded to in Portrait of a Lady on Fire but seen in several female-authored adaptations of the myth too, where Eurydice provokes Orpheus into looking back because she wants to stay in the Underworld. The viewpoint kinder to Orpheus is that Eurydice also wants to preserve their love just as it was, youthful, passionate, and blissful, rather than subject it to the ravages of time and the hardships of life. The variation less sympathetic to Orpheus is that Euyridice was at peace in death, in some versions she drank from the river Lethe and doesn't even remember Orpheus, his attempt to take her back is selfish, and she prefers to be her own free woman than be bound to him forever and literally only live for his sake.

With that interpretation in mind, I'm surprised I've never read yet another variation. I can imagine a version where, as Orpheus walks up the path toward the living world, he realizes he's being selfish: Eurydice was happy and at peace in the Elysian Fields, she doesn't even remember him because she drank from Lethe, and she's only following him now because Hades and Persephone have forced her to do so. So he finally looks back out of selfless love, to let her go. Maybe I should write this retelling myself.

Are any of these interpretations – or any others – the "true" or "definitive" reason why Orpheus looks back? I don't think so at all. The fact that they all exist and can all ring true says something valuable about the nature of mythology.

#mythology #greek mythology #orpheus #eurydice #orpheus and eurydice #analysis #interpretations #adaptations #long

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brailsthesmolgurl · 21 days

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GIVE ME ANOTHER CHANCE

Here comes another angsty fluffy one-shot request by one of my readers. Featuring everyone's fav doctor, Zayne. Enjoy the story! Warnings: Angst but yes to Comfort

"How can you expect me to do my damn job but also expect me not to be hurt?" You gritted your teeth, eyes shooting daggers into Zayne's side profile. He seemed unbothered by you raising your voice slightly, either he is used to it, or he expected it. Or both.

"Then I would suggest you to quit your job." His words were finalised, no variations in tone or anything. Just a statement, a sentence with a full stop. Your eyes welled up with tears. How could he not understand? To at least give you the benefit of the doubt that accidents would happen in your line of job, but you would do your best to minimise it?

"I won't." You walked over to him and you noticed his head turned slightly to face you. "And I am done with you." You grabbed your bag off of his desk and you darted off towards the front door. Zayne got off of his chair to hold you back but before he could grab your hand, you threw him your statement. "I do not wish to see you ever again. Have a good life."

Zayne was out at a charity event hosted by Akso Hospital, to raise funds for the several orphanages at Linkon City. As usual, he was expected to give a speech in front of the crowd, but instead of being the lead cardiac surgeon for Akso, he shall be giving his speech as one of the biggest donors for this event.

But as of now, his time has yet to come, so he stood at one of the cocktail tables, watching the crowd of unfamiliar faces. Although he is one of the best cardiac surgeons, he was not known to be the friendliest amongst his colleagues so generally, not many people would go up and strike a conversation with him.

He finds his mind wandering, floating from what would be a good post-event dessert to what diagnosis he have yet to complete to you. It has been 6 months since the both of you had contacted one another. Zayne however, had tried to call you after you had left but to no avail. And surprisingly, you blocked him so he had no methods to reach out to you. He could have easily come over to your place, but with Zayne being Zayne, he would not intrude into someone else's property if he was not invited at first glance.

His phone vibrated from the inside of his suit, and he peeled apart the right side of his tailored suit to fish out his phone. He stared at the caller's name for quite a bit. Longer than a few seconds. 'Y/N' flashed on his phone's screen. He pressed the phone to his ear. "Hello."

"Zayne." You were huffing and panting, and he could hear your whimper through the line. "I need... I need your help." You tried to explain, one hand holding the phone to your ears while the other pressed up against the deep gash you have on the side of your hips. "Nobody was picking up... I had no choice..."

Your voice. It was breaking up in between chokes and whimpers and sharp inhales. Zayne knew you were hurt, and this time, it is much more severe than any other times when he was there to tend to your wounds. He knew this was coming. No, not the call. He figured you would uphold your ego so much that you would not reach out to him anymore just to prove him wrong. To prove to him that you could take care of yourself.

But look at you now. He knew that there shall be a day where he would have to treat you when you are at your worst condition. He could imagine you being pushed into the hospital, with tendrils of tubes surrounding your body; to administer blood, nutrients, oxygens and many other fluids that your body requires to achieve a stable condition. His mind got snapped back to reality when you no longer spoke on the other side of the line.

"Stay still." You heard someone talking, unsure whether if it was towards you. "Or else you might end up hurting yourself again."

Your eyelids felt heavy as you slowly opened them, taking in your surroundings. The last moment you remembered was you were at one of the danger zones and you were outnumbered by a couple of wanderers. You managed to defeat them with all of your might and yet they manage to give you a wound so nasty it robbed your ability to stand and walk.

The room that you are currently in does not smell sterile at all. In fact, it smells like a mix of lavender and with hints of coconuts. The room was lit only with lamp decors, the light bouncing off of the pristine white walls, tainting it with a shade of beige. The room is tidy and emits the vibes of a cosy home which reminds you of someone you knew.

"Did the concussion made you lost the ability to listen to simple instructions?" You snapped your head to the right side as you slowly sat yourself up and you could not stop your jaw from dropping mentally. Zayne is seated right next to you, an apple in hand and a knife in another, eyes focused on peeling the skin off of the apple. One of his many acquired skills.

Your palm smoothed over your hip and you winced, facial features scrunched together in pain as you realised how bad your wound is. "What happened?" You choked out, still awaiting for the stinging pain to wear off.

"You called me earlier and through the phone, I could tell that you were terribly injured." He brought the peeled apple up to his face, examining it closely before placing it down and taking the next apple to start peeling its skin off. "So I went over to save you."

"But..." You were embarassed, teeth biting onto your bottom lip. "With what I had done previously... you could have-"

"You called me after six months of not being in contact, and you expect me to do nothing with your calls for help?" He spoke, finally placing the half-peeled apple down onto the ceramic plate, a clink followed as he placed the knife down. He looked towards you, his hazel green eyes are only brown within such a dark room. But you could make out the soft gaze he was giving you. "Does it still hurt?"

Your cheeks were hot, your heartbeat ramping up when he got closer to you. "I will leave once I feel better." He quirked one of his thin eyebrows up, a signal of confusion. "As soon as I can walk, I mean." You turned your face away from him, but this time, his fingers were quick to catch your chin, pulling you back to stare at him.

"I'm afraid that might take a while." He lets go of your chin and pulled down the blanket slightly, enough for him to see the bandage wrapped around your hip, and enough for him to notice the bits of skin showing above your hip given he had to wrap your hips so clothing would only be in the way of his treatment. "Your wounds are quite deep this time around. I had used my evol to freeze and cut out some of the dead tissue but I think rest should be your first priority for now."

"Look, I called you because I couldn't reach out to anyone else okay? I will be out of your hair once all of this," you gestured at your wound. "is fully healed." Your chafed statement made him sighed, his fingers coming up to pinch the bridge of his sculpted nose. "So how long will this take? For me to heal?"

"I'm sorry." He muttered, the voice of his faltered alongside the wind chimes that he had hung by the windows. Your whole body was rigid, staring at the man in front of you, apologising to you out-of-the-blue. "It was selfish of me to ask you to quit your job and to not trust you in protecting yourself."

Your lips could not move, as if you were gagged by his remorse, his guilt, his regrets. Six months passed, and yet you did not took it any easier than him despite you were the one who chose to leave him and to never look back. You were the one who blocked him from contacting you entirely, you were the one who thought that he would at least cared about your passion for your work.

However, as a matter-of-fact, you can never forget about him. You always find yourself taking the long way home, purposely passing by Akso Hospital just to catch a glimpse of him. On lucky days, maybe you could catch him from a far distance, getting off of work. On unlucky days, you could still catch his black sedan car parked within the staff columns.

"When you called me, I expected the worst." Zayne's side profile is the only thing you could see now. "I tried contacting you after you had left, but the dial tone always ends, so I assumed that you have blocked me." Hearing how he had tried to reach out to you, your gut twisted, adding on to the pain that you are experiencing physically. "But I would understand if you would want to rest alone at your house instead of mine. I can schedule to send you back home tomorrow before I head off to the hospital."

"Zayne, I, I just couldn't believe it when you asked me to quit my job..." You trailed off, your eyes drooped as you felt your tears weighing them down. "I thought you would have known better that I am a deepspace hunter and that I will always be putting my life on the line."

Zayne leaned over, his shadow loomed over your figure and he placed his hand on the top of your head, slowly smoothing your hair behind your back. His touch was gentle, soothing to your skin. "And I should have trusted you instead of asking you to quit." You can feel the heat radiating from both of his hands cupping your cheeks, your face probably the size of an egg within his grasp. "When you were away, I find myself thinking about you and your safety a lot."

You agreed, your hand coming up to cup over his. The difference between both of your hands always a surprise to you. "I can't help but to want you as well, Zayne." His thumb caught the tear that streamed down your cheeks and he wiped it off. "I am sorry too, for having to walk out on you and on this relationship."

"Now, you should allow yourself to rest." Zayne's lips curled up into a small encouraging smile. He laid you down onto the bed slowly, hovering over you. "Would you still like me to fetch you back home tomorrow?" The shake of your head made him sighed in relief. "Then you should stay here, where I am capable of taking care of you." He peered down at you, his gentle gaze contradictory to his chiseled facial features. "Not only till you get better, but for the future too." The man then leaned down to claim your lips in a soft and longing kiss.

Tadaa! That is the end for this one-shot! It is fluff just as requested by my reader, so I hope this suffices you guys heart <3

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace x reader #zayne love and deepspace #rafayel love and deepspace #lnds #xavier love and deepspace #fluffy #zayne x reader #zayne fluff

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sheeple · 2 months

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Heirs of Hogwarts | part 1

Genre(s): Nuisance to Lovers / Fake dating / Fluff / No Voldy au Fandom(s): Harry Potter Pairing(s): Mattheo Riddle x Hufflepuff!Reader Summary: After finding out your (now ex)boyfriend cheated on you with the girl he told you not to worry about, you decide to get into a fake relationship with the kid of another founder of Hogwarts. What could go wrong? Warning(s): Cheating boyfriend (Matt could never) / Matt is a cheeky shit A/n: Kinda tried something new with the notes. Lmk if you like/dislike it [Masterlist] [part 2] [part 3]

There is a certain expectation that comes with having a well-known surname. People expect you to act in a way that befits a Malfoy, Abbott, Prewett or any other name on the Sacred Twenty-Eight list. And while there is no person left who carries the Gaunt name anymore, a Riddle is as good as a Gaunt in the eyes of the Pure-Blood community.

The one thing nobody realises that also carries on for the ones who are literally Wizarding World royalty. Like you. A Hufflepuff. No, not like the house. But your surname is literally Hufflepuff. Helga Hufflepuff is your great-grandmother many times over. And it sucks.

You're expected to be the embodiment of Hufflepuff House. Be kind, be ready to help everyone who asks, be patient, be humble, be just, be good at Herbology. You hate Herbology! The dirt under your nails. The smell of the classroom. The way magical plants are not really safe for children to be around. I mean... hello? Mandrakes? Yeah, didn't think so.

And it's not like you're not all those things. You are kind, you do help others when asked, you are humble, maybe not as patient as you should be, and just. Just not all the time.

Like right now. Right now you are not patient with Hannah and Susan for hogging the bathroom. You've slept like shit and you are hungry. So, you've decided to go to breakfast without them and have them join you later. You can always brush your teeth after breakfast

As you walk across the common room, you greet your Great-Grandmother in passing. "Morning, Meemaw."

"Good morning my little Badger!", she calls after you cheerfully, earning a couple snickers from your housemates. You choose to ignore them and make your trek up the stairs in silence, giving every student who greets you a polite smile.

You don't even know half the people who call out your name when you pass them. They don't even use your name. Just a variation of Hufflepuff. Huff. Puff. Badger. Queen Badger — you really hate that one. You nearly punched a guy for calling you the Top Notch Yellow One. But to be fair, you were in an abysmal mood that day.

By now you've got a pro at tuning out the stares when you walk into the Great Hall. It's mostly the first years who stare at you with wide eyes and mouths agape once they learn who you are.

You plop down at a free spot and start to plate up some food and pour in juice. Just as you're mid-sip, you feel someone loom over you.

"Good morning", gets whispered in your ear before your boyfriend takes a seat next to you.

You hum and slump against his shoulder. Malcolm pats your head as he knows that is the best attempt at getting a response from you before you've got a semblance of food in your stomach.

Malcolm Preece and you have been dating for almost a year now. He's a year above you and on the Quidditch team. Your friends don't really like him — and if you are completely honest with yourself neither do you. He's too possessive. He always needs to know where you are and with whom. It also drives you absolutely up the walls.

It has always been expected of you to be in a respectable relationship by the sixth year. Even non-Slytherin families have that kind of pressure. Surprising hmm? You needed your parents off your back and Malcolm was there. Do you feel bad for the guy? Yeah, of course. And it's not like you don't care about him but it's more an obligation; the kissing and the touches and the handholding.

"Guess what", you grumble, whipping your mouth. Malcolm hums as he butters his bread. "My first class of the day is Herbology."

Malcolm laughs and shakes his head. He places a kiss on your hair before saying, "I know. You've been whining about it all last evening. Is there absolutely nothing you can find to enjoy about the subject. Or why don't you ask Sprout if you can drop the course?"

You give him a look. "You know I can't do that. Everybody in my family graduated top of their class and I am not about to be the first one of my siblings to royally piss off my parents. Amelia came close when she almost dropped Meemaw's cup."

Your boyfriend laughs but doesn't say anything else. Because your hate for Herbology doesn't come from your general dislike of dirt. It comes from the first thing you see when you walk into the glasshouse.

You share many classes with other houses. You also share many classes with Slytherin. That also means you share many classes with Mattheo Riddle. He's a pompous prat who likes to make your days worse for absolutely no reason.

Normally you sit on the other side of the classroom and ignore him and his friends. He's not above pulling your hair or bumping against you in the hallways. It's petty. And you have no idea why or how it started in the first place.

Herbology is the only class you actually have to interact with Mattheo. For the others you usually sit with Hannah or Susan. But Professor Sprout wanted to hustle up the usual groups and pair random students with each other. That's how you got stuck with Mattheo.

"What is it, princess? Scared a little mud will ruin your manicure?", he says with a shit-eating grin as you put on gardening gloves. You shoot him a glare but continue to tend to you Fluxweed.

"Looks like your Fluxweed can use a little manicure." You give a pointed look at the sad sprig that used to be a plant and continue to do your own thing. "That reminds me, we have to finish our report on Fluxweed. Do you have any time this week? I mean, between your busy schedule of pestering first years and tripping up Neville Longbottom."

You hear a snicker behind you. Hannah holds up her hand to her mouth to stifle her laughter and you wink at her while Mattheo sends her a scalding glare.

"Sure", sneers Mattheo, "if you have any room between tea parties and snogging that sad sack you call a boyfriend."

"I don't have-", you want to interject but you know it has no use. Only if Professor Sprout wouldn't be hoovering around you all the time you would have 'accidentally' stomped on his feet.

You turn your back towards him and walk towards the supply closet, searching for a pair of shears. But Professor Sprout keeps them on the top shelf. As you want to grab your wand, a hand suddenly tugs at the ribbon in your hair.

With a gasp, you whip around and you are met with Mattheo's chest, his tie hanging loosely around his neck. He gives you a bored look before turning around and walking back towards his table.

You shake your head and turn around. When you want to Accio the shears to you, you see that they've been placed on the shelve at eye height. Huh.

Once your classes before lunch are finally over you walk out of the classroom with a smile as you spot Malcolm waiting for you. But your smile soon falters at the person standing next to him. Gladys Prescott stands way too close to your boyfriend. She's twirling a lock of hair with her finger as she laughs obnoxiously at one of Malcolm's jokes. They're great, but not that funny.

When you first started dating Malcolm you voiced your questions about his and Gladys' relationship. You were under the impression that they were dating because of how close they were. You and your friends were surprised when he asked you out on a Hogsmeade date.

The worst thing is that Malcolm swears nothing's going on between the two. That they're just friends. But the way he looks at her and treats her makes you glower. It's not that you're jealous. Just... you don't want to get berated by your parents for choosing the wrong partner.

"Ready?", you plaster on a wide smile, clutching your books in your hands.

Gladys and Malcolm look like they are snapped out of their little world before Malcolm registers that it's you and he returns your smile. "You don't mind if Gly joins us, do you?"

You turn to the girl, who gives you a fake ass big smile. "Of course not. The more the merrier! Now, tell me about your morning."

The two of them speak more to each other and don't bother to include you. Resting your chin on your hand, you look around the Great Hall. Susan and Hannah are doing their Prefect duties so they are unable to join you for lunch.

Tuning out Malcolm and Gladys, your eyes flicker to the other students who are enjoying their lunch. You suddenly make eye contact with Mattheo over at the Slytherin table. He raises his brows at you. You mimic his expression before continuing with your surveying. But when you look back he's still looking at you.

His expressionless eyes flicker towards your boyfriend and Gladys before back to you. He raises a single eyebrow at you, silently asking if you tolerate it.

You send him a pinched look back before zoning back into the conversation. Malcolm and Gladys are laughing loudly and Gladys has a hand clasped over his. The hold on your fork tightens and you swear you feel it bend in your hold.

You stand up abruptly. Gladys and Malcolm pull their hands away like they're burned and look up at you. "I'm... I have to ask Professor Slughorn something before class begins." You think up the excuse on the spot.

"Oh... Do you want me to walk you..?" Malcolm looks at you with big eyes.

But you shake your head. "No. I wouldn't want to pull you away from your fascinating conversation." You give Gladys a sickly sweet smile, which she doesn't return.

Instead of making a left once you leave the Great Hall, you keep on walking until you're at the edge of the forest. You survey if nobody's following you. With a deep breath, you crouch down and feel your bones and skin snap and pull.

One thing that nobody seems to know about Helga Hufflepuff is that she is a born Animagus. And she has given the ability to transform into a badger at will to all her descendants. The Ministry knows about it and every Hufflepuff descendant gets tested at age ten. By then most children are already used to the transformation.

And you love it. It helps you clear your head and release frustration. As of late you've been doing it a lot more.

Your little legs move easily over the forest floor towards your little burrow. You know, the Dark Forest isn't that scary when you're one of the animals. Mostly because you know which sides of the forest you need to dodge. Badgers are vicious but spiders are a paint in the butt.

The afternoon is spent frolicking in flower fields, munching on berries and nuts, and reinforcing the little stick bridges you made for your fellow badgers and woodland creatures over the many rivers that pass through the forest.

By the time you return to the castle, it's already dark and you're tired. You want to curl up in your bed and hear about Susan and Hannah's day.

But something stops you in your way when you pass a dorm. A whiney, feminine voice comes from Malcolm's room. Gladys. "For how long do you have to pretend to like that stuck-up brat?"

You inch closer to the door and peer between the crack. Malcolm and Gladys are on his bed, her between his legs and they're pecking each other's lips, naked. Your chest tightens at this display of intimacy Malcolm never wanted to show you. Too 'old-school'. Or so he claimed.

Malcolm hums. "I know, Pookie. But next year I'm graduated and I want a good job. If I manage to sit it out any longer Mr Hufflepuff might recommend me for a good position at the Ministry."

Anger bubbles from within you and you turn around, marching out of the common room. You ignore the calls of your name and keep on walking until you're outside and on one of the old defence walls of the school. Your thinking spot.

It doesn't hurt that he is cheating on you. You weren't blind. What hurts is that he is using you to get further in life. He's just like the others.

Your shoulders tense up at the sound of someone making them up the stairs and the smell of cigarettes. Great. You really need him to bother you right now.

Mattheo halts once he spots you sitting between the battlements, your feet dangling off the edge. He blows out a puff of smoke before sitting next to you. Out of politeness, he offers his cigarette. He doesn't expect you to accept it and take a drag.

"I didn't know you smoked", muses Mattheo as he watches you blow out the smoke mesmerised.

You glance at him while giving the cigarette back. "I don't."

The two of you stay silent, neither of you wanting or knowing what to talk about. Until it's Mattheo who breaks the silence. "What has the pretty Princess so stressed?"

"I'm not stressed." You opt to ignore the princess part for your sanity.

"Sure. And I can't talk to snakes. You're destroying your nailbeds", he points out and you look down. Your fingers are picking at the skin around your thumbnails. You've managed to make it bleed.

Sticking your thumb in your mouth to suck the blood away, you stare defiantly at the darkness that envelops the forbidden forest. "Malcolm's been cheating on me", you say after some contemplating, eyeing the Slytherin boy next to you.

Mattheo raises one brow unimpressed. "What?", he asks when you give him a look, "do I have to act surprised?" He dramatically fake gasps. "Oh, my Merlin! He did not!" He impersonates an American Valley Girl while covering his mouth with his hand.

You roll your eyes annoyed. Of course, you shouldn't have brought up the subject to Mattheo fucking Riddle. "Forget it if you're going to be a dick about it." You push yourself up and dust off your hands.

But Mattheo's hand around your wrist stops you and he leans back, his eyes somewhat apologetic. "No, don't go. I'm sorry. How did you find out?"

This time you raise your eyebrows. Mattheo Riddle never apologises. What in the...

Against your better judgment, you sit back, your hands folded in your lap. "I just came back and I heard him talk about it with Gladys. How he wants my dad to give him a good job when he graduates." You take a deep breath, the nicotine tickling your nose. "I had a hunch he was fooling around with her. But using me, that hurts, you know?"

He nods as you glance at him. Mattheo knows. He, just like you, is used to people only talking to or befriending him because they want something from him. They think getting in his good graces gets them somewhere. Absolutely not.

"You knew?"

You hum. Your fingers start to attack your nailbeds again as you think back to the many times you've had to bite your tongue. To keep face in front of the others at school. "I needed someone to keep my parents off my back. My parents expect all of us to have a steady partner by our sixth year. My siblings did it, but only the oldest actually had a girlfriend. The twins just told me to find someone to play the part."

A groan escapes you as you bury your hands in your face. "And now someone will rat to their parents about my break-up, who in turn tell my parents and then I'll get a stern letter about my future. This whole break-up is more an irritation than a heartache."

The Slytherin boy next to you is deadly silent. Why would you be so stupid to air your grievance to him? It's not like he cares. Standing up for real this time, you give him a curt nod. "Thank you for listening, Riddle. Best not to mention our meet-up with anyone, alright? Goodnight."

You make your way back towards your dorm and crash into your bed. Pressing your face against your pillow, you try your hardest to forget today.

But as suspected, sleep doesn't come easily. Or not at all. And you feel like a zombie walking towards breakfast, your friends giving you worried looks after you explained what happened last night — minus the Mattheo part.

"I swear if one more busybody comes up to you to say they're sorry", grumbles Hannah as she gives the students around you glares. She balls up her fists and punches the air in front of her. You and Susan chuckle while students around you look at her weirdly.

It's the worst when you enter the Great Hall. The general breakfast noise quiets as your peers start to whisper when you pass them. You keep your eyes focused on a far-off point until you are at your usual breakfast spot.

The three of you eat mostly in silence. Hannah and Susan try to engage you in a conversation but you just play with your food.

"Can we talk?"

You tense up and drop your fork. Slowly, you turn around and look up at Malcolm. He has a guilty look on his face and it angers you. "I don't know. Can we?" You cock your head condescendingly to the side.

You turn back around and start abusing the piece of toast on your plate. Malcolm lays a hand on your shoulder but it gets promptly ripped off by Hannah. "I strongly advise you to back off."

Malcolm scoffs, looking down at the girl who stands protective in front of you. "Or what? Can't I speak with my girlfriend?"

You slowly rise and turn around to face the prick. "Don't speak to her like that, you insufferable twat. You best believe my dad will make sure you won't get a job anywhere in the Ministry, not even as a wand polisher", you bare your teeth, your chest raising rapidly. The Great Hall has fallen silent, watching the exchange.

"You little bitch." Malcolm's jaw ticks and he balls a fist. But the voice of a teacher stops him.

"Mister Preece, I would strongly advise you to step away from Miss Hufflepuff if you don't want to lose your position on the Quidditch team." Professor McGonagall comes striding from the teacher's table, where they could have seen the interaction between the two of you clear as day.

Malcolm's eyes flicker from you towards the professor and back. "This isn't over", he grumbles before leaving the Great Hall.

"Thank you, Professor." You give the woman a small smile as you collect your schoolbag. She waves you away and you grab both Hannah and Susan's hands, dragging them out of the Great Hall, the stares the whole ordeal created starting to creep you out.

Hannah grumbles all the way towards Charms how's she going to 'beat his face in the next time he dares to look at you'. Susan and you share a look but you're glad you've got Hannah to look out for you.

It's again Hannah who sends glares around as the three of you take place at your usual spot — upper bench all the way at the end. That way the three of you can whisper among each other without bothering anyone.

The class goes as usual before a paper bird lands before you. You look surprised to the other side of the classroom. Mattheo Riddle is already looking at you and miming for you to unfold the bird.

You raise your brows at his note. He has such a chicken-scratch handwriting.

"What is it?", asks Susan in a whisper, leaning closer to you to read the note. A soft gasp escapes her and she looks over at Mattheo. Who's eyes are still trained on you, by the way. "Since when are you and Mattheo Riddle sending notes to each other?!"

"Since never!", you hiss, "what time are we done today?"

Hannah looks up from her book. "Three. Why?" She snatches the note out of Susan's hands and her eyes trail over the words. "He needs to fix his handwriting, my brother in Christ. Is 'Fluxweed report' some kind of secret code?"

You snort and swat her chest, earning a smug smile from the girl.

"I think it's rather romantic", says Susan, the hopeless romantic that she is.

A grimace forms on your face. "What is so romantic about finishing a Herbology essay?"

Susan sighs exorbitantly as she rolls her eyes. "You're officially single now! Free to go and explore and find someone who you really like! Mattheo obviously has seen his chance and took it!"

You and Hannah look at Susan as if she just swallowed a flobberworm. She gives the two of you an exasperated look. "What?! Isn't it like so romantic if the two descendants of Hogwarts founders end up dating? I bet ten galleons that he asks you out on a Hogsmeade date."

You huff out a breath. "Fine. But if he ends up humiliating me I'm going to enjoy those ten galleons with all my heart. Now, what do I write him back?"

"Oh! You should ask to meet at those tables at the back of the library where nobody really comes. That way you two could really cosy up."

You turn towards Hannah, feeling betrayed. "I thought you were with me on this?"

Hannah shrugs. "I'm always down for some drama. Besides, he has been staring at you and I always wondered when he would make his move."

"Since when has Mattheo Riddle been staring at me?", you ask genuinely shocked.

"Since like forever! He always manages to look away just in time. You were also too busy with him who we won't name. Bad joojoo."

You ignore Hannah's observation and pen an answer back.

You wait to send it towards him when Flitwick isn't looking before chucking the balled-up paper towards the other side of the classroom and hitting him in the face.

You clasp a hand over your mouth while you and your friends stifle your laugh. Mattheo unfolds the paper, his eyes following every letter you wrote before he shows a thumbs up.

"Dibs on being you guys' child's Godparent", whispers Susan with a grin and you elbow her in the ribs.

You try to bring your focus back to Flitwick, but you keep on glancing back at the curly-haired boy across the room. Has he some sort of plan to ask you so publicly to study? What is his motive? It can't only be studying, right?

Throughout the day you've grown quite nervous about meeting Mattheo. If it wasn't for your stupid friends and their stupid words you wouldn't have thought about this afternoon like any different from any other Herbology class.

For Merlin's sake! You just broke up with your boyfriend and your friends are already pushing you onto the next. You wanted to take it slow for a while and enjoy the rest of your year without the worry of having to please a guy!

You fix your hair and uniform behind a bookcase as you see Mattheo already sitting at the table. With a curt breath and nod to yourself, you walk up to the table and take place in front of him. "Hi. Sorry if you've been waiting for long." You send him a small smile as you grab your book and notebook out of your bag. "It takes more time than I imagined to get from Divignation to here."

Mattheo gives you a half-smile and waves away your apologies. "Don't worry. I just got here too actually. So... what needed to be in that essay again?"

The two of you work together surprisingly well. If Mattheo isn't throwing his snide remarks around anyway. You also don't feel the need to be as snappy as you usually are with him. It's actually... nice? For once.

As you're writing the last part of the essay, you feel his eyes on you. You look back up and raise your brows, silently asking what his deal is.

"I was thinking", he begins.

You let out a chuckle. "That's dangerous."

Ignoring your quip, he continues, "you need your parents off your back, right? And I imagine that you would like to smite Preece after that embarrassing stunt he pulled this morning."

You lean back with your eyes narrowed. "I wouldn't quite call it that. But continue."

Mattheo licks his bottom lips as he instead leans close to you, his voice softening. "Go out with me. Just a couple of dates so that you're seen with me. You know it will drive him nuts seeing you move on so quick."

You contemplate it for a moment or two. He is right. Malcolm always was a bit too paranoid for your taste when you talked with a boy.

He hums. "So you agree?"

"What do you out of it? This all is a bit too suspicious."

He laughs and he runs his tongue over his teeth. "You don't believe me that I'm just content with having a pretty girl by my side?" When you shake your head he grins. "Smart girl. Maybe by 'dating' you, it will pull Preece's attention away from Quidditch and they'll lose the cup."

"So I'm sabotaging my own house?", you muse, your eyes flickering between his own.

Something seems to falter inside Mattheo's eyes for a second before a teasing smile grows on his face. "Well, you can't have everything princess."

Huming, you fall back into your chair. "Sure. When and where will our first 'date' be?", you use air quotations when you say date.

"I've heard that Saturday is going to be a sunny day."

"Sure. Eleven okay? We could meet up in the Clocktower courtyard. That way a lot of people see us leave together."

And with that, quite casually, your totally not fake date with Mattheo Riddle is agreed.

Taglist (bold means I couldn't tag you): @mylosz0 @kermits-bitch

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itsprashimusic · 4 months

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A Barnes Birthday

Summary - You are celebrating baby barnes' birthday, which is on the same day as your husband's birthday.

Pairings - Bucky Barnes x wife!Reader

W/C - 1.3k

Warnings - fluff, little cussing...i think, no use of y/n, your baby's name is not mentioned, neither is there any description of you or the baby. let me know if i missed anything. Happy reading<3

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At around 4 am you awoke, bursting with excitement. It was your baby's first birthday. And also, one of your husband's. It was difficult for you to fall asleep in the first place, so you thought you might as well get up from your light, restless sleep and get things ready for the day.

Knowing Bucky, he would most likely be knocked out asleep by now and wouldn't wake up till around 8:30 - 9 am. Normally your husband tends to be a light sleeper, but off late he has been sleeping like a log and you hope that carries on to tonight as well. You prayed to the universe he would not wake up when you silently moved out of bed.

First things first you freshened up, ate a quick meal and started decorating the house. Thankfully earlier in the day your baby managed to exhaust himself to a point where he would sleep the whole night without waking up once. You got streamers and balloons out of a box. Some easy to clean up confetti. You gritted your teeth as you tried to move the heavy couch around. You strong husband would have been useful here if this wasn't for his birthday.

You gave up on trying to blow the balloons and decided to bake the cake to get rid of some steam. Figuring out what Bucky would like was not that hard. Ever since Oreo came out, he has absolutely loved it. And with oreo having so many variations now-a-days than just biscuits, it's been the only thing Bucky eats when he wants a snack. Not the healthiest option but the man likes it and needs to eat.

You found a very simple oreo cake that you could make. You got started on making it. Flour, milk, butter, oreo biscuits obviously. By around 6 am the cake was in the oven getting ready. With nothing left to do, you got back to decorating. But there was an issue. You still needed to move the couch to another location.

At that exact moment your phone started ringing loudly. You ran to the kitchen and answered it, mentally kicking yourself for putting in on vibrate. You just hoped Bucky had not woken up. Thankfully he had not. Putting the phone to your ear you whispered-yelled into it, "What?!"

"I get it that you forgot to put your phone on silent?" Sam chuckled on the other side of the line. You blew an irritated breath out as you rolled your eyes. "Yes, I did. You need something Sam, cuz I'm kinda busy with trying to move my heavy ass couch."

"How about you open the door first and then we can figure out if I need something."

You moved from the kitchen to the front door and opened it to reveal a smirking Sam Wilson on the other side. You lowered the phone from your ear, cutting the call. "You son of a-" you say shaking your head a bit, a smile making it way onto your face. You both go in for a quick hug and you invite him inside. Not that he needed the invitation. He practically lived there at this point.

"What are you doing here at this ridiculous hour in the morning?"

"Helping you prepare for a double-birthday party." You didn't know how any man could be as generous as Sam Wilson. It was just a little past 6 in the morning and here he was in your house ready to lend a helping hand in getting your home ready for a birthday party. You smiled a grateful smile and told him about the couch and where you needed help in moving it. He hung his jacket on the coat hanger and got to helping you with whatever you needed.

You left in the middle to bring the cake out of the oven and let it cool. By that time the couch was moved along with some more furniture, balloons were hung and so were some streamers. With the extra help you were able to have the house decorated by 7 am with snacks and everything else ready. That was when you heard some cries coming from the bedroom. Realising that your son was awake, you quickly headed to the room to sooth him before Bucky woke up with the sound.

Bucky was dead asleep. A small part of you was worried with how deep his sleep was, but you knew it meant he was sleeping peacefully. "Hi my baby!" you greeted your son with a soft voice. "You're awake, yes. It's your first birthday." you said while cuddling him. He needed that after he woke up. His cries died down; he was wide awake and cheery. "Yes, its papa's birthday too. We'll wish him later, first let's get you ready for this double birthday."

You got to work bathing him and dressing him up in some adorable but comfortable clothes which would be easy to clean. Sam had headed back to his place to freshen up a bit before your son woke up. It was now past 8 am and you were getting dangerously close to when Bucky would wake up. You took 20 minutes for yourself to look presentable since there would be photos.

Bucky woke up just as you finished changing your clothes. "Doll?" he called out when you weren't found in his sight. "Coming." you replied and walked out of the closet he had built for you. Before fatherhood, Bucky had a big passion for construction. It kept him busy, allowed him do something for you and learn some new skills in the process.

"Happy birthday honey." you say with a smile. "How old are you turning today?" you joke, tilting your head to the side. He opened his arms and pulled you in for a hug. "Ha ha very funny. But thank you." saying the first part with mock annoyance, he pulled away and just stared at you for a good 10 seconds before he asked, "Where's the little one?" You said nothing and just smiled, gesturing him to follow you.

You jogged out of the room making him chase after you. You pick up your son who was waiting with Sam in the living room and stood there waiting for your husband. He walked in and Sam set off a confetti popper in his face which surprised for a second but then he hugged Sam. Bucky pulled back, looked around and then at you holding your son. You took the baby out of your arms and kissed him all over his tiny adorable face.

Bucky wasn't a man of many words and preferred to show his gratitude in actions rather than words. He pulled you close and just kissed the top of your head. You left his side when Sam came closer, "Happy birthday man, and happy birthday little man!" You then came out of the kitchen with the cake and lit candles and set it down on the table. In the moment Bucky couldn't be any more grateful for his little family. You, his son and Sam. They were his motivation for everything he did.

The candles were blown out and the cake was cut and fed to everyone. Your son got to devourer whatever cake was left on an already dirty towel laid on the floor. Sam played the role of a photographer for free, only because it was his nephew's birthday.

"it's been a year already." you say.

"Time flies fast, no?" he held you by his side as you both watch lovingly as Sam plays with your son. Bucky still remembers the time when you were pregnant with him, the random cravings you would have and the mood swings from time to time. There were a few hellish moments, but they were all worth it. Reminiscing about the past only made you more appreciate the present moments even more and anticipate the future.

"Happy birthday once again J."

Bucky didn't reply. But he did kiss you deeply.

A/N - this has been sitting in my drafts since 2022😐 I wanted to get this out. It started as a random idea which took me forever to write. Hope you enjoyed reading.

If you want to find out more about me or my works, you can head to my navigation.

#itsprashimusic #a barnes birthday fic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x wife!reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x woc!reader #bucky barnes x desi!reader #sam wilson x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes fluff

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izurou · 1 year

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⋆ .˚ 𖤐 — ft. SHIDOU RYUSEI ⋮ contains: f!reader. penetrative sex. a creampie. choking. many pet names. cum eating if you squint maybe. his dialogue is .. anyways happy shidou day <3

ryusei’s love for you is strange.

he expresses it in such a way that fools everyone else into thinking there’s no love there at all—just some psychotic, lust driven obsession.

sure—he’s overzealous with his public affections, and has a dangerous habit of flashing his canines at anyone who looks your way, but that’s love. he loves you.

he loves everything about you, everything you do.

you’re underneath him, with the cutest little pout sitting on your lips, and he loves it. your brows are knit together—pleasure dotting your features, and he loves it. you’re letting him bury his cock inside you, as deep as he wants, and he fucking loves it.

but then—he leans down to press a kiss to your mouth and, you turn your head to the side.

“oh? what’s with the attitude?” he sneers, craning his neck in an attempt to follow your gaze. “hmm, babydoll? where’re your manners?”

“dunno,” you mumble—lolling your head back into place as you continue avoiding his persistent pink stare. “ask your other girlfriend.”

he starts to laugh.

it’s deep at first—straight from his gut, but the sound changes as it travels further up his throat, morphing into something a little higher pitched and maniacal when he tilts his head towards the ceiling.

“yeah,” his chuckling continues as he playfully taps a finger against the tip of your nose. “keep talkin’ like that baby, and you’re gonna have me cummin’ in no time.”

oh how he loves this.

you being upset over a harmless little interaction he had with another girl—fucking perfect, maybe he’s rubbing off on you, or maybe you’re starting to love in the same way he does. the thought is just so exciting, he can’t help but jump the gun.

“you’re insane,” you mutter under your breath.

“am i?” he tilts his head to the side and grips your chin, squishing your cheeks together a little. “for you, i might be.”

you swat his hand away and prop yourself up on your elbows, narrowing your gaze onto his. there’s displeasure flooding your stare, but he still grins at you, ear to ear.

and then you say it—what he thinks has to be his favourite question ever.

“only for me?”

⋆

he fucks you like it, like he’s batshit crazy for you.

you wouldn’t be surprised if there was a band of stars circling the crown of your head right now, that’s how completely dumb you feel.

the skillful, pornstar roll of his hips is a monster in and of itself—but pair it with the hand decorating your throat, the unmistakable weight of fingertips pressing into your skin, and he’s another creature entirely—a true demon.

a slew of crescent moons wrap around his wrist, a cute little bracelet etched into his skin, courtesy of your nails. he doesn’t seem to notice his new jewelry though—too entranced by those fucked out sounds leaving your mouth.

“still mad, babydoll?” his pace falters briefly as he locks eyes with you—god, you’re just so gorgeous like this, he’s already filled you up half a dozen times inside his head.

every variation of the word yes sits in the back of your throat—and maybe, you could’ve gotten one of them out if it weren’t for his hand—filtering out anything and everything he doesn’t want to hear.

all you can do is nod your head, and even then, you can barely do that.

“hm? doesn’t feel like it,” he taunts, and you know what he means—the stickiness of your cunt, the way it’s coating his shaft in a glistening hot sheen of your arousal. “shh shh,” he cups his free hand over your mouth with a sadistic grin, and that’s when you hear it—a lewd squelch, over and over and over again. “doesn’t sound like it either, huh? pussy’s talkin’ to me, shit, think she loves me.”

a wave of heat floods your cheeks, and oh—how you wish he would just shut up. unfortunately, silence isn’t a concept he’s very familiar with.

“right, angel face?“ he grits his teeth and prods further, pressing kisses to your sweet spots with the thick head of his cock. “this pussy loves me.”

you screw your eyes shut and try to tune him out, knowing the mere sight of him above you, all wide eyed and pussy crazed, with a thin layer of sweat highlighting his chiseled features—is enough to tip you over the edge.

“fuck, c’mon, don’t do this to me sweetheart,” he feigns innocence, masking the subtle increase of pressure he puts on your throat with his honeyed words. “you’re breakin’ my heart here.”

shit, he really knows how to get you going.

he knows what buttons to press and which to steer clear from, and even then—he’ll rewire you to his liking and press them all regardless.

“r-ryu,” you choke out, struggling to remain in the present moment as your vision starts to blur—as the tight knot in your tummy threatens to unravel.

“oh yeah, right here baby, right here.” he purrs, coaxing what little focus you have left onto him. “cum with me, lemme feel that sweet cunt. it’s all mine, ain’t it?”

he loses you halfway through his sentence, but it’s fine—your body is about to give him the response he was looking for.

you don’t hold back—knowing how much he loves you like this, with your head thrown back and your hips stuttering towards him. you’re so upset, you think he’s crazy, and yet your cunt pulses on him in perfect time with the racing beat of your heart just beneath his fingertips.

he’s right there with you, moaning shamelessly as he blows a hot, sticky load between your folds—and fuck, it’s so much hotter when it’s real.

“shit, you’re somethin’ else,” he laughs breathily, enjoying the view of his sheathed cock twitching—shooting out whatever he has left.

and it physically pains him to have to pull out, but you look so pretty right now, so ruined—with your half lidded eyes and your wet lips, it’d be such a waste if he didn’t.

with a knee on either side of you and his cock in hand, he inches his way up your body—stopping only when he’s straddling your chest. he taps his tip against your lips, and being the perfect angel you are, you take him into your mouth.

“you taste yourself?” he bucks into your face a little, and you hum in response—forcing him to grab onto the headboard as the vibrations travel up his shaft.

“oh baby,” he sighs, “only you can cum on this cock.”

#izurou #shidou x reader #shidou smut #blue lock x reader #blue lock smut #shidou ryusei x reader #bllk smut #shidou ryusei smut #sorry

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usedpidemo · 6 months

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Shangri-la (Oh My Girl Yooa)

Thank you for the commission! I hope it's to your liking.

—————

“What the?”

What welcomes you inside the bedroom takes you by complete surprise. It’s the kind that leaves you with more questions than answers. She had been very vague about the whole ordeal, skittering around the details. she was completely straightforward about one thing: to get fucked. That’s the main selling point.

Her inviting tone, her sultry expression, her lust—it’s still freshly imprinted on your mind from an hour ago. You’ve heard those words—their many variations—a handful of times, but hers is by far the most enticing and the sweetest sounding:

“Wanna have sex with me tonight?”

—————

Admittedly, it was never on your bucket list to attend a concert, let alone a group who sings primarily in foreign. It was supposed to be just a kind gesture for a roommate.

He’s your resident nerdy K-pop fan, the kind that gets bullied in real life and on the internet. He’s the full package; posters on the bedroom wall, a book full of photocards, and a shelf of albums and lightsticks which he considers as his sacred temple. You were never meant to go beyond a toe’s dip into this unhealthy obsession he’s engrossed himself in; completing his homework was enough exposure.

If there was one takeaway from your observations, it was quite obvious: the girls are really hot. And that’s all that you needed to convince yourself to go.

Besides, you were his roommate—and his only friend. Out of the kindness of your heart, you have an obligation to be there for him, at least until you graduate.

For the most part, the show was entertaining. Again, the girls were pretty attractive, and they were dressed in outfits that flaunted their bodies exceptionally well. Your friend’s relentless screaming accustomed you to the crowd’s energy, which was no joke. Even in a small, intimate venue, there were several moments where you felt that the place might collapse off the audience’s deafening shouts alone. At least you came prepared with noise canceling earplugs.

It’s not a huge surprise when he suddenly vanishes after the show. He’s been in and out of sight the whole time; getting freebies, merch shopping, taking numerous bathroom breaks, to the point where he just straight up forgets he left his phone with you before running off again.

To make things worse, it’s the dying moments of the night, when everyone in the VIP section, the two of you included, gets to greet the members for only a brief passing moment. He’d been acting like his entire life has been building to this moment, completely neglecting the fact you were his ride home.

Of course you’re not entirely sure about who’s who in this group. Six equally pretty girls, all wearing the exact same shirt and short skirt combination, down to the colors, with equally warm smiles. You didn’t have enough time to familiarize yourself with each of their names; the internet in the area has been failing you for hours. The staff was strict with phones the closer you approached them. It didn’t help that everyone screamed through their introductions, too.

Unsurprisingly, nothing substantial came of your interaction. A series of repetitive, awkward bows and near-silent whispers of “hello.” You’ve been putting off Duolingo for months, and it showed. It should have been a forgettable affair, considering the hundreds of people they’re greeting just from tonight’s queue alone. It’s not like you particularly stand out from the rest of the crowd; a casual shirt and jeans combo that’s indistinguishable from the dozens in attendance, and you don’t have anything on you that screams ‘overly dedicated fan.’

So when you’re pulled aside by the same staff closely watching the queue during the meet and greet, asked to head backstage as part of some secret lucky draw, you’re not surprised. There’s an age-old superstition that states that you’re more likely to meet celebrities the less you’re familiar with them. It rings true, and you have first hand proof.

You’re led to this singular door in what’s basically an unused narrow hallway. The kind that criminals use to trap their victims. Definitely safe. The staff member instructs you to head in before leaving you there alone. Nothing more, nothing less.

Instead of your friend, you find one of the members you just met, waiting on the other side. You have so many questions, but she she gives you another to entertain:

“You wanna have sex with me tonight?”

Much to her amusement ,you’re taken aback. At first, you’d think she was pulling some kind of prank. By the way she smiles and laughs, it’s a reaction all too familiar to her, like this is some kind of cliche. It’s not a surprise to hear those words from any girl, knowing your experiences at college parties and bars, but from a traveling singer? Simply put, it’s quite ridiculous.

“You’re joking right?” you say, hand close to the door you just entered, ready to make a beeline for it. You glance around the enclosed, compact space, searching for any possible hidden cameras recording the scene.

She shakes her head, taking a step forward. “Not at all. You should consider yourself lucky.”

“Do you do this all the time?” you ask, her reply not easing you in the slightest. Your hand inches a little closer to the door. It’s not like she’s going to hurt you; if anything, her thin figure’s probably what should worry her if you dare to even breathe heavily on her, let alone touch.

“Yeah. Every stop. You look really cute,” she says, reaching her hand out to you. “And you look like you can give me a good time tonight.”

There’s something flattering about her words, coming from an idol singer, complimenting you that hits a chord harder than other girls. Her sincere tone, doll-like eyes twinkling, and expressive lips certainly help. It’s alluring—devastating—to a casual like you; how much more to someone who worships her.

Then, here comes the killing blow:

“So, what’s it going to be?” She kisses you on the chin, wrapping her arms around your neck. It’s not suffocating, not in the slightest, but you might as well be entangled by them. Her eyes, sharp and fiery, are daring you to say otherwise to her seemingly coarse question.

Leaning your head against her shoulder, her scent and soft skin prove to be intoxicating. You can’t get enough. That hand you’ve been pressing on the door is no longer there; it’s coiled around her back, taking inventory of her slim waist and arched back, then teasing at the fabric of her shirt. Even if she wasn’t the girl you just watched perform on stage, she’s too gorgeous to turn down. And it isn’t like you’ll find your friend, anyway. Perhaps this is your way of getting back at him for being insufferable all throughout.

“Here?” you ask, whispering in her ear, playing with fire.

She holds you by the cheek, tilting an eyebrow. Shaking her head, she drags her tongue on the ridge of your ear. “Somewhere nicer.”

—————

It’s only you and her in the backseat of one of their vans, windows tinted and the front closed off that it’s safe to assume that the driver can’t hear you—perfectly convenient. He probably doesn’t know you’re even there.

It’s inside the car that you finally become familiar with each other. YooA, or as she’d prefer you to call her, Shiah, and you have this light bulb moment where you put it all together. You bring up this collection of photocards in your friend’s book holder; you recognize her face on some of the cards. She laughs. Heartily. Her face lights up, honored at the thought, and it’s a sincere look. Other artists would simply wave it off and move on, but she appears intrigued by the effort to obsess over her.

She calls it a bias, and you call it an obsession. In the other’s eyes, you’re both strange. To you, it’s unhealthy and strange; to her, it’s part of the appeal, part of the culture.

So it’s all the more surprising when you admit you’re simply there because of him, that you would have looked the other way otherwise. And in response, she has this warm, wholesome smile; she doesn’t appear offended by your candidness. You don’t know a thing about them, other than they’re delicious eye candy.

“So this is your first foray into K-pop? I hope it was a good one,” she says, flashing you a cute pout. “That means a lot for all of us.”

Yeah, you nod, your eyes wandering down her slim body, draped in darkness, only brought to the light by passing street lamps. You notice how slender and lanky she is. It doesn’t change the appeal; she’s unreal. “I should go more often if that’s the case.”

Shiah chuckles. “You didn’t pay, then. I bet you’re getting more than what he bargained for.”

To which you nod, barely holding in a particularly uncharacteristic grin. She catches it. An opportunity to twist the knife.

It’s a casual affair when you reach the hotel. There’s a surprising lack of fanfare upon your arrival. You assume idols have as much popularity as any other celebrity, but you’re both left alone—and without security, walking past the front desk without a care or a question. Tension gradually builds as you climb floor after floor, until you step out that elevator and into her room, away from prying eyes.

What welcomes you inside Shiah’s bedroom catches you off-guard.

“What the?”

The person sitting at the center of the bed turns to your direction, shouts out your name. You can recognize that voice anywhere.

“Hey! There you are!”

You immediately turn to Shiah, who replies gleefully, “Of course I knew. Your friend told me everything. He wanted me to invite you along.”

Forget that your friend orchestrated the whole ordeal. It’s the fact that he wants you to join him in a threesome. You expected him to be greedy with the rare opportunity to have a beautiful idol all to himself, but instead, he’s somehow still involving you in the action. There’s a lot to take in, and you don’t exactly know where to start.

“Is this even allowed?” you ask, unsure of your place in this room. You’re slowly soaking up the scenery; none of it makes any sense. Scattered on the bedroom floor is Your friend’s shirt and his bag, freebies and personal belongings alike,, while Shiah casually saunters around the mattress, gradually removing pieces of jewelry from herself and placing them on the nightstand.

“Of course, dude!” says your friend. His energy hasn’t waned in the slightest. You’re amazed his voice hasn’t changed at all, let alone his ability to speak. He had been screaming beside you for the entirety of the show, you’d probably go deaf because of him if not for your earplugs. “I wouldn’t have asked her if she wasn’t allowed to, or if she didn’t feel it.”

“He’s right,” adds Shiah, unbuttoning her jeans. Looking at her again, she grabs your attention with the casual stripping of her pants, pooled around her ankles, leaving only pale colored panties that leave nothing to the imagination. “Plus, I haven’t tried having a threesome before, and tonight seemed like a good idea to try that.”

Surely, you’ve heard weird things before, but none were as out of pocket as this.

“C’mere dude,” says your friend, gesturing to you to take the spot beside him on the bed. “We’re going to fuck an idol tonight. And not just any idol, my freaking bias!”

Your eyes continue to linger on her. Shiah, now undoing her top, candidly tossing them aside. The one time you regret not having your phone on hand to capture without obstruction. Her tits are bite-sized handfuls, nipples firm and on full display, and her figure is so paper thin, you’ll break her when you hold her by her ridiculous proportions. The only thing missing is some fragile warning label plastered on her skin as a reminder to handle her with care.

This is the most awkward you’ve been with your friend since you first met, when he first moved into your dorm. Seated on the mattress, you’re anxious of what’s about to happen. You worry she won’t be able to handle you two; he worries that he won’t be able to ruin her to the fullest extent.

She meets you at the center in nothing but panties. She scans you both from head to toe, and notices your contrasting expressions. Facing you, she says, “Hey. I wouldn’t do this if I wasn’t confident about the idea. If you don’t make me unable to walk after tonight, I’m gonna be quite disappointed. So chin up.”

Reassuring of a tone it may sound, it doesn’t ease your worry even a little. It doesn’t discourage her either; it’s part of the challenge.

She drops to her knees, and that’s when you come around on the idea. Her fingers make work of your pants; yours first, then your friend’s. With eagerness written on her face, your hard cocks hang between her tiny face. Pausing, undecided, she takes a moment to think which one to satisfy. The way she eyes both yours, then your friend’s—you can tell how hungry she is: how she wants them shoved inside her mouth, down her throat, taking all that delicious load. If she could fit both at once, she certainly would.

“Which one should I take first, boys?” she asks, innocuous sounding, her doll-like eyes pleading up with a playful pout. Knowing full well she already has this whole thing already planned out. You and your friend swallow hard, telepathically aligned, thinking of the same idea, based on the rather silent response.

Shiah has your eyes fluttering, hands already gripped to the edge of the bed, lips letting out a string of delightful moans. It sounds like relief, agony, and ecstasy all at once. She’s leaving soft kisses on your tip, her tongue running circling around your length, and her fingers slowly pumping at your base. All your doubts and hesitations, gone in an instant. The very few glimpses you catch of her, her eyes speak to you, staring, telling you to take it all in.

She feels so good, handles you deftly, as if she’s already acquainted with your cock, even though it’s the first time. Pushing all the sensitive, perfect spots and getting you into a steady rhythm.

“See? I told you it was gonna be—fine—fuck—”

Your friend folds just as quickly as you do, if not faster. His words, instantly reduced to echoed grunts, groans, and curses, his hand palming Shiah’s scalp. She’s focused, taking turns with each cock, kissing and teasing you both with the prospect of shoving it down her needy, thirsty throat. One hand on your dick and the other on his, stroking you at near-synchronized tempo, then vice versa. You wonder exactly why she’s even hesitant and nervous about taking two at once when she’s clearly a natural at satisfying cocks.

She’s well aware that she has only one mouth to fulfill her craving for cock. There’s a look of regret every time she stops sucking one cock in place of the other. It’s almost as if she’s failing, even though the pleasure-ridden expressions on your faces say otherwise. “I hope this is good enough,” she frowns, taking a moment to plant another direct kiss on each cockhead. “I wish I could fit you both in my mouth, but I—”

“Shhh.” Your friend interjects, tugging harshly at Shiah’s dark locks, then rubbing his hand around her forehead. “You’re doing so fucking well, so much better than we hoped—”

Suddenly, he finds himself slowly crumbling. Precum coating around her dainty fingers, while he loses grip on his consciousness, lying flat on the bed. If there’s anything you’ve learned in the very short time you’ve had Shiah on her knees, it’s that she’s particularly gentle. You can feel she’s not going to ruin you instantly and that she’s nowhere close to crushing your cock, unlike some of the girls you’ve known in the past.

This is all new to your friend, after all. It shouldn’t be surprising.

Still, she continues to pleasure you both, taking a moment to slip his erection inside her throat, slurping and swallowing his cock whole. Her eyes instantly slam shut, mumbling a songful hum, finally soaking in the taste after intentionally restraining herself from her lust. Turning to your side, your friend clearly can’t take her; his mouth agape, his chest heaving, breathing heavily, his eyes widely staring at the ceiling in a useless effort to distract himself. In his mind, she’s relentless, overwhelming, cruel.

Her eyes slide in your direction, brows furrowed, apologetic. You shake your head, smile lightly, perfectly understanding of the situation. It’s not that she’s ignoring you; her other hand’s pressing on the base of your cock, down to the underside, pressing on your balls. She’s already left her mark on you even though she’s doing the bare minimum. The layer of precum on her fingers is clear proof. That should be more than enough.

And when you find your friend completely unresponsive, breathing through his mouth, you tilt your head at an angle and make this poor sleeping impression—something he hasn’t had in over 24 hours. It’s the command that causes Shiah to slip his cock from her mouth with a silent pop, his dick throbbing with her spit dripping from the tip. Her focus turns over to you; her eyes meeting yours, her hands pressing on each knee, and your fingers brushing loose strands of hair aside to see her pretty face, flushed but flawless. It’s now just down to you two.

She gives your head a playful swirl, and you lift your brows in approval, subtly biting at the lip to show her you like it. Her eyes lock in, scanning through each subdued wince, waiting for the go ahead.

It’s the slightest head motion that nearly ends you. You’re uncertain if you even said yes or no.

Shiah looks so much better with your cock in her mouth than anyone else’s. She knows, too. You pause to take the sight in—your length buried deep in her mouth, occasionally poking her throat, her cheeks hollow, her eyes looking wide at you with a fiery glint, begging you to take her, use her, ruin her. You’re perfectly positioned to work her; your hand is palming the back of her head, giving her this assertive stare that appears demeaning, but you can tell she prefers to be seen that way. It would be criminal to have her on her knees and not have your way with her.

And you do just that.

You hold her still, using the little increments of strength to motion her into a bobbing motion. She surrenders herself into your control, moving her head back and forth with the grip of your hand. Like the swing of a pendulum, you watch your base disappear and appear between her lips. You’re nowhere close to burying yourself entirely in her mouth, but she feels so incredible, so intoxicating, she may as well be deepthroating you.

It’s not the firmness of her luscious lips kissing your cock nor her lewd expressions that shake you, but her suction. She hums this wistful note while sucking your cock—a song of satisfaction. In contrast to the steady rhythm you’re attempting to impose, she drags your length along her tongue, forcing you into this playful tug-of-war whenever you draw your cock back, directing where your cum should land. She envisions it: the notion of your hot load collected on her cheeks. Her fingers point where she wants them, using her pleading eyes and brows to entice you.

And you’re not going to deny her request. She’s too charming and expressive to turn down. Even more so when your cock is lodged between her lips.

You utter this particularly incomprehensible mix of a groan and a grumble while your throbbing cock unloads the warm cum she desires. Without wasting a single drop, she takes it all, puffing her cheeks with your seed while carefully pulling your cock out her mouth. Your hand is no longer resting on her head but rather around her shoulder and collarbones. She plays with the load in her mouth, gargling, swishing, before swallowing it all. Afterward, she sticks out her silky tongue, face completely flustered, showing you the aftermath: leftovers of your cum painting her mouth.

“God, Yoo—I mean, Shiah—” you breathe, lightly falling back on the bed as your legs go numb. Your flaccid cock isn’t enough to show how much she’s drained you in one fell swoop. “How are you so—”

“I told you I wouldn’t be doing this if I wasn’t so confident about it,” she remarks, rising to her feet before pushing you down on the sheets, straddling herself on your lap. Her energy remains steadfast. It’s infectious. Winking and pouting, she adds, “Now fuck me till I can’t walk.”

You’re completely sold on the idea, but you can’t do it alone.

Pushing Shiah off you, you shake your friend back into consciousness. You’re holding her by the shoulders, giving her lips a quick kiss. A soft gesture telling her to be a tad patient. Her eyes clue you in; she’s dying to be fucked, to be used, to be ruined. Your friend looks around, feeling hazy, completely unaware of what transpired, even though it’s only been less than 10 minutes.

“What’d I miss?” he asks, still trying to make sense of things. The last thing he remembers is Shiah on her knees. Now he sees you and his bias in each other’s embrace. Surprisingly, he’s not fazed in the slightest. The bed’s tremors—rumblings—are good enough indicators.

You’re unable to completely look him in the eye, and you don’t know what to answer, so she does it for you: “Your friend blew a nice load inside my mouth. We were just about to have round two. Join us.”

To her amusement, the reply has you staring at her utterly gobsmacked. It’s not the fact that she’s telling it straight, with zero sugarcoating, but her candid, conversational delivery and deadpan expression, as if they’re close friends catching up on lost time. He doesn’t seem bothered, nor does he ask any further questions. Knowing him, he’d be disappointed if you didn’t.

Really, what’s there to question when given an opportunity to fuck an idol without any conditions or red tape. He’s not making the most of the moment as you have, and the hurried jump off the bed to take position behind her indicates he’s not going to waste any more time. You’re scared you might get into a confrontation over how you’ll take her.

“Say the word and I’ll move aside,” you tell him, calmly.

“Let me have her tight ass,” is the reply, straightforward. Chalk it up to tension, but there’s a hint of harshness in his voice, as though some bitterness is leaking. He subtly pulls her away from your side, prompting you to let him take full control.

You aren’t surprised at where he ends up taking her. The bed is the comfiest option, but in his mind, the safest and the most cliche. A shower to ease the tension and stress in the muscles—that’s a good one too, on top of having her possibly pressed against the panels and the idea of soaping her tits while fucking her in the wet. This luxurious suite, which feels like walking from the one end of a parking lot to the other on weary legs, has a handful of mirrors to watch her get railed on. None are as captivating and inviting as the biggest one—the large glass windows that overlook the city, lit up by lights from nearby skylines and the illumination from the living room.

He presses her tiny frame against the window, then on air, giving her tiny butt a firm slap. Followed by another. Something about Shiah with her back arched, yelping with each spank, arouses him. Her too. She whines, biting on her lip, hands trying to latch to anything. There’s plenty to claim—from her bite-sized chest, to her slinky waist, to her soiled panties. Something he slips down to her ankles.

In the moment, your friend doesn’t acknowledge you. He’s all up in her hair, licking the shell of ear, a set of clenched digits digging into her warmth. Her eyes fluttering, she whines, pressing a hand around his waist, mumbling, begging, “Fuck me, please, fuck me.”

You can tell she’s apologetic, wants to be punished and manhandled like a naughty girl. Your friend has this glare in his eyes—a look of hunger. His fingers pump away at her core, without care for pace or comfort, just the satisfaction of hearing her cries and the need for her to cum. Bumping her against the window, he’s kissing her, claiming her as his own. Red marks form everywhere on her neck, collarbones, and back. Her entire body. All his.

You let him. You watch. Not out of guilt, not out of arousal. It’s his moment.

He looks over his shoulder and finds you just watching. “C’mere,” he growls between muted groans, tone low. It should be awkward (it is) but all that tension disappeared the moment she got on her knees. Approaching the twosome in such a strange fashion, he continues to finger Shiah, shifting her away from the window, binding her from behind by one hand. He’s suppressing his tongue, teasing his cockhead against the entrance of her pussy, barely able to restrain himself.

When you’re in front of her again, you’re greeted by a hot mess. Her juices are dripping down her thighs, pooling around her feet. His coated fingers line around her warmth, around her tight hole. His lust is on full display, cussing out a storm about how incredibly wet and tight she is while she prepares herself to get fucked into oblivion. It’s not the first time you’ve heard him say these things; he talks a loud talk about how he’d fuck his biases in explicit detail, writes particularly concerning essays about the positions they’d be railed in, how they would cum, and how many times he would make them cum.

At the end of the day, it was none of your business.

And ultimately, he might have been onto something.

You let out this loud unsuppressed moan burying yourself inside her tight cunt. She’s suffocating, overwhelmingly tight—the kind of heat that can make you cum almost immediately. You’re still recovering from your first orgasm, putting you on the backfoot. Still, her walls are too inviting not to get hard again. Meanwhile, your friend, who’s been eager to fuck Shiah’s ass for the longest time, is in no rush. His cock is barely entering her tight hole, slowly easing himself inside her with deep breaths. He’s grabbing a handful of her flesh, openly moaning and grunting taking her.

“F-fuck, Yoo—” he mutters, grabbing at her petite cheeks with an ironclad grip. Pulling her closer to his body so his cock can split her in half. He’s growing greedy—and desperate.

Everything you’re doing to Shiah can be seen in the window’s reflection: you pounding into her tight cunt, your friend’s cock spearing her from behind, her body practically sandwiched between your twosome. The combined weight is more than capable of crushing her slim frame, her skin like tire marks on both your chests. Neither of you move with an understanding of working as a team, and it shows; your collective strokes are unsteady, erratic, chaotic.

This isn’t good for your back—at all. Shiah’s bent forward in part to your friend’s slow, deep thrusts into her delicious ass, rippling with each stroke. She’s clutching to your shoulders for support, screaming from the absolute depths of her lungs getting doubled up. The uncomfortable position is mostly clouded by the overwhelming sensation of your cocks tag teaming on her two sensitive holes. You’re leaning, steadily falling back. That inescapable warmth—that intoxicating heat—keeps you coming back for more, friction be damned.

God, Shiah’s pussy is so fucking perfect.

And that’s what you end up muttering. In an endless choir of ecstasy-charged moans, profanities, and wet sloppy slaps of skin against skin, you throw those words out to the wind. So good, so tight—those doubts you had entering the room, now just thoughts from yesterday. She’s everything you want in a satisfying fuck; your hands intertwined with her waist, rocking her frame with every plunge, savoring each entry into that needy womb.

It’s no surprise then that she cums so soon.

It’s been slowly building to this moment. The signs were there all along; the blink and you’ll miss it patch on her jeans, the phallic object in her purse, the wet puddle forming on her panties, the not so subtle gestures she’s giving fans between performances—she’s been desperate to cum on a cock and her wish can finally be granted.

In dramatic fashion, she’s all over you. Clinging to you like her lifeline, showing you how you’ve ruined her. Body trembling, legs quaking—the ripples send shockwaves through your body, also in the process of falling apart. Throwing out her hips, a new layer of juices coat both cocks, dripping to the floor. You’re there to break her fall, but you have nothing to stop yours.

Passing through deaf ears, her screams revert to soft pleas. “Cum, cum in me—please—fuck—” she whines in bursts, riding out her climax in waves, waiting for you two to join her over the edge. You’re preoccupied with the raging fire in your loins, restraining your urge to release your seed inside her needy cunt prematurely. At this point, you’re almost done, holding onto the last of your resolve not to spurt right then and there. The layer of her slick coating your cock doesn’t do you any favors, either.

Propping her body straight, your thrusts remain relentless. Steadied pace, at your own will, rocking her senseless—that’s how you want to finish inside her. You want to keep her in that position: cupping her tiny chest, wrapping an arm on the neck, resting a hand on your light shoulder. Shiah’s body is the perfect plaything.

All of that is too good to be true.

“Cumming, gonna cum—” you mutter, rather ashamedly, though you’re holding up better than anyone ever expected, especially after already orgasming once. You press her to your friend, almost a flat out shove. The line couldn’t be any thinner. “Shit—”

Your legs are on the cusp of crumbling, but at least they’re generous enough to let you savor this moment. Spilling your pent up need, you fuck that remaining cum into her. It’s fulfilling, euphoric. All the proof is down there, dripping between her legs and on your cock. The sight of her splayed, wrecked hole, oozing with seed, tempting you to stick a thumb around her slick core. She squirms at your sensitive touches, still needy and in want.

Only after the orgasm does your vision clear again. It’s an amusing scene; your friend is still pounding into Shiah’s tight ass at a feverish pace. Last one in, last one out—at least you think, that’s how the saying goes, until he lets out this guttural groan, indicating he’s reached his own climax too. If not for the setting, it’s an accomplishment worth cheering, the kind that’s worth a celebration of a life milestone. Cocks buried to the hilt, the sight of her holes spilling seed never grows old.

At least you both can agree on one thing: staying inside the welcoming warmth that is Shiah’s heat. Neither of you want to leave, even when you regain mobility in your legs.

You’ve got the rest of the night to ruin her, leave her room hobbling or crawling on her feet. Your friend has a bucket list of positions to fuck her in, so it’s the least of your worries. Besides, both of them know you have no intention of leaving. And in the middle of this non-existent conundrum, while your friend is leaving soft kisses all over her back as a victory lap, she takes a moment to glance at you both. Noticing the similarity of smiles on your faces and your supportive nature towards your friend, she’s reminded of something she shares with her members, apart from the fact they’re getting railed at this very moment:

True friendship.

—————

(A/N: Expect a bit more crowdedness aka more-somes over the next few fics. I also haven't written an Oh My Girl member since Arin in over a year, so that's one off the list! This one took a while, had a whole other story involving roadtrips and hitchhiking, which I ultimately scrapped. Thank you for reading!)

(P.S. If you want to have your own story/idol written, you can ask for a commission :D)

#smut #kpop smut #oh my girl #yooa

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atticsandwich · 9 months

Text

burnt toast, sunday

pairing: mephistopheles / gn!mc

slice of life, bonding with mephisto's younger brother, mephisto being a boyfail (endearingly) but he's also a really good older brother

"Don't you have royal babysitters for this kind of thing?"

"Yes and no, but I'd rather have someone I trust to look after my precious little brother."

"So you trust me?"

"Wh...?! Only because Lord Diavolo does!"

or: a babysitting favor-turned-impromptu sleepover party, accidental wingman-er, wingdemon little brother, and poor Mephisto having an internal crisis

[set in the OG timeline, pre-NB]

quick a/n: i cannot for the life of me think of a name for mephisto's brother, so watch how many variations of "little brother" i can use before u get sick of it <3 i like to picture him kinda like a Luke-sized version of Mephisto lol

a/n part 2: erm. i might've accidentally made this a full-fledged fic instead of a quick little drabble help

"So let me get this straight," you start, trying to process what the noble demon before you just proposed.

"You want me to babysit your little brother this weekend, because..."

"--Because I need to attend an event, and I have no one else to turn to but you, yes, that's the gist of it," he finishes, both arms on his hip as if he's recounted this to you 5 times over.

(He has.)

"What about your parents?" you inquire.

Sighing, he returns to his seat across from you, like the thought of them gave him a headache.

"Off to who-knows-where in an exclusive excursion. Last time I called they were somehow in Santorini."

"In the Human Realm?!"

"If you're wondering if there are any more demons masquerading as humans up there, no, there aren't. They'd need permission from Lord Diavolo first lest they get hunted down by Barbatos."

"Oh. That's assuring."

"It's a bad look for the Devildom if we leave our denizens unattended. Anyways, back to the topic at hand--"

"Don't you have, like, royal babysitters for that kind of thing?" you interject. "Like, you know, a personal butler?"

"Yes, and no," another sigh escapes him.

"While we do have butlers, they're more for tending to the estate. Plus, I doubt they could tend to my little brother's pasttime interests. I could very well simply hire a royal babysitter, as you would call it, but I'd rather have someone I trust look after my precious brother."

"So... you trust me?" you try to stop yourself from giving him a smug grin, but the chance was too perfect to miss.

"Wh...?! D-Don't twist my words, human! I only say that because Lord Diavolo does!" his face is flushed in embarrassment, clearly taken aback by the quip. He diverts his face away from looking at you, instead suddenly finding the Newspaper Clubroom's accent wall of interest.

Classic.

"Plus, considering your background experience with those brothers, I'd say you're more than qualified for the job."

You hold back from giggling - which he picks up on - much to his annoyance. But you find yourself curious about his home and his brother, who he's mentioned in many separate occasions. You have to admit, you'd also like to meet what kind of brother Mephisto has.

"Alright, I'll do it," you finally say, standing from your seat, fully decided.

"Wh-Really? Oh. Good. Perfect," he tries hiding the way his shoulders relax from stiffness, clearly relieved you finally agreed.

"...On one condition, though."

"Hm? Name your price."

"Ask me again, but this time, say 'pretty please?'"

(And if the students outside that room jumped from the doors suddenly bursting open, with a red-faced demon chasing a laughing human around, cane in hand, well, they'll just chalk it up as another normal day at R.A.D.)

"Whad'ya mean you won't be home the whole weekend?!" Mammon's whines fall on deaf ears as he watches you pack your overnight bag. You've already told him about the arrangement a few days prior, but it seems the information just processed now.

"It's not like I'm moving away, Mams."

"But what if you fall in love with his house and decide to stay there forever?!" he whines more, as you let out an amused giggle.

"I'll get you a little souvenir when I get back, okay? We can hang out then."

"Promise?"

"Promise. You won't even notice I'm gone!" you zip up your bag, finishing up your pack. As you do, a knock on your door grabs the attention of both of you.

"Yeah?"

"Um..." the door creaks open, revealing a groggy, half-awake Belphegor. "There's a guy waiting for you outside, I think he's one of Mephistopheles' drivers."

Giving the youngest demon a thumbs up, you stand, slinging your overnight bag on your shoulder. It's not too heavy, and after double checking if everything's in order, you make your way out of your room.

"Ride's here! See ya later Mams! Thanks Belphie!"

You walk past some of the brothers on your way out, bidding your goodbyes as you do, although not before taking a little extra bag full of snacks that Beel insisted you bring with you. Upon reaching the house's front gate, you're greeted by a tall demon, clad in formal wear. He introduces himself as your designated driver sent by Mephisto, and ushers you in the vehicle after you return the introduction.

The ride to Mephisto's estate is quiet, and you occupy your time by scrolling through your D.D.D, updating Lucifer that you just left the house, as he had to leave earlier to finish R.A.D-related paperwork. You also send updates in your group chat with the brothers, as well as the guys from Purgatory Hall - who insisted on getting updates, too.

Before long, the car pulls up to a giant, gilded gate - extravagant feels like an understatement, you think, the intricacy of its details almost reminding you of classic gothic architecture from the Human Realm. The mansion itself isn't something to scoff at either; you already knew Mephisto's family was filthy, stinkin' rich - Mammon's words, not yours - but seeing it yourself is an entirely different story.

The car slows down to a halt, stopping at the manor's front entrance. The driver quickly exits the vehicle to usher you out, before driving off to a separate part of the estate. Mephistopheles is standing by the front door, already dressed up for the event he mentioned.

"Lookin' good, Mephisto! That coat looks great on you," you tease and wave a greeting.

"You've arrived. I trust the drive was pleasant?" rolling his eyes, he pretends not to hear anything you just said.

"Definitely beats walking to here, that's for sure," you say as he opens the door for you, beckoning you inside

"Someone's being a gentleman today!"

"Tch," he furrows his brows in annoyance. "Only because you're a guest, so don't get used to it," You can't help but giggle at the treatment, saying a quick thanks as you walk in.

His manor is huge - the large, open foyer that greets you the second you step in is embellished in gold and marble pillars, with a chandelier befitting its grandeur. A portrait of two demons is its centerpiece, who you can assume are his parents. He leads you through an arched entryway leading to the living room, decorated with a large ornate rug and furniture that looks like it got taken directly from a rococo painting - not to mention the actual rococo-style paintings hanging on its walls.

"As you can tell, this is the living room," he pauses for a bit before continuing. "Although we only really use it if my parents have guests over. Even then, they prefer having tea at the backyard."

"Dude, your house is like, a museum," words fail your thoughts.

"Don't be ridiculous, you've been to the Demon Lord's castle plenty of times for you to still be ogling at some gilded furniture."

"Yeah, but he's like - the prince - and I already expected that anyway since the word castle is in the name, y'know?"

He rolls his eyes, continuing the mini-tour.

"Past that hall is the kitchen, and the dining hall is opposite of it," he points out. "Don't worry about food, though. I've already informed the butlers of your staying. They'll call when food is ready. You can ask tea from them at any time, as well."

"Aw, really? I kinda wanted to try cooking at a fancy mansion..."

"Don't you already do enough cooking at the House of Lamentation?"

"Yeah, but I rather enjoy it - plus, my baking skills are a bonafide way to make any kid like me! Or at least, that's what Luke says..."

He rolls his eyes again, before sighing in resignation. "Knock yourself out then, I'll let the butlers know. They'll inform you where everything is if you ask."

"Heh, thanks Meph." he grimaces at the even-shortened nickname, but lets it slide anyways.

"For the main point of you staying here, my brother's room is upstairs," he leads you to a set of staircases at the end of the living room leading to a large hallway at the second floor. "Follow me to his room - I've made arrangements so the room next to his can be your quarters. There's an en suite bathroom, so you don't need to worry about that."

"Thanks, you've really thought of everything, huh?" he rolls his eyes again, but doesn't retort.

"My brother's quite shy, so it might take some time and a bit of coercion for him to warm up to you. He's never really had a proper babysitter before," he pauses, stopping at one of the doors, before giving a firm knock.

A soft "come in" can be heard from the inside, as Mephisto and you enter the room. The room itself is quite different from the overall feel of the mansion - it's a lot more casual and comfortable. It's still quite large, with a seating area and a multiple bookshelves, leading to a large bed. You see a young demon seated in a sofa, book in hand, as he stands to greet his brother. He's about the same size as Luke, although unmistakably of the same blood as Mephisto - similarly colored well-kept hair, green eyes... yeah this demon is definitely his brother.

"Big brother!" he greets enthusiastically. Just from that, you can tell how close they are. "-- and... um..."

"Hello there," you give the smaller demon a wave and your warmest smile. Embarrassed, he hides his face behind the book he's holding.

"No need to be shy, this is, er, my friend from RAD who I mentioned will be looking after you while I'm away," he explains. The younger demon peers at you from his book, before nodding to his brother.

"Hello..." he's too cute, you think, almost wanting to squeeze the life out of the boy. He continues looking at you, until it looks like something clicks in his head.

"Big brother, are they the human you keep telling me about?"

Oh? You had to stop yourself from spitting out a noise in surprise, although turning to Mephisto, who's suddenly beet-red from what his brother said, didn't help your cause, and unfortunately, just made you want to let out a louder laugh. His younger brother's eyes just sparkle even more.

"It is you! Big brother's told me about you before! You're even prettier in real life!" his enthusiasm is cut short when Mephisto covers his mouth to keep him from saying anything else, although he's conveniently looking everywhere but at you. For now, you spare him mercy and lean down to his younger brother's height.

"That's nice of you to say," you smile, Mephisto's hand finally releasing his brother's mouth. "Your big brother has also told me about how much of a wonderful little brother you are."

He's embarrassed again, returning to hiding his face behind his book. The moment is interrupted, however, when Mephisto's D.D.D starts beeping an alarm, and, upon seeing the time on the screen, turns it off and nods to the two of you.

"Ah, that means I must take my leave. I'll leave you to it then - and uh," he turns, looking at his younger brother. "Please don't embarrass your big brother..." he half-whispers to him, although you hear it quite clearly. "Give me a call if anything happens. I should be back by lunchtime tomorrow."

"See ya, Mephisto!"

"Take care, big brother!"

Looking after Mephisto's younger brother is a delight, you think. Although the demon was indeed, pretty shy at first, the moment he saw your Ruri-Hana keychain dangling from your D.D.D - gifted to you by Levi - his eyes started sparkling and all the icebreaker meekness got thrown out the window.

"I-I love Ruri-Hana! I watch all her shows!"

"Why don't we have a little watch party tonight? I'll bake some themed cookies, too!"

"R-Really? You'd do that?" his voice is clearly quivering from excitement at the prospect. You giggle and pat his head in response.

"Absolutely! If you want, you can help, too!"

The elated smile he gives in response is bright, and he pulls you across his room to show you the little corner where he keeps all his memorabilia. His enthusiasm is endearing, and you can't help but feel a sense of older-sibling duty, not too dissimilar as what you feel with Luke.

"Wow! That's a figure of that one time she dressed up as Santa-Devil for a Devilmas special!" all the bingewatching with Levi finally paid off, as you silently thank the third-born in your head for getting you into the franchise as well.

For a while he shows you his collection, until you have an idea and pull out your D.D.D. You show him pictures of a recent convention you went to with Levi, and all the pictures you took with Ruri-Hana franchise cosplayers. His eyes light up at each one, excitedly naming each character. Not long after, a butler knocks on the room, informing the both of you that lunch was to be served.

The dining hall, despite only having you and Mephisto's younger brother, is filled with chatter as you both eat. You learn that he also reads a ton of books, a sentiment that you share. He tells you his favorites, and expresses interest on reading Human Realm literature. You promise to bring over some the next time you're over, which excites the little demon.

After lunch, you start prepping for baking, and after being given a quick kitchen tour by a butler, you work on laying out everything you need. Mephisto's brother is on the other side of the counter on a step stool, so he can see the countertop, pencil and paper in hand, drawing cookie shape ideas to fit the theme.

By the time you both finish cutting and carving off shapes for the dough, it's already late afternoon and the butler comes by to offer you both tea and some light snacks. The younger demon suggests a tea break in the garden, and you go along with his suggestion. He leads you outside through a hallway past the kitchen, and you're greeted by a large expanse of lush flora, and even further, you spot a large clearing where multiple Devildom horses are grazing.

"That midnight one over there is the fastest, he's my big brother's favorite!" he points out, and you spot the horse in question. It's a gorgeous stallion, its fur seemingly glittering under the Devildom moon.

"I have a horse of my own too, but big brother says I'm still too young to race..."

"I'm sure you'll be at it soon!" you assure him. "I don't know much about horseback riding though, so you'll have to show me the ropes when the time comes."

"Oh! Maybe big brother can teach you! Then you'll be able to ride horses, too!"

You lightly laugh at his enthusiasm at the topic, although the image of Mephisto helping you on a saddle flashes in your mind. You hurriedly swallow down the thought - and the slight fluster - with some tea, before you can dwell too much on it.

"I doubt your brother likes me enough to teach me," you lightheartedly joke. The furrow in the young demon's brow slightly surprises you though, as he turns to face you.

"That's not true! Big brother likes you a lot!"

"He... does?" He does?

"Yeah! He's a bit weird about it sometimes, though. He says he's impressed by you and how you reign around the demon brothers, but then he'll also say how much he wants to squeeze the 'life out of your pretty face!'"

"Ah..." your cheeks are quickly turning red, but you try to shake off the imagery. You take another sip of tea to try calm your beating heart down.

"I don't know what he meant by that, though. I don't want him to crush your face!"

His childlike naivete reminds you of Luke, causing you to laugh. "Don't worry, I'm sure he didn't mean it literally," you assure him. You pause, in thought for a second. "So... what else has he said about me?"

"O-Oh! He says that you're such a hard worker. He's told me that not only are you a student council member, you're also a sorcerer's apprentice! That must be hard..."

"Well, it is, but I manage. I do enjoy being in the Devildom, after all."

"He...uh, he says he hopes you're getting enough rest though," the younger demon's voice pauses, a bit hesitant to continue, which you pick up on.

"Hm?" Interesting. "What do you mean?"

"Uh, um... sometimes he'll complain about finding you asleep around school and that now he has to make sure no one disturbs you... so he-ah--! I think I've said too much! Please don't let big brother know I told you!"

You're thankful he's hiding his face in shame because you're pretty sure your own face is also red from being flustered. In your head you're already teasing Mephisto with this information, but you can't deny that your heart fluttered upon learning he's been watching over you all this time - how typical of him, you think.

"How about I tell you a little secret too? Just between us," you offer, calming him down.

"Um... okay, I'm listening," his eyes are focused on you now, clearly all-ears in anticipation.

"I really like your big brother, too."

"R-Really?! You do?"

You nod your head in assurance. "Promise not to tell him though?"

"Yeah! I promise!"

"Alright then. How about you help me make the icing for the cookies now so we can decorate immediately after dinner?"

Before he can respond, however, your D.D.D. starts ringing from where you put it on the table. Looking at the caller I.D., you can't help but breathe out a little giggle. Speak of the devil.

"Meph? What's up?"

"I'm just checking in to see how everything's going. There hasn't been any problems, has there?"

"I-Is that big brother? I wanna talk to him!" again, this kid's enthusiasm is endearing.

"Here, why don't you talk to your brother?"

To say he's been restless the entire event is an understatement - Mephisto has been fidgeting and pacing back and forth the entire time. It's not that he doesn't trust the human to look after his beloved sibling, no, it's the dawning realization that his brother might start saying things. Suddenly, the countless R.A.D. stories he's told him that involved you became embarrassment fuel. He's tried distracting himself by socializing with the other nobles in the grounds, however all the attempts have been proven futile. Glugging down demonus didn't seem to be working either, having to be cautious that he wasn't drinking too much.

Checking the time, he infers that it should be fine to give a call - just to make sure, he assures himself, scrolling his contacts list until he spots your name.

Just one call, Mephistopheles, don't overthink it!

A few rings later, you pick up, and he lets out a breath he didn't realize he was holding in.

"Meph? What's up?"

"I'm just checking in to see how everything's going. There hasn't been any problems, has there?" he's fidgeting the cuff of his sleeves, still restless.

"Is....brother? I wanna....talk....!" he recognizes the voice in the background as his little brother, although talk about poor reception - he'll need to speak with the venue coordinator later.

"Here... don't.... talk.... brother?" the reception sounds like it's getting worse, which is not helping his nerves at all - he can't decipher what either of you are trying to say.

"Brother.... help.... icing.... decorate.... watch.... bad guys....."

"H-Hello? Are you still there? Hey! What do you mean help?!" he's frantic now, trying not to jump to any conclusions - in any case though, he definitely heard his little brother say help and bad guys before the line got cut off from the poor reception... Right?

So like any responsible big brother would, he apologizes to the event host, citing an emergency, and hurriedly calls for his chauffeur to get him home as soon as possible.

"Hm? That's weird, the line got cut off..." you both stare at your phone screen, wondering what happened.

"Oh...."

"Don't worry," you try conforting the younger demon. "I'm sure he just had some business to attend to. Let's try calling him again later, yeah?"

"Okay! I wanna tell him about the Ruri-Hana cookies....!"

"Let's go prepare the icing then!"

Nodding, he excitedly gets up from his seat, taking your hand as he hurriedly leads you back to the kitchen. Upon arriving, you both immediately get to work, and he picks out food coloring combinations while you mix up the icing base, dividing it into multiple bowls. He's at first worried that there wouldn't be enough colors, until you remind him that he can mix for new ones, and he's back to excitedly listing down which colors correspond to which bowl.

You both finish prepping everything just in time for dinner; the little demon scarfing down his meal as fast as he could - almost reminding you of a certain ginger demon - and you laugh as you try to match his pace. Before long you're both back in the kitchen, watching the first batch of cookies turn a nice golden color before pulling them out of the oven to cool. You explain to him that the cookies need to rest first before decorating, and he resists the urge to take one cookie as a trial piece. Endeared, you give in and tell him he can get one cookie - as a treat for being such a good helper, you say.

"It's already so good!" he exclaims.

"Heh, I bake a lot with the brothers back at home, so I'm glad you like it!"

"I'm serious! These might be the best cookies ever! I can't wait to decorate!" you swear that if he wasn't restraining himself, he would've been bouncing up and down in excitement. To satiate his energy, you ask him to start preparing the Ruri-Hana CDs in his room, so the watch party can immediately proceed once the cookies are ready. He happily obliges, rushing off upstairs.

Giggling, you take out your D.D.D to pass the time while waiting. Recalling Mephisto's call earlier, you decide to contact him to give an update, as his call from a while ago got cut off. Surpisingly, he answers the moment the call beeps.

"Hello?! Is everything alright there?! Don't worry, I'm by the gates now so-"

"Uh... Mephisto? Are you okay?" he sounds panicked and in a rush, much to your confusion.

"Wh-?! The call earlier, I heard something about a bad guy and needing help?!"

Ah, it immediately clicks for you.

"By any chance, did we get cut off because of bad reception?"

"Well... uh... yeah?"

"Mephisto," you stifle a laugh, but can't help but let it out. The demon on the other side of the line sounds bewildered, urging for clarification. "I think you misheard what your little brother said, and jumped to conclusions."

The line is silent, almost eerily so. You try to stifle another laugh, to no avail.

"Meph, you do realize I'm a capable sorcerer and have seven demons on my beck and call if anything bad were to happen, right?"

"Listen--"

"Please don't tell me you panicked and left your event early."

"Don't rub it in!"

"Well... at least you're in time to help us decorate cookies?"

"Shut up."

You laugh again at the absurdity of the situation as he hangs up, just in time for his younger brother to come trotting down the stairs.

"The CDs are all ready! Can we decorate now?" his pleads, eyes sparkling.

"We can, but I think we have a surprise guest. Why don't we meet him out front?"

"Huh? Who else is coming?"

"You'll see. Come on!"

By the time the two of you reach the foyer, the front door is already opening, revealing a disheveled, clearly drained Mephistopheles. You stop yourself from laughing, again, while the younger demon next to you jumps in surprise.

"Big brother! You're back early!" he runs up to him to greet him into a hug, which Mephisto reciprocates, giving him a pat on the head, as well.

"Yes, yes. I was, uh... able to leave early due to some--" he turns his gaze at you, furrowing his brows, flustered. You let out a small huff of air, looking away. "--circumstance. I trust your day was well, my dear brother?"

The younger demon gives a vigorous nod of excitement. "The best! I love my babysitter, big brother! They're the coolest!"

"Really, now?" he raises a brow in interest, urging his brother to continue.

"Yeah, we were just about to decorate cookies for our Ruri-Hana watch party... Oh! You should come help us decorate, big brother!" he doesn't even let the elder respond, already dragging him towards the kitchen. You follow suit, entertained by the two brothers. Mephisto looks behind towards you, casting a questioning glance, and all you do is mouth you'll see.

At the kitchen, Mephisto is given a quick crash course by his little brother about which colors to use, and what to decorate, pulling out the drawings he did from a while ago. Being the doting older brother that he is, he can't say no, and instead tries to follow the instructions he's being given. You transfer the separated icing mixtures into piping bags and show the two brothers the trick to get icing out evenly with even pressure and a steady hand, and despite some mishaps - mostly on Mephisto's part - you finish decorating every cookie, now having a gorgeous Ruri-Hana themed spread. You make sure to take a quick photo to send to Levi later.

"My work here is done then," you proclaim, dusting off bits of flour from your arms. "I'm guessing you'll want me gone now since you came back early...?" you turn to Mephisto, waiting for a quip from him.

"Wha- No...!" his younger sibling is immediately at your side, grabbing ahold of your shirt. "You can't leave yet! We were gonna watch Ruri-Hana!" his voice cracks.

"Big brother, you won't let them leave yet, right...?" he gives Mephisto a pleading look. You glance at him as well, and he catches your gaze. Flustered, he looks away, huffing.

"W-Well... I suppose you already did make plans, so..."

"Did you hear that? You can stay...!" he jumps in excitement, still grabbing onto you. "You can watch with us, big brother! We'll tell you all about the show!"

"And he did help with cookies," you add.

You can tell he initially wanted to decline the offer, but one look at his brother's expectant eyes crumbles him down immediately, sighing in resignation.

"F-Fine. You can leave the cookies here, I'll bring them up after I change."

Giggling, the younger demon proceeds to urge you quickly up to his room, where the watch party is set up. You suggest building a pillow fort while waiting for Mephisto, and if you thought the little demon couldn't get even more excited, you were mistaken. He's immediately onboard the idea, taking all the blankets and sheets off his massive bed. You quickly stop by to what was supposed to be your room to grab additional pillows and blankets, bringing it back to the other room.

The fort is a little rough around the edges and haphazard, but the younger demon doesn't seem to care, smile never seeming to go down. Mephisto enters the room a little while later, tray of cookies in hand, looking more casual than usual.

"I've brought the cooki-- Er, what are you two doing?"

"Big brother, look! We made a pillow fort! We can watch Ruri-Hana even better now!"

"A... fort? I fail to see any sort of resemblance..."

"Just get in here," you urge him, taking the tray off of his hands, setting it at the center. Mephisto's brother has already found his spot near the side, hugging a large Azuki-tan plush close to himself.

"Oh! You can sit next to me! That way, I can tell you all my favorite parts! And big brother can sit next you!" he suggests. You comply, trying not to think much about the seating placement, or if the little devil had ulterior motives. After taking your place, Mephisto is still standing outside the fort, seemingly in conflict with himself, staring at the empty space next to you. You pat the spot with your hand, inviting him in. You hear him groan in contempt, mumbling an "I guess that works" to himself as he sits next to you. You giggle at his resignation, and he casts you a glare, although you could tell it had no bite.

The watch party starts off without a hitch - you and Mephisto's little brother gleefully react at all the exciting scenes, as if you've never seen the show before. Mephisto seemed confused half the time, although it's clear he was entertained enough to stay. You humour him every now and then by explaining some of the finer details, and he's surprisingly very attentive. It's not long before he brings his own commentary on the table on certain scenes, prompting discussions and lighthearted debates between the three of you.

Hours and a whole tray of cookies later, the younger demon next to you has drifted off to sleep, curling himself in, Azuki-tan plush by his side. Mephisto, although initially wanting to transfer him to his bed, eventually gives in to let him continue sleeping as is - it's a pillow fort, nothing's more cofortable! - you assure the usually snarky demon, who sighs in defeat.

"He's a really sweet kid," you tell him, placing a blanket over the young demon, who snuggles in comfortably. "--very much unlike his big brother," you add, teasing him.

"He's nice enough for the both of us," his reply is sarcastic, rolling his eyes in addition as a response. "But yes, he's the best brother I could ask for."

"Hah, just now, you kinda sounded like Lucifer when he gets drunk--"

"Do not compare me to that arrogant, self-absorbed, goat-horned jerk."

"Oh, that's a new one. I'll have to use that sometime," you laugh quietly, careful not to disturb your snoozing fortmate. You notice him trying to stifle his own laugh, more amused than he lets on.

A welcomed silence envelops the room, the lowered volume of a Ruri-Hana episode still playing in the background. You can't help but stare at his screen-illuminated face, engrossed in a fight scene between Ruri-chan and the epsiode's focused monster. It's not long before he catches you staring, however, but instead of a sneering quip, he instead gets flustered and turns his head back at the screen.

"So... uh," he starts, still trying to find what he wants to say, although his eyes are still glued to the screen, albeit unfocused.

"For... today. Thanks."

"If it's for looking after your brother, there's no need to thank me. It was fun."

"No, not only that. In truth, I was worried he wouldn't open up to you, and, well..." he breathes in, finally turning to face you. "I didn't like the idea of you two not getting along, I guess."

"Hey, I already told you, kids love me! ...I think," you say. It's light, but you hear a semblance of a laugh escaping him. "Plus, I got to learn a little bit more about you, too!"

"Hm? Like what?"

"Well... I got to meet your favorite horse - he's really pretty, by the way."

"Ah, so you've met Faust. Yes, he is a stunner, befitting only of someone such as myself," he huffs in pride.

"Speaking of, you should totally teach me how to horseback. Your little brother kinda got me intrigued."

He pauses for a moment, as if in thought. "I suppose that's not an... unfavorable idea. I'll consider it."

You're a little surprised, not expecting him to agree, but at the same time, you realize it was his own way of attempting to get closer to you. Recalling what his little brother said that afternoon, you decide to push your luck a little bit further.

"I uh... also learned that despite how you act, you're always looking out for me," it's your turn to avert your gaze, thankful that the room's dimness was enough to hide the pink tinge on your cheeks.

"Wha-ugh... He told you, didn't he..." the giggle you let out in response is light, almost inaudible with the show's ending song playing in the background.

"I think it's quite endearing," you assure him. "I mean, the brothers already try their best to make sure I'm always safe, so knowing you go out of your way to do so too, regardless... It's a nice feeling. Thanks, Mephisto."

"Y-Yeah..."

Silence envelops the two of you again, this time completely, as the screen in front of you fades to black, signifying the episode's end. Carefully, you shuffle yourself a little closer to him, and you take it as an invitation to go further when all he does is look at you quietly.

Wordlessly, you lean your head against his shoulder, softly breathing in the remnants of his perfume from earlier in the day; a comforting scent compounded with Mephisto's natural one. He stiffens at your action, but almost immediately relaxes himself, his hand finding yours under the sheets. His hand is chilly, you think, the demon obviously nervous, but you urge him to continue by letting out a gentle hum of assurance and giving his hand a quick squeeze.

"Hey, Meph?" you whisper, leaning yourself closer to him.

"Hm?" you can feel his head turn to look down on yours.

"I like you."

"Ah... I--" he's breathless, despite already seeing the confession coming. He's thankful the darkness is hiding his extremely flushed face, but he's unsure if you can hear how loud his heart is beating.

"I like you too."

You giggle lightly, squeezing his hand again, this time, a bit warmer. You feel him squeeze back, as you feel yourself starting to drift off to sleep.

"I know."

You're unaware of it, but as he hears your breathing relax and as your body naturally leans a bit more towards him, he's smiling at your form softly, planting a kiss on the crown of your head.

"Sleep tight."

Devilgram, the next morning

@ minimephisto : [img attached of you and mephisto sleeping, your head leaning against his chest, his head rested atop yours] my big brother and my favorite babysitter are so cute together! ( ⸝⸝´꒳`⸝⸝)♡

see all replies (20)

mammoney : hey! what the hell! get that bastard away from my human!

lucifer : language, mammon. mephistopheles, i will deal with you myself.

asmobaby : awwww! look at those lovebirds ♡

stn : you're not helping, asmo

thank you for reading! my asks are also open if anyone would like to request something. ofc, there's no guarantee that i'll do it (haha) but i'd love to hear suggestions :>

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me x reader #obey me mephistopheles #mephistopheles x reader #obey me fanfic #obswd #obey me mephisto #obey me x mc

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cartograffiti · 7 months

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An intro to the historical Zheng Yi Sao

Ruibo Qian's character in Our Flag Means Death is based on a real person, though like all its real pirates, she is a loose interpretation. In particular, the real Zheng Yi Sao wasn't born until 57 years after the real Blackbeard died!

In real life, she lived from 1775 to 1844. She was known by a variety of names; her birth name is usually given as Shi Yang. Zheng Yi Sao is the name most often used, which literally means "the wife of Zheng Yi" (more on him later), and you may also see variations like Ching Shih or Madam Cheng, depending on transliteration. Calling her Zheng, as Oluwande does, is good, or ZYS in fandom chat, but if fic writers crave a more personal connotation for a scene, Yang is a good choice for a given name consistent with the real woman. It's like the difference between Mr. Buttons and Nathaniel.

She was born in the Guangdong province, and many bios of her claim she worked on one of the boat brothels there, but this is speculation only.

When she married Zheng Yi, he was a successful member of a pirating dynasty, working as a privateer for emperors of Vietnam. The couple collaborated to unite six different pirate fleets operating off the Guangdong coast into a confederation, sealed with an agreement signed by the captains of each. Zheng Yi was informally recognized as the overall leader of the confederation until his death in a storm two years after the signing.

Zheng Yi Sao had the respect of other key figures in the alliance, and her smooth assumption of leadership was followed by a period of huge success and expansion for the pirate confederation, driving the Chinese government to desperation. This is where her reputation as a pirate "queen" comes from in real life, though I'm excited to see where the show goes with her fictional conquest of China!

In 1810, Zheng Yi Sao recognized that the confederation faced internal fractures and additional opposition, as Portuguese and British military forces allied with Chinese ships, so she led the confederation to bow out on a high, and use their immense power to bargain for a peaceful retirement, surrendering ships and weapons for pardons, supplies, and money. Although it's fictional that her crew was predominantly women, when Zheng Yi Sao surrendered, she did so accompanied by a delegation wholly composed of women and children who belonged to the confederation. At that time, the confederation consisted of 226 ships, 24 of which personally reported to Zheng Yi Sao.

If you're doing the math, she was only in her mid-thirties, and was far from done with life. She remarried, to one of her former captains, Zhang Bao, and accompanied him to the Penghu Islands, where he commanded a garrison. After his death, she returned to Guangdong and had another career of twenty-odd years, becoming the owner of a casino until her death at age 68 or 69 (nice).

She was one of the most successful pirates in history, both because of her power and her ability to survive it. I think she's neat as hell, and so have a lot of fiction writers! You might have encountered versions of her, or characters inspired by her, before, in things like Pirates of the Caribbean, the Bloody Jack novels, Assassin's Creed, and Doctor Who. It's fun to see a form of her in this! We can expect her arc to progress differently, but I hope having some context will help.

The most helpful things to note for the rest of the season for ofmd fans will be that Zheng is her surname, she wasn't really a contemporary of the other historical figures, and that her connection to sex work should not be treated as a fact, whether you want to include it in this fictional interpretation or not.

#Our Flag Means Death #OFMD #ofmd spoilers #ofmd s2 #Zheng Yi Sao

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devildomwriter · 5 months

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Their Favorite Christmas Songs

Lucifer (Anything on the nutcracker soundtrack)

Timeless classics like the nutcracker music is what Lucifer loves most. He knows each scene of the ballet by heart and when he hears the song he’ll tell you exactly what’s happening in that chord.

Mammon (12 days of Christmas)

It’s super easy to memorize and he likes to fantasize about getting so many gifts like that. It drives Lucifer mad.

Leviathan (Winter Bells)

Only the Detective Conan anime can have a Christmas song he loves so much. He’s heard every version and often has it on repeat.

Satan (Anything by the jingle cats)

The jingle cats was the greatness gift you could’ve given Satan and simultaneously everyone else’s nightmare. It’s an absolutely adorable rendition of each Christmas song with the words replaced by variations of adorable meows.

Asmodeus (Santa baby)

So relatable. All he wants is everything he deserves and a ring from you of course. He thinks the music is a little sultry and it makes him want to seduce you.

Beelzebub (Rudolph the red nose reindeer)

He’s so happy that poor little Rudolph is now happy with his friends. Mammon isn’t allowed to mention how messed up it actually is because no one wants to see Beelzebub saddened by it. Beelzebub also kind of relates to Rudolph. Back in the Celestial Realm he was often made of for nothing being able to control his powers until Lucifer saw his potential and helped him become someone equal to those who originally looked down on him.

Belphegor (I’ll be home for Christmas)

It’s nice and slow, a good song to relax to and dream of you. He can’t wait for you to visit for Christmas especially for him.

Solomon (We Three Kings)

Although biblically inaccurate because the king’s weren’t by Jesus’s side until much later, Solomon enjoys it because he was one of the many (not just three) kings in disguise and it reminds him of the good old days.

Thirteen (Jingle Bell Rock)

It’s nice and upbeat and makes her wanna dance although she won’t do so in front of everyone except maybe you but only if you’ll dance with her.

Simeon (Hark!)

A classic, it reminds him of earlier days in the Celestial Realm when he and all the brothers would sing glorious praise to his father. It also of course reminds him of the present in which he worships with Raphael, Michael and Luke and hopefully one day with you.

Luke (Silent Night)

He loves it. It’s nice and soft and easy for him to sing. He loves holy Christmas music of course and listens to it before bed every night.

Raphael (O Holy Night)

Raphael enjoys singing this song most, to himself and willingly to others. It reminds him of the night of his father’s miracle. He thinks it’s a lovely song humans made that so accurately describes his feelings.

Michael (God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen)

He loves this song most out of the song praising his father. He also chuckles to himself when he hears Satan’s name because he can just imagine Lucifer and Satan being annoyed about it. Plus any reminder of the brothers brings him some semblance of bittersweet memories.

Mephistopheles

None of them. He does not want anything to do with Christmas even the songs that curse it’s name. There are some more tolerable than others but the only ones he can slightly tolerate are winter themed and not Christmas specific.

Barbatos

Nothing in particular. He hears them so often because of Diavolo loves them. If he had to choose he’s pick something instrumental like nutcracker songs or Mannheim Steamroller.

Diavolo (Dominic the Donkey)

Listen this song cracks him up so bad you can hear his back-breaking laughter from the House of Lamentation. The song drowns out Diavolo’s worries and Lucifer and Barbatos’s distressed sighs and mumbles of complaint.

#obey me headcanons #obey me diavolo #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me barbatos #obey me mephistopheles #obey me Michael #obey me simeon #obey me luke #obey me raphael #obey me solomon #obey me thirteen #obey me 25 days of christmas #25 days of obey me christmas

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asha-mage · 23 days

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Since it's my birthday my friends got me the amazing gift of 'watching the Wheel of Time show while occasionally stopping to discuss/let me loose my mind' for which I am incredibly grateful. A few random observations from this time through, as I attempted to view it through the lens of the entirely WoT uninitiated (as my friends are)-

The group shots, where the camera passes from one of the Emond's Field 5 to another, do this clever trick where Rand is never actually standing on his own. He's always standing beside or behind someone in one of these shots, so the camera doesn't actually have to cut or pan away from someone else to get to him. This serves the purpose of highlighting him in contrast to his friends, but also to subtlety downplay his presence to the audience, and build up to the Dragon reveal in episode 7 very effectively.

The cinematography in general is so exceedingly rich and delicious- the stark white of the Whitecloak camp contrasted with the bloody reality of their actions. The bright primary colors used to make the Aes Sedai visually pop and feel magical and strange, even as they are dressed (for the most part) practically for their traveling (a complaint I had about the Witcher, aside from everything being brown and grey all the time, is that the mages show up to battles dressed in ballroom dresses instead of you know, clothing that would make sense). The subtle use of lighting and camera angle to create a sense of vast isolation of Shadar Logoth, fear and danger in the Ways, and cramp sweltering heat in the Blight.

Moiraine's opening narration in episode 1 is essentially a summary of the information we get from one of the epigraphs at the ending of the Eye of the World prologue, to whit:

"And the Shadow fell upon the land, and the world was riven, stone from stone. The oceans fled and the mountains where swallowed up. and the nations where scattered to the eight corners of the world. The moon was blood and the sun was as ashes. The seas boiled, and the living envied the dead. All was shattered, and all but memory lost, and one memory above all others, of him who brought the shadow, and the Breaking of the World. And him they named Dragon." - Aleth nin Tearin alta Camora, The Breaking of the World, author unknown, the Fourth Age "The world is broken. Many many years ago men who where born with great power attempted to cage darkness itself. The arrogance. When they failed, the seas boiled, mountains where swallowed up, cities burned, and the women of the Aes Sedai where left to pick up the pieces. These women remembered one thing above all else, the man who brought the Breaking of the World. And him, they. named Dragon." - Moiraine

This makes me suspect their was an earlier version of the script that actually used the epigraph (maybe even both of them). I have mixed on feeling on this, as the epigraphs are one of my favorite artistic choices of Jordan's and really help emphasize the history and depth of his world, but I think filtering it through Moiriane and making it slightly less opaque was a smart choice to convey the information to the audience. I also think this works on a character level as well- here is Moiraine's understanding of this information, shaped by her biases.

Every re-watch also makes me more and more comfortable in my 'the show is a future/past turning of the wheel from the books, the broad events and truths being the same, but seen in one of those endless variations we hear about' interpretation of the series. The heart of the story and characters is the same, and the broad strokes and framework are the same, but it's in the details where things emerge as different. This interpretation has the benefit of fitting really really well with the meta-narrative stuff Jordan always liked to pull, and in freeing I think the show expectations of being a one-to-one recreation.

That said I defiantly felt the cracks in the final two episodes as a result of the Covid shutter and loosing Barney Harris more strongly this time- some of that being that this is my first re watching of season 1 since I've seen season 2. You can practically see the things they wanted/planned to do that had to re-worked because of circumstances beyond their control. Mat's absence in the group argument scene (and the 'I am so tired of you two fighting over her' line that was clearly meant to be Mat's), as well as the lack of bigger/more cohesive battle scene in Tarwin's Gap. You can also tell they hadn't quite figured out how they where going to re-work season 2 yet given that the ending for season 1 had to be changed last minute (for example, their is no reason for Moiraine to just outright admit that she released Lan's bond unless they hadn't yet decided that was where their arc was going yet).

I think the show does an exceedingly good job of structuring it's exposition to the un-intiatited, trying to stagger it so that audience is largely learning new things in pace with the characters. I know people where frustrated that things like the War of Power have yet to come up in earnest even in the Latra and Lews scene, but I think the slow and steady reveal of things matches both the core idea of 'their is always more you don't know', and trying not to overwhelm the audience. My friends had no trouble following what was going and picking up the bigger implications/subtext that underpins a lot of information. 'But why did the Dragon try to cage the Dark One? It doesn't seem like it was that simple.' came up a few times especially.

The detail that what jump-starts Perrin's wolf brother connection is having his wound healed/cleaned by the wolves in that scene from episode 2 is so incredibly clever, and a good twist on the traditional 'werewolf bite' mythology.

I love the deliberate choice to incorporate so many random ruins and remnants of things in the background of shots. Not just the 'dilapidated stone buildings' that the characters camp in, but things like the trio of carved faces that Egwene and Perrin run past while fleeing the Whitecloaks, or the boundary stones Mat and Rand pass on the road, or even just the small carvings and pillars scattered about the cave where they are holding Logain. It all helps to make you feel that ancientness, that brokenness of this world more effectively.

The reoccurring use of the Dragon's Fang to symbolize violence and destruction: the Trollocs using it as a scare tactics, it appearing in the blood in the pool after Nynaeve kills the Trolloc, being burned into Siuan's ruined childhood home....and the way that contrasts with it's use in the finale episode, when we see it whole and unbroken in the seal/yin yang symbol for the first time was really really clever. One of my friends actually gasped out loud and went 'oh' at the first shot of the whole seal when it clicked.

The show does an exceedingly good job of maintaining that core idea of the series that it's about our relationship to violence- violence never being casual or simple or easy, but always raw, hard and bloody and a little bit ugly. EVen subtle things like the way the show depicts Moraine hurling stones at the Trollocs with uncomfortable frankness, trying to literalize what in most fantasy media would be an abstract. Take it from I cast stone 2, to I inflict horrible blunt force trauma on another creature. And of course everything re: Perrin and his ax.

I have more thoughts, but I think I'll save some of them for after we watch season 1, because they relate strongly to stuff from there.

#WoT #Wheel of Time #Wot On PRime #Wheel of Time on Prime #WoT s1 #WoT Meta #Wheel of time Meta #WoT Musing #Rand al'Thor #Moiraine Damodred #Perrin Aybara #Egwene al'Vere

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