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Back to posting #thearcanagame !! I already kinda posted about rosemary’s lore before, but I basically had this thought that what if she actually grew up in the streets w/ muriel and asra. She’s the sole survivor of her village and they found each other when asra and muriel saw her being trafficked in the sunken district. Of course they end up saving her, after that they became sort of a roughed up lil family. Orphans staying and sticking together, no matter what. Rosemary then gets adopted by the owner of the magic shop (who took interest in her when she saw potential in rosemary’s magical prowess) and the rest is history.
Rosemary protected them both back when they used to live in the streets, but now she has two big protectors who would do anything for her (oh how the turn tables YNHNHNHNj). I plan on expanding their childhood lore more, I HOPE I get to actually start on that short rosemary comic ive planned SINCE 2021 GOSH CAN YALLS BELIEVE THAT?! cus I definitely cant lol.
***I have decided that I like these little short fics for in between my full length fics as they allow me to play with poetics. Sooooooo, I hope you all enjoy. -B***
Summary: You feel that you're ugly. Asmodeus believes that you are beautifully wrong. Ft. Chubby MC
CW: Body Insecurities/Dysmorphia, Intimate body descriptions/SFW body worship, and suggestive/sensual content(as per usual with Asmo)
It's half past midnight, and you came walking into Asmodeus's room. Normally he'd scold you for ruining his beauty sleep, but there was something in the way that you shifted nervously from foot to foot that kept his mouth shut.
"Asmo," his name so typically sweet from your lips now tainted with uncertainty. "How do you ... How do you do it?"
"Do what, love?" He asked as gently as he could.
His caution seemed to have been warranted as your bottom lip trembled as your fists clenched by your sides. "How do you love yourself?" Your breath caught as you weakly gestured to your body. "How ... How do you love me? This. All of this."
Asmodeus froze, his mind screeching to a halt.
To him the answer was simple and yet so deeply complex. How could he not love you?
Forget your stunningly brilliant personality, or the way your kindness changed the spirits of every single person you met.
You asked about your body. Your radiant, glorious body that even now was glowing in the dim candlelight of his room like the ethereal celestial deity that you were to him — regardless of the sweatpants that hid those tantalizing thighs and the stained, oversized shirt that gently caressed the peaks of each of your curves.
He was so distracted by the mere thought of you that words failed him, and in his silence you assumed the worst.
"I know, it's a strange question. And I swear, I promise Asmo, that I'm not fishing for compliments. But you and the boys are all so ... gorgeous! And you all somehow have abs and perfect teeth and perfect jaws to go with your perfect bodies and I just- I'm all rolls and stretch marks and lumps and it's disgusting!" Guilt swelled in his chest as tears glistened in your eyes like fireflies skimming the tops of lakes. "I don't understand why you'd choose me. S-Someone who's ugly a-a-and fat a-and-"
Those toxic words were suffocated under Asmo's pillow-soft kiss as he carefully took your face into his hands.
"None of that, dear." He whispered as his amber eyes searched deeply into your own for some semblance of an explanation for what could've brought this on. "Do not speak about yourself like that."
"But-"
He hushed you immediately with another paralyzing kiss as he gently set you on the edge of his bed. Your words were pulled from your tongue and stolen by his as he leaned away and left you breathless.
He tangled your fingers together and inspected each your hands as he tilted his head. "When I first laid eyes on you, I was instantly intrigued. You were frightened and new and so horribly confused, but you were also devastatingly beautiful."
You cocked an eyebrow as a frown dug at the corners of your lips. "You're just saying that. I'm fat-"
"You say that like that has to be a bad thing." He quickly counters with a peck to your knuckles. . "Yes, you have fat on your body." His expression softens as you wince at his words. "And I am so sorry your society has taught you that's a bad thing. Fat and Beautiful are not antonyms."
"I don't understand" you said, and how it hurt to see that you genuinely meant that.
"Allow me to put it this way," his fingers began to trace up your arm. "Humans have never once been able to agree on what they find, truly beautiful. Even today, in some cultures a full-bodied person is a symbol of a healthy, fortuitous person and is thus found deeply attractive. All throughout history, the image of the perfect body has changed more times than you can count on your lovely hands. So saying one body type is more attractive than the other is frankly ridiculous."
He pressed firm kisses up the length of your arm — as though murmuring his words against your skin could seal them there forever. "Putting all your worth into what a single indecisive society run by humans of all species thinks is a terrible waste of time and horrible for your skin," he couldn't help but smirk as a small laugh escaped your lips. The laughter quickly ceased as he took your chin into his grasp. "But it's clear that poisonous teaching has already gotten to you and that you truly believe what they have taught you. The issue isn't just their words anymore," he leaned forward and pecked the top of your head. "It's what's in here. Though it will take time to completely undo all you've been taught, let tonight be the first step towards proving that you are beautifully wrong about yourself."
And he did exactly that. He spent the next few hours spilling words of poetry about the body that he oh-so-loved to worship.
He painted the rolls and curves of your body as the very hills that compose of the natural wonder that you are. The acne you had, and the scars that remained, were your stars and he would spend the evening turning them into constellations if you would give him the chance.
You said that you're ugly, and the ravine-like marks that snake down ever-so-soft curves were terrible and he genuinely didn't understand how you could say such things about something that looks so fucking delicious. Each line was a teasing path that his tongue begged to trace, and if that was something you would never allow he would simply help you find love for the lightning bolts on your thighs, that you so disdainfully called thunder, through his words.
His thumb stroked the delicate curve of your jaw and neck as he thanked it for being the perfect accent to your gorgeous face and rounded cheeks.
With every word he planted a carefully placed kiss in hopes that a garden of love would grow just as strongly and beautifully as you.
And most importantly, he thanked each and every part of you for composing the timeless masterpiece that was his partner, and he prayed to whoever was listening that he could spend the rest of his days studying your artistry and committing every detail of you to memory.
***This is the closest thing to smut I have ever written, why does Asmo always bring this out? I so sincerely hope you guys enjoyed it and are liking these little snippet fics. Thanks for the love and support! -B***
Yes, he knows his ranking and all that, but I find it really funny that he's always getting scared and then hiding behind his younger brothers because he's literally stronger than everyone but Lucifer.
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