***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***
***Hey guys! So this is a short little update, but one that I hope you all enjoy! Thank you all for your continued love and support for this series!***
Summary: MC catches the eye of Lady Harlow, a higher demoness who has had a small feud with the brothers for centuries. She’s determined to steal MC from them and keep MC under her wing. The brothers, however, are determined not to let that happen.
Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 6, Part 7
Harlow and Asmo glared at each other from across the dining room table as you awkwardly ate in the middle.
So far the meal had been mostly quiet, with the exception of a few compliments about the food towards Harlow on your end, a few compliments towards you in general on hers, and a few quiet growls and incomprehensible muttering from Asmo.
The tension between these two was so thick that you could cut through it. The brothers had clearly known Harlow in one way or another, but you didn't know it was a relationship that was this hostile.
Thinking about your boys, you felt a pool of guilt build in your stomach. They were clearly worried about Harlow, yet you dismissed it. You had known them and had grown increasingly close with them over the past two years, but when Harlow came in and invited you to her manor, you took her side over theirs.
No wonder they all looked so hurt.
You glanced over at Asmodeus. The demon of Lust hadn't even touched his food and was making no move to do so.
When the food had been served, he immediately took your glass before you could drink it and took a sip.
Harlow tilted her head at him. "Is there something wrong with your own drink, Asmodeus?"
He ignored her, his face pinched in concentration as he swished the drink around in his mouth. After a few minutes, he nodded and handed it back to you. "Not at all, Lady Harlow. But humans can't handle or stomach all Devildom foods and drinks like demons can. At this point, I can recognize said foods and drinks just by taste. I'm just making are they're safe," he raised an eyebrow at her. "Unless there's a reason you don't want me checking their food and drink?"
Harlow clenched her jaw as she smiled at him. "If it's for their safety, how could I argue? We both want what's best for them after all."
Asmo huffed, apologizing under his breath as he nibbled on the different foods on your plate.
Once satisfied, he went finally went to his own chair, where he and Harlow have been in a staring competition ever since.
You cleared your throat and gestured between the two of them. "So you two know each other?"
You couldn't help but regret your words as the room froze and fake smiles plastered tightly onto both of their faces. "Yes, we do," Asmo stated, looking over at you. There was a look in his desperate eyes, as though he was begging you not to push the subject. "We're all nobles after all. We've seen each other at events."
Lady Harlow laughed brightly and took a sip of her wine. "Now now, dear Asmodeus, don't go skimping out on any details."
You felt your curiosity peak at her words, but remembered the look on Asmo's face. You gave her a small smile and shrugged. "Oh, it's alright. I don't really need to know. Especially if it's a personal mat-"
"Nonsense," Harlow cut off as she leaned towards you. "You're family to them, right? Or at least that's what I heard. And family doesn't keep secrets from one another," her eyes pooled with sympathy as she looked between you and Asmodeus. "Or maybe they don't trust you as much as we all thought. My bad."
Your hands gripped tighter onto your silverware. Harlow was toeing a very dangerous line.
Asmodeus huffed and rolled his eyes as he crossed his arms over his chest. "Wow. Getting desperate enough to use blatant lies, are we?"
Harlow scoffed and seemed to bite her tongue as she glanced at you and picked up on your tense body language. She gave Asmo an innocent smile. "Forgive me, I must have misunderstood the relationship."
Asmo was visibly irritated. You could tell that he was clearly trying to keep his emotions in check, but it seemed to be a losing battle. You silently reached over and placed a hand on his knee. His eyes flickered over to yours, his expression softening for a moment before he took a deep breath and calmed himself. "Just be sure not to do so again."
Harlow glanced between the two of you. "Speaking of relationships...What's yours?" The two of you tensed at the question. Harlow raised her hands in defence. "Pardon me, I meant no offence. I figured since I misunderstood your relationship before it'd best to ask upfront."
That made a surprising amount of sense. You squeezed Asmo's knee in reassurance. "We're all just friends; family like you said earlier."
Harlow lifted one of her perfectly shaped eyebrows as she stared at you. "Are you certain about that? You see MC, I know these boys quite well. I, more than anyone else, would recognize the look in their eyes when they're in love with someone."
Asmo inhaled sharply from beside you. He opened his mouth, as though to protest or prevent her from taking it any further, but he wasn't fast enough.
With a smirk, Harlow stared into your eyes. She pulled a chain with a dazzling silver ring out from hiding as she purred, "I was engaged to one of them after all."
***A short chapter, but I wanted to leave on this cliffhanger 😈 Next up, hell breaks loose and we get the full story of what went down between the brothers and Harlow!
The Facade of the Suitor will be taking a break until the ball happens. After today, my full attention will be on preping role plays and getting the fics for the event ready. Thank you for you patience. And thank you so so much for supporting this series!***
