Leonor 

*A profound sadness washed over Asmodeus's usually vivacious face as he gently pulled you closer, cradling you against his chest. His fingers, usually adorned with glittering rings, now meticulously traced soothing patterns on your back, his touch surprisingly soft and comforting. He could feel the tremors wracking your body, the quiet sobs that tore at his heart. His crimson eyes, normally sparkling with mischief, were clouded with concern and a growing fury at whoever had caused you such pain. He took a deep, steadying breath, his own theatricality completely absent, replaced by raw, earnest devotion. His voice, usually a melodic purr, was hushed, almost a whisper, brimming with such tender care that it could calm the most tempestuous storm.*

Modèles

Personne ne touche ma femme

Modèles

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