#ruewrites

[ruewritesoccasionally]

Shades of Red | Terry Richmond

Pairing: Dark!Toxic!Terry Richmond x Black!Reader

Warnings: dark themes + smut 18+, breaking + entering, jealousy, possessiveness, toxic themes, slight power dynamics, rough sex, choking, light slapping, spitting, overstimulation, oral (f receiving), squirting, breeding kink } everything is consensual but read at your own risk !

Summary: Passion, anger, lust, jealousy—all woven together into one man. Terry is charming, entitled, enticing and dangerous. YN couldn’t have seen his latest move coming….

Word count: 4.7K

a/n: This is my first time writing anything remotely dark and I think I really stepped outside of my little box. I wanted to craft a toxic love letter of sorts and I'd love to hear your thoughts..

Terry Richmond wasn’t the kind of man who stayed anywhere too long. His life was like a shifting tide—here today, gone tomorrow, always pulling away just when you thought you had him figured out. The nomadic way he moved through life suited him. He’d had his fill of staying still, of people poking too closely at the layers of armour he’d carefully crafted. Shelby Springs was just another pit stop, a place he landed when the world got too loud. And it’s where he met YN.

They’d been introduced a couple of years back through a mutual friend who had the bright idea of setting them up. “You two would be perfect for each other,” the friend had said with entirely too much conviction. But what had started as a well-intentioned matchmaking attempt quickly took a detour.

From the jump, Terry and YN decided that dating wasn’t in the cards. He was too restless, too unpredictable. She had her own life, full and vibrant, with no room to babysit someone who disappeared for weeks at a time with no explanation. Still, their chemistry was undeniable, electric in a way neither could ignore. They both wanted something—each other. And so, they reached a compromise: friends with benefits. No strings, no expectations, no hard feelings.

For the most part, it worked. YN respected Terry’s need for space, and he appreciated that she didn’t cling or demand more than he was willing to give. She had her own thing going on—a career she loved, friends who kept her laughing, and a life that was full even without him in it. She’d grown used to his disappearing acts, the way he’d go rogue and vanish for weeks or months at a time. He always came back, though. And when he did, he always found his way to her.

He was good at that—finding her. A text here, a call there, a late-night knock on her door. She’d let him in every time because, for all his flaws, there was something about Terry that drew her in. Maybe it was his charm, that easy confidence that made her roll her eyes even as it made her pulse quicken. Or maybe it was the way he looked at her, like she was the only thing that mattered when he was near. Whatever it was, she couldn’t quite quit him. And truthfully, she didn’t want to.

But this time felt different.

His text came in the middle of the day while her phone was on silent. She didn’t see it until much later, after the rush of meetings and emails had finally died down.

“Be back in town tomorrow night. Clear your schedule for me.”

The audacity of it made her laugh out loud. Terry had never been one to ask—he told. It was part of his charm and part of what made her want to strangle him sometimes. Still, she wasn’t mad. She got as much out of their arrangement as he did, and she’d been known to hit him up with the same kind of energy when the mood struck. They were equals in that way, unapologetic about what they wanted from each other.

But tonight, she couldn’t clear her schedule for him.

She typed out her response quickly, a small smirk on her lips as she imagined his reaction.

“Can’t tomorrow. Got a date.”

The reply came faster than she expected.

“A date, huh?”

That was it. No teasing, no snide comments, no flirty jabs. Just three little words that carried a weight she couldn’t quite place.

She frowned at the screen, re-reading the message as if the meaning would suddenly reveal itself. It was unlike Terry not to have some kind of comeback, some witty remark designed to get under her skin. The lack of it left her unsettled. But she shrugged it off, chalking it up to him being busy or distracted.

On the other side of the phone, though, Terry wasn’t as calm as he seemed.

Sitting in a dingy motel room on the outskirts of God-knows-where, he stared at her message, his jaw tight. A date. Someone else was taking her out, sitting across from her, making her laugh, looking at her the way he looked at her. And worse, someone else might be touching her, staking a claim to what he’d quietly, possessively come to think of as his.

He took a slow, steadying breath, forcing himself to calm the anger bubbling just beneath the surface. She wasn’t his. Not really. They didn’t have that kind of relationship. But the thought of someone else having her, even for one night, made his chest burn with something he couldn’t quite name.

Terry’s fingers hovered over the screen, itching to say something, to tell her to cancel, to remind her who always had her coming back. But he stopped himself. No, he’d let her have her little date. Let her laugh and flirt and pretend that whoever this guy was could give her what she needed. Because when it was all said and done, she’d come back to him.

And when she did, he’d make damn sure she remembered exactly who she belonged to.

Terry Richmond wasn’t an easy man to forget, and that much was evident as YN stood in her bathroom mirror, smoothing on her lipstick for the finishing touch. Tonight was a rare occasion for her—a date with someone who wasn’t him. She tilted her head slightly, assessing her reflection. The soft waves in her hair framed her face just right, the shimmer on her eyelids caught the light, and the dress she’d chosen fit like a second skin. She looked good. She felt good.

Still, a shadow lingered in the back of her mind, one with piercing eyes and an infuriatingly smug smirk. YN had spent the last two hours convincing herself this date was just what she needed: a change, something uncomplicated. Terry was Terry—a storm she willingly walked into time and time again. But tonight? Tonight was about something different, something quieter.

Her phone buzzed on the counter, and her eyes flicked to the screen. A simple text from her date: “Looking forward to tonight. See you soon!”

She smiled faintly, but the expression didn’t quite reach her eyes. YN tucked the phone into her clutch, grabbed her coat, and headed out. It was time to leave Terry Richmond out of her headspace—for now.

The restaurant was cozy and inviting, the kind of place that struck a balance between intimate and casual. Her date, Mark, had chosen well. He was polite, attentive, and easy on the eyes—a charming blend of confidence and warmth. They’d talked about work, travel, books, and even swapped a couple of funny anecdotes about their childhoods. By all accounts, it should’ve been perfect.

But halfway through Mark’s story about his latest hiking trip, YN caught herself tuning out. Not entirely—she was still nodding at the right moments, laughing softly where appropriate—but her mind drifted, unbidden, to another memory. One of Terry.

She could almost hear his voice, teasing and sharp. “Hiking, huh? Bet he’s one of those guys who carries a selfie stick to the summit just to post about it.” The thought was so vivid, so him, that YN nearly laughed aloud. She caught herself, her smile faltering for a moment before she refocused on Mark.

“So, what about you? Do you hike much?” he asked, his tone genuinely curious.

“Not really,” YN replied smoothly, pushing the thought of Terry aside. “But it sounds like you’ve had some incredible adventures.”

Mark beamed, and the conversation continued. YN did her best to stay present, to enjoy the evening for what it was. By the time dessert came around, she’d almost succeeded in compartmentalizing the storm that was Terry Richmond.

Almost.

The date ended as expected—with polite goodbyes and the suggestion that they should “do this again sometime.” Mark walked her to her car like a gentleman, and she thanked him for the lovely evening. As she slipped into the driver’s seat and shut the door, YN let out a small sigh.

It hadn’t been a bad date—not by a long shot. Mark was sweet, thoughtful, and seemed genuinely interested in her. But he wasn’t...well, she refused to finish that thought.

Her hands gripped the steering wheel as she started the engine, the soft purr of the car filling the quiet night. She glanced at her reflection in the rearview mirror. The lipstick was still perfectly intact, the curls still falling in place. By all accounts, the night had been a success. So why did it feel like something was missing?

Across town, Terry sat in his truck, parked a few blocks from YN’s apartment. His phone screen glowed faintly in the darkness as he scanned the messages she hadn’t yet responded to. His jaw tightened. The thought of her out with someone else wasn’t one he could swallow easily, no matter how cool and composed he pretended to be.

Reaching over to the passenger seat, he grabbed the small black bag he’d brought with him. It contained exactly what he needed—what he’d planned for. With practiced ease, Terry slid out of the truck and moved through the shadows. The street was quiet, the kind of stillness that came late at night when most people were already home.

It didn’t take him long to reach her place. The familiarity of it was almost comforting. Almost. He worked quickly, his movements precise and deliberate, the product of years spent learning how to move unseen, unheard. Within moments, he was inside.

The scent of her perfume—light, floral, undeniably her—lingered in the air. Terry inhaled deeply, a dark smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He made his way to the living room, his boots barely making a sound against the hardwood floors.

There, on the coffee table, was the bottle of whiskey she kept for him. He chuckled softly, pouring himself a glass and settling into the armchair in the corner of the room. The dim light from the streetlamp outside cast long shadows across the walls, and Terry sat there, waiting.

She’d be home soon. And when she walked through that door, she’d find out exactly what happened when you tried to leave Terry Richmond behind.

The hum of her car engine faded into the quiet night as YN pulled into her driveway, the evening’s events still replaying in her mind. The date had been pleasant enough—a nice dinner, polite conversation, and a genuine, if not thrilling, connection. But as she turned off the ignition, an inexplicable sense of unease settled over her, clawing its way into her chest. It had been faint earlier, an odd niggling in the back of her mind, but now it was undeniable. Something was off.

Stepping out of the car, she adjusted her coat and approached her front door, her heels clicking softly against the pavement. As her hand reached for the keys in her bag, she froze. The door wasn’t locked. Her pulse quickened, and she stood there for a moment, staring at the slightly ajar entrance.

No. She distinctly remembered locking it before leaving. Didn’t she?

"Shit," she muttered under her breath, her mind racing. Maybe she had been distracted and forgotten in her rush to leave. But no matter how she tried to rationalise it, the unease only deepened. The air around her felt heavy, charged, as though the house itself was holding its breath.

Pushing the door open, she stepped inside cautiously, her senses on high alert. The room was unnervingly quiet, and yet something wasn’t right. There was an energy in the space that hadn’t been there before, a presence she couldn’t see but could feel. She paused in the doorway, her hand still gripping the doorknob as her eyes scanned the dimly lit room.

Then it hit her—the faintest trace of cologne lingering in the air, mingling with the rich, unmistakable scent of whiskey. Her stomach dropped. It couldn’t be. Could it?

Her voice cut through the silence, firm but edged with trepidation. "Terry?"

No answer. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end as she took a tentative step further into the house. Her heart pounded in her chest, each beat echoing like a drum in her ears. "Terrance Richmond," she called again, louder this time, her tone sharper, more demanding. "If this is some kind of joke, I swear—"

Her words faltered as her eyes adjusted to the low light, finally spotting the shadowed figure seated in the corner of the room. The amber glow of a table lamp barely illuminated his silhouette, but she didn’t need to see his face to know. She would recognise his posture anywhere, relaxed yet commanding, his arm draped over the back of her chair as though he owned the place. The glass in his hand caught the light as he raised it to his lips, the sound of ice clinking faintly breaking the silence.

"Terry," she breathed, her voice a mix of anger and disbelief.

He set the glass down with deliberate slowness, leaning forward just enough for the light to catch his features—a smirk playing on his lips, his eyes glinting with an unsettling mix of amusement and something darker. "Welcome home, Princess."

“You’re home late,” he said, his voice smooth and low.

“What the hell are you doing here?” she snapped, her heart pounding as adrenaline coursed through her veins. “How did you even get in?”

He raised the glass to his lips, taking a slow sip before answering. “You’re not the only one with a key, Princess.”

“I never gave you—”

“You didn’t have to,” he interrupted, setting the glass down with deliberate precision. “I’m a resourceful man.”

Her hands clenched into fists at her sides, fury and confusion warring inside her. “You can’t just break into my house, Terry. That’s insane.”

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his gaze never leaving hers. “What’s insane is you thinking I wouldn’t notice.”

“Notice what?” she demanded, her voice rising.

“You,” he said simply, his tone unnervingly even. “Trying to replace me. With him.”

The weight of his words hung in the air, suffocating and thick. YN stared at him, her mind racing to process what was happening. This wasn’t Terry—at least, not the Terry she thought she knew. The possessiveness in his voice, the casual way he’d invaded her space, it all screamed of something darker, something she wasn’t sure she could handle.

“This isn’t about you,” she said, forcing her voice to steady. “I have a life outside of you, Terry. You don’t get to control that.”

His lips curved into a slow, predatory smile. “I’m not here to control you, YN. Just to remind you who you belong to.”

Terry’s words lingered in the air, heavy with promise and warning, as he took a slow step closer. The air crackled between them, electric, suffocating and sinister. YN felt her pulse thunder in her ears, the thrum of anticipation coursing through her veins like wildfire. Every nerve in her body screamed at her to run, to retreat, to reclaim control of the situation, but her feet refused to move. It wasn’t fear that kept her rooted in place—it was him. The commanding weight of his presence, the way his eyes bore into her with a heat that made her knees tremble.

“Terry,” she began, her voice wavering despite her best efforts to steady it, “I—”

He cut her off with a single step, closing the distance between them until the barest whisper of air separated their bodies. His scent—whiskey, spice, and the faintest trace of cedar—enveloped her senses, dizzying and disarming.

“Don’t,” he growled, tilting his head slightly as if daring her to finish that sentence. “Don’t give me excuses. Don’t feed me lies about him or pretend he’s what you want.” His hand came up, fingers brushing against her jaw, and she flinched—not from fear, but from the raw, undeniable pull between them. “You and I both know that man doesn’t know a damn thing about you.”

Her lips parted, a sharp retort on the tip of her tongue, but he moved faster. His hand slid to the back of her neck, gripping just firm enough to make her gasp. “Say it,” he demanded, his voice a rough rasp against her ear. “Say you thought about me tonight.”

YN’s breath hitched. She wanted to deny it, to tell him he was delusional, but the truth burned hotter in her chest than any denial ever could. She had thought about him. His presence lingered in the back of her mind all night, the ghost of his touch, the memory of his voice. It had tainted every polite smile, every harmless laugh, every fleeting touch from a man who wasn’t him.

“I hate you,” she whispered instead, the words trembling with a mixture of fury and something far more dangerous.

Terry’s mouth twisted into a wolfish grin. “Hate me all you want, Princess,” he drawled, his thumb brushing against her lower lip. “But don’t forget who makes you feel alive.”

Before she could respond, his lips crashed against hers, rough and unyielding. It wasn’t a kiss born of tenderness; it was hunger and frustration, a collision of wills that neither of them intended to lose. YN’s hands pushed against his chest, but it only seemed to fuel him further. He growled low in his throat, his teeth grazing her bottom lip before his tongue swept inside, claiming her in a way that made her knees buckle.

Her defiance melted into something impure, needier. Her fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer even as she cursed herself for it. Terry’s hand slid down her back, gripping her waist and yanking her against him with a force that made her gasp into his mouth.

“You’re a piece of work,” she hissed when they finally broke apart, her chest heaving with shallow breaths.

“And you love every second of it,” he shot back, his voice dripping with arrogance. His hands didn’t stop moving, sliding under the hem of her top to find bare skin. The heat of his touch burned against her, sending shivers cascading down her spine.

“Terry…” Her voice faltered as his fingers dipped lower, tracing the curve of her hip. She hated how easily he unravelled her, how her body betrayed her with every shiver, every hitch of her breath.

“Shh,” he murmured, his lips finding the curve of her neck. He bit down lightly, just enough to make her gasp and clutch at his shoulders. “I told you, I’m not here to control you. But you’re going to remember exactly who you belong to by the time I’m done.”

With one swift motion, he lifted her onto the counter, his hands gripping her thighs with bruising force. YN barely had time to protest before his mouth was on hers again, devouring her in a kiss that left no room for argument. His hands pushed her dress higher, exposing more of her skin to the cool air and his insatiable touch.

She moaned into his mouth as his fingers slid between her thighs, finding her already soaked through. He chuckled darkly, the sound vibrating against her lips. “That’s what I thought,” he muttered, pulling back just enough to meet her gaze. “All night, you were mine. Even when you were with him.”

“Shut up,” she snapped, her cheeks flushing with a mixture of anger and arousal.

“Make me,” he challenged, his voice dripping with smug defiance.

She grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him down into another kiss, pouring every ounce of frustration and longing into it. But Terry wasn’t content to let her take control for long. His hand slid further up, his fingers pressing against her with a skill that had her crying out despite herself.

“Say it,” he demanded again, his breath hot against her ear as his fingers worked her relentlessly. “Say you’re mine.”

“Terry,” she gasped, her nails digging into his shoulders as the tension in her body built to an unbearable crescendo.

“Say it,” he growled, his voice taking on an edge that sent a shiver of both fear and excitement racing through her.

“I—I’m yours,” she choked out, the admission torn from her lips as her body betrayed her completely.

He grinned wickedly, his fingers pushing her over the edge with ruthless precision. “That’s my girl,” he murmured, his lips brushing against her temple as she shattered in his arms, her cries echoing through the room.

And he wasn’t done yet.

Terry’s grip on YN’s hips tightened, the pads of his fingers digging into her flesh as he hovered above her. His eyes burned into hers, dark and unrelenting, as if trying to burn every unspoken word into her very soul. He leaned down, his mouth a breath away from hers, his lips brushing against hers as he murmured, “You only ever say my name tonight. Nothing else. No one else.”

Before she could respond, his lips descended on hers with bruising intensity. The kiss was all-consuming, a searing mix of dominance and desperation, his tongue delving into her mouth as though he could taste every word she hadn’t yet spoken. When he pulled back, his gaze swept over her swollen lips, and he smirked like a predator.

“You’re so fucking stubborn,” he muttered, his voice rough, laced with dark amusement. “Always trying to act tough. Always pretending like you don’t need me. But I’ll fix that.”

Without another word, he moved lower, kissing his way down her neck, leaving a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses across her collarbone and between her breasts. His teeth scraped lightly against her skin, eliciting a shiver that had nothing to do with the chill in the air. He paused for a moment, watching her with an almost sadistic level of patience, as if daring her to tell him to stop.

She didn’t. She couldn’t.

His hands roamed lower, pushing her thighs apart with an ease that made her stomach twist with equal parts annoyance and anticipation. She was already dripping wet, the evidence of her arousal glistening in the low light. Terry groaned at the sight, a deep, primal sound that sent a jolt of electricity through her body.

“Look at you,” he said, almost to himself, as he trailed his fingers along her folds. “So fucking perfect. But you already knew that, didn’t you?”

Before she could muster any sort of response, he lowered his head between her thighs, his tongue swiping a deliberate, teasing stripe through her slickness. Her back arched involuntarily, a strangled gasp escaping her lips. Terry chuckled against her, the vibrations making her toes curl.

“That’s it,” he murmured, before diving in with a newfound ferocity. His tongue worked her clit in relentless circles, alternating between broad strokes and focused flicks that had her gripping the sheets for dear life. He didn’t stop there, though. Two of his fingers slipped inside her, curling upward in a way that made her see stars.

“Oh, fuck—Terry,” she choked out, her voice raw with desperation.

He hummed in approval, his name falling from her lips like a melody he wanted to hear on repeat. Her thighs began to tremble, the pressure building so quickly it almost scared her. She tried to pull away, overwhelmed by the intensity, but his hands clamped down on her hips, anchoring her in place.

“Uh-uh,” he growled, his lips never leaving her clit. “You’re not running from this. You’re taking everything I give you.”

The overstimulation had her head spinning, tears welling up in her eyes as her orgasm tore through her. She screamed his name, her body shaking uncontrollably as she soaked his fingers, his mouth, everything. Terry groaned in satisfaction, lapping up every drop like a man possessed.

When her body finally went limp, he sat back on his heels, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. His eyes gleamed with something feral as he watched her struggle to catch her breath.

“Good girl,” he said, his voice dripping with smug satisfaction. “See? You don’t need anyone else. Just me.”

Before she could recover, he was on her again, positioning himself between her legs. He leaned down, spitting directly into her mouth, his gaze daring her to defy him. She swallowed without hesitation, her body responding to his dominance in ways she couldn’t control.

“That’s what I thought,” he muttered, lining himself up at her entrance. He pushed into her slowly, making her feel every inch of him, until he was buried to the hilt. He stayed there for a moment, letting her adjust, his eyes locked on hers.

“You’re mine,” he said, his voice low and possessive. “Say it.”

“Yours,” she gasped, her nails digging into his shoulders as he began to move. His thrusts were deep and deliberate, each one designed to remind her of exactly who she belonged to. The sound of skin against skin filled the room, punctuated by her cries and his grunts.

Her mind was a haze of pleasure and pain, the lines between the two blurring as he pushed her closer to the edge once more. When her responses began to falter, her head lolling to the side, he delivered a sharp slap to her cheek—not enough to hurt, but enough to snap her back into focus.

“Eyes on me,” he commanded, his voice cutting through the fog. “I want to see you come undone for me.”

She obeyed, her gaze locking onto his as her second orgasm ripped through her, even more intense than the first.

The final wave of his dominance surged as Terry pressed her deeper into the mattress, his thrusts growing slow but deliberate, each one hitting with a force that left her breathless. Her legs trembled uncontrollably around his waist, every overstimulated nerve in her body aflame, her cries breaking into fragmented whimpers.

His breathing grew heavier, ragged, the telltale signs of his release building. Still, he didn’t rush—he wanted her to feel it all. Every inch of his claim. His hand tightened around her throat as his lips brushed the shell of her ear, his voice dropping to a rough, guttural growl that sent a shiver down her spine.

"I’m going to cum deep inside you," he rasped, his words slow and deliberate, carrying the weight of his intent. "And you’re not going to let a single drop out. You need to feel me, baby—every part of me."

Her head flung back, her lips parted in a silent gasp, unable to do anything but nod as her body clung to him, every sensation amplified. She didn’t even have time to prepare as he thrust into her one final time, his release hitting her like a brand, searing and unrelenting.

The warmth of him filled her, explored her body like it belonged there, and Terry didn’t move—he stayed there, buried to the hilt, ensuring she took every ounce of him. His hand slid from her throat to her jaw, tilting her head up to meet his intense gaze. The raw satisfaction in his eyes mirrored the shattering chaos within her.

"Mine," he murmured, the word almost reverent, though it carried the weight of a command.

They stayed like that for a moment, tangled together in the aftermath, their breaths mingling as they came down from the high. Terry brushed a stray curl from her face, his touch surprisingly gentle despite everything that had just transpired.

“You’re not going anywhere,” he said softly, almost tenderly, though the possessiveness in his tone was unmistakable. “Not tonight. Not ever.”

comments and reblogs are appreciated as well as feedback, i hope you liked it 🫶🏾🫶🏾🫶🏾

[ruewrites]

Creation

AO3

Word Count: 3677

Warning(s): None

A/N: I hope y'all enjoy! I had a lot of fun participating in the gift exchange @obeymeholidayexchange! my giftee was @spaceshxtking and the prompt I chose was "What Barbatos does on his (forced) day off". I HOPE YOU LIKE IT DIA-RYAN 💗

Barbatos scanned the rows of fresh fruits and vegetables, his human world attire fluttering gently in the morning breeze. It wasn't often he had a day off, honestly he'd rather not have one at all, he was in perfect condition as always, and his goals aligned with anything his young lord desired. 

Unless the young lord desired him to take a day off, that was simply out of the question.

His work was all he needed. It was his art, his craft, and he took extra care of it so that he stayed sharp and vigilant.  After all, what would become of him if he dared to let his skills falter? A dull butler was hardly fit to stand next to the future king of the Devildom, and Barbatos had tried to plead this case, but this was one of few disagreements that he would not win. Diavolo was insistent, he would not accept any answer other than an enthusiastic yes from the Time Demon. Not only an enthusiastic yes, but he also couldn’t stay near the castle grounds, and how much farther could one go before hitting the Celestial Realm than that of the Human Realm?

He plucked an apple from a cart and smiled. Even after all these years they still enjoyed temptation. 

They were all perfectly ripe and prime for harvest. Even if it was his day off, it didn’t mean he couldn’t indulge in one of his favored hobbies, and if his hobby was to result in a delectable apple crumb cake for his Master for dinner, who could fault him? Besides they were a most delectable red, a shade that would certainly remind his master of his favored fallen angel’s eyes. 

Who could fault Barbatos for being so thoughtful and generous with his never ending time? 

Dropping his payment into the seller's hand and pleased with his purchase, Barbatos continued to make his way down the row of stalls when a familiar voice reached his ears. Stopping, he focused, and listened. 

“Maybe you can have it when you reach it, kid.”

“Hey! That’s not fair!”

Cruelty disguised as humor was the lowest form of torture in Barbatos’ humble opinion. It was used by cowards too afraid to acknowledge their own shortcomings. The apple never did fall far even after generations, not since Adam turned on Eve. When the benefit of doubt worked in their favor and cast stones upon another they clasped at it with sweaty palms and whispered sweet words with foul breath.

They could at least be more creative with how they acted, and more clever.

“Teasing a child? I’d hardly say that’s a good look for business.”

Barbatos prided himself on his outward appearance. He must always appear calm and collected. It wasn’t necessarily about how one reacts in a situation, but about the aura one emitted. Onlookers were less likely to get involved if they didn’t immediately perceive a hostile threat, and the less obvious he could make himself appear, the better. 

He watched with interest as the man cowered before him. There was a specific type of fear that Barbatos enjoyed when a snake noticed a hawk, once they are no longer the apex predator they tremble like the worms they are, reminded of their proper position in the food chain. The way their shoulders hunch and their lips twitch betray their intentions as they step back in line. They remember they aren’t the smartest or the most tactful, that there is always a bigger fish lurker in the depths beneath them waiting for a given opportunity to strike. Suddenly the tiniest slip ups matter, the smallest mistakes could cost their final breath, and no other soul around is any the wiser. 

“I wasn’t-”

“You weren’t?” Barbatos mused, taking a step closer to the stall, “It seemed to me like you were.” His eyes flashed and his head tilted to the side. Despite the open streets and the crowded sidewalks his prey was cornered and alone. 

Sins had a price.

Especially sins against his own. 

“No, no sir! I just like to have a little fun with the kids,is all,” the salesman laughed and attempted to roll his shoulders back into a straighter position to regain his footing, “Makes them eat right and such so they can get big and strong. Ya know?”

Barbatos hummed in response and glanced at the bag of sugar in the man’s hands. 

Silence made the clerk squirm, returning to a state that Barbatos preferred him to be him. It was much more suited to his nature after all. The man cleared his throat, “You uh, you got kids? You know what I’m talking about right?”

Barbatos smiled and placed a hand on top of the mop of blonde hair beside him, “This one finds his way into my care quite often. So if you wouldn’t mind-”

“Oh! Of course! Feel free to take it at a discount! For being such a kind fellow.”

Barbatos was no such thing.

The young angel before him looked up at him with shining wonder as he handed over the bag of sugar. Admiration was painted across his features and he reached out to hand over the coins he’d been carrying, “You really are something Barbatos! How’d you get so good at bartering like that?”

“With a milenia of experience behind me. It is quite the pleasure to run into you here, Luke.”

Luke’s grin quickly turned into a frown, “You can say that again. I don’t know why humans act like that sometimes. Don’t they know how they’re coming across and how rude it is? I thought they would have known better.”  He thought for a moment, pondering as he and Barbatos continued to walk along. “Well, I guess even Solomon has his quirks, but he doesn’t really count as a normal human does he?”

“In some ways I suppose.”

That sorcerer was certainly  far from normal. 

“Speaking of not normal, why aren’t you at the Demon Lord’s Castle.”

It would appear that they were playing a game of Topics that would make Barbatos Bristle at the current time. How lucky for him.  

“The Young Master thought it would be an excellent idea for me to take the day off, and what better way than to enjoy the Human Realm and all the exquisite ingredients it has to offer?” Offering the young angel another smile, Barbatos forced his annoyance away. It wasn’t Luke’s fault that others failed to understand him and the importance of his work. 

Luke continued to hop along, looking over eggs at the next stall they came across, “I can see why they want you to take a break, because they care about you and want what’s best for you right? But I also think it’s a little frustrating.”

Insightful for a being who has not experienced creation for long. 

Well, perhaps for a human, maybe, but not for creatures such as angels and demons. If humanity were a speck in the history of creation, Luke was a slightly smaller speck. Maybe he would have been old enough to witness their Dark Age, but that was being generous, at least Barbatos thought so, but who could say? Most beings looked young to him with where he was now, it certainly made it hard to tell who experienced what when, even without all of the different possibilities at all. 

“Simeon sends me away a lot. Michael will give me a task and Simeon will say he can handle it, that I should spend more time ‘enjoying youth’,” a small huff left his lips as he placed the eggs gently into his basket, “But why should I? I like doing what I do, why should I spend my time doing something else? If I want to get anywhere later in life, pleasing Michael is the best way to do it. After all, Raphael was the youngest angel to become a seraphim for now- I’m going to be the youngest Seraphim ever in existence!”

Barbatos was silent for a moment, pretending to look over the other produce as Luke spoke. “I can’t say I disagree with Simeon all too much,” he said, “After all, he has lived much longer than you have, he knows a thing or two about growing.”

“But why Barbatos?” Luke asked, looking genuinely betrayed as he turned towards Barbatos, “I thought if anyone, you would understand. I like working. It's what I want to do with my life and it aligns with my goals. Isn’t that enough? Why should I not do it if it’s what I like?”

Barbatos stopped. For a moment he was genuinely stunned, and a sincere smile made its way across his face. Some angels liked to spread the word that they were above sin, especially to humans, but they were just like the rest of them. Perhaps they were above humans in some ways, but angels and demons were more similar than those particular angels chose to believe. The act of turning one thing into something else just made some angels more comfortable, and so they chose to turn such acts into (what they considered) more positive attributes. 

Or maybe it was all about perception. 

Perhaps there was no sin at all. 

At the end of the day, could intention matter more?

This was what Barbatos loved about creation, how curious it all was, especially younger spawns of her whimsy. They wanted to know everything, why and why not, how and how not. Some would even consider knowledge itself a sin, but was it really? 

Barbatos had been around for a long time, perhaps even since the beginning of time itself, whenever that was. Or should he say whatever that was? Oh he made himself chuckle from time to time. There was that word again, time-

But that was a different stream of thought for a different day. 

Or maybe a different him had already gone down that path, and he could review it as if it had happened now.

But now, now now, he needed to contemplate how to answer Luke’s question in the best way. 

“No creature is perfect, and oftentimes our greatest strengths, can also become our greatest flaws.” Barbatos continued to act as if was examining the produce as he spoke, picking apart each individual molecule with his eyes as he went. “A star burns bright, but its light is snuffed out so quickly. Ambition is like that. You burn until you have nothing else to give, and at that point you fade from existence.”

Stepping back, he finally turned towards Luke, “You won’t become a seraphim if your wings no longer exist, now can you?”

Luke’s eyes cast downwards towards the ground as he shook his head, “I guess not. That’s why Simeon and Diavolo both want us to take breaks huh?”  

There was no possibility in which an honest lesson wouldn’t have turned against him.

“After all, he can’t be a great king if his loyal butler isn’t by his side. Right?”

Another chord struck inside him, this one softer and more melodious. 

To be young and naive of the world. Any demon would know what dangerous game they were playing with Barbatos by bringing up his profession, he was even well known among gifted humans and circles of angels who whispered his name. He was certain there were angels who thought Simeon more than foolish to allow Luke to be left in his care. Even Raphael threw him a wary glance from across rooms. Any danger Luke had once perceived from him had vanished, and wouldn’t that be quite the complex problem for the Celestial Realm to untangle?

Was he not still an enemy or a scheming foe?

The young lord’s plan to unite the Three Realms was not without controversy after all. While the Celestial Realm was participating, they weren’t without their hesitancies. Then there was the issue of how both angels and demons viewed humans. It all came to the same conclusion for many angels: Demons were monstrous, unholy, and sinful creatures of the dark. It was no fault of their own, it was how they were taught. How could they ever learn any different. 

Had it not been for Simeon’s more personal affections towards his fallen comrades, he would have likely been the same. 

“Barbatos?”

“Yes Luke?”

“Do you want to bake together?” Luke glances at Barbatos’ bag and then back up at the demon. “That’s what you were planning on doing right? You were going to make something for Diavolo on your time off?”

“Observant as ever Luke, in fact I was.”

“We could go to the Angel’s Halo! Simeon won’t mind if we borrow the kitchen a bit for baking,” Luke said, grabbing Barbatos’ hand without waiting for an answer. While initially hesitant about demons and their nature, the young angel was eager to share his joys and hobbies with Barbatos. Perhaps his view of demons was changing, or perhaps Barbatos was an exception to the rule. “Did you have plans for what you wanted to make?”

“How would you feel about an apple pie?”

***

Flour was powdered across the counter, coating it as the world was covered with the first flurries of snow in winter. The timer ticked away slowly as the demon and angel talked about everything and nothing. Barbatos spent most of his time listening as Luke spoke of all he learned, what had happened since last they’d talked, and his hopes for the future. In many ways, he reminded Barbatos of a young Diavolo. Children were all so similar. The young lord and Luke had grown up in similar environments, taught to hate their enemy and all of their flaws. 

Yet his young lord grew up wanting to unite the three realms and bring peace. 

Maybe Luke would grow to be less hesitant by the idea. 

Day by day his worldview was changing. 

Day by day those ingrained beliefs were fading. 

Simeon had left a note behind, informing Luke that he had gone out on his own shopping trip but that he’d soon return. So the butler and the angel were left with the kitchen to themselves, to create and craft from their own mind’s eye. Now the dough was forming, morphing, changing into something new, something they wouldn’t truly know until it was done. Barbatos swiped away the flour from the counter as Luke washed their dishes. The clinking of metal and the gentle stream of warm water were calming to Barbatos’ ears. He hummed along softly and he revived the counter back to her former sparkling and pristine form. The transformations always pleased him, watching something filthy and soiled become new and glorious once more. 

When he caught his own reflection on the surface, his chest welled, and a smile was staring back at him.

Cleanliness was close to godliness, and Barbatos revelled in removing the dirt that smudged perfect visions, even if he was the one responsible for cloudy vision in the first place. 

Sometimes the joy of a mystery was giving someone a push in the right direction.

Sometimes teaching involved holding back and giving nudges to the answer rather than saying it outright. 

Swiping his cloth once more across the counter, he was finally pleased with its appearance and nodded back towards his reflection. 

“Barbatos?”

“Hm?” His ears twitched as he focused on Luke’s voice.

 “Why do you think people like baking?”

“I find it relaxing for one, I imagine others do as well,” Barbatos chuckled, “Or perhaps it’s the generosity of sharing with others.”

Or the never ending search for praise and adoration, to have another hung so close on something that had been made and to have them indulge in it. There was truly nothing better, especially not when someone relied on him so heavily. It was a wonderful feeling, to be a confidant and close friends. 

There were some who would call his desires fiendish, yet others would know the deepest parts of him and still call him a friend.

How dare the latter demand him take time off for his own wellbeing. It was nothing short of cruel even if well intentioned, but once again, that was his own interpretation. His Master would never see it as cruel. Even if he did, well, Barbatos doubted that would make him change his decisions. The young lord was the Prince of Demons after all. In the eyes of some, he was torturing Barbatos for no other reason to be cruel.

In his personal opinion, he had just taught his Master too well. 

He’d probably end up teaching Luke too well too. 

How ironic life was.

“Well I guess.” Luke’s brow furrowed in frustration for a moment as he searched as to why Barbatos’ answer wasn’t satisfactory. Barbatos knew it wasn’t the answer he was searching for, that’s why he gave it. Now he waited as Luke worked through how to clarify what it was he was searching for. “But why?”

“Elaborate. I told you why.”

“What makes us like our hobbies? Why like baking? What about making things is so…fun?”

Barbatos nodded and closed his eyes, “I think we all love to participate in the acts that allow us to be here.”

Before Luke could finish cocking his head in confusion,  Barbatos continued, “We are all creatures of creation. At one moment in time we weren’t here and at another we were. Or we were something before we became something else. Or we were unconscious and then gained consciousness. Regardless of the circumstances of our birth, or what the definition of birth is, the act instills something into our very nature. We yearn to touch the stars and craft them. Even if we can't, we try the next best thing.”

Barbatos grabbed a container from the cabinet before walking closer. “Cup your hands.”

He tapped the container a few times into the angel’s hands, and then the two of them watched as the golden sprinkles sparkled in the light of the kitchen. Luke moved his hands from one side to the other, making the tiny stars flicker in his palm.

“Do you understand?”

The oven timer rang out in the kitchen. 

***

Barbatos sat by and watched as Luke changed the fluffy crust of their pie into the leaves of a tree. He added tiny detail etched in with his glaze. The small details he added never ceased to surprise Barbatos. The way he changed the viewpoint of the tree intrigued him. Fluffy clouds had been added around the border, making it seem as if they were viewing the tree from above.

Why this choice?

Perhaps he would never know.

Or maybe he would, just not now. 

“It smells heavenly in here.” 

Simeon entered the kitchen with bags in both of his arms, “Hello Barbatos, it’s surprising to see you here. Is Diavolo around?”

“I’m afraid not. I’ve been sent here on mandatory vacation. Could I assist you with those?”

“I believe I’ve got it. Besides, I wouldn’t want to ruin your mandatory vacation.”

How irritatingly polite of him.

“Plus, I think you and Luke have been hard at work here, haven’t you?”

Luke nodded, finally peering up from his work  to allow Simeon a better view of his handiwork, “We made a human world apple pie. I decorated the crust myself.”

Simeon’s eyes sparkled as he looked down at the young angel’s work, his hands clasped close to his lips and hardly hiding the smile behind them. “Wonderful work Luke! You know, I think Barbatos has inspired some of your best work I’ve ever seen.”

“I merely offer support and guidance, I leave Luke to his own creative devices,” Barbatos chimed, keeping his spot back by the other counter, “Still, I would say he is my star pupil in the kitchen.”

“Don’t let Solomon hear you say that.”

“I would say it louder if he were here.”

Maybe Barbatos imagined it, but he could have sworn the angel stifled a laugh behind his hands. He was more than aware of how Barbatos felt, and certainly more than aware of the antics of that sorcerer. 

“Of all of them, Luke is the shining apple of my eye, and right now he looks like an apple too.”

Luke stood between his mentors, face red and looking as if he wished he could sink into the floor between them. Despite that, there was something about him that was beaming, a small smile toying at the edges of his lips, his eyes fixed on and reflecting the sparkling sugar that coated his crust and sat delicately atop his glaze. Both made by his own hands.  

“Well, I think it would be more than appropriate if we invited you to stay for dinner and tea,” Simeon said, starting to open some of the cabinets, “By some twist of fate, I had gotten some new tea blends while I was out and they just so happened to remind me of you. Consider it my thanks for being such a wonderful influence in Luke’s life.”

Simeon’s views were changed by his own experiences. He was aware just as much as Barbatos was how it could hurt him later. They both knew that Simeon should be keeping Luke farther away from Barbatos to keep a powerful select few in The Celestial Real happy. They both knew that they would question Simeon and his suitability as a guardian further. They would question where his loyalties lied. 

 Yet here they both were, creating and shaping the future of another in tandem.

Their actions would have irreversible consequences, for Luke would never forget the silent lessons they taught nor the experiences they shared.

Every decision, every minute singular act, was one of irreversible creation. Not even Barbatos was yet sure what their rebellion would birth.  

Perhaps this outing wasn’t as much of a cursed punishment as much as he had believed. 

Perhaps this was one of those set moments in time that would forever impact the future.

“I would be more than delighted.”

[pseudonymphomania]

In collaboration with @ruewrites

Lucifer has always been the best of the best, but when he and his brothers are ousted from their father’s company, he turns to an old friend for help. Suddenly he is thrust into a world he has never experienced where professionalism is second to fun. Watch as they navigate their interpersonal relationships against the rules of their rigid society! (But is it rigid because it’s true, or because of the expectations they put upon themselves?)

This Memo Means I Love You

VALENTINE'S DAY!

FIRST CHAPTER UP!

[seerachii-art]

Like months ago, I read this fic “We’re blooming together.” and during the Holiday gift exchange, I had the wonderful fortune to meet the writer of said AU.

And I really wanted to draw a gift for her, just so she knows how much I love and appreciate her and her writing.

Rue, you do amazing work, I am excited to see more from you ^^

@ruesinger @ruewrites

[shootingstarrfish]

Hey Starr!! I'd seen some people wishing for Asmo content and thought of you! Are there anyother artists (or writers!) that you can share? Or maybe you can share some Asmo ideas you've been thinking about lately?

Hi hi!! Im honoured you thought of me hahaha lately i have been thinking about bunny asmo... nothing in particular i just really like bunny asmo

but off the top of my head I immediately thought of @noecoded! their asmos are soooo yummy scrumptious delicious and every post they make is a full course meal

as for writers I thought of @ruewrites, she has a lot of solodeus/soloasmo and i really love the way she writes their relationship! she really understands how asmo and solomon work and just MMM really good stuff, definitely recommend giving her work a read!!

but also this is now an open invitation for anyone who likes asmo to share their asmo work under this post 👀👀👀 please, the people require sustenance (its me im the people)

[boxbusiness]

https://www.tumblr.com/ruewrites/759897022169071616/the-next-gen-kids?source=share

I wanted to share some of my kiddos too if that okie (on Anon bc my blog is a sideblog :') ) but I love seeing everyone's kids and people sharing their fankids! It has me kicking my fert and giggling.

That’s pretty sweet that Solodeus’ kid is named after Lilith. Cute next Gen you got there ^^

[radarchives]

Putting MC in the Devildom with my terrible facial recall would be hilarious. On the first day at RAD, MC would probably walk up to the sophisticated-looking man with dark hair next to Diavolo and say, "You're... Lucifer... right?" And a peacock would lose its wings that day.

my dear friend @ruewrites is a staunch supporter of the mephistopheles dyes his hair theory

and i can only image it really started because of a situation like that

like he's screaming crying throwing up because they do not!! look alike!! and he WILL make sure of that

sitting at the barber's with mucus and snot running down his face and he shows a picture of lucifer like "make sure i do not look like that"

[leviathanswingman]

The Lament of Asmodeus/ a character study

gift for @ruewrites

category: gen

warnings: violence, blood

word count: 1965

Asmodeus was standing in the middle of his bathroom, staring down at the tub as it was rapidly filling up with crystal clear water. There was a sweet scent, almost sickeningly so, wafting through the humid air. Several flacons and phials were lined up on the edge of the tub, most of them already halfway empty with how often Asmo tended to use them. Mixing them together and watching them form bubbles in the bath had become somewhat of a calming ritual to him. Today however, this little trick of his didn’t seem to work.

Asmodeus was simply standing there, his eyes unfocused and his mind far away as the rushing of water filled his ears and numbed his mind. He watched the way it came gushing out of the faucet, gallon after gallon, the steam rising up and turning the air clammy.

Slowly, he crouched down, reached over the edge and dipped one finger in, the water forming little ripples around it, almost as if trying to flee from his unholy hands. The water turned the lightest shade of carmine as soon as his finger dove in. Asmo flinched, pulling back quickly as if he’d been burnt. His chest was heaving with every new breath. It was getting harder and harder to breathe.

Red, that was all he was able to see. Both of his hands were drenched in it, and there were the remains of something stuck under his perfectly manicured nails. The moment he took note of it, he could also feel it. Screwing his eyes shut, he plunged his hands straight back into the water, trying to rid himself of the dirt and grime. Tears were threatening to spill, only stopped by a certain kind of numbness that had been spreading out from his heart to his fingertips ever since he’d returned home.

After a moment had passed, he slowly lifted his head back up again. Crouching opposite from him was his own reflection, staring back at him unnervingly.

Dried blood was dragging down his hair, making his pretty curls look flat and droopy. His eyes, big with terror, were makeup free and deep set, the bags under his eyes more than prominent.

For once, Asmodeus regretted having filled the room with mirrors on each wall. There was no way to escape from what had become so glaringly obvious. There was no way to run away from that demon he did not recognise. It felt like his reflection was taunting him, beckoning to come closer and dig deeper.

It seemed like the little dove had been right after all. Asmodeus, they called him. Back in the Celestial Realm, he was known as the jewel of the heavens. Every angel, no matter how old or young, used to marvel at the mere sight of him, so pure, so divine. The taste of his name had been like honey on everybody’s tongues, sweet and sure to stick. If they were to see him now, what would they think? Would their eyes widen in shock? Would they perhaps avert their gazes, too embarrassed to even look him in the eye? What would they say in the comforts of their homes, when they thought no one was listening, stripped of all social kindness? The possibilities were maddening to think about and Asmo couldn’t help but keep mulling it over in his mind until the thought was familiar enough to lack its original bite. It was a vicious circle.

He raised his head and opened his eyes again. Staring back at him was someone he barely recognized. Perhaps the demon in front of him was a more accurate representation of Asmodeus than his angel self could have ever been. Only now, it seemed like the outside finally matched the inside.

Asmodeus was trapped in his demon form. Frustratingly enough, he hadn’t been able to transform back in spite of his best efforts. It hadn’t taken long for his initial annoyance to turn into hot flashes of panic. He didn’t know what to do. No one had ever been there to teach him what he should do in a moment like this. No one had told him.

For a second, he considered calling for Lucifer, but quickly decided against it. There was no need to reveal the disappointment that he had become to the brother he idolised the most.

“Go back,” he whispered to himself, lifting one hand to touch his horns with shaky fingers. “Come on, retreat,” he urged, but his body refused to listen.

Frustrated, Asmo pushed his hands against his face just to drop them back into the water immediately. Then, an agitated tear escaped the corner of his eye. It seemed like the water hitting his face had been his last straw.

Asmodeus began to weep bitterly. He turned around, his back leaning against the edge of the tub, and let his head fall back into his hands.

He took in a shaky breath. Ever since their fall, his brothers had made sure to bring up time and time again how Asmo was the only one who hadn’t changed, how he’d adapted to their new environment far too quickly while staying exactly the same as he’d always been.

However, Asmo knew better. He was nothing but a fraud sitting in a glass house. His brothers had no clue how terribly wrong they were. After all, it was all a farce, a face he put up deliberately to keep his brothers hopeful and smiling. That little feeling that had already been there back in the celestial realm, growing and growing, that unhinged sort of agitation he tried to keep hidden in the depths of his soul, held tight like a closed fist, had come undone the moment he’d fallen. There was no way to gather the pieces of his sanity when they’d already spread to the winds.

Even now, he couldn’t understand what his brothers were seeing in him. Of course, he made sure to always be there for them, to cheer them up and make their days a little brighter. But that didn’t change the fact that even back in the Celestial Realm, he’d already shown the first signs of rot. Sure, he’d been delightful and sweet, yet the amount of times he’d been chased through the celestial realm by Raphael for not listening and acting up certainly spoke against his commitment to his piety. The hours upon hours he’d spent on their holy grounds, bent by the waist, head towards the floor, praying for forgiveness, begging for endurance, clinging to the slowly unraveling pieces of his holiness. He’d jumped on every piece of adoration he was offered, believed in everyone calling him pretty and perfect and free of flaws and thought it enough. Recently, Asmodeus found himself missing living with his eyes closed and his heart blind.

He’d always know there was something off with him. That certain unrest in his heart had grown and grown until it finally flew off the rails. How could he pretend to be good after what he’d done? Of course, Asmo was aware that good wasn’t a term used to describe demons. Still, he couldn’t say goodbye to it just yet, couldn’t help but yearn for an ideal that didn’t apply to him anymore.

Asmodeus still remembered the euphoria he felt when his claws dug through the other demon’s chest, their heart still pulsating, heavy and oh so warm in his hand. An excited giggle, a little trill, had escaped his lips when he realized that the demon was about to take his last struggling breath, Asmodeus being the sole cause of it. It was power, it was an immense strength he'd never had before. It was almost orgasmic in nature.

He’d pulled the heart close to his own, cradled it in his arms before sinking his teeth into the flesh, eyes still on that dying demon whose eyes showed nothing but defiance and fear. Blood spurted out, sullying Asmo’s clothes and running down his open maw. The taste was incredibly sweet, delicious like sin.

Once he’d come off his high, realization hit him. Of what he’d done, of what he’d become. Perhaps this was his punishment for abandoning his father, their home. Bitter tears rolled down his cheeks, mixing with blood and grime. He was afraid of what he’d become, how much more he could change and how monstrous he could truly become.

Asmodeus opened his eyes, and met his own reflection in the water, his bloodied, feral self smirking back at him, his expression wild, eyes still gleaming with a condescending sort of ferocity. Before he even realized he was doing it, he was digging his fingers into the corner of his mouth, trying to get rid of that cursed smile. Asmodeus started to hyperventilate.

Then, suddenly, there was a knock on the door. Asmo’s head whipped around, panic fresh in his chest. All words were lost on his tongue as he waited with stuttering breaths. No one could see him like this.

Someone cleared their throat outside of the door. “Asmodeus.” Lucifer’s voice cut through the unruliness of Asmo’s mind, clear as day. “May I come in?” his brother asked after a moment of silence.

Asmodeus swallowed once. He couldn’t let him in. There was no way Lucifer could see him like this. His brothers didn’t know. They simply couldn’t know and he didn't want them to find out.

He saw the door handle being pushed down and panicked. “Don’t- don’t come in!” He realized how panicked it had come out. “I’m in the bath right now, I’m naked!” he exclaimed, certain that it would turn his brother away, the lie bloody on his tongue.

“I'm coming in.” Lucifer's voice cut in mercilessly. There was no stopping him.

Asmodeus buried his head further in his hands and refused to look up. He didn't want to see the look he'd find on his oldest brother's face. He wouldn't be able to take the disappointment and disgust.

“Asmodeus?” His brother's steps quickened. He heard the sound of the tap being closed. Asmodeus sniffed and remained quiet.

Then, he heard shuffling. It seemed like Lucifer had knelt down next to him. Slowly, Asmodeus lifted his head.

“Are you hurt?” Lucifer asked after a moment of silence.

Asmo shook his head and bit his lip. “This isn't-” he started, but stopped himself. This isn't what? Wasn't this exactly what it looked like? His shoulders shook with this new weight he had to carry. “This isn't mine,” he finally brought out, his voice small and defeated. Then, he allowed himself to glance at his brother after he wiped his eyes. There was a strange expression on Lucifer's face, a mixture of exasperation and sorrow.

“Tell me what happened,” he said after a beat of silence. It came out sounding a bit stunted, a bit strange.

Asmo shook his head and breathed in deeply. A sob threatened to bubble up again and he pressed his fists against his eyes in order to stop it. “I happened. I don't know what went wrong I just-”

“You let go,” Lucifer suggested. Slowly, he sat down next to his brother.

“I killed them. I ripped their heart out and made it mine. And you know what's even worse? It felt so good.”

Carefully, Lucifer put one hand on Asmo’s back, rubbing it up and down in a soothing pattern. Asmodeus curled further in on himself.

“It will get easier. It may not seem like it, but you will get better. You're a demon now, Asmodeus. The Celestial Realm's rules don't apply to us anymore. You have to learn to let go.”

Asmodeus put his head on Lucifer's shoulder and pressed his eyes shut.

“I don't think I know how,” he whispered quietly.

[obeymebutcursed]

Hello! I'm still here and also hoping the fandom becomes more active again. All of the folks I've met through here have been so lovely and sweet💕

Hope you're doing well.

-RueWrites

I wish! I feel like the fandom fell out so hard :(

I've met some of the coolest people through this fandom, I miss the good times!

[galionne-vibin]

Tagged by @stingyslegslookweird! Let's go!

Favorite Color: Changes almost day to day. Right now I would say orange and pink?

Last Song i Listened To: Congratulations, You're In a Cult! by Sin Shake Sin

Currently Reading: I need to catch up on a few of my manga (+Anima, Dinosaurs Sanctuary & Vampeerz). Once I can get my Kindle back I'm planning on reading through some classic scifi/horror.

Currently Watching: I'm soooo far behind on Dungeon Meshi and Ranger Reject!

Currently Craving: mmmmm chocolate,,

Coffee or Tea: Hot chocolate. If I really have to pick one I'll go with tea. I cannot for the life of me drink coffee.

Hobbies to try: I recently got into Gunpla and I love it so so much, so I want to keep that going and get into more complex model kits. I also wanna learn how to sew and customize clothing.

Current AU: Augh, too many! The two main ones right now would be Metal Gear Solid SERPENTNEST, in which all of FOXHOUND survives and goes on a little adventure together ; and an untitled AU in which only Decoy Octopus survives, transes her gender and goes on a quest to reunite Psycho Mantis & Liquid Snake in the afterlife (among other things)

Tag 9 people you want to get to know better/want to catch up with: uuuuh uhm uhm okay uh @pleistocene-polina @doc-jay-bluebrushpainter @grimsdeadb0nes @xparkrangerx @shevuun @ruewrites @centipede-podcast @t4tliquidmantis @alexeithegoat @robot-autistic

[ruewritesoccasionally]

I Spy | Terry Richmond

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Black reader

Warnings: Dark themes & explicit smut (18+) – dom/sub dynamics, power play, voyeurism kink, degradation kink, breeding kink, overstimulation, mutual masturbation, edging, rough sex, choking, spitting, hair pulling. Use of pet names (Daddy, Princess, Sweetheart, Baby, Good girl) and aftercare } Everything is consensual, but read at your own risk.

Summary: Terry Richmond is a protector—his wife’s safety, comfort, and pleasure are always his top priority. So, when he installed security cameras around their home, she thought nothing of it. That is, until one night, when her impatience gets the better of her, and Terry calls at just the right moment. How did he know what she was doing? More importantly—what is he going to do about it?

Word count: 3K

a/n: i fear i may never get sick of writing dark fics with terry 🤭🤭

The world saw Terry Richmond as a man of discipline, a protector, a security expert who made a living out of keeping people safe. His job required precision, foresight, and the ability to stay ten steps ahead of everyone else.

It was a skill set that bled into every aspect of his life—especially when it came to her.

To outsiders, he was the devoted husband, the kind of man who took care of everything so his wife didn’t have to. A provider, a leader, a steady hand to hold in a world that never stopped spinning. But behind closed doors? That carefully curated image cracked just enough to reveal something deeper, something darker.

Because Terry didn’t just protect—he controlled.

He never had to demand obedience, never had to force her submission. That wasn’t how their dynamic worked. He made sure she had everything she needed, took every burden off her shoulders, so all she ever had to do was be good for him. She was independent, of course, but not when it came to him. Not in the ways that mattered.

And she loved it.

Maybe she didn’t realise just how much, but Terry did.

The cameras in their home were supposed to be for protection. A necessary precaution—especially given his line of work. At least, that’s what he told her. And she never questioned it, never really thought about the way his eyes seemed to be on her at all times.

How he always knew things he shouldn’t.

How he’d casually mention the way she liked to stretch after a shower, in their bedroom, alone.

How he’d remind her to drink water, to take a break, even when he wasn’t home.

Little things. Tiny, insignificant moments that should’ve been easy to brush off.

And yet, every now and then, she’d jokingly accuse him of knowing everything.

And every single time, Terry would just smirk.

Terry was at work when the doorbell camera notification pinged on his phone. A routine check—he already knew who it was. His wife. Home.

He watched as she stepped inside, her shoulders sunken, bearing the weight of the day. His jaw tensed. Terry watched, letting his eyes track each motion, each flex of muscle, each quiet sigh as she exhaled the stress of the day. He made a mental note to stop by the store—flowers, wine, something to make her smile.

His eyes stayed locked on the screen as she moved through the house, each step methodical, shedding layers as she went. Bag down. Shoes off. Jewellery unfastened. Then, without pause, she stripped away the first layer of clothing and made a beeline for the shower.

A smirk played at his lips. Switching feeds.

Bedroom feed. Ensuite door left open. Perfect view.

Steam curled past the frame, misting over the lens, but not enough to block his view. After so many years together, she could still bring him to his knees, take his breath away like it was the first time. Stunning.

The water cascaded over her skin, gliding down the soft slope of her shoulders, rolling over her curves, tracing lines he had memorised by touch. Awe and jealousy twisted in his gut. Watching the way the droplets stroke along her body, touching places before he could, had his fingers flexing over his thigh.

She was relaxing now—he could see it in the way her muscles unwound, the tension draining from her limbs with the rising steam. And then…

Her hands started to wander.

Innocent at first—dragging over the length of her arms, fingertips gracing her collarbones, down her chest, ghosting over the peaks of her nipples, following the curve of her waist, down the expanse of her thighs to the soft heat nestled between them.

Terry’s trance faltered. His breath stilled.

Would she?

His jaw flexed as he watched her fingers tease at her entrance, skimming the sensitive flesh - a mere whisper of a touch.

But then as if she knew, as if she felt his eyes on her through the lens her fingers halted.

Just like that, she continued the rest of her shower.

Terry exhaled slowly, heat curling in his gut. Good girl.

He would definitely reward her tonight.

Terry watched as she left the shower, her skin glistening and soft, her routine precise and practiced. His fingers itched to replace the ones that gently massaged the oil into her body, but there was a soft warmth he felt in seeing her more relaxed now—more content than she had been when she first walked through the door. His shift was nearly over, and though he had done his best to be patient, the pressure in his trousers told him how badly he wanted her. He couldn’t wait. Not with the way his dick was fighting against the fabric.

He saw her stretch out on the bed, melting into the soft sheets, her expression a mix of contemplation and need—something that made Terry pause, unable to fully read her through the tiny screen. He wondered what thoughts had crept into her mind, but that question was quickly answered. She parted her thighs, giving in to the pressure he couldn’t see but always felt. The same motion she had started in the shower, now continuing in the sanctuary of their bed.

All thoughts of reward and praise left his mind in that instant. This... this was a challenge. And a betrayal. And he wasn’t going to let it slide. Not with the way she had been so damn careless.

He kept his focus on the live feed, watching, unable to tear his gaze away from her as she touched herself. He wanted to reach through the screen, stop her, punish her. Instead, he called her.

The frustration was evident on her face as his call interrupted her, the satisfaction on her features faltering. But then she recognised the name on the screen, and a soft smile replaced her frustration. She thought it was a casual check-in, a harmless conversation with her husband. But Terry wasn’t here for pleasantries anymore.

He teased her at first, coaxing her into comfort, his voice soft, like he hadn’t just watched her betray him in their own home.

“How’s my girl doing?” he asked, his tone deceptively casual. “What’s on your mind?”

She responded, her voice softer now, already losing some of the tension she had held when he first interrupted her. Terry let her settle into the illusion of normalcy.

But he couldn’t help himself. His gaze hardened. The possessiveness that surged through him made his next words come out sharp, laced with that commanding tone she knew all too well.

“Are you enjoying touching what’s mine, my love?” he asked, the heat of his voice sending a ripple through her. “Too greedy to wait until I get home?”

Her breath hitched at his words, a flicker of shame— or was it excitement?—crossing her face as her mind caught up with her actions.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” Terry continued, his voice lowering, predatory. “I have something to fix that impatience.”

With that, he cut the call, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. He wasn’t done. Not by a long shot.

She sat up, dumbfounded, her mind reeling as she pieced things together. How did he know what she was doing? He always had a sixth sense about everything, from the mundane to the extreme. She used to joke that he had eyes at the back of his head or that there were cameras everywhere—but maybe that wasn’t just a joke anymore.

All she could do now was wait. Wait and see what was in store.

Terry came home, taking his time. He barely acknowledged her presence as he entered their bedroom, heading straight into the en-suite. If she didn’t know any better, she might’ve thought he was angry with her. But she knew better. She knew how much he loved her—too much to ever stay angry for long. No, this wasn’t about anger. This was about something else. Disobedience. That’s what he couldn’t tolerate.

She squirmed uncomfortably on the bed, her anticipation rising as she waited for him to finish his shower. Right on cue, he emerged, dressed in nothing but a towel. The sight of him—drenched, glistening, and radiating confidence—took her breath away. She couldn’t help but drink him in, her gaze lingering on the defined muscles of his chest, the water still clinging to his skin. They were both greedy, in a way. Him for being so impossibly handsome, and her for having him all to herself. That was exactly how she liked it.

His voice broke her idle reverie, smooth and knowing, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips, as if he could read her thoughts. "So, do you have anything to say for yourself?" he asked, the mockery clear in his tone.

She knew there was no good answer, no way to make it right, so she chose to stay silent. Her heart raced. Her pulse quickened. She waited for him to make his move.

He tilted his head, his eyes darkening with that signature dominance of his. "No? That’s fine. I did say I have a cure for your impatience." His voice dropped lower, a dangerous edge to it now. "You have a scratch to itch? That’s fine, sweetheart. You’re going to do just that. Here. Now. Until I say stop."

She held her breath, his words settling into the heavy air between them. "And since you’ve taken on that silent streak, I’ll take it as a yes. Not that you would ever say no to Daddy."

Terry's control was absolute. He dragged the chair from the vanity, positioning it at the foot of the bed, where he had the perfect view of her centre. His gaze flicked between her, observing every response she gave him—her parted lips, chest rising and falling with each breath, the curl of her toes. He ignored her pleas, focused instead on the sight of her slowly falling apart in front of him.

The thrill of the moment wasn’t enough for him to rush. He slowly stroked himself, his fist working over his length with an even pace. He was in no hurry. Watching her unfold, helpless to stop her own reactions, was enough.

Her attention shifted when she heard a low groan pass from his lips. She blinked, eyes drawn to the bead of pre-cum that pooled at the tip of his cock, a perfect drop dribbling down the shaft. His balls rested heavy on his thighs, and their eyes locked—an unspoken understanding between them, the tension palpable. The game was his, and he played it to perfection.

Terry’s voice broke the silence, a playful yet possessive tone dripping from each word. "You wanna watch, don’t you, baby? See what you can’t have until I decide."

Her breath quickened, and her chest heaved as she clenched the sheets tighter. The sound of his voice, mixed with the image of him touching himself so slowly, made her insides ache. She could feel her orgasm building, every inch of her body begging to release. But Terry wasn’t finished with her yet.

When she tried to stop, thinking she could control the situation, he halted her attempt with a firm command. “Now, I know I might be asking a lot from that pretty head of yours, but until you hear me say stop, you don’t.”

He moved to her side, kneeling between her legs, his gaze soft yet dark. Her pulse quickened as the reality of what was about to unfold hit her. She had no idea what he was planning, but she knew it wouldn’t be gentle.

Her climax was building, more intense now with his eyes on her, the thrill of being watched making it so much more unbearable.

Terry’s hand gripped her jaw, tilting her head back as he stared into her eyes. Her breath hitched, the air thick with the weight of his control. She was trembling, the effects of his teasing leaving her both desperate and afraid of what was to come next. He hadn’t given her permission to speak, but her lips parted nonetheless, desperate for something—anything—to release the pressure that had built inside her.

Her hands gripped the sheets beneath her, her body fighting the urge to writhe under his touch. She knew he wouldn’t let her go until he’d fully reminded her who was in charge.

Terry’s smirk deepened, watching her struggle with the flood of sensations. "Good girls don’t beg, sweetheart. But you? You’ve been nothing but greedy. You’re gonna finish what you started, and you’re gonna do it right. Under my control. Understand?"

Her body was still, her eyes pleading with him, but no words left her lips. It wasn’t that she couldn’t speak—it was that she didn’t need to. He knew.

"Perfect," he murmured, his fingers moving down her body to stroke her folds, his touch slow and deliberate. She gasped, unable to hold back the soft sounds as he teased her. His other hand, still holding her jaw, forced her to keep her eyes on him, keeping her attention firmly on his every movement.

His eyes never left hers as he slid his hand back down to her body, his thumb circling her clit with torturous slowness. The sensation was overwhelming, but his control was absolute. Every inch of her body screamed to come undone, but he was in charge.

Her breaths came in shallow gasps, her skin slick with sweat as the pressure inside her built higher. She couldn’t hold it anymore. Her orgasm threatened to tear through her, but just as she reached the brink, he pulled away, a deep chuckle escaping his lips as he watched her squirm in frustration.

“Now, Princess,” he purred, his voice dripping with that predatory tone she knew all too well. “I’m not sure which I want first—a thank you or an apology?”

Confusion flickered across her face, and he smirked, knowing she hadn’t quite grasped his intentions. “Now you know I take care of you in every way I can, and I do a damn good job at it too,” he continued, his eyes darkening with the hint of a challenge. “So why’d you think it was a good idea to take that from me, huh?”

Her head spun, but his words cut through the haze, her body reacting before she could form any sort of coherent thought. The sharp bite of his dominance pierced through her, the sting of humiliation mingling with her need. Her face flushed, the power dynamic flipping in an instant.

Terry moved to her side, pulling her legs wide as he positioned himself between them. His voice dropped, commanding her attention. "It's time to remind you who you belong to."

His hands slid over her body, his grip firm and possessive. He didn’t give her a chance to protest, pulling her into his lap as he thrust inside her, every movement rough and deliberate. She moaned loudly, the feel of him filling her driving her wild with need.

"Don’t forget who owns this," he growled, thrusting deeper, harder. "You’re mine, and don’t you dare forget it."

His thrusts were relentless, punishing in their intensity. He filled her, the connection between them now absolute. As he fucked her harder, faster, he pulled her hair back, forcing her to look him in the eyes as he claimed her fully.

“Don’t fight it,” he commanded, his breath ragged. “You’re mine, baby. Always.”

As the aftershocks of their climax rippled through her, Terry didn’t let go of her right away. His hand moved to her face, brushing away the strands of hair that clung to her skin, his touch gentle despite the fierceness that had just passed between them. She could feel the weight of his gaze on her, soft but unwavering, as he cupped her cheek in his large palm.

"You're okay," he murmured, his thumb tracing the curve of her jaw, soothing her with each pass. His voice was no longer rough with dominance, but warm with the comfort she desperately needed. His presence grounded her, reminded her that she was safe. She nodded slowly, her breath still unsteady, but his words had calmed the storm inside her.

He pulled her closer, guiding her to rest her head on his chest, the steady beat of his heart beneath her ear lulling her into a sense of calm. She breathed deeply, trying to steady her pulse, his hands gently massaging her back, easing the tension out of her.

“You did so good for me, baby,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "You always do. But listen to me now, alright?"

She blinked, nodding against his chest, eyes fluttering closed as she waited for his next words. His voice was softer now, but still commanding in its way, holding her attention like a tether.

"When you're out in the world, you can do all the thinking you like," he said, his voice deep and steady, "but at home, with me? You switch your brain off. You listen, and you let me lead. No questioning, no second-guessing. Just trust."

The words settled in her chest, warm and reassuring. There was no shame, no hesitation—just his quiet certainty that she belonged with him, and he would always take care of her.

Her hand found his, threading their fingers together, and she squeezed, the gesture simple but full of meaning. He pressed a kiss to her forehead, before lifting her chin to meet his gaze.

"Do you understand, princess?"

Her lips parted, a soft smile tugging at her mouth, her heart swelling with gratitude and something deeper, something all-consuming. “Yes, Daddy. I understand.”

Terry’s smile was soft, approving, as he brushed a final lock of hair from her face, his thumb grazing her lower lip. He leaned in to kiss her, slow and lingering, as though they had all the time in the world.

“You’re mine,” he murmured against her lips, the words a vow, a promise. “And that’s never gonna change.”

She melted into the kiss, content in the certainty of his love and control, knowing that no matter what the world outside brought, at least here, with him, she was safe. Always.

taglist: @writingsbytee @venusincleo @nickidub718 @notapradagurl7 @theogbadbitch @ms-mosley-ifunastyyy @wildcardmelaninfreak

comments and reblogs are appreciated as well as feedback, i hope you liked it 🫶🏾🫶🏾🫶🏾

[ruewrites]

AO3

Ship: Beelzebub/MC

Word Count: 2579

Warning(s): Sensory Issues

A/N: This was my second piece for the gift exchange @obeymeholidayexchange for @qrowsofafeather! I don't normally write for MC, but the prompt I picked was "Beelzebub takes a food adverse/picky MC out to sample Devildom food to find something they will like". As someone who is also sensitive to food textures I couldn't not do it. I HOPE YOU LIKE IT QROW 💗

Getting Yuki to eat their first day in the Devildom had been a challenge all on their own. Beelzebub remembered the way they tried to smile, their hooves shaking as they attempted, and failed, to force down the tiniest bite he’d ever witnessed down their throat. The partially chewed up  morsel wound its way back onto their plate, and Yuki bowed their head to excuse themselves from the table in a quick little flurry. 

They insisted they weren’t hungry anymore, and yet Beelzebub still found them rooting through the fridge late in the night when he did his own midnight snack run. They’d almost fallen from the shelf they were standing on after being startled, the light emitting from the fridge illuminated their bleary eyes. The following events had been quick and not thought through and had nearly woken up the other occupants of Lamentation. Knowing Lucifer, it definitely could have ended in a much more upsetting fashion than a few pieces of devil ham hock and a cup of screaming succotash on the floor.

It was confusing, Beelzebub wouldn’t lie, normally other people weren’t sneaking around the kitchen at night. His appetite dwarfed theirs and, for the most part, three meals and a few tiny snacks was enough to tide most people over. So why would Yuki be rooting around in the fridge at night? For a moment, he wondered if such a small creature could possibly have an appetite as large as his, and for a single second he understood why others were amazed. 

Then Yuki explained after rapid apologies. They weren’t satisfied earlier, they were still hungry, but the texture of the meat- once their teeth dug into it, they couldn’t bring themselves to eat anymore. It was all wrong, too chewy. It wasn’t right, Yuki’s teeth couldn’t cut into it quite right, and the crunching  sound it made when they hit gristle-

They felt terrible and embarrassed. 

Yuki wanted to like the food, they really did.

They wanted to eat it, but they couldn’t.

Beelzebub thought it sounded terrible. Texture getting in the way of the enjoyment of food? What would it be like for him if he had to constantly worry about what he ate with his appetite? All the food he enjoyed, he would always have to worry about it and fret. And if it wasn’t right he wouldn’t be able to eat? It sounded like the worst punishment a demon even crueler than Lucifer would come up with!

So, since that day, Beel paid close attention to the food that was made, as did the rest of his brothers. 

Yuki preferred tender meat, the kind that would fall apart in the mouth and that was juicy. They also liked things that were crispy, but they could never be too chewy. That was bad. For vegetables, they could be crispy or cooked, but they could never be mushy. Vegetables had to have some sort of structure or else they wouldn’t feel quite right. Food also couldn’t be too stringy or contain any gristle at all. 

Not every time was perfect, and every now and again one of them would make a mistake or they would have food that Yuki couldn’t eat. In that case they always kept a select few foods on standby that were known as Yuki’s safe foods. Beel tried his best not to touch them, and if he did he made sure he went to buy them more as soon as he could. 

The other issue, that Beel didn’t even realize, was the subject of restaurants. 

When going out to eat, Yuki could never be certain of the textures of food they’d come across. Even if the food smelled, looked, and tasted good, it could still have a less than welcoming texture for Yuki. 

The thought that he couldn’t safely enjoy restaurants with Yuki was an upsetting one, and one he would have to come up with a solution for. Sharing food was a form of sharing affection for him. Sharing food was a form of love for him. If he had to put a little more effort in, he was sure that he could find a way to share his love with Yuki.

Food was a great way to get to know someone, it was a gateway to their soul.

Like how Mammon liked really spicy food and Asmo liked sweets. 

Mammon was fiery and spirited and always tried to step in for them.

Meanwhile Asmo was kind and supportive and always ready to point out their best qualities. 

It just made sense to Beel, and he wanted to learn more about their human exchange student. It had been a while since they’d come to the Devildom, true, but it was never too late to learn something new about the person you cared about. Food was the spice and flavor of life, and the more food can be enjoyed, the more life can be enjoyed.

Beelzebub wanted Yuki to enjoy life without trouble as much as possible. 

One day, he approached the small sheep, list in hand and laid it before them. 

“Tell me which group of textures appeals the most to you.”

The bell around their neck jingled softly as they looked up at him in confusion. 

“Trust me on this.” He laid another list in front of them. “I also have some groupings of scenery too. Noise, lights, things like that. I know those can bother you too.”

He watched as they carefully circled the groupings that most appealed to them, taking extra care and thought to each of the pairings on the sheet, even going as far as to rate which groupings would be the most unpleasant to most pleasant.  Once completed, Yuki stepped away from the lists and looked up at him with a jingle of their bell. They tilted their head curiously as Beel took the lists in his hands.

“Nothing I can tell you yet,” he said in response, “Just know that I’m gonna make plans.”

And make plans he did. 

Beel took Yuki’s notes into special consideration as he went to every restaurant he could think of in the vicinity. The textures, the atmosphere, it all had to be perfect. He didn’t even really care if they put a limit on his own potions, if Yuki could eat their fill that would make him more than happy. He even asked the staff what type of light fixtures they used (and chewed on a few for good measure). Everything had to be perfect for them, Yuki had to enjoy this meal. It couldn’t just taste good, it had to feel good.

What good was food if it wasn’t appetizing? If it didn’t touch the soul? If it wasn’t an experience?

Food had to be all of those things, because food was meant to be enjoyed and savored on the tongue. It warmed a body from the pit of the stomach, flowing out through the fingers and the head dizzy with endorphins. It made Beel smile and his mind buzz. He could feel it in his hands and his feet, radiating straight from his endless pit. 

Yuki deserved those good feelings too.  

The vibration.

The rush.

The joy.

And Beelzebub would do anything to make sure that experience could be guarded and cherished for them.

***

Yuki sat on Beel’s shoulder as they walked through town. It was a pleasant day, mildly chilly, just enough to liven the senses. Every shop they passed alerted Beel with a variety of pleasant and tempting aromas. They were begging him to step inside and devour everything in sight. But today was for Yuki, and Beel would stay focused for them. He couldn’t take a possible moment of enjoyment away from them to satisfy his own urges. Not today. 

Besides, Yuki’s joy would fill him more than any triple deluxe cheeseburger with extra devil sauce ever could. Even if it did sound really good, and Beelzebub thought it sounded incredibly good as it made droplets of drool form at the corners of his mouth. 

The bell around Yuki’s neck rang as they attempted to clear the drool around his mouth with a tiny cloth. 

“Hm? Oh sorry about that,” Beel said, taking the cloth from Yuki and wiping his face. The sheep tilted their head in confusion in a silent question, one that Beel understood perfectly. It wasn’t that hard to understand Yuki, he just had to listen a little differently.

“Where are we going?”

Yuki nodded.

“You’ll see, it’s a surprise.”

Their brow furrowed, and their gaze became a bit apprehensive. It was a rightful concern, but Beel was certain in what he was doing.

“Don’t worry. You’ll like it a lot. I promise. I did a lot of research.”

Yuki still seemed apprehensive, but settled back down comfortably, scooting closer to Beel’s chin.

Walking for a little while longer, the pair eventually came to a quiet little building on the edge of town. The lights were dim and soft and streamed out of the window gently onto the street. Beel opened the door to a warm and plush restaurant. The tables were wide and had hot plates on either end and a grill in the center. Beel brought them over to an empty table, kneeling down so they could hop off his shoulder with ease. Sitting across from them, he tapped the tablet screen on the table. The  screen lit up with a variety of options from different meats, vegetables, and broths to choose from.

Yuki’s bell rang twice as their head looked from the screen up to Beel.

“I know you’re normally hesitant about restaurants because of sensory things, and Devildom food is even trickier for you to navigate,” Beel said as he started to scroll through and select a variety of foods, “But I still wanted to share some of my favorite foods with you, and I wanted to take you out.”

For a moment, Beel felt like he was rambling, and an odd feeling overcame him. Face heating up, he pressed the submit button a little harder than he needed to, making the tablet bend ever so slightly and leaving a rather prominent fingerprint in his wake. He had been excited when he started, why now did he suddenly feel so shy? It didn’t make any sense in the slightest. Perhaps he could ask Belphie later about these weird feelings, but for now, he had to focus on Yuki. The urge to over explain returned and he continued to speak.

“I- I wanted to find a place we could eat out together, and take you to restaurants I really like. So I went to every restaurant I could and tried all their food and even got second opinions from other people.” Beel liked all food, and while he thought he could be pretty good at differentiating between textures and tastes, he wanted to be extra sure. If Yuki didn’t like it, Beel didn’t know if he’d be able to finish his own meal. There was still the chance that Yuki wouldn’t like this food, and the thought alone made Beel sweat. The last thing he wanted was to embarrass them and-

Maybe he should have gotten takeout instead.

Maybe bringing them out to a physical restaurant was selfish.

Maybe-

No. 

No no. He couldn’t think like this. Yuki would love this, and he was sure about that. He had to be sure about it.

“I tried a lot of different places, and it was hard to pick one. That’s why I made the lists I did for you to choose from.” He looked up at the lighting fixtures, and listened to the soft music that floated throughout the room. It wasn’t too overstimulating, he didn't think. He’d asked Levi to step inside and he seemed pretty relaxed, so it would work for Yuki too. 

“You choose what you want to eat and then you cook it yourself, either in a broth or on the thing in the middle, I can help you choose based on flavor,” Beel said, a smile finally making its way to his face, “If you have trouble with the cooking too I can help you, I’ve gotten pretty good at cooking meals for you.”

He stopped as he noticed Yuki tear up a little and wipe their eyes.

“We don’t have to though!” Beel panicked, “We can go home and make something if you don’t like it. I-”

Yuki shook their head rapidly, the jingling of their bell struggling to keep up as they did so. Walking across the table, they motioned for Beel to come closer and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. His face turned a bright shade of red as Yuki took a seat next to him instead of making their way back to the other side of the table. He was in such a state of shock that he didn’t even notice when the piles of food and the bowls of broth were delivered. In fact, Yuki had to nudge him a few times to get him to notice. 

The look of concern on their face made him feel bad, he didn’t mean to worry him, that kiss had just been unexpectedly nice.

He picked up his chopsticks and dropped a slice of manic minotaur meat and dropped it into the bubbling bowl alongside some putrid potato. The seconds couldn’t have ticked by slower as they waited. The thin slices of meat always cooked the fastest and were usually done in seconds. Everything went quiet as he lifted the cooked meat from the bowl, dripping with savory juices as he looked back over to Yuki. Carefully, he held it out to them and they both held their breath as they took their first bite.

Beel had barely noticed the way Yuki closed their eyes until they flew open in wonder, and before he could react the rest of the meat was in their mouth (along with a good portion of the chopsticks).

“You like it that much huh?”

Yuki nodded their head so fast that Beel thought their bell would soar right off their neck, never to be seen again. 

“I guess that just means that we’ll have to make this our place then huh?”

He’d never felt a warmth like this before. It was a better feeling than food could ever give him, and different than the warmth he’d felt with his family. As he dropped food into their bowls and onto the grill before them, Beel rattled on about the different meats and vegetables and which ones he thought Yuki would like along with their flavors. He talked about the different drinks they could order, and he raved about desserts and the fruit and sauce options at the bar in the back.

He talked on and on and on, the warmth between them growing with each passing second.

And outside, though neither of them noticed, a soft snow started to fall and collect on the sidewalks outside, illuminated by the quiet light illuminating from the tiny restaurant on the outskirts. A tiny restaurant on the outskirts where two figures ate, and laughed, and loved.

Two figures who couldn’t imagine being anywhere else in all the Three Realms.

Two figures who were full of joy.

A joy that couldn’t be replicated anywhere, not this night.

Not with the snow falling.

Not when the world was so quiet, and calm.

Not when everything was right.

[revoleotion]

hubris and distrust

this is something I lovingly titled "fanfic fanfic" and it is set in @ruewrites TABOL universe. Except that I don't actually understand a lot about it because I only really got into it at like 3am last night.

That being said, I have many headcanons about Barbatos in this universe, so naturally I had to write something. I'm very sorry if this doesn't fit with the universe, in that case just consider it an AU of your AU fanfic.

tags and warnings: Barbatos-centric, aromantic Barbatos, panic attack (not in detail), Luke curses a lot

.

Barbatos could not be trusted.

It was a fact that had defined him for ever since he could remember. At times, Barbatos liked to think he was never born at all, he was simply spawned out of feelings of hubris and distrust. Barbatos had been defined by secrecy for so long and - like Lucifer’s brothers would say - the simple act of “fucking around and finding out”. The world had been a messy place for Barbatos until he found his home.

Barbatos’ home was, by all means, not a physical place. It was a person.

Over the years Barbatos had come to terms with his lack of romantic attraction to anyone. He was very glad for that, especially when it turned out that the person he loved the most, in all the ways he could, was in love with someone else. Barbatos had never felt out of place in that relationship. The world had become less messy after he found his home, after all. When Diavolo and Lucifer found each other, it was like he seamlessly fit into place with the two of them. Not as a part of their relationship but as an element that was always going to be there.

Before Barbatos had met Diavolo, the world had been full of tempting, suffocating possibilities. He had tried ways to make it seem manageable, ways to make it smaller at all costs. He had turned a blind eye to all the overwhelming options, he had forced himself to become awfully, achingly lonely.

Barbatos was not lonely anymore.

Except that he was.

Had he become predictable? Had he become more unstable in his attempt to settle?

He had friends. Luke was understanding, if not comforting when Barbatos was filled with that deep, irrational, foolish panic that he was missing a part of his own body. It drove him insane, and it had to be absurd to watch. As powerful Barbatos had been in his previous life (previous, like he somehow died and was reborn at Diavolo’s side), the world around him knew him as a butler. Nothing more. Except that sometimes his old life was leaking through, his sarcasm, his strictness, his manner of expression, everything that made him a powerful human but not a good butler.

(Barbatos had secretly decided that if he had to become a bad butler to see Diavolo again, he was going to become the worst butler the world had ever seen.)

Azazel had warned him about this, in gentle words paired with a judging, if not hateful expression. The accusation had been as blatant as it had been wrong. He had said, “I wouldn’t resort to even more poison. Whatever you create will be served first to the person you claim to love.”

Barbatos had smiled. And smiled. And when his hands had started shaking, long afterwards, with Luke sitting on the edge of his bed and whispering soothing words that were far from reassuring, he had still smiled. He hated himself for it but it was the only defense he had.

Azazel knew of the person Barbatos was trying so hard not to be. He knew of the person Barbatos had to become to break through, break out, return home.

Barbatos could not be trusted. After all that time. Because he was made out of distrust. Because he never made sense. Because he was never born, he was created.

Simeon didn’t like the person Barbatos had once been. He, too, thought that Barbatos never truly grew out of being that bitter creation. Simeon and Barbatos had never truly fought because none of them were very confrontational but there had been discussions one word away from being hostile, expressions one twitch of a muscle away from being hateful. There was none of that now.

Because Simeon and Luke couldn’t be trusted either.

“This is ridiculous,” Simeon revealed, his legs crossed and looking up to Barbatos and Luke from the floor. There’s enough space on the bed, since Barbatos is known not to take up much space after all, but they’re not close enough friends to sit together on the same bed, even with no romantic or sexual intentions attached.

“You are many things but you are loyal.”

“I will take this as a compliment,” Barbatos informed him, and his smile became a little warmer, a little less painful.

“It was meant to be one.”

“I can never be sure with you.”

Simeon smiled, if only for a moment. “I can’t forgive you for stealing my apprentice but I hope you can forgive me for misjudging you.”

Barbatos looked down on him in all his angelic beauty, his face nothing but earnest, and he decided that he liked Simeon. Simeon understood how it was to have everything you once thought you were fade until you couldn’t hold onto it anymore. Simeon understood how it was to be happy in a way nobody wanted to grant you. Simeon knew how it was to lose faith in the person you were for so long.

“You’re not the only one who thinks I cannot be trusted,” Barbatos said after a long pause.

“Well, that’s bullshit.” Luke’s voice was loud, yet not raised enough for anyone outside to hear. “What a villain you are, having a breakdown because someone accused you of hurting the person you love the most. You should rot in jail for all eternity.”

Barbatos wanted to say that it hadn’t been a breakdown, and that he was fine, really, but Luke had been too kind to him to be lied to. Who knows, maybe this was how Barbatos broke down. Silently. He was a silent person, so it made sense that his breakdowns matched that.

“I miss him,” he said, and to his horror he couldn’t keep his voice even when he said that. He still wasn’t sure how to be friends with someone who wasn’t Diavolo. Sure, Barbatos had gotten closer with Lucifer over the years but he was convinced that he never would’ve been this amicable with him if it weren’t for Diavolo wanting them to be. (That being said, Barbatos was glad that he got to know Lucifer. Lucifer was similar to him in more ways than Lucifer or Barbatos himself would ever want to admit.)

“No shit,” Luke said gently. “But you’ll see him again. You have to. If there’s any good in the world, you will get to see him again.”

Barbatos didn’t have to look down on Simeon to catch the air of sadness around him, the doubt, the loss of his faith that was so profound that it tinted the air around them. Just as quickly as it came, it was over again, and Simeon smiled up to them like nothing had happened.

“Of course,” he replied to Luke. “Not to mention that Solomon has a plan.”

Right. The plan. Barbatos was going to have to dive deep into the memories of who he had once been.

It was worth it, of course. After all, it was for the person Barbatos would both die and murder for. He would burn down the entire kingdom to make sure Diavolo was going to be safe.

Hopefully, it wouldn’t have to come to that. The world wasn’t as vast as it once had seemed, and Barbatos was no longer lonely.

[pseudonymphomania]

Solodeus First Holiday | for the @obeymeholidayexchange

I’m pleased to have serendipitously gotten my friend @ruewrites for this community event! If you love Solodeus, Asmo, Solomon or shipping in general, check her out!

[seerachii-art]

I literally love your art :DD

Thank you! That is so lovely of you to say, Just for that, I shall share a snippet of what I’m working on next! Hehe

It is a drawing for a fic I absolutely adore written by @ruewrites.

Which like, please check them out both on tumblr and ao3, their writing is amazing.

They go by RueSinger on ao3 ^^

[cetecean]

Sunday Fic Rec

Starting up a new thing of posting recommendations for fics every Sunday. I'll be posting reviews about this fic every Wednesday, so if you wish to read the fic first, make sure to avoid the tag #fanfic spoilers

The first is...

We're Blooming Together by RueSinger

Rating: Mature

Archive Warning: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Category: M/M

Fandom: Shall We Date?: Obey Me!

Relationships: Asmodeus/Solomon (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Asmodeus & Solomon (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Diavolo/Lucifer (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)

Characters: Asmodeus (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Solomon (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Lucifer (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Mammon (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Leviathan (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Satan (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Belphegor (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Beelzebub (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Luke (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Simeon (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Barbatos (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Diavolo (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)

Additional Tags: Slow Burn, Fluff, Alternate Universe - Human, Human AU, au!human, Angst, Fluff and Angst, Slice of Life, College, Pining, Longing, Family Dynamics, Crushes, Secret Crush, Romantic Tension, Friends to Lovers, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Drinking, Humor, Fluff and Humor, Romantic Fluff, Nausea, Angst with a Happy Ending, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Romance, the nausea warning is only for the ending of chapter 8, Asmodeus-centric (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)

Language: English

This work is on AO3 and Tumblr (under @ruewrites), and is a completed series, featuring 12 chapters. It takes a spin on the Obey Me! Usual by being a human au. It's certainly a good read if you like fluff, Solasmo, Obey Me!, or all three.