I Know You Can Do It All By Yourself, My Love. But Im Not Gonna Let You Anymore. I Know You Can Handle

♪ A Inside doesn’t match the outside.

Characters: Mikey (2012 TMNT), GN!Reader

TW/CW: NON-CON, Yandere/Obsessive behavior, sexual fantasies, Mikey being creepy to sum it up

This fic was requested by Zxphy :)

This post was made by a MINOR. Block or click off if you’re uncomfortable.

Mikey has been staring at you for an uncomfortable amount of time, but how could he not! You looked so cute and helpless sitting there,

the things he wishes and dreams of doing to you. The thoughts of you screaming and begging him to stop or slow down, tears falling down your pretty face.

How your soft facial features change, eyes puffy and having hot tears flowing down your face. Your mouth stuck agape air punched out from fighting and screaming, limbs shaking from fighting and how hard he is pushing into you. The claw marks on his arms from you fighting, only to achieve nothing.

Or maybe! You could be unconscious while he fucks you, oblivious to the dirty things he whispers and the dirty touches of your body, thinking how cute you are and only if you were awake to feel the pleasure but asleep is just as fine! The small moans and whimpers he pulls out of you making him go faster and harder.

Making you cum over and over till you’re nothing but a crying begging mess, the pleas to stop and how overstimulated you are only driving him farther till he eventually fills you up with his spend.

Maybe if he kidnapped you and kept you hidden from the world you would only look at him, only LOVE him, he will do whatever it takes. No matter how much he has to fuck it into you for you to get it.

Maybe he will fuck you so hard you won’t be able to talk or stand for days on end! The replay of your screams, shrieks, broken moans, and silent pleas in his head repeating,

He will repeat it so many times your body will lay, broken, used and spent. Leaking out your hole his cum, of course he will always love and care for you.

Running a warm bath and hugging you, humming sweet nothings and how he is the only one who can love and care for you. How you can’t escape him. How are you nothing without him, making you stay.

Coming back to reality he noticed you had left, so sadly Mikey walks back to his own place after stalking you for hours on end. Looking at his phone full of you! He looks at your social media texts and deletes any you shouldn’t have. You only need him.

woke up thinking abt tsukishima eating pussy so here’s some tsukishima eating pussy headcanons

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

spits on it before he eats

both on your clit and in your pussy, he wants it messy most of the time

relentless. he will make you cum over and over again until you have to fully push him off

partly bc he gets so pussydrunk and partly bc he thinks its so hot when you cry for him

long and slender fingers, he’ll alternate between fucking you fast and deep, and just rubbing against your sweet spot

he wants you to squirt, he craves it

rubbing your gspot while massaging your clit with his tongue in slow strokes

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don't leave me be, be with me - yandere fruity four

plot: regardless of how much you love your partners, their love for you grows stifling now and again. and the best way to remedy that is to be a little rebellious, which is what leads you to sneak out with Robin and go for a little joyride and on a quest for breakfast in the middle of the night.

cws: gn!angelface, yandere fruity four, st 4 spoilers, polycule, post s4, eddie lives arc, PTSD-related coping mechanisms (alcohol abuse, isolation, reckless behavior), drinking, robin and angelface are drunk, drunk driving, scars, hurt/comfort, implied sexual dynamics, softcore, very mild jealousy, mentions of violence, fluff.

word count: 3.6k

spice level: 0.5/5

"Where the fuck are they?"

Steve's pacing again, shoes heavy on the carpet as he tries not to lose his temper. There's music blasting in Eddie's room, but the door is shut, and Nancy doesn't even want to try and knock right now. She doesn't have any answers for him, and it would just stress him out more. While it's been months since he's gotten out of the hospital, he's still healing in…other ways.

"I don't know, Steve."

"Yeah, well, they have to be somewhere, Nancy! They can't just disappear, not unless-"

"Steve, don't go there. They took the van, they're probably off getting ice cream or something–you know how those two are. The only danger they're in is Robin driving without a license." Nancy bites her lip. She doesn't know if that's the truth, she just wants it to be.

"Oh, God, what if they got into an accident?" But Steve's practically inconsolable–he always gets like this, his brain is hardwired to sense danger even when there is none. Probably. But there's a chance, so he's sniffed it out and won't stop fussing until he has you in his arms again, she's sure.

"Steve-" That look on his face is definitely not a good one, that sudden realization that means he can't stay still any longer–even though he hasn't been, it's shocking that there isn't an indent in the floor from where he's been pacing back and forth for the last hour. He marches over to the couch and grabs his jacket, throwing it on one arm at a time as he slides past Nancy and heads towards the front door. "Where in the world are you going?"

"Gonna drive around town and look for the van." Typical. His solutions are largely straight to the point, if not a little over the top. The second she opens her mouth for a rebuttal, he holds up a hand to stop her. "I'm going, Nance! Don't try to stop me."

She knows how stubborn he is, it's a good if not occasionally frustrating quality. And in all honesty, he has every right to be as fretful as he is.

All four of them nearly didn't survive the horrors that Vecna brought to Hawkins, but Steve and Eddie definitely experienced a new level of physical torment that she knows she won't ever fully be able to sympathize with. You're the only one Steve's ever really told the full story to, the one he's cried to and held so close for fear that if he didn't, you'd be taken away yourself. They've all seen each other's scars, but you've taken care of each and every one of them–you know them intimately, know the pain and the story and the way they've healed but never gone away, and never will. You're what Eddie calls their "cleric", but he always refers to you as an angel. And you are one.

Speaking of Eddie, he hasn't been the same either. None of them have, but he's different–quieter. The hospital seemed to numb him after the demobat attack, barely alive and clinging to life for so long that even Nancy didn't believe he would really make it. But you did, you never gave up on him, and eventually he opened his eyes and smiled that sweet smile at the sight of you, and she'll never forget the wails you let out as you hugged him so tight the nurse tried to pry you off–the memory usually brings a smile to her face. Steve got kicked out of the visiting room for a week after locking her out of the room, just so the four of you could hold Eddie as long as you wanted and kiss him, stroke his hair, tell him you love him…they were hard days, but good ones. But now everyone is just trying to survive normal life, and that's mostly to your credit. You make life just a little more bearable…and when you're gone, like you have been for the last couple hours, they're all on edge.

Nancy hurries after him out the door to the trailer, knowing good and well that she can't let him run off on a rescue mission by himself. He's too reckless with himself and too tunnel visioned when it comes to you, and it's certain not to turn out well if he really freaks out without someone there to calm him down. And that's when the familiar sound of crunching gravel hits her ears and she stops to watch the sight before her, Steve having only gotten to the bottom step before he freezes too.

That familiar van pulls up slowly, slow like the driver is trying not to draw attention, and comes to a stop just about a foot off of the mark that carves out the driveway from the rest of the grass. The pause between the vehicle stopping and the passengers getting out is suspiciously long, but when the doors crack open and the two of them get a glance at you, they're sure they know why.

"Naaaaaancy!" You giggle, your footsteps so wobbly as you move around the hood that you have to use it for support, while Robin hops out from the driver's seat and throws it closed before stumbling towards you. The two of you have to cling to each other, your hands clutching Robin's arm, to even hope to make it up the driveway and towards the front door–and when you get close enough, Nancy's nose crinkles as the smell of liquor wafts over and hits her like a train. So does the realization–you two have been drinking, and drinking hard.

"Can I have a kiss, Nancy?" You cackle, tripping over your own feet and nearly hitting the ground, if not for Robin's surge of strength as she pulls you back up with a goofy smirk on her lips. One glance at Steve, and she can see it clearly–he is absolutely pissed, his scowl mean enough to burn a hole through concrete.

"Where the hell were you two?!" He didn't mean to yell, Nancy knows that, but you two don't even flinch. You're not even all there, too caught up in your own world and in each other's mouths as you capture Robin in a kiss instead.

"Pancakes! Errrr, and other stuff.." You giggle around a mouthful of Robin's tongue, your playful wink just earning you a furious huff from your big, strong protector.

"Oh nooooooo, I think we're in trouble!" The two of you can't contain your laughter as you break off and nuzzle against each other, Robin's arm clutched in your soft hands as she whisper-yells that into your ear. She even cups her hand to make it seem like she's trying to be subtle, and she probably is, she just doesn't realize how loud she's being and how late it is.

"You're drunk." Steve states bluntly. It's not a first for Robin since the Vecna incident, unfortunately, but it's surprising for you.

"Just a liiiiiittle," Robin pouts, her fingers pinched together to show just how 'little' you and her have been drinking. From the smell of you two alone, it has to have been at least a full bottle of straight liquor between you two, maybe more.

"Don't get mad, Stevie! We were havin' fun."

"You were being stupid. You were driving drunk! Without a license!" He's almost vibrating with anger and frustration. Robin's blasé tone pisses him off on a good day, and after putting your life and hers in danger, it does even more so.

"Bite. Me!" You share an even more girlish laugh at Robin's outburst, each word punctuated by a middle finger, like it's the funniest thing in the whole world. "You guys suck ass, you're suffocating us–you guys hate fun!"

Nancy would probably be grabbing Robin's tongue for that foul comment, but she's so out of it she knows that there's no use. She'd probably just laugh it off, or cry, and she doesn't want either of those two extremes to deal with right now. But there is something she has up her sleeve that always works.

"You two made Eddie very upset, you know." Nancy lays her hand on Steve's shoulder as she speaks, silently relaying to him that she's got it under control. A soft "Eddie?" passes your lips. It's incredible how quickly you both snap to attention when she mentions his name, sharing a look between you two before both turning back to listen intently.

"Mhm. He's been up all night worrying about you two. He doesn't like it when you're gone, it makes him scared. You know that." Her voice is stern, but still gentle enough for you two to take in. The 'mom voice' as you, Robin, and Eddie like to call it, which is largely reserved for when she really needs to get firm with one of you. Or all of you.

"Eddie? Where's Eddie?" Your tone wavers, giddiness turning to concern in a matter of syllables.

"Tell us, Nance!" Robin tugs at her sleeve, eyes big and wide with worry.

"He's in his room." Both of you rush past them, hurrying up the steps in a frantic bid to find your beloved boyfriend. You love them all equally, of course–but Eddie is sensitive. Sweet. He's always been that way, but it's increased tenfold since Vecna and caused you to be even more protective over him than you were before. You just want to protect that precious smile no matter what.

"Eddie! We're home, baby!"

It's when you both stumble through the front door that you see him at once. Frazzled, his curly hair mussed, dark circles under his eyes from worry. His nails are bitten down almost completely, bad habit he struggles to kick when he's anxious. He's standing in the living room like he heard the ruckus and had come to see what was happening, but his eyes are clear and set on one of you at a time, switching between like he's assessing that you're both here and both safe.

The two of you rush forward and knock him right off his feet, a startled shriek pulled from his lips followed by a grunt as his back thuds against the carpet, and the two of you collapse on top of him with your full respective weight in a hug so tight he couldn't squirm away if he tried. Even being taken off guard, Eddie squeezes both of you tight in a hug as best he can, a relieved smile flickering across his face as you press desperate kisses to his cheek.

Nancy and Steve step inside, and the sight at their feet just raises a sigh. They might not be happy, but they are glad you're unharmed and in relatively good spirits.

"We're sooooorry, Eddie! Soooo sorry!" You babble, pawing at his neck and his face to plant even more kisses on his lips. He turns only to ruffle Robin's hair and peck her on the forehead, but otherwise his mouth is occupied by yours, and gladly so, if his muffled little gasps and mumbles of "missed you" are any indication.

"What about us? You have an apology for scaring the crap out of us?" Steve asks, irritation still lacing his voice. Part of it is definitely a spark of jealousy, Nancy can tell better than most. It takes you some work and the aid of Eddie's hand, but you get up and stumble over wobbly feet, and throw one arm around Nancy's shoulder and one around Steve's to loosely hug them both.

"M' sorry, Nancy…sorry Stevie….I love you guys soooooooo much.." You maw on each of their cheeks as well, leaving wet kisses by their ears and down their necks as if each one is to make up for one of the many minutes you spent away from them.

"We love you too." Nancy squeezes you back, eyes screwed shut, a breath caught in her lungs as she tries to keep it all in, to keep it together. Breaking down and crying because she was so worried about you would only hurt you.

"I've been bad…"

"Yeah, you have been bad." Steve's hand is in your hair, and despite reaffirming your realization, he's still so gentle with you like you're made of porcelain. As frustrating as he can be, and as much of a dad as he acts like sometimes, he's still so softhearted when it comes to you that it's honestly comical.

"Sooooooo….you gonna punish me?" You pull away to look at both of their faces, and giggle when their eyes widen, and they share a look like they can't believe what you just said. They haven't really seen you drunk very often, so they're not used to the…mood you sometimes get in.

"Not now, baby. But you are gonna make it up to us, later." Nancy tenderly takes your arm off of her and rubs it, trying to be strict but it just comes out soft.

"Aww, Nancy…" Your eyes draw towards Steve, who still has some frustration lingering on his features. He'll never realize how sexy it is–how sexy he is when he's mad. You slide that free arm around his other shoulder, and lean into him for your lips to just barely brush his.

"C'mon, Stevie, wanna feel you inside me…" His shoulders stiffen up and his chest tightens, his lungs at a standstill at the sight of you rubbing your body up against his. And then you lean up, and your lips ghost over his ear, and you whisper that dreaded pet name that sends a shiver up his spine and has him tilting his head up that he wasn't ready for–not in front of the others, at least. "..Wanna be good for you. Promise."

Your little attempt to get him all worked up, and your teeth nibbling at his adam's apple, is interrupted by a soft groan, one that turns all three of your heads towards the two lumps on the floor. When Eddie sits up, he moves to clutch Robin's limp body as she lays against him, who is very clearly asleep and sighing quietly into his neck at the movement.

"Okay, bedtime! C'mon!" With a face still flushed and hot, Steve hups and squats down to wrap his arms around your thighs, before he lifts you up to throw you over his shoulder and starts walking towards Eddie's room. Every step is another bounce and your grin is still loopy and enthused as he does so, while Eddie hauls Robin up to her feet and Nancy supports her by her other arm to lead her the same way. Thankfully it's a short ride, and when Steve flips you back on to the bed and kneels to take your shoes off for you, Robin hangs off your other friends before collapsing into bed beside you. She's so pretty with that red flush to her face, warm and dizzy from the alcohol and laid out on her back, her breasts heaving as she breathes quietly before opening her eyes and turning them towards you.

Once Steve's hands are occupied with carrying off your shoes and no longer ghosting against your ankle, you find yourself moving up on your knees and throwing one over Robin's waist, her fingers lifting up to brace your thigh as you sit gently enough on top of her for it not to hurt. The words have left her vocabulary, but the pleased sigh that she emits at the feeling of you pressed up against her is enough for you to understand.

"Robbie," You lean down to kiss her, and moan the nickname into her mouth. "Wanna do what we did in the backseat…"

"Uh huh…" She whimpers, hands laid out by her head in total submission. Her hips are already rolling against you, mind clearly muddled by need that you apparently haven't satisfied quite yet. Your hands move to unbutton her jeans, your gaze set and tongue flicking out to lick your lips–when Steve grabs you by the wrist and your head tilts to look up at him.

"Prude," You stick your tongue out at him, annoyed at his familiar interruption. Robin wasn't totally wrong, sometimes Steve is such a stick in the mud. He looks genuinely hurt, though, and his eyes fall from yours like he's trying not to show you what he's really feeling.

"Noooo, not the puppy dog eyes…m' sorry for pissin' you off, baby.." His grip loosens on your wrist, but you just grab his instead to pull him close enough for your foreheads to touch. He can't look away now, not even if he wanted to.

"I wasn't really mad, I..I was just…scared." His voice is so rarely this shaky, unsure, that it almost doesn't sound like Steve. Not your confident, headstrong Steve.

"Why?" You smile so innocently, it's nigh impossible to still be mad at you. He knows that, and yet he can never, ever resist it. "I'll always come back, Stevie. Not going anywhere."

A tired smile tweaks at his lips, and he moves to turn away–but you don't let him, and you grab his face to hold it in place.

"I'm not going anywhere, Steve." You sound more sober in that one breath than you have since you got home. More than you ever have, maybe. And he has nothing he can say that can encompass his feelings in that moment, so he just simply nods, and shares a kiss with you that's so damn sweet even with the taste of liquor on your teeth.

Having been relatively quiet until now, Eddie crawls into bed beside you two, his sneakers kicked off but his clothes from the day still on. Nancy's busying herself with pulling up a blanket off the floor to throw over you three, nudging your arm for you to slide off of Robin and cuddle up between the two of them so she can do so. Eddie's breath hitches when your fingertips brush the scars beneath his shirt, the flesh of his belly torn up and only now having healed into what he thinks are ugly scars.

"Eddie's so pretty…" You mumble as you turn to face him, already nodding off with the warmth of both their bodies cushioning you like big, heated pillows. Robin snuggles up to your back and drapes her arm over your waist, and Eddie wedges his arm beneath you two so you can both use it as a pillow, his fingers laced in Robin's hair to help her fall asleep like it always does.

"You're prettier, angelface." His warm breath on your face draws a chuckle from you, and with your eyes closed he kisses your brow before finally settling in to drift off with you. And when Nancy's finished tucking you all in and Steve shuts off the lights, each of you sharing your "I love you"s and "good night"s, the two of them shut the door quietly behind them to leave the three of you in relative peace as you slumber.

It feels like the day has dragged on so long, and in some sense it has–the time is nearing three am if the clock in the hallway is any indication. She and Steve have been awake for far too long, but it doesn't look like he's in any mood to rest by the expression on his face.

"You think we were a little too-"

"Harsh? No." Steve cuts her off abruptly. He knows exactly what she's thinking, he usually does–but this time, for once, Nancy really has no clue what's running through his mind.

"I'm gonna make them regret that tomorrow. I'll slash the tires on that stupid van if it keeps them here." The sudden surge of emotion in his voice takes her by surprise. Almost always, your touch and a few gentle words in that beautiful voice of yours are enough to calm him from whatever is bothering him. He's infamous for falling for your reassurances, giving in to you so often that it's like you're a siren to him, his certainty so often falling to the wayside when you sway him into believing whatever it is you're telling him.

"They might just steal your car, Steve. You know Eddie's got those magic fingers." She waggles her fingers teasingly, she's trying to lighten the mood, and he does chuckle a little at the joke. But the way his face sets immediately after is…intense.

"Not if I break their legs first."

"Steve," Her hand reaches for his arm, but his eyes and his mind are somewhere else.

"Don't." He warns. There's not enough conviction in his voice for her to really be worried about that–at least not now, when not enough has happened for him to really think that's at all a good plan. You haven't scared him enough, but…it does frighten her to think that it's still a possibility, albeit a very small one. Even though it would work, she hates to see you in pain, to see you scared. "Wasn't even my idea. Eddie talks in his sleep."

He steps away with those words lingering on his lips, heading towards the front door to drop your shoes by the others–but not before he reaches over and grabs the bat he's kept since that first night he realized that the world wasn't as safe as he thought it was. He throws the door open, and leans back to call to her before he takes a seat on the step and waits to see if anyone–or anything–followed you two home. Like always.

"...So do you, Nance."

excuse me for being vile, but.....ehe......<3

(cws: perv!roommates!fruity four, f!angelface, modern au, voyeurism, noncon picture taking/sharing, nc somnophilia, masturbation)

the thought of pervy roommates fruity four having a secret, privated groupchat that you stumble upon when one of them leaves it open on the house laptop--and when you glance at it, you realize it's a chat full of photos and videos that detail every filthy thought they've had and every nasty thing they've done to you.

they've had huge, long conversations just thirsting over you or talking about something you did that they thought was hot, candid pictures they've sent of your ass or your tits in tight, short clothes around the house. Eddie has an ongoing video diary that he sends to them of every time he's jerked off over you while you're sleeping. every time he's cum on your face and wiped it off quick, before he chuckles quietly and slips out of your room. Robin's got videos of her fingers in your mouth as she sleeps in your bed, mindlessly sucking on them as she rubs one out under her panties. Steve apparently likes to cum into your food when he makes it for you, usually sweets or icecream that he brings home now and again, along with the whipped cream-topped drinks he brings you every morning. and the amount of times Nancy has humped your pillow or the clothes you've left out to wear the next day--you swear you see so much photo evidence and so many clips of it that she must be doing it daily. it's disgusting, and you spend hours touching yourself as you read through it all.

honestly, you should be furious, but it's too hot for you to get your fuzzy mind past anything else. they wanna fuck you so bad they're exposing themselves to each other with every gross thing they do, especially when you find the same pair of your panties in Robin's room that she took a video of herself cumming all over, or other hard evidence that proves they're completely genuine about their obsessions--like sticky photos of you tucked into Eddie's lunchbox and lewd love letters to you in Nancy's diary. even Steve, sweet Steve who pretends he's above casual sex or the filth of being a pervert, is recording himself fucking a fleshlight and crying out your name while he begs to cum inside you--at least once a week, no less, based on how many clips he's sent. they're all fucking perverts....and you just have to see where this all goes, if they'll ever end up making a move on the angel they can't help touching themselves over.

HEDAKYLO ➣ MASTERLIST

Under the cut you will find a masterlist of all my work! It has been alphabetized & organized accordingly. I really hope this helps you all out & makes navigation easier on mobile!

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Should’ve read the fine print...

Minors DNI

Warning(s): NSFW, dubcon

Fem!Reader

Authors Note: First time; necessary feedback, pls! Taking requests!

It’s been about a week since you’ve moved into your new apartment. Everything about it was perfect except for one thing: you’ve explored every room but one, which was locked for some reason. (If only you had read the entire catalog ad, you would’ve understood why and that all past tenants never stayed too long). You complained about it to your landlord, who hired a locksmith free of charge, thankfully. This is what your actions have come to, sadly: you, standing before hundreds of slimy, purple tentacles, coming from all around the mystery room.

You try and back away quietly toward the door in hopes of being able to leave unnoticed. Pitifully, the floorboards creek(damn, this shitty building). The tentacles immediately move in your direction as you run for the door, only to be blocked off by more tentacles. They push you to the ground and squeeze around your arms and legs, probing at your torse.

They’re not hurting you; they seem pretty curious, actually. The tentacle's touch is soft and gentle. One tentacle stops at your face...it’s...caressing your cheek? Their touches were seemingly affectionate at first but quickly became provocative. They began to slip under your clothes, feeling you up.

Again, their touch was gentle but still violating nonetheless; they groped your breasts, sucking on your nipples and coiling around them. You try and keep as much dignity you have left, biting your lip to hold back your moans. The tentacles seem to sense your defiance and dislike it very much. They tear through your clothing, leaving only your thin panties to cover you. They curl around your thighs, spreading your legs to tease you, rubbing against your clothed cunt, and nuzzling your clit; their suckers find it and abuse the little bundle of nerves.

A blissful whine escapes your lips; you can’t remember the last time you felt this good. The tentacles stroke your body with satisfaction, assumingly rewarding you for your submission. You can feel yourself getting wetter by the second. Your sense of dignity is long gone by now; you’re a wailing mess. Hair sticking to your sweat-coated skin, tear-filled eyes rolled up into your head, and while your mouth hangs open with a bead of drool leaking from the side.

The tentacles can sense your arousal, not to mention your drenched underwear. They move your panties to the side and continue to toy with your aching pussy, stroking your wet hole and sucking on your sore clit until you cum.

The tentacles let you catch your breath, lovingly massaging your body. Soon enough, you’re suspended in the air as more tentacles hold you, creating a makeshift bed to place you comfortably. Another tentacle approaches your face again, latching itself to your mouth and pushing past your lips to curl around your tongue. Is this its way of kissing you? Is it showing affection?

It’s a bit gross, but the tentacles mean well. Your body suddenly jolts as you feel a tentacle push against your sopping hole. It uses its suckers to tease you again, but as you grind yourself against it, the tentacle penetrates you, pressing against your walls to search for your sweet spot. The tentacle in your mouth begins to thrust in and out as you feel another tentacle enter your ass. The tentacle in your pussy moves rhythmically with the others as it’s sucker hit your g-spot. At this point, your mind is nothing but mush. All you see are white spots as your legs quake under the tentacles, unable to hold yourself up longer.

The tentacles wrap around your waist and lift you. You’re now ass up, face down, and being fucked mercilessly in all three holes. You can’t take it; it’s too good, too much, too many. You feel more tentacles enter your already full holes. Doesn’t this monster know you have a limit?

It doesn’t care, really. All it wants is to see you cum, and cum, again. You can feel yourself getting dizzier after each orgasm, one after another. Before you know it, you’re waking up from your fucked out haze. The tentacles seemed to have stopped fucking your brains out a while ago; they’re all curled up around your protectively, some still inside you. You try and crawl towards the door, but you’re body is useless at this point.

The tentacles drag you back to them, curling around to massage your worn-out body. It seems you won’t be leaving this room any time soon...or ever.

...

Might as well move your stuff in here.

rise & s(h)in(e)

belphegor x f!reader

summary: you accidentally fall asleep in Belphegor’s bed, and when you wake up, innocent morning snuggling is clearly the last thing on either of your minds.

word count: 2.2k

content: 18+ ONLY, NSFW, smut, fingering, handjob, oral fixation, tail kink, biting kink, unprotected p in v, morning sex, creampie, cockwarming, referenced poly relationships, referenced consensual somnophilia

When you rouse from sleep, you’re momentarily disoriented as lazily you reach out to swipe your D.D.D. off of the end table beside your bed, only to find your hand limply swatting at empty air. Cracking open one bleary eye, you quickly realize you’re not in your room. As if in answer to the silent question ringing in your head, a warm huff of air curls against the back of your neck.

Belphie.

A jolt of panic floods your veins when you realize you must have fallen asleep while lying in his bed in the attic watching movies with him last night. Your face heats up with embarrassment, and you’re just about to attempt to slip out from under the covers when an arm snakes around your waist.

Belphegor’s tired, gravelly voice mumbles against your hair, “Where are you going?”

So much for avoiding an awkward moment.

Turning your head slightly to glance back at Belphie, you offer him a weak smile. “Sorry for the uh…impromptu sleepover.”

He frowns when you go to move again, pulling you flush against the heat of his body, and it’s a battle not to melt back into his touch. “You think I’m upset about that?”

“Well…” you trail off, and he lets out a contrary noise.

Belphie noses the back of your neck, sending a shiver of delight down your spine, and you can feel the smile on his face as his lips gently make contact with your skin. “Let’s stay in bed a little longer.”

Your heart flutters in your chest at his insistence, and you press your face into the pillow as you grin. But while it comes as no surprise that the Avatar of Sloth is in no rush to peel back the covers of his plush duvet, it’s only when you finally allow yourself to press back into his solid frame that you realize perhaps going back to sleep isn’t quite what he had in mind.

You’ve spent more nights than you’d care to admit sprawled naked across the lush sheets of your bed at the House of Lamentation, fingers desperately plunging into the heat between your thighs, Belphegor’s name a near-silent prayer on your lips. Because despite the way most of the demons and otherworldly beings at RAD have become more than a little bit enamored with you during your time in the Devildom, the one curled up in bed with you now has been the most aloof, leaving you to eagerly crave the rare moments where flirtatious comments fall from his lips, when you can spy a brief flicker of desire flare up in his violet eyes, when his fingers linger a moment longer than necessary against your own. 

And now, you’re belatedly realizing that the fantasy of your fingers was a far cry from the large, firm shaft pressing heavily against your backside. The embers of desire that have long-since been burning for Belphie now flare red-hot in your gut, and you nearly whimper out loud as your pussy weakly clenches down on nothing in response. 

If Belphie were one of the others, you might drag this out. You might roll over and lazily kiss him for a little while first, like you did with Beel. Or perhaps you’d tease him and make him work for it—which you’d shamelessly done with Solomon. While you hold the sound in, you nearly snort at the memory of Lucifer insisting on taking you out to dinner first before he ended up fucking you right there in the entryway of the House of Lamentation after you’d returned anyway—much to the dismay of Satan, who happened to be on his way upstairs with his nose buried in a book. 

But Belphie.

Bephie.

Fuck, you’re so wet already.

Running late for your movie night, you’d hurried over to Belphie’s room fresh out of the shower, only realizing after you’d stepped inside that you’d forgotten to slip on a pair of underwear beneath the soft, cotton shorts hugging your hips. Now, unhindered by the extra material, you can feel a slick trail of arousal leaking from your cunt and sopping into your shorts.  

You can lay in bed lazily kissing Belphie all that you want later, carding your fingers through his soft hair as a low grumble of contentment escapes his pouty lips. You’ll let him indulge in every inch of you with a type of greed that would make Mammon look generous.

But now? 

Right now, while each and every one of your nerve endings is still pleasantly sensitive from the soft edges of sleep lingering in your system, you need to feel him inside of you. You can’t wait any longer.

And when you finally rock back into him, grinding your ass against his erection, Belphie gets the message loud and clear. He hums, pleased, and you can feel the vibration reverberate in his chest. Fingers beginning to roam across the expanse of skin beneath the t-shirt you’d fallen asleep in, Belphie makes a beeline for your breasts, eliciting a whine from you as he begins to massage them.

“You like it when I touch you here?” he asks, voice a quiet rasp. 

He experimentally rolls your peaked nipples between his digits, and all you can do is nod in response.

“But what about here?” 

His hand trails down your stomach, dipping just below the waistband of your shorts, and you can hear the audible hitch in his breath when he realizes you’ve forgone underwear entirely. 

Chuckling, he slowly slides his fingers lower. “Did you forget something?”

One hooked digit reaches out, gently dragging against your swollen clit.

“It was an accident,” you breathe out, far too aroused to try to lace any faux innocence into your tone.

“Hmm,” Belphie muses, running his teeth along the nape of your neck. “Are you sure? Because I swear I’ve heard you whining my name in your room late at night.”

Fuck.

Before you can come up with a witty comeback, he adds, “Sometimes I can hardly make it back to my own room before I start touching myself thinking about those cute little sounds you make.”

Oh.

Rocking into his touch, you reply, “Why didn’t you ever just knock?”

You can almost hear the smirk on his face as he answers, “Because I wanted to wait until you’d had your fill of everyone else first to show you what you’ve really been missing.”

At that, you feel the tip of Belphie’s tail brush against your leg, and there’s something undeniably possessive about the way it wraps around your bare thigh, the normally prickly areas along it now flat and soft to the touch as it caresses you. 

“So fucking wet for me,” he murmurs with a groan as he slides two fingers through your slick folds. 

“Belphie, please,” you whine, pressing down against his digits.

“If I’d have known you were this impatient, I would have let you wake up with me inside you,” he whispers against the shell of your ear, and you know the words are more of a question than a statement. 

“Next time,” you confirm, cunt already aching with anticipation at the thought of Belphie sliding his cock into your needy hole while you’re still asleep. And because you know what your words will do to him, you add, “You’re the only one that I’ll let do that.”

A small growl of pleasure crawls up his throat at the admission, and he heeds your desperation by plunging two fingers into your pussy.

“Belphie,” you moan, biting your bottom lip hard as his dexterous digits curl inside of you.

“I love it when you say my name,” he rasps, letting your arousal coat his palm as he fucks you with his fingers.

But even after he adds a third digit, it’s still not enough to quell the ravenous desire rapidly crawling up and down your spine. When you reach back to grasp his cock through his sleep pants, Belphie groans, rocking his hips into your touch. As you begin to push down both layers of fabric covering his shaft, he’s quick to shove them off, his length hot and heavy in your hands when you begin to pump it.

The lazy confidence in Belphie’s voice falters as you stroke his cock, and he gasps your name when you slide your thumb over the bead of precum leaking from the tip. 

“Wanna fuck you,” he pants, jerking into your touch while he continues to stroke the wet walls of your cunt. 

In response, you tug aside the loose hem of your shorts, not even bothering to shuck them off. You push yourself back into Belphie’s cock, keening at the feeling of the head bluntly pressing against your damp slit, and he pulls his sticky digits from your cunt to tightly grasp your hip.

The sound that leaves your mouth is somewhere between a gasp and a strangled moan when he begins to ease the gratuitous length of his cock into your wet hole, your cunt greedily clenching down on each and every inch as he stretches you open. 

Morning sex, by default, is always a wonderful affair of tired, tender pleasure that never fails to leave your toes curling and your back arching as your heavy eyelids are nearly on the verge of fluttering shut once more. 

But with Belphie?

With Belphie, it’s more than you could have ever imagined.

Once he stuffs his shaft in to the hilt, he begins to ease it back out again, soon falling into a steady rhythm pushing and pulling through your tight, clenching walls. And there’s just something about the way he holds you, the way his fingers flutter across your collarbone, lips pressing chaste kisses along the side of your neck, his hair tickling your cheek, the whispers of your name leaving his lips. 

You’re still so tired and sensitive, and Belphie knows it. 

He revels in it, your whimper as he presses a kiss to the sensitive patch of skin just below your ear before dragging his teeth along the hinge of your jaw. The breathy pant when he teasingly pulls his cock out and drags along your wet slit for but a moment (and the quiet, choked out moan that follows when he slides it back in).

“So fucking tight,” he groans at the slick sound of his length being swallowed into the warmth of your pussy again. “I’m not gonna last.”

Any stray, wandering thoughts you’ve had in the past about the dexterity of Belphie’s tail are obliterated at the feeling of it brushing over your sex. With the soft end resting against your stomach, he presses the solid part into your clit, moving it in a circular motion as he continues to fuck you.

“Holy shit,” you moan at the added stimulation, the pleasure slowly creeping through your abdomen now dripping through your limbs like molten lava. He increases the pressure, shifting the hand gently resting against the side of your neck to cup your jaw. At the feeling of his thumb sliding over your bottom lip, you can’t help but dart your tongue out, and you hear a pleased sound in your ear as Belphie experimentally prods with his pointer and middle fingers.

“Fuck,” he breathes out when you readily take his fingers into your mouth, sucking on them while your cunt squelches with each stroke of his cock as he massages your sensitive bundle of nerves with his tail. Drool begins to slide out of your mouth and onto the pillow beneath you as you slide your tongue along his digits, the taste of you still lingering on them.

And just when tears are on the verge of slipping down your cheeks from the overwhelming pleasure cresting within you, the thick coil of tension in your gut snaps loose, and you moan around Belphie’s fingers as you writhe with the force of your climax.

Belphie knows you want him to come inside of you, he’s smelled the lingering scent of the others’ leftover spend dripping down your thighs day in and day out. But he asks anyway, only for you to reach behind and tightly grab his hip, nearly impaling yourself on his cock as you force him to bottom out inside of you, silently begging for it. 

And he’s nearly feral with it now—the thought of the two of you going down for breakfast, his cum still sloshing around in your pretty little pussy, eyes half-lidded in your sated state. The conspiratorial look you’ll give him from across the table as you feel his cum soaking into your uniform.

Maybe one of his brothers will try to fuck you afterward, only to find a load of his cum leaking out of you. 

Or maybe he’ll have to take you back upstairs to fill you up one more time himself before class. 

—because now that he’s had you. Belphie’s not sure he’s ever going to be able to get enough.

Belphie can’t help the way his teeth latch onto the soft skin at the junction between your shoulder and neck as his orgasm hits him, and you gasp out in pleasure as he bites down hard while he spills himself deep inside of you. And when he eventually stills, rather than moving away, Belphie just snuggles in closer and wraps his arms around you.

“It’s too early, let’s sleep a little longer,” he yawns, cock still buried inside of your cum-filled cunt as he curls against you and tangles his ankles with yours.

— likes, comments, & reblogs are appreciated!

3 days...

Minors do not interact.

Masterlist

You do it just to spite him, he thinks. Hanging out with his brothers, laughing so freely right in front of him, having such a good time. It irks him. He could make you laugh like that if you'd just let him.

No, that's not fair, he chastises himself, he's gross, and weird, of course you don't want to hang out with him.

So how did he end up in this situation? Stroking his cock the way he always does when he thinks about you, only this time you're watching him. You're watching him -- and you're touching your gorgeous, wonderful, juicy pussy right in front of him! Because of him!

Levi watches with rapt attention the way you pump your fingers into your core, use your other hand to play with your clit. His gaze is trained on your pussy, and if it were anyone else, you might feel shy from putting on such a show. But he is enamored, so focused on watching you that his hand has slowed on his cock.

"Levi," you hum softly, somewhere between a pant and a moan, "I want to see."

He starts slightly, moves his hand again in the same quick rhythmic pumps as before. He can't imagine why you'd want to watch him when you get to touch yourself like this. That's far more interesting to him than having to watch the gross way he jacks off, but you keep insisting, and he'd give you anything you asked for.

He won't last long. He knows as he flicks his wrist at the end of his stroke, that he'll blow his load so much faster than you will reach your high. Maybe you'll let him eat you out after, he thinks.

"I'm close," he warns, breath light and airy. His eyes are still watching the way you play with yourself, and you are far too focused on watching him than truly seeking your own release. He's pretty like this; long limbs outstretched, one hand splayed over his belly while he slides the other over his cock. A slight sheen of sweat coats his body, makes him glisten in the low light.

He comes with a whimper, spilling his seed over his knuckles and the using the extra slickness to finish the job. It's messy, fitting. He loves the way your eyes devour him.

"Now- now can-" He's about to ask if he can help you through yours, but you surge forward, seal your lips around his cock, slurp up all of his spend and he thinks he might pass out from how sensitive he is and how perfect you feel.

His voice peters off into a whine, "oh god. That's- that. That's -- fuck that feels so good."

Just wait until you sink onto him, you think, popping off of his dick like a lollipop. You move to straddle him, delighting in the way his eyes go wide and he starts to stammer something unintelligible.

"I'll do all the work," you whisper right next to his ear, "just relax."

Imagine Vampire!Barbatos tho....

Who else would be his perfect doll master but you? He will cook for you, brush and stylish your lovely hair, dress you up. Treat you like a princess 80% of the time, the other 20% he's feeding from you and letting his dark side take over.

Vampire!BARBATOS x gn!Reader, 1.2k words, nsfw. Content warnings: canon-typical vampire behaviour, possessiveness/jealousy, pet names, spicy towards the end—it's not really dubcon but it might come off that way. ♫ [ Song Rec ] | m.list

You feel his eyes on you as soon as you step into the ballroom of Diavolo’s castle. These fancy events always make you feel nervous and out of place. You usually spend the night together before these events so he can help you prepare, but last night you stayed at the House of Lamentation instead as his duties to Diavolo kept him busy.

His bedroom (and yours) are filled with the exquisite clothing he’s bought you, and he sent you instructions earlier with which clothing he wanted you to wear for him tonight. You bathed with the products he gave you too—he claims that the custom recipe he has made for you enhances your natural scent.

(He enjoys bathing you personally so he can massage you with his firm hands while he teases you with gentle touches, a playful reminder of how he'll reward you later if you behave.)

Every accessory you own—the collection of chokers, necklaces, bracelets, and chains he's bought for you—are made with the finest metals and jewels. Your outfits usually compliment your complexion and your eyes; your accessories are a reflection of him instead. The choker around your neck tonight is black and silver and adorned with tiny gemstones the same colour as the tips of his hair.

As you walk around the perimeter of the ballroom, you feel his warm, affectionate gaze linger on you from wherever he's hiding just out of sight. He weaves through the crowd seamlessly at these events, as the demon prince's silent shadow should, but you’ve yet to catch a glimpse of him.

One of the brothers tugs on your wrist and leads you towards the center of the room. Diavolo approaches you suddenly, and Barbatos follows silently behind him.

“You look radiant this evening,” Diavolo says, his voice laced with fondness for you. He respects his friend and your relationship and doesn’t dare touch you. “Don't you agree, Barbatos?”

You’re not sure anyone else notices the flicker of annoyance that hardens your lover’s expression before it's gone. Even you're not sure if you truly saw it when he nods and smiles at you.

“Quite lovely indeed,” he murmurs, but something about his sickeningly sweet tone sets you on edge. The tingling sensation of being watched follows you as you're dragged by your friends onto the dancefloor.

It's barely twenty minutes later that you finally break away from the party and mingle on the outskirts of the room with a cool drink in your hand. There's a sudden feeling of another body radiating heat against your back, and gloved fingers reach around you and gently pull your drink away. He sets it on a table nearby and touches your waist.

"Would you mind accompanying me to the kitchen? I have a small task to complete and would like the privilege of your company.” He’s always so formal to keep up appearances, but you suspect there’s some hidden meaning in his words you haven’t deciphered yet.

(There always is).

He offers you his arm and you leave the party together. His shoulders are stiff with tension as he leads you away from the ballroom, but despite his odd demeanor you're still grateful to spend time alone with him.

The rest of the castle is empty except for the servants carrying out various chores. When you arrive at the kitchen doors, he gestures for you to enter first. There’s a flurry of activity inside as the Little Ds pick up their trays of Demonus and make a quick escape through the servant’s entrance on the opposite side of the room.

You smile and wave at them as they leave, but the door shuts behind you and the lock clicking into place makes you freeze.

“You look exceptional this evening,” Barbatos breathes next to your ear. His gloved fingers caress your cheek and slowly run up and down the curve of your neck. “It's enough to drive me mad,” he confesses, lips brushing your skin just above the choker. He unfastens the clasp and slides the delicate item into his pocket for later.

He kisses the lingering puncture marks he made two nights ago—the skin is bruised and the puncture wounds are still not fully healed. He prefers that you don't use magic or potions to speed up the healing process, so you don't.

(He'd never deny you if you were in true pain or discomfort, but he would prefer to care for you himself than ask you to drink whatever flimsy potion one of your friends might try to feed you.)

“I get the sense that something’s bothering you,” you admit quietly, and he hums. "Do you want to talk about it?" you ask nervously, but when you try to look at him, he holds your chin to keep you still.

"A simple problem requires a simple solution," he mutters to himself. "All I could smell was them on you,” he clarifies for your benefit, and it’s the only warning you have before you’re pushed forward against one of the stainless steel counters. Deft fingers tug at your waist and unbutton the burdensome clothing that gets in his way of touching you. You gasp when cool air hits your bare skin.

No matter what bath products he buys you, it’s not enough to completely wash away the scent of the others you live with. The clothes that hang in your closet don’t smell like him, not like the ones in his castle bedroom do.

The possessive beast inside him seethes with rage others that see you and crave you like he does might think you’re not claimed. You taunted the beast inside him when you walked into that ballroom smelling like so many others but not him.

Even if you weren't wearing the choker around your neck, those healing bites alone aren’t enough to deter those that might try to take you for themselves. You’re his, and he’ll do whatever it takes to make sure everyone knows that—including you.

“What—what about the party?” you whimpered, overwhelmed by his body smothering yours and the pleasure of his hand exploring between your legs.

He's barely started and you can already smell the musky scent from between your thighs. The evidence he'll leave inside you when he's finished will drip down your legs and paint your skin; you have no doubt the stains will soak through the thin fabric of your pants for the others to see.

His fangs tease the sensitive skin of your neck, lingering higher than his other marks, too high for your choker to hide from view. Slick fingers tease at your entrance and you gasp as one slips inside.

“Everyone will know—“ you stammer, one final plea to remind him that perhaps this isn't a good idea, but his quiet, condescending chuckle interrupts you.

“Precisely, my dear,” he purrs, biting into your neck and groaning as the first pulse of blood coats his tongue. A hand encased in soft leather covers your mouth and muffles your cry as he buries himself inside you with a sharp snap of his hips.

Taglist: @l-d-8 @mithrakira @your-next-daydream @lemonivall @meggsngrits @flemmingbamse @tortibomb @amberrskiies @angelsdilf @rensphilia @4allthefours4 @a-hidden-gem @catching-cloudzzz @beelsjuicytitties @goldenglow149

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Time and Time Again

*** This fic is something I've been excited for ever since @dicetheroll, @rainiishowers, and I brainstormed the concept for it in the Hive Discord! It the most voted for the recent "Help Me Choose" post, so alas, Barbatos simps, this one's for you. I hope you all enjoy it ❤️-B ***

Summary: Barbatos loves MC. He has loved them for nearly as long as he has known. He goes back and relives every second that he can with them, over and over again. But, after experiencing a time line so many times, one begins to notice certain patterns — MC getting hurt, for example. And after one too many times, he decides that he can't stand idle by any longer.

*Spoilers up to Lesson 16*

The confusion, but glittering curiosity that shimmers in your eyes never ceases to excite him upon the inevitable first meeting. It's one that he's lived a thousand times, yet still, it remains one of Barbatos's favourites.

Sometimes, when he first gets there and hears Lord Diavolo and Lucifer discussing your new pact with Mammon, he'll see you — the slight twitch of irritation in your brow in the way they converse as though you're not there. The proud puff of your chest as they remain in awe of your achievement. The flickering of your gaze around you, ever alert and cautious — and he'll forget you're not an MC who knows him yet.

But there comes the moment, where your observant stare falls onto him and your soft lips purse.

"Who are you?" You ask, just as you have a thousand times before. He's memorized the question and the way your voice dictates the words.

To him, the question reads like poetry. Who are you? So innocently unaware of the history you've shared with him. As friends. As allies. As enemies. As lovers. You ask the question, completely unaware that you are his polar magnet — a ruthless force that constantly draws him in no matter how he may resist.

And resist he did — at first at least. He had responsibilities and duties. Diavolo was meant to be his priority, not a rambunctious human who had no concept of self-preservation. And yet

"Ah yes. Pardon me," he responds with a subtle grin. "I suppose we haven't met before, have we?"

There it is. The slight flush that painted your expression as he took your hand into his and kissed the back of it.

He already knew which way this route will be going, he decided it before he even entered the timeline.

He has seen you choked, and broken, and ripped to shreds. He has seen you destroyed both mentally and physically to the point that had become nothing but a shell. He has stood as a bystander as you lived a life with each and every one of the brothers, his lord, and even Simeon and Solomon — and he has witnessed both the good and bad endings of each of those relationships.

Time, as it seems, was not kind to you, despite all the kindness that you gave. It would chew you up and spit you out with every chance that it got.

But not this time. Barbatos would be sure of that.

This time, he spared no mind to being suspicious to others or acting out of character. His only concern was you and your safety — and in order to ensure your safety, he needed to become close with you as quickly as he could.

He spent your lunch hours by your side — claiming he needed your aid with paperwork or surveying the students. It would hurt your connection with Mammon, sure, but for all his efforts, Mammon never was all that great at his job of protecting you.

He, much to Diavolo's delight, would often invite you over for tea and dinners at the castle — it was a joy to be the one to introduce you to your favourite Devildom delicacy. The honor was usually reserved for Beelzebub, but he found he couldn't help himself.

It was after one of these dinners, as you aided him in doing the dishes that he dared to spark a conversation he had only initiated a handful of times before.

"MC?" he questioned as you scrubbed the porcelain plates with the same care and ease as one would when handling an ancient artifact.

"Hm?" You hummed in response, squinting your eyes to glare through the soap suds at a particularly tough stain.

He smirked knowingly as he set down his drying towel and faced you. "Make a pact with me."

He quickly reached down and caught the plate slipping through your fingers before you had time to even process you had dropped it. You blinked at him with wide eyes as he carefully set it back on the counter.

Barbatos could feel your gaze on his back — filled with pure shock and confusion. It was one he knew all too well.

You had told him once, after the first time he had ever proposed the pact, that you had never expected him to ask you this. Not in a million years. You knew he had a pact with Solomon, but no one truly knew how that particular agreement came to be (and he would much rather keep it that way). But you also knew how much trust went into bestowing a pact with someone. It was not something to take lightly.

"Barbatos," you breathed with awe on your tongue. "You ... Why?"

To protect you. To ensure that he could be by your side in an instant the second you call out for him. To keep you safe from the world — from time. To love you.

He smiled and went back to putting away the dishes as though he hadn't just offered his entire being to you. "You already have Mammon's. And I hear that you have a contest with Leviathan soon approaching to earn his. It seems you've become a collector of sort."

And if the promptness of the decision had anything to do with the lingering threat of Leviathan's rage during said competition, well, Barbatos was hardly one to offer spoilers.

You huffed and placed a hand on his shoulder, forcing him to face you. He reveled in the closeness. "This is serious. I- You're not usually one for jokes. I- I mean, pacts are a big deal, right? I'm just beginning to understand that. I-"

He gently scooped your hands into his own gloved ones and peered deeply into your eyes. "We're friends, are we not?" he couldn't help the flare of pride that ran through him as your expression grew flush. "I like to keep my friends close. I like to protect them. And this, this pact? It's the best way I can think of to keep you as protected as possible."

A frown dug at your lips as you tilted your head in confusion. "Isn't that what the brothers are for? Do you not trust them?"

Quite honestly, no. He didn't. More often than not it was them who were the very cause of your pain. He would never understand why his Lord thought that it was best to keep you there, with the brothers who had barely agreed to the program in the first place, over keeping you in the castle with them. But that was out of his control.

This, however, was not.

"I think they do the best they can," he answered instead as he peered down at your joined hands. He would never grow tired of just how nicely they fit together. "But this is different. It's a personal comfort that you're alright," your breath hitched as he his thumbs caressed your knuckles. "Would you allow me that one little peace, MC?"

"Okay," you whispered, and that oh-so-beautiful burn ran through him and branded itself into the base of both of your throats, just under your voice box.

He couldn't help but smile. Teal always looked so good on you.

He lifted a single hand to touch the mark — it was still warm to the touch. "Perfect," he muttered.

The pact was good. It meant you two were connected now. But it wasn't enough.

He knew from experience. The pact alone wouldn't prevent you from nearly dying in the competition. It wouldn't stop you from getting Leviathan's cursed album and finding your way to the attic.

It wouldn't stop Belphegor.

The night before the competition he made his way to the House of Lamentation with one goal in mind — to take the pendant of the Lord of Corruption's lost wing that Solomon had given you.

You hadn't spoken in detail with Simeon as Satan had advised you. Meaning this pendant was your only chance of winning the competition. Without it, you would lose, Leviathan would never go into a frenzy, the two of you would never form a pact, and most importantly, he would never give you the cursed TSL album that would allow you access to your doom.

Barbatos knew what this meant. He would be completely shredding apart the timeline and creating a number of unknowns.

But it had to be done. To save you.

As he was making his way out the door, a large hand on his shoulder stopped him in place.

Barbatos felt his heart nose dive from his chest to his stomach as he stared at the door not five feet in front of him. "I have to do this," he said firmly even as dread began to swirl within him.

"You know you can't," came the Young Lord's voice — calm, for once. Thick with morose solemn.

The butler swallowed thickly around the lump in his throat. "They're going to die.

"They will." "I can stop it." "No. You can't," Barbatos felt his hands begin to shake at the finality in his tone. "You know this. It's fate."

Anger boiled deep in his stomach at those words. "It's fate," Diavolo would always tell him, as though that excused the endless hardships you were forced to endure.

It wasn't fair, he knew that. Diavolo loved you just much as Barbatos himself did. But he didn't understand. How could he?

While he may be able to see through lies, he couldn't travel through time as Barbatos could. He didn't have the power to actually change fate like Barbatos did.

He wasn't the one who could do something, but has been forced to stand by and do nothing every single time and just watch.

Watch as your back broke and blood trickled out from your lips. Watch the soul leave your eyes as your face remained frozen in eternal horror. Watch as you died. Time, and time, and time, and time, and time, and time, and time again all because it was fate.

His hands twitched at his side. "Why?" He pleaded in grievous whisper. "Why not just this once? They live, and they'll be safe."

The grip on his shoulder tightened. "It's MC's fate to sacrifice themself for the betterment of the Devildom and those within it. Just as it was Lilith's fate to die so her brothers could fall and take their rightful place here. If it didn't happen here, and now, it would only happen later on. But in ways that we won't be prepared for."

"I know" he damn-near growled. Where Diavolo could only speak based on theory, Barbatos had lived it.

One time you were kidnapped by a rebellion who disagreed with the exchange program and publicly mutilated you as an example. The next, your head was sent to Mammon by the witches he loved to infuriate. In another, your soul was claimed by the very nature of the Devildom — torn apart by beasts and plants alike. And one more, the angels stole you to "train" and shape you until you're the perfect weapon against the Devildom that they'd been searching for.

And again, and again, and again.

"I hate it," he spits as exhaustion bleeds into his tone and his voice cracks. "No matter how many times I reset the timeline. No matter how many things I change, I-I can't-"

"You can't save them, Barbatos," a sob escapes him as Diavolo speaks. "I'm sorry, but you can't. It's ... It's impossible."

And that was it. Wasn't it? There were simply somethings that, no matter how hard you tried, you could simply never change.

A little over a week later, his pact ignited. He felt the air cut from his lungs. He felt his spine break into two. He felt the blood trickle down his throat and flood his lungs. He felt his stomach flip as he plummeted.

He felt you die. Just as you had before. Time and time again.

***Oh this may be on of my favourite fics I've written yet. I hope you all enjoyed this as much as I did! Thank you all again for endless love and support. You guys are the best community I could ever ask for. Love you all! ***

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