Okay But Miscommunication Trope Is Only Super Yummy When There’s A Happy Ending. Liiiike Reader Thinking

Anything For You - Yandere!Yuta X Chubby!Reader

Yandere AU

Genre: Mature, Horror, Angst, Smut (Very Passionate, Much Desire)

Pairing: Yuta X Reader

Words: 23,040

Warnings: Minor Fatphobia, Self-Esteem Issues, a long ass rant about beauty standards, mentions of mental health and a brief mention of suicide (in passing, really), a few instances that could be interpreted as eating disorders. This is a Yandere story, it will contain themes such as stalking, violence, obsession, possessive natures, and just general overall creepiness and swearing. You have been warned.

A/n: I am both super excited and nervous about this one! I will say, I am really proud with how this one turned out, and as this is the third time I am writing this post out, I really hope it works this time lol. I do apologize for taking so long to post, it turned out way longer than I anticipated, but I think it’s well worth the wait. I do not think Yuta would ever act like this, this is just my interpretation of the archetype (and also a very self indulgent fic). As always, feedback is greatly appreciated! Enjoy!~

Disclaimer: Everyone has their own definition of what they consider to be chubby. As a chubby person myself, I kept this in mind while writing, and did my best not to incorporate specific markers on the OC’s appearance. Just know that while there aren’t many explicit physical markers of the how chubby the reader is (other than the mention of plush thighs once, I think), this fic is meant to be read with the intention that the reader is chubby. Does this mean you cannot read this fic if you are not chubby or do not consider yourself chubby? Of course not!! I just thought that this was important to let you know. I also 1000% do not condone yandere behaviour.

This one is for the ones who feel like they cannot fit into a certain ideal or beauty standard society has deemed the norm. This one is for the ones that have felt, or continue to feel unworthy or deserving of love because of their weight, and/or how they look. This is for anyone who needs it.

This one’s for me.

Keep reading

STUDY BUDDY.

An easy afternoon date with your favorite tutor <3

tutor izuku 🥺 + fem reader. cunnilingus + size kink + pussyjob. messy relationship dynamics (is he ur tutor? is he ur bf? we don’t know anymore) but ur in love w him ok? insp by @oh-katsuki & this post by @kazuwhora ♡

betaed by my baby @ihatebnha :3

“are you even listenin’ to me?”

your eyes flicker up from the pretty girth of Izuku’s neck. you can’t really help yourself—all of him is just so pleasing to look at. the swift curve of it leads into the broad stretch of his shoulders. shoulders that blend into thick arms that give way to a pair of hardworking hands. they’re covered in scars, his hands. palms and knuckles, alike. he must’ve been a fighter as a kid.

the thought of nearly makes you burst into a fit of giggles. izuku? a fighter?

he wouldn’t hurt a snake if it bit him.

you smile at the frown settled into ‘zuku’s mouth. your fingers bat away at a few stray strands hung over his eyes. he lets you.

you sigh sweetly, adoringly. little hearts beat in your eyes. “your hair’s so much longer now.”

Izuku sighs, exasperated as he leans into your touch. the unfortunate frustration in his voice is a symphony to you.

“i know it’s complicated. let me walk you through the steps, okay? it’ll be so easy after that! i promise.”

you groan, shifting forward on the blanket to sit next to him and smush your face into his shoulder. your whining comes muffled against the cremé cashmere of his sweater.

the study date is in the middle of a field near your college campus, both of you entangled at the legs atop a large pink blanket you’d brought from your dorm. you’re curled into his side, humming a pleased little moan when he shifts closer to you.

it’s a multipurpose field. normally, it’s buzzing with laughter and vibrant energy when you come out here. but oddly enough, there aren’t a lot of eyes out this Wednesday afternoon. but you suppose that may be a good thing. the sun showers the earth in gold, easy winds surf through the air, and you and izuku soak it all up for yourselves.

“i don’t care about statistics, izuku.” you nudge his knees apart with the your achilles—he jumps. squeaks in surprise when you nudge your way onto his lap. his hands jump to your hips reflexively, and he eases you down into his lap as if he’s done it a million times before.

izuku’s always been very patient with you. lenient and forgiving; he indulges in your whims more often than he cares to keep track, but what can he do when his favorite little minx is just so—

“can’t you just do it for me?” you whine, leaning up to wrap your arms around his neck. he’s slumped enough that, like this—kneeling at the top of your knees—you could give him a face full of tits.

pretty tits. your tits.

“tutors don’t do the work for you.” he chastises, shaking his head to rid himself of the thought. he’s happy enough to simply sit and soak in the warmth you give, settled comfortably into his lap and curled around his torso. he’s content enough just looking at you. with pink blush dancing across your cheeks. and your hair pinned up so pretty. and your lips, so glossy and sticky..

if you…

izuku swallows.

if you leaned in, even. just—just a liiitle more. he could—no, izuku. stop that.

he tries again, “don’t you wanna learn how to do it without me?”

you mull over his words. weigh your options carefully for two, maybe three seconds before you lean up again to wrap an arm around the top of his shoulders. the other gently sweeps his hair back to reveal his forehead. adrenaline rushes through you when startled viridian eyes blink up into your own.

izuku doesn’t move an inch. he doesn’t even breathe.

finally, you pout, then pull back to cup his chin and gently tilt his mouth up towards your own. it’s harmless, really. just a girl having a tiny bit of fun with her tutor.

heh.

“i don’t wan’a do anythin’ without you, Izuku.” you promise like the good girl you are, batting your lashes and lovingly groping him all over. a sweet squeeze to his bicep, a hand over his pec, fingers pressing along his stomach. he’s yours to touch, after all.

izuku gapes up at you.

you, he riots to himself, you little—you damn succubus!

your warmth caresses his skin, melts into his entire body when you wrap around him like predator around prey. you feel as soft as you look. body so achingly soft, izuku let’s you take up all of his space—as much as you want. his eyes flutter shut when you lean your face down to bump your nose to his. he parts his lips for you, then, instinctively. a soft groan rumbles through his chest, and finally, he cups the back of your neck and lurches up to meet your mouth with his own.

“mmf!”

izuku doesn’t let up, doesn’t pull away until he’s had his fill. a thick, wet tongue greedily licks into your mouth. his fingers—thicker, rough, but they feel so good—sink into your hips to keep you still. but they’re everywhere, cupping your jaw, sliding up the delicate curve of your spine to bring your chest into his, to curve your body against his. once he’s impatient enough, he starts squeezing at your thighs to shift you even closer.

“wait,” you whine, helplessly clinging to him. a string of spit connects your lip to his after he finally remembers he has to breathe. “izu, izu—,”

“mhm?” he hums, lashes fluttering against his cheeks. like he’s reminiscing, lost in the memory of the feel of your mouth opening so prettily for him. his hands slide to cup the curve of your ass cheeks and gently lift. the lower half of you slides just the tiniest bit up his stomach as izuku bends his legs in at the knees to sit criss-cross beneath you.

“yeah? y’okay? did i hurt you?” he snaps out of his stupor. his hands massage up your spine, lulling you in by the waist as his eyes urgently flicker over you. “c’mere, let me see.”

izuku is strong. you’re not sure if he plays a sport—you don’t think he does. what kind of male college sports player does their own homework? let alone helps someone else do theirs? but he practically manhandled you into his lap earlier! and you’re not the easiest to lift and just plop down. you can tell just by looking at him that he’s stacked. but feeling it? that’s a completely different story.

“m’fine,” you huff, a hand at izuku’s chest to keep at bay. he’s so fussy. you’re just.. a little frazzled. the softer parts of you ache just a little from his wandering fingers. your mouth is buzzing, your nerves frayed. “didn’t think you’d—you’d—,”

“yeah,” izuku sighs wistfully. his fingers lightly stroke at your tummy from beneath the hem of your shirt. “me neither.”

you can feel his heartbeat kiss your palm from over his tit—feel it come in quick, eager thumps. he’s excited.

izuku wraps his fingers around your wrist. “knew you liked me,” he grins. “at first, i couldn’t tell. but then kacchan said i was real dumb if i didn’t see it.”

“kacchan?” who?

warm fingers give a quick squeeze to your thigh. “my roommate, baby.”

baby. your tummy flutters. “oh.”

izuku huffs a chuckle at the lost look in your eyes.

“you’ve seen him before,” he reassures you. his hair flops as he leans his forehead down to rest it on yours.

“the blond one?” he whispers, like it’s some big secret between the two of you. “gives me a hard time when you’re late for our sessions.”

“uh huh.” you nod. you remember him—vaguely. he hasn’t spoken much to you, but you do remember the fleeting sensation of being pissed off because of him.

there’d been an astringent of foul names—mostly including “shitty deku,” and a few minutes of loud pot-banging, followed by something snarky like, “someone’s always in the fucking kitchen when i need to fucking use it.”

“i don’t like the way he talks to you,” you scowl, matching the serene quiet of his tone.

izuku smiles at the irony of the serious twist in your face and reaches a large hand to engulf the side of your face. big fingers gently stroke down your cheek as a thank you, for worrying about him.

“i don’t like you either,” you say pointedly, around the thumb he has pressed to your lip. just to see the smugness in his eyes come falling apart. “you make pretty girls do math instead of just doing it for them. that’s’a crime.”

“i know,” he coos, bringing your hand to his chest, eyes glittering and a lazy smile curls across his face. “i know. m’sorry. don’t know what a villain like me was thinkin’.”

“you should be.” a quick huff to accentuate your distress. it’s hard to keep it up when he’s so adamant on touching you, feeling you, trying to lure you in and kiss you silly all over again. s’difficult to think anything when you can feel him all over you, with every inch of your skin fiending for his attention.

s’hard to focus on anything but izuku when everytime you shift your hips, everytime he adjusts beneath you, you feel it pressing into you. shamelessly bulging and throbbing against your panties.

“mhm,” izuku innocently bumps your jaw with his nose. “on my knees, begging for forgiveness, even.”

“you’re hard,” you whisper, almost petulantly. satisfaction blooms in your chest when izuku goes still against you. his mouth falls open, freckled cheeks budding hotly with pink. “and you have been. s’been sticking into me since i sat on you. don’t y’think you should handle that instead of mocking me?”

one beat.

not a lick more than one.

“izuku—!” you shriek lowly, toes curling as he suddenly throws himself forward to lay you down backwards. the palm of his hand at the back of your head cradles it from any thumps.

“how am i supposed to handle anything with you?” he pants over you, eyes dark and attentive, still so sweet on you as he frowns from above.

“you’re evil,” he groans, even as you tug him down to kiss up his jaw. “bring me out here to study, then sit on my lap? i can’t keep lettin’ you toy with me, baby.”

“s’not my fault.” your breath hitches. izuku hooks his fingers in the waistband of your skirt, uses it to jerk you off the ground by your hips, then smoothly yanks it down. while all you do is stare up at him with stars in your eyes and a hand balled in the neckline of his shirt.

“someone’ll see,” you whisper. you feel so small laid out beneath him like this. but your toes curl at the thought, the implication of being caught—someone finding you here, fucked open and stupid and dripping onto your pretty pink blanket in the afternoon sun under izuku midoriya of all people.

“they can watch,” he mumbles back, pressing his hands into the backs of your thighs. “they can watch me take you apart. can’t let you wiggle away f’rm me again.”

he trails a messy line of kisses down your neck, your chest, pauses and places one on both of your nipples—for good luck—and then suddenly, he’s having a showdown with your pussy. his warmth concentrates over your panties, and all you see of him is a sea of wavy green.

izuku ducks his head. his fingers clench at the plush yield of your thighs as he drags you closer to his face, buries his nose into the damp cotton of your cherry-patterned panties. your thighs clamp nervously around his ears—he almost misses the pitched, little “yeah,” you whimper in return.

something unintelligible rises from izuku’s chest when the smell of you wafts through his nose, when the ghost of your taste fills his mouth. he bumps his nose closer into your clit, and flicks his tongue up against your leaking hole through the cotton when you whimper about it.

“what’re you…?” your hands spring to twist in his hair when izuku tilts your hips upward and gently sucks at the material covered in your slick. “you’re so weird!”

but the man pays your embarrassment no mind. izuku breathes you in, hefty, deep gulps of your cunt. blunt nails pinch into your ass cheeks, then he drags you by the hips to pull your cunt over his face religiously. his eyes roll up at your assault on his senses. you’re everywhere, making his mouth water and destroying his brain cells—a vixen. but all of you sounds so sweet. you start to keen and whine when his nose bumps your clit over n’ over again, n’ izuku knows he’s addicted.

“thought you hated me,” he shudders. “so this—this is—,” his forehead burrows between your hips, fingers curling around the crotch band of your panties. he almost tears ‘em apart when he goes to tug them aside. when green eyes burn black and his grip on your thigh tightens enough to make you whine out loud, you think maybe he’s forgotten what he was going to say.

broad shoulders shift and flex under your legs. just this angle of izuku is enough to get your pussy flowing even messier, clenching around the tough muscle of his tongue. all you can do is hang on and cry when the man leans forward so much, he’s raising the lower half of your body into the air. sucks greedily at your puffy cunt, and you can feel it all. your toes curl, eyes rolling into your skull as izuku takes and takes and takes, swallows every wave of slick, meets every roll of your hips to smother your pussy against his face like a pro with a forceful slurp of his own.

your voice trembles, like the rest of you. “yeah, well, this’s why, y-you freak.”

soon, he’s pulling his other hand from your ass to wiggle your panties down your thighs, then off your ankles. the cotton falls from your toes and plops onto the far bottom of the blanket behind him, then izuku’s attention is lavished entirely onto the junction of nerves between your thighs.

green eyes fall low, dark and focused as he presses his tongue into your cunt without another word. he brings a thumb up to gently lift the hood of your clit and takes everything you give him, the saltine sweat and the tangy taste of pussy—the entire lower half of izuku’s face is sticky.

“y’mean that?” he asks, husky.

you don’t have much of an answer to give him, still twitching and huffing with aftershocks of a not-quite orgasm.

and when you can’t make words, izuku dips back down to plant kisses that flutter along your skin. sweet sucks to your slit, quick nips to the insides of your thighs, he takes his time carving the memory of you into his mind. wants the softness of you to imprint against his body. to haunt him for all his days and all his nights.

“so pretty,” he rasps, throaty and raw. in desperate need of oxygen, izuku has somehow managed to tear himself away from your cute, puffy pussy. one hand rubs soothingly at the curve of your waist, the other stationed next to your cheek to hold his weight over you. “knew this pussy would love me.”

“what?” you gasp, eyebrow twitching at his audacity.

“think about you so much,” he coos, grins real dreamy when your eyes find his. “how could i not? i just.. wanna be covered in you. want people to look at me and know m’all yours.”

“sh—shut up,” you whine, thighs clenching nervously around his torso. his eyes flutter at the feeling. “shut up, you’re so embarrassing.”

“i know, i know,” he sighs. “stupid izuku, what’s he even talkin’ about?” a dopey grin curls at the corner of his mouth when he shifts up your body just a little more to press his lips to your mouth. you welcome him, even chasing after the taste of you on his tongue when he pulls away too quickly for your liking.

izuku leans backwards to sit straight up and brings you with him with his hands splayed across your spine. follows the first kiss with a second, and then a third. and another, and another, and another, while he cradles you in his lap again. chaste, and sweet, and lovely. he’s in the heat of your fourth kiss, this one a little less tame and more tongue than the others, when you gently force your cheek to his and nudge his mouth.

“i wanna feel you.” you pant, eyes wide and begging as your breath fans over the one side of izuku’s freckled face. your arms tighten around his shoulders.

“what?” he sputters, eyes bulging from their sockets. he adjusts you in his lap with the arm around your waist, the other below your ass—you keep slipping because he’s kneeling, not sitting.

(“sit back, baby,” you purr in his ear, low and cool enough to not disrupt the meltdown he’s undergoing.)

“are you—are you sure?” he wheezes, fidgets around until you nearly slip out of his arms. “shit. sorry. i just don’t—i don’t have any condoms. i could pull out, if you really wanted? no, i want that.”

you bounce as he sets you down on the blanket in front of him, then, head hung in shame, he follows suit and plops back down to sit across from you. “and s’not safe. and i’m.. not the most reliable.”

“your pull out game’s weak?”

“what?” he stops twiddling his fingers immediately. his head snaps up to you.

“hush,” you wave him off. “lean back s’more, i’ll make it work.”

“whatever you want,” izuku softens. he plants his hands on the ground and shifts back to give you space. “could have anythin’ from me’ y’know that?”

“hm,” you hum, crawling forward to get your sticky little paws on the button of his jeans.

“a car?” you pop the button with a swift, little pinch.

“i can take you to class,” he offers instead.

“you do that now,” you tag down his zipper and pout. “sometimes.”

“you should say thank you every once n’ awhile,” he teases. radiant veridian eyes gaze down on you sweetly.

your fingers tug his jeans apart at the opening. you shimmy his jeans down his hips and reach forward to peel back his tiddy whites next.

“never,” you grin. “what would i ever thank you for?”

izuku’s cock flops out of his underwear quick enough to scare you. it throbs in the air for just a moment before slumping down n plopping onto his abdomen. it’s curved, you realize, stars spawning in your pupils and a greedy little grin curling in your mouth. you tuck the band of his underwear beneath his balls, fat and heavy under your fingertips. the contact makes izuku shiver a little.

the ardent wonder of it all dissipates slowly when you realize, subsequently, just how stupid fat it is.

you inhale sharply, eyebrows pinching at the intimidating mass of cock before you.

“why is it so…?”

“…yeah?” izuku looks down at you. a subtle frown in his mouth and a worried pinch in his brow. too—small? he’s not the biggest.. he knows that.

“so, what?” he presses, tries not to sound too forceful or anxious.

it’s heavy, you decide, finally taking the appendage into your hands. heavy, and daunting.

he’s hard, unmistakably. izuku groans when your hand stretches around the base of it. he mutters something about how soft your hands are, and the hulking, throbbing mass of veins and muscle between his thighs throbs in agreement.

“th-thick.” you frown.

izuku hisses when you grip him, cheeks flushed pink at how you faun over his cock—like it’s.. like it’s a pet, or something. his hips buck. your mouth waters as it leaks from the tip, your fingers becoming sticky after just a few pumps.

“i’m—will it—would it fit..? inside?” you gasp apprehensively, eyes skirting away at the thought of izuku being too big for your poor kitty. he’d—he’d ruin it, wouldn’t he?

you crawl back into his lap and give an experimental roll of your hips. izuku’s cock pulses against your pussy. drops of precum splatter across his navel. his hips buck up, his cock slots hungrily between your lips again, then again. it’s like he can’t stop himself.

your gaze flickers up to his face. your cheeks puff with the pout in your mouth. “you’re too busy humping me to answer.”

he yelps when your fingers find his nipple under his sweater and twist.

“i—,” izuku’s tongue becomes cotton. it’s so soft, he thinks. softer than he ever could’ve imagined. and he’s tried. “of course, it’ll fit, baby…,”

his lashes beat against his cheeks. his fingers dig into the fat of your hips as your pussy flutters along his cock. up, to the leaky tip, then down, to the wide base. your cunt spills and kisses all over the twitching muscle without mercy—you’re gonna kill him. “just gotta—gotta stretch you on m’fingers first.”

you lean back and rock your hips the way you want to. you build a steady, consistent rhythm, one hand at your clit and the other tweaking at your nipple. you make sure to roll your hips up and grind them back so your clit bumps into the head of izuku’s cock—the pressure is direct and delicious, strikes of pleasure roll up your navel and make your cunt drool over the rest of him.

you hunch forward, reaching a hand down to keep his dick in place, to make sure you can hump at it as much as you want. the soft, tightened grip makes izuku shiver. with every bump of his cock to your clit, a surge of heat splatters from your fluttering pussy.

you’re soaking him.

your eyes roll up as your chest heaves, and you even pull your hand away from the nub of nerves to unconsciously sink your nails into the thick of izuku’s chest—you need something sturdy to hold on to.

“knew you were trouble,” izuku squeezes you, utterly hypnotized. his breath fans over your cheek. “knew it when—when you’d show up to our sessions and practically sit in m’lap.”

you whine.

“always wanted to keep you there, too,” he grunts. “give you somethin’ to bounce on, right in my lap—since you wanted to be there so bad.”

something desperate escapes the back of your throat. it’s all you can do to appease him. something mean tightens in your gut, sits and swells in the deep of your pussy long enough to make tears spring to your eyes.

“but—,” you sniffle, unable to look him in the eye. your heart softens at his confession, but petulance flickers across your tongue. “but you didn’t?”

izuku groans when you tighten your grip on him and drop your hips to get closer. it pulses uncontrollably in your hand, all while you hump over the top of his cock like a kitty in heat.

“wanted to take you out first,” he admits. “have you get all pretty for me. swing you around, hold your hand. make you mine.”

“izuku,” you gasp, trembling with the aftershocks.

you find your breath as your orgasm wanes. you pull your hips back to sit over the base of him. your cunt clenches desperately around nothing. pussy juices slates along the top of izu’s shaft. a cute, little snail trail.

“oh,” izuku breathes, eyes widening at the tale tell signs of your trembling pussy. “look at you. fuck, are you cumming? shit, baby.”

the coil snaps. you hump and cum and gush all over izuku with a broken wail of his name. dark waves pull and tighten in your tummy, and your entire body shudders. the hand at izuku’s chest slackens in grip, and soon follows suit is the rest of you.

“m’sorry lucky,” the words are drenched in izuku’s encouraging voice. he rumbles it right into your ear. “the prettiest girl in the world is fucking cumming all over me. god.”

you whimper, rolled tightly into his neck while the aftershocks clatter up your bones. you’ve taken refuge against his chest. the side of your head thumps with his every heartbeat. izuku’s hands flood warmth over your hips, your back. he rubs you gently, carefully easing you back down from the high of cumming all messy and drenching him in it.

you’d fall asleep if it wasn’t for his cock poking your ass.

“was it good?” izuku murmurs cheekily, eyes heavy and cheeks flushed.

“looked so pretty from down here—ugh!”

you slap his abdomen, right at above his navel, then reach down to smear the tip over his cock over your gooey entrance.

“i wanna feel you cum now,” you demand. “inside.”

“in—in—? fuck,” the words slip from izuku’s mind as you lower your hips. his cock pops through the ring of tightness at the entrance of your cunt, slick and slippery with your cum.

izuku is melting. you’ve got one hand on his abdomen to keep balance, the other wrapped meanly around his cock. you pump furiously at the base of him. in, out, in, out—your pussy clenches around the tip. hot beads of slick roll down the thickness of him, gifting your fingers a little lubrication to stroke harder beneath your pretty hole. the sight of you is a gift.

“just—just a little,” you whine, toes curling at the stretch on the inside of you. you give another roll of your hips, your nails pinching into izuku’s tummy. “can’t help m’self, m’sorry.”

“i know m’mean, but i don’t mean it,” you sniffle, press a hand to his stomach, and rock backwards on your knees.

“l-like you s’much, izu—uu!” a cry escapes you as you sink down more than you meant, the entire upper half of his cock spears into your cunt. the shock of suddenly being stretched so much sends you spiraling. you cum, again, with izuku’s name falling from your tongue religiously, mixed between squeals and squeaks.

izuku gazes up at you, fresh tears at his waterline. tries to blink them away as he gnashes his teeth together. he’s overwhelmed still, so easily—and you. you’re nothing if not overwhelming.

“fuck,” he growls, mouth pulled into a snarl. your eyes roll up at the wide, pulsing stretch of his cock. he reaches a hand for your cheeks and drags you down quickly. mwah, mwah, mwah. one kiss, two, three—and now he’s to return to splitting you open.

he grunts, “can’t believe you’re lettin’ me—sweetheart, i can’t—,”

his thighs flex. he spreads them apart beneath your weight, and bends his knees to plant his feet on the ground. leverage, that’s what he needed.

izuku plants his feet on the ground and humps greedily into your cunt until it’s stretched around too much of his stupid dick. your eyes cross as the sudden girth piles in and out of you. the sound of your own sloppy, shlurping pussy makes your body burn hot. your velvet walls flutter helplessly, the rest of you bouncing in likeness while izuku uses you. he’s just so big and heavy and strong—you know the inside of you is going to be so sore.

“you’re so deep,” you cry, tossing your head back. all of you trembles, rolling with aftershocks and overwhelming rolls of pleasure spiraling up and tightening again just beneath your navel. it drives you crazy enough to claw at izu everywhere you can get your fingers on him.

“m’too sensitive,” your nails claw at his knees.

“forgive me, baby,” izuku begs, “promise i’ll make it up t-to you, uhn.” he thrusts deeper, hits the top of your pussy as thick, hot ropes of milk fill your cunt.

“so cute when you try to be mean, y’know?” he rasps. “just to make a mess on me like th-this.”

the tears welling in his green eyes roll down his rosy, freckled cheeks. his head tilts back, stomach clenching sporadically under your fingers.

“i’m cumming,” he gasps, whines, coos. twitching and shaking underneath you, grabs a hold of you tight to ground himself. “c-cumming, m’cumming, oh no. oh no.”

there’s so much of it, goops of it spilling back down over izuku’s shaft and splattering onto the blanket below.

you fall forward with a whine, spread your thighs a little farther so izuku can get as deep as he likes. his arms come up to wrap around your waist immediately. he holds you there, thrusting helplessly as his cock pumps load after load of cum.

“s’so warm,” you sigh dreamily into his ear, lightly running your nails over his forearms. his cum pools beneath you, strings of it attaching your cunt to his cock as he jerks himself in and out of you.

“how d’you feel?” he mumbles in the come down, low and soft. a big hand soothes circles into your spine.

“m’all sore now.” phantom aches of what’s to come curl across the softer parts of your body—your thighs, your hips, your cunt. you stretch your chin up and snag the lobe of his ear by your teeth. it’s meant to be mean, but you feel his cock twitch inside of you.

“what else?” green eyes focus intently on your face. his other hand slithers up to cup your cheeks from beneath your chin, to tilt your head to him and make you look him in the eye.

“i—,” you blink. what’s he looking for? “what are you asking me?”

his lip curls up at the directness in your tone. “ah,” he smiles, but it’s twitchy. nervous. “just wanted to make sure you don’t hate me.”

“oh.” you blink, again. just a little dumbfounded at the relief in his voice. “no,” you whisper, tender and soft and gooey. “never.”

izu’s head thumps backwards onto the blanket. his chest rises and falls as you lay across him, and even when you wiggle around, he just won’t let you pull away.

“but i will start hating you if you make me do this math homework.”

the man groans, miserably.

Hospitality

No one makes better tea than Barbatos.

BARBATOS x f!Reader 0.9k words | NSFW | Yandere | Non-con somnophilia Content warnings: Yandere thoughts/behaviours, non-con somnophilia, drugging, stalking. A/N: Another segment of what I've been calling "The Creepy Castle AU" in my head.

When you enter the guest room provided for you at the Demon Lord's castle, there’s a steaming cup of tea on the nightstand. It’s not the first time Barbatos surprised you like this during one of your visits, and the kind gesture makes you smile.

You pick up the delicate porcelain cup and inhale the fragrant aroma - it’s sweet and slightly herbal, a blend of Devildom berries and flowers you can’t identify yet by smell.

You purse your lips and blow gently across the top. The murky red liquid ripples gently as you cool your drink. Your first sip is hesitant, but you hum appreciatively at the light, honeyed taste. You take another generous sip before setting the cup back down onto its saucer.

There’s a folded piece of clothing on the bedspread. When you lift it in front of you, you realize it’s a nightgown; the fabric is soft and semi-sheer, dyed a beautiful shade of dark blue. It falls just above your knees. You can tell by the feel of it that it’s luxurious, nothing that you would ever buy for yourself and certainly not to sleep in.

You attended a ball earlier this evening at Diavolo’s castle. Lucifer and his brothers insisted you join them. Diavolo welcomed you tonight with open arms.

The night was a blur of dancing and drinking and jubilant conversation. By the time the last guests departed, it was well past midnight and Lucifer readily accepted Diavolo’s offer to stay at the castle. Walking back to the House of Lamentation was a daunting proposition; more than one of his brothers drank too much tonight. 

Lucifer and his brothers wandered off to their nearby guest rooms to sleep. Barbatos led you further down the hall and showed you to an exquisite room for your own use. He explained he prepared it for you at Diavolo’s request, to ensure your privacy and comfort. He wished you a good evening before he walked away.

You have nothing with you except a small purse and the dress on your back, purchased earlier that day with Asmodeus. If you twist oh so carefully, you can just reach the zipper and tug it down. The dress slides off your shoulders and glides lazily to the floor and pools at your feet. You drape the dress carefully over the back of an armchair so it doesn’t wrinkle too terribly by morning.

The cool castle air chills your skin and you can feel your bare nipples harden. It might not be appropriate to sleep mostly-naked when you’re a guest of the young prince. You feel ill-prepared for a night away from the comforts of home, but then you glance at the gift on your bed.

The nightgown fits perfectly and the material is silky against your skin. You pull back the blankets and slide into bed, sitting against the headboard with a tired sigh. You cradle the teacup in your palm and take more small sips. The warm liquid relaxes you, and soon you’re sleepy and can drink no more. You set the nearly-empty cup back on the nightstand and shimmy down the mattress to get comfortable. Once your head rests on the soft, cloud-like pillow, you close your weary eyes.

When your breathing slows and you descend into deep sleep, the candles that light the room blow out. The shadows come alive when you're bathed in darkness. Sin slips through the cracks of stone, the walls giving way so no more barriers exist between you.

Greedy eyes drink in your sleeping form and the sheets are tugged away, revealing your soft, touchable skin draped in midnight blue. The sheer fabric clings to each dip and groove and curve when you breathe.

He knew you would look lovely in this.

He dares to reach towards your sleeping face - his once-steady hands now shaking with anticipation, the urge to explore too overwhelming to resist. Beneath the supple leather gloves he wears, he can still feel the warmth of your skin that makes the craving he feels for you bloom deep in his belly.

His hand traces the fragile column of your throat and over the slope of your breasts, fingers gliding over the dips and curves of your chest and waist. The swell of your hip fits so perfectly in his hand. He dares to trail his thumb along the top of your thigh and into the warm space between your legs. Wandering fingers skim the lacy underwear you left on. He feels a hint of dampness there, and he wonders what sinful dreams his tea has given you.

He shifts the fabric aside and your light scent is even stronger now, sweet and musky and all his. He teases the edge of your folds and revels in how soft and warm you are. His movements are gentle, smoothed by the barest traces of slick gathering on his gloves. He wonders how greedy he can be tonight–

You squirm in your sleep and he pulls away quickly as though burned by the temptation of getting too close. You unconsciously rub your thighs together and he already misses his place between them. He savors his consolation prize when he slips his fingers into his mouth and sucks them clean until he’s devoured every last drop of you. He barely suppresses the urge to moan.

He needs to go, now, or he never will.

He slips back into the hidden passageway buried within the castle walls and becomes nothing but a shadow once more. He leaves no trace behind, except for the dregs of sleeping herbs in the bottom of your teacup.

NEED a fluffy sickfic where george loses his voice and reader dotes, 64 or 66 era pls - LOVE UR WRITING BTW!

whisper in my ear, a wish

george harrison x reader

genre: fluff

warnings: none !

summary: sick day with geo

a/n: omg this is such a cute idea and thanks sm!!! <333 (btww i rlly liked writting this, maybe pt. 2?)

she'd never seen george this quiet before.

he wasn’t one for loud entrances or anything like that, but he was always present. a dry joke at the right moment, a gentle hum while tuning his guitar, the soft way he’d whisper some lyrics.

but tonight, as the five of them shuffled off the tour bus and into the hotel lobby, george didn’t say a word. his steps were slow and he was leaning against her more than usual, when she looked up at him under the dim light, she noticed the flush in his cheeks, and it was not the good kind.

“you okay, georgie?” she whispered, keeping her voice low so the boys wouldn’t tease.

he didn’t answer. just shruged slightly and blinked slowly.

inside the shared hotel suite, the boys were still hyped from the show, paul was messing with his bass, john was pacing in circles with a pen and paper, muttering something about new songs, and ringo had already claimed a spot on the floor to play cards.

she sat george down on the bed in one of the rooms, fingers already brushing the hair off his forehead. he felt hot, and again, it was not the good kind.

she held the back of her hand to his forehead.

“george,” she said gently. “you’re burning up.”

he opened his mouth to reply, but when he tried to speak, only a hoarse, whispery sound came out. his eyes widened slightly, surprised as he tried again, but nothing came out, just a raspy squeak.

“oh, love,” she murmured, cupping his jaw.

he looked so embarrassed and glanced away quickly, jaw clenched like he was holding back frustration or maybe just the urge to apologize even though he couldn’t. she leaned in and kissed his cheek softly.

“don’t worry, i’ll take care of you.”

she made him tea first. well, she tried to, with boiling water from the little electric kettle in the corner, the only teabag she could find, and honey she'd begged from the concierge. but when she held it to his lips, he took it without question, eyes glassy.

then she sat behind him on the bed, letting his back rest against her chest as she rubbed slow circles into his shoulders. he melted into her touch, long lashes fluttering shut.

the boys peeked in an hour later, much quieter than usual.

“alright if we crash in the other room?” paul asked softly. “we’ll keep the tv low.”

“sure,” she whispered. “he’s asleep.”

ringo tiptoed in and placed a little wrapped chocolate on the nightstand “he’ll like it when he wakes up,” he whispered with a wink.

...

her fingers threaded through his hair, the rain started tapping against the hotel window, soft and rhythmic.

Then a shift.

george stirred a little. he reached for her hand and pulled it gently to his lips, pressing a tiny kiss to her knuckles without opening his eyes.

“hey,” she whispered, brushing her thumb along the side of his face. “that’s my line.”

he opened one eye, and tapped his chest lightly twice with his finger. a silent "now it's mine.”

she giggled quietly. “oh well, i guess you’re allowed to be the baby tonight.”

george gave her a tired little smile.

then, slowly, he reached for a notebook by the nightstand and scribbled a shaky message:

“everything hurts, but you make it better.”

"well, that's my job"

he smiled and blinked a few times, then leaned over, pressing his forehead to her shoulder. she kissed the top of his head, humming softly into his hair.

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

Keep reading

“b-baby you, you gotta—fuck—moveee”, three orgasms in and the objects around you are beginning to blend into one blurry mosaic, the sativa that coursed through your veins is now becoming an enemy with how sentient t’s made you to his touch, and the tongue making your pussy a sticky mess leaves you mewling into the night. it all happened so quickly, he rushed into the house, slammed open the bedroom door, put the blunt out , and had you on your back in seconds. the image of him in his work suit, perfect hair disheveled, and eyes squeezed in a concentrated bliss, is an image that's going to be burned into your brain for forever. his hands grip the back of your thighs, pushing them up by your head to get easier access to your sopping pussy. he ate you out like it was a mission, his tongue dug deep into your pussy, lapping at your spongey walls, drinking up any slick that left you. he transitioned between fucking you deep, and sucking your clit into his mouth, using the pink muscle to trace circles onto the puffy nub, at one point you could feel him spelling out his name. he hasn’t spoken a word since he flipped your dress up, only groans of pleasure could be heard from him. your hands reach down to pull at his hair, pulling his head up to give yourself a chance to breathe. you look down to see his face slick with cum and drool, pink tongue peaking out of his mouth to lick at his swollen lips, a light blush spreading from his checks down his neck, and e/c blown wide with eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “why’d you stop me?” his words came out as a whine, while his hands moved to run slow circles against you. “you’re going to kill me baby” you could barely get your words out since he wanted to still use his fingers to massage at your poor clit. he can’t stop the smirk blooming on his face at seeing your body still so responsive to his tender touches.

“one more for me, please—“

*i tag who i think fits best*

11. “sit on my face immediately”

and

19. “i’m sorry i keep staring, but you’re really the hottest thing i’ve ever seen in my entire life and i don’t know what to do about it”

with raph and female reader. thx<3

Listen I feel like it’s been a hot minute since I gave Raph some love so why not! (I’ve got a bunch of prompts and I’m getting to them slowly but surely friends do not fret!)

So yes, let’s get it.

Rated Explicit (18+ only)

He could look at you all day.

Quite literally so, if Raph had 24hrs to spare and was giving the go away to do as he pleased, he’d spend them looking at you.

Because he’s absolutely addicted to your movements, not just in bed, in general. The way you carry yourself, the way you switch your weight from foot to foot. So much so he’s got it down to precision. He’s been hanging out at your place for a few hours, snuck out and shot a text to Fearless that he’d be busy.

He’d get the riot card read to him, might even get sent to the Hashi for it but right now your doing that thing with your legs he loves so much. Switching from one to another, jutting out your hip and giving him a perfect view of your rear watch time you stood more on one foot. It was a work related call which meant he had to be a good noodle, couldn’t speak, couldn’t complain.

Fine, he could do that. I mean, so long as he can continue to stare at you, run his green eyes over beautiful supple skin that is just way too free of marks.

Preferably so, his teeth.

He lounged against the bed, resting against his arms and not missing how your eyes raked over his biceps. At some point you had turned to look right at him as you continued the business phone call. You watched his eyes rest at your chest, adjusting the straps of your bra out of habit, you enjoyed the way he licked his lips. You raised your eyebrows at how obvious he was, trying not to chuckle while speaking to your boss on the phone proved difficult. Last minute pleasantries exchanged you hung up and placed the phone on the nearest dresser.

“Well?” You crossed your arms (a little on purpose naturally) and delighted in the way Raph’s stupor broke through just enough for him to give you those innocent eyes of his. “What?” He asked sheepishly with a small grin.

“You’ve been staring at me for the past hour I’ve been on the phone, what’s so intriguing?” You knew the answer though, you were in your undergarments (had just been freshly showered when work called).

“I’m sorry I keep staring, but yer really the hottest thing I’ve seen in my entire life and I don’t know what to do about it” He smirked when your cheeks flushed at his words. How he managed to make you feel self conscious and gorgeous all in one was truly a talent of his.

Raph was already hard just imagining ways he could show you just how hot he knew you were. “Take ‘em off” He motioned to your undergarments.

“And who says you’ve earned that?” You chided.

“Cant eat ya out if those are in the way” He spoke matter of fact. You felt your pulse quicken as the thought. With only some mild defiance you slowly stripped for him, only to drive him a little more crazy with want. When that large hand of his palmed the front of his shorts, it took a lot of your resolves to not jump him. “God fucking dam yer the hottest thing in this entire planet, c’mere baby” He beckoned you over as he slipped a little further down the bed to rest on his shell.

You bit your tongue, clearly knowing what he was gonna demand.

“Sit on my face immediately” He nearly purred out with a growl. Climbing on top of him you did just that, your core coming to rest on his face as Raph palmed your rear and gave that first slow and deliberate lick. How easily you could become drenched thanks to his mouth, his tongue licked your folds, swirling around your clit enough times to make you question your reality. Ever moment your body betrayed you and felt like falling he’d be there to grip your rear or thighs harder and keep you afloat.

He churred, deeply and gravely and it was felt right against your clit. Your hands shot up towards the headboard and gripped the metal. By the hundredth circle on your clit, Raph opted to dip his tongue inside of you making you bucks against his face the way he loved so much. That was the thing with the red banded brute, you could rub yourself raw against his face and he’d thank you afterwards. On one to many occasions had you taken his capabilities to hold his breath for your own gain.

Raph did not fucking mind.

The first time he had forced you onto his face in the heat of the moment, it had been heaven. He’d never tasted anything better, never smelled anything more delicious. With just a few licks he had embarrassingly came in his own underwear (and boy had that been an orgasm for the books).

A large three fingered hand landed on your rear, several smacks urging you onto your released sooner than later. You rode him harder, faster, each groan and churr pushing you forwards to rest against the wall of your headboard. How he loved that increasing pitch of desperation coupled with his name, that ‘Raph Raph Rapha-!’ that ended with your body tightening and compressing in on itself with the intensity of your release. He dug his hand onto your hips, steadying you as that gush of wet released fell into his mouth, so tart and delicious he could cum right then if he humped up enough for the friction of his shorts.

Foggy green looked up at you, mostly seeing your tits (and not complaining) the flush of your skin as your high settled and your limbs weren’t stone. On shaking legs you got off, he inhaled and exhaled satisfied with smelling and tasting you. He looked over towards your body, long breaths and that tremble in your thighs he loved so much.

But this wouldn’t do, he wanted more, wanted to see your writhe more, but he also wanted to cum.

“Take a breather, get back on here and maybe use that pretty mouth of yers too” He raised his hips, sliding off his shorts along his underwear.

Your mouth watered at the sight.

𝟑:𝟑𝟑 𝐀𝐌 | 𝐁𝐄𝐄𝐋'𝐒 𝐎𝐁𝐒𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍

cw. f!reader, demon form!beel, size difference, dubcon, pussyjob, multiple orgasms, creampie, belly bulge 

an. since season two is coming out and i missed beel and i’m tired of reading him portrayed as a “pure angel" 

he doesn’t know if that is love.

he knows you make his heart beat fast every time he sees you; he knows his palms start to sweat when he watches you smile at men who are not him; he knows his stomach stops growling when your eyes meet by sheer coincidence and he knows his cock gets hard when he watches you sleep, hiding in the darkness of your bedroom.

he asked so many permissions to come to the human world, just for you.

he followed you around town while you ran errands in that nice short sundress and picturing how you were wearing nothing underneath. he’d learned the streets and routes you took when you went out shopping with your friends, the stores you liked best, the dishes you preferred to eat when you went out to lunch with them, the drinks you loved to sip on warm afternoons. he watched as you turned away men who approached you on the way home, the ones who whistled at you — and hell, he would have loved so much to step in and break their neck but it was too soon.

the way you smiled at some of them pissed him off. your smiles should have been just for him, not for men who wouldn’t even know how to treat a woman like you.

men who wouldn’t even know how to make you pleasure and satisfy. not the way he could.

when in the middle of the night you feel yourself being dragged out of your bed by a strange presence your first thought is that you might be dreaming. but the grip on your hips was too strong for it to be a dream.

the demon easily lifts you by the waist. he rips off your panties with his thick fingers, his chest is hard as he pulls you toward him, and a thick cock begins to rub between your folds.

“i’m gonna make you feel good,” he coos in your ear, “just … be a good girl.”

Keep reading

"My own death does not frighten me. But yours? Oh, that is my greatest, deepest fear."

Perfume and Demonus filled your nostrils, expensive in equal measure. His arms held you tight but gentle; soft were his hums as his chin rested atop your head, nuzzling into you with a relaxed sigh. Longing he was. Melancholic in the face of his drunken state that you knew all too well, and yet... He still radiated that certain fragility he so desperately wished to hide, failing only when it came to you.

"Lucifer...", a low mumble to his chest. He didn't move.

"Just a moment." He whispered. "Just a moment..."

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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