TW: Dubcon, Noncon, Blackmailing, Threats Of Revenge Porn.

angelic alteration

om brothers x reader

wc : 1.k

warnings: nsfw, corruption kink based

synopsis : when Solomon and Diavolo can't fix the problem, it's up to Mc

a/n : thought the angel event (og) could use some more spice so I poured my entire spice rack on it

“Mc…I’m afraid we have bad news.”

You sighed into the receiver, “Yeah? You guys can’t reverse the magic, can you?”

“Nope!” Solomon chirped cheerfully, “Diavolo and Michael’s magic mixed together too strongly for us to reverse ourselves. You’ll just have to wait for them to go back to normal, or…”

“Or…what?”

“Well, this is just a theory, but what if you just corrupted the angelic magic and forced their demonic sides back out?”

“Corrupted, huh..? I like the sound of that.”

†

“I can feel the magic trying to stop me…how. stupidly. annoying.” Lucifer accentuated each word of his complaint with a sharp thrust, face pinched in concentration as sweat beaded at his temple. 

He’d be damned if something as trivial as a hexed bracelet from the celestial realm kept him from indulging in you, the one temptation he would never dare ignore. 

Your nails dug crescent moons into his shoulders, thighs squeezing at his hips tightly as you moaned and panted beneath him. “Lu-ci-fer! S-slow d-own!” 

He growled and sped up in response, snapping his hips into you harshly, “How dare they try to turn me back? I am the Avatar. Of. Pride!” Once again, each word was accentuated with a thrust, making his cock hit deeper and deeper each time. 

And he was so fucking proud each time he had you a moaning mess underneath him, crying out his name, begging him not to stop— you made his sin flood his entire body every time. 

An electric charge cracked through the air for a brief second before the bangle broke in half, magic forcibly shattering under Lucifer’s sheer prowess. 

He grinned sharply, capturing your legs against your chest in a mating press as he went even harder. His wings shedded to black, spanning out proudly behind him as the halo melted down into his horns. 

“I’m going to ruin you, do you hear me? You’re not leaving this bed- not tonight, or in the morning, or maybe even until tomorrow afternoon…I’m keeping you until I’ve had my fill.”

†

The sight of Mammon’s blue eyes peering up while his mouth was busy pleasuring you had always been a pretty sight— the shimmering halo was only a little bonus this time. 

But you wanted his horns to hold onto. “Just like that, Mams…doing so well, pretty boy.” Your hips rocked over his mouth, grinning down at him with gold flickering in your eyes. 

He was all about giving now that the bangle had taken hold, which even before, Mammon always keened when you sat on his face and just used him. 

The second born was moaning and whining and whimpering against your skin as his tongue lapped up everything he could, “Mmph- like this? ‘M I doing good, Mc?” 

“Y-yeah, baby, fuck— so good…” you carded your fingers through Mammon’s hair, feeling him get more and more excited before you lifted up off his face. 

And he was absolutely distraught with the lack of your taste, desperate cry leaving him as he tried to chase after you. “No, no, no! Mc, please, come back— wasn’t done, wanna taste you still, wanna make you feel good, please!” 

The laugh you let out made him whine even louder, fingers gripping frantically at your thighs. It was like a switch flipped, magic being overtaken by his greed. 

His eyes flickered gold like yours, a whiny growl escaping him. He forced you on your back within a second, mouth working at you even more desperately now as he held you down and took what he wanted— and he wanted to make you cum. 

“Jus’ let me, please let me make you cum— you taste so good, Mc, I don’t wanna stop. Want you to scream my name and yank my hair, grip my horns, just give me more- more, more, more!” 

†

A small shriek left Levi when you rammed against his prostate, hiccuped cries of your name following. His back arched, wings flaring out behind him, making you hit even deeper spots inside of him. 

With his new attitude, he’d been letting everyone else spend time with you and he was finally feeling the built up envy creep along his spine, right beside the spikes of pleasure. 

“Aww…look at you. So sweet for me, huh? Why so shy, Levi? Wasn’t this what you meant about strengthening connections?” 

Garbled sounds left him, courtesy of your fingers stuffed in his mouth. His eyes rolled back, hands gripping at your hips desperately, though it wasn’t clear if he was pushing you away or pulling you closer.

“How am I gonna know I’m doing good if you don’t tell me, ‘vi? C’mon, sweet thing, tell me. Or do you not want me?” 

It was like you asked the unthinkable. A loud whine left him and his tail returned, knocking the halo right off his head before it coiled around your abdomen. 

“No! I want you, I want you so badly, please keep fucking me— don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop!” Diamond shaped scales scattered across his body as the magic wore out. 

You cooed, thrusting into him sharply, making his body lurch, “Good boy, Leviathan..” 

†

“Fuck!” Satan cries out, fingers digging into his white wings to try and keep them from fluttering. His back arched almost painfully, loudly begging you to keep going. 

“Oh, look at you…” the coos that left you made him flush red, giving you a great sense of satisfaction. This was the most he’d been riled up since putting that ridiculous bangle on.

Your thighs were burning at the unforgiving pace you were riding him at, beads of sweat splashing onto his skin, so you decided to change the game a little. 

“Come on, Tannie, if you want it, work for it.” You settled your weight on top of him, ceasing your movements as you cockwarmed him instead. 

A displeased growl comes from the back of his throat, eyes snapping open with a glowing green. “Mc, move! Please!” 

Slowly, the halo above his head began to flicker and dim before it shattered, dissipating in the air. Another growl escaped him as his wings followed suit, tail lashing out like a whip. 

“That’s it— c’mon-!” You gasped when he yanked you forwards, chest pressing against his as his tail locked you in place. The only sounds that could leave you now were broken moans as he fucked you almost viciously. 

“You know how I feel about you fucking. teasing. me. Feels good doesn’t it? Yeah? Cause I’m not stopping. ‘M not stopping until I physically can’t fuck you anymore— fuck, I needed you.” 

†

Unabashed moans echo off the walls of Asmo’s bathroom as the fifth born writhes under your touch. The sound of water sloshing makes his cheeks burn fiery red and the sound of you moaning back at him makes it even worse. 

“W-wait! You d-don’t have to— oh!” 

“Shh, Azzy…’m just taking care of you. You were so hard and aching…could see it even though you tried to hide under the water.” 

The white feathers ruffled with pleasure (slowly shedded away and turning back), hips jerking frantically to chase the pleasure. The bangle’s magic was completely buried under how hot you made him feel and the feeling of you licking along the edges of his leathery wings increased it ten fold. 

“Yes, Mc, like that— don’t stop, just like that, just like that!” Amso curled over on you, horns knocking against your shoulder as he cried out even louder. 

You fisted his cock harder and swiped your thumb over the tip relentlessly, “Yeah? Made you feel so good, you corrupted yourself, huh? Pretty little Azzy…come on, cum.” 

The squeal he let out cracked halfway through, broken cries of your name following like a mantra. His hand encased yours, making sure you didn’t stop jerking him off. 

“K-keep going, don’t stop! Wanna cum for you again ‘n again, gotta make up for when I was giving you away to the others, please, please, let me cum again for you!”

†

“H-haaah…ah! M-Mc…what’re you..o-oh..doing?” 

“You said it made you happier seeing others get to eat, so…” you hummed, licking your lips before digging your tongue back into the slit of his cock, “I’m just..enjoying my meal…” 

Beel had always lost his cool when you went down on him, finding your mouth to be too good at pleasuring him. The growl he let out was something only a demon could make. 

The glowing of the bangle did nothing to deter you— in fact, you only laughed and peered up at him with the red sin of gluttony swirling through your irises. With another hum, you enveloped his cock in your mouth and forced your head as far down as you could, swallowing around him. 

He tried so hard to not buck into your mouth or grip at your head as the magic worked to keep his ravenous nature at bay, but…that’s just not who he was anymore. 

“C’mon, Beelie…want you to cum in my mouth, I wanna taste you..pretty please? Let me have it…” 

A low groan fell past his lips, hips finally jerking up and accidentally making you choke. A rushed apology was given as his fingers tangled in your hair and gently guided your head at a faster pace. 

The beating of his insectual wings was rapid as he got closer, magic completely dissipating when he let out a sound akin to a small roar, grabbing at his own horns when he came. 

Watching you pull away with visibly stuffed cheeks, slowly working on swallowing it all (though drops still ran down your chin) made a sharp pang shoot through him. 

“Thank you…you always make me feel so good, Mc…but..now ‘m hungry. Let me return the favor..wanna taste you too.” 

†

“A-are you sure…this is o-okay?” Belphie chokes out quietly, hands pressing down on your hips to keep you pinned to the bed with your knees bent to your sides. 

Your fingers curl in the sheets, body lurching forward at each thrust, “yeah, ‘s okay— feels good, doesn’t it? You’re doing so good, Bel…” 

The clipped whines and gasps that Belphie was making made his cheeks flair with an embarrassed flush; but you were right. It felt so. fucking. good. And he didn’t think he ever wanted to stop. 

Through the pleasure, it was easy to ignore the glowing bangle on his wrist and the voice in the back of his head telling him that he should have more reservations- that he shouldn’t be doing this— that voice wasn’t even his. Belphie wanted this, he did! 

As your hands stretched back to claw at his lower stomach, you moaned out his name and wiggled your hips, begging him to go faster. 

“Please, Bel…know you can go f-faster than this, want you to fuck me— please, please, please! Don’t wan’ you to be an angel, want you to be my demon again-!” 

Magic cracked in the air, sending the hair on the back of your neck rising before a familiar tail curled around your stomach and yanked your lower half higher up, forcing your chest further into the mattress. 

The attic bed creaked with the force he slammed into you at, whines mixing with growls now; his horns pressed against your skin as he rested his forehead against your back, making it arch even more. 

“Yeah? You want me to fuck you senseless again? Couldn’t even go a couple days without having me play with you, fuck, you’re such a slut for me.”

when they first meet you…

eren wants to fuck you immediately. an unexpected “damn” falls from his lips at the sight of you. his mouth is watering, his dick is hardening, and he wants to take you home right now. he looks you up and down, smirks a bit, and he’s making his way over to you. sorry, but he’s not backing down until he sees you bouncing on his dick or your pussy on his face.

-

armin has to wipe his sweaty hands off on his pants. you’re just the most beautiful person he’s ever seen. he can’t help the way his eyes drift over your curves, trying to shake away the impure thoughts of how soft your skin would feel against his. he looks away from you, cheeks red, too shy to approach you. he’ll just think about you later on tonight when he’s stroking his cock, shooting his load while wishing it was your mouth wrapped around his dick instead.

-

jean accidentally bumps into you, knocking his drink all over your shirt in the middle of his house party. he tries to apologize, but he gets a little distracted due to the way your thin shirt clings to your boobs. he hates to be a pervert, but that doesn’t stop him from taking you upstairs and telling you that you should take your shirt off and wear one of his. while he pretends to slowly search for shirt for you, he’s hoping to clean you up by licking his drink off of your pretty titties.

-

connie’s grinding on a stranger in the middle of a random party, the room too dark to see who it is. all he knows is that when the song ends, he’s asking for your number, because your ass feels too good against his cock for him to just let you walk away. he’s gotta have the real thing, and his desperation grows as he runs his hands all over your body. he’s never wanted to fuck someone so badly.

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.

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18+

wally clark that’s a little very obsessed with his girlfriend. wally clark that gives off pure golden retriever energy until someone looks at you a few seconds too long and suddenly he’s all over you, gripping your waist from behind and burying his face in your neck. wally clark that can’t keep his hands off you at the best of times, his hands finding their home on your hips in particular or the back pocket of your jeans.

wally clark that gazes down at you with a grin when you’re trapped between him and the mattress, that goddamn gold chain dangling in front of your face. “you look so fucking pretty under me, baby”. wally clark that’s like a completely different man behind the safety of a locked bedroom door, fingers leaving marks on your waist from his tight grip, mouth staining any part of you he can reach a dark purple. “what’re you gonna tell your friends when they ask what happened?” “gonna say it was you” “you’re fucking right you will, baby”

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.

Purple led lights

Summary: What was supposed to be a sweet date night wound up as a situation of lewd feelings and voyeurism. Dear Donnie, you fucked up big time.

Set on 2k14/16 verse

Donnie's 24 y/o

Fem!Reader

Warnings and story under the line. Only click on keep reading if you're 18+~♥

Warnings: NSFW / SMUT / voyeurism / dildo use / exhibitionism if you squint

-------------------------

There is a strange fixation on doing something without being noticed. At least, that was what Donnie used to think. Now, that principal threatened everything he worked for in his relationship with you.

Donatello could hear your small gasps and how you took a deep breath before releasing it in a soft moan. He is suddenly hyper-aware of the light surrounding the scene: led purple, illuminating your naked body. His pupils dilated, absorbing as much of the image as he could.

How did this come to be? He went to your house to surprise you with a full terabyte of new movies he knew you’d like. He planned a romantic night, it was his wish to make a good impression to try escalating things into something he had been wishing to do for so long: press his lips into yours and find out if they were as soft as they looked.

Little he knew his plans would be upset when you weren't home. He had texted you, but you didn’t answer either. Next thing he knew, Don was wandering your apartment, driven by that curiosity that new lovers have to know more of one another. Soon, he found himself in your room, your scent filling his lungs, blurring for a minute his common sense as he opened your closet. Donatello grabbed your clothes and sniffed into them, allowing the intoxicating aroma to fill him.

Just at that very moment, he heard your voice humming something outside of the room where he was invading your privacy. Panic shot through his body, sending his anxiety levels to the sky. The only thing he could think about was hiding. Well, not that there was time to do more than that, anyway. When you opened the door to your room, he had finished closing the closet door, locking himself inside.

True. He put himself in this awkward, arousing, and incredibly wrong situation.

You had turned on your led lights and set them on purple. Your hands caressed the buttons of your shirt, expertly unbuttoning them so the cloth could fall out of your body, and you went on removing every other garment on you until only remained a small turtle necklace.

His first thought, –aside from guilt– was that you were utterly ravishing, breathtaking, stunning. The way your nipples hardened to the feeling of cold, made him weak. You pulled out a device from your drawer. Donnie quickly recognized it as a dildo.

He felt a hot weave hit his cheeks. Donnie suddenly felt the need to fidget so to release the uneasiness he was feeling. He resolved to play with his fingers would be okay, since there was no space to do more.

You took a seat on the edge of the bed, holding up the seemingly plastic dildo. You licked a stripe on it. His hand flew to his mouth when he heard himself gasping, and for a moment there, Donnie thought you’d hear him, so he waited, closing his eyes, squeezing them, and holding his breath hoping not to get caught.

A few seconds passed before he heard a vibration sound, followed by a small whimper. Donnie took a deep breath and made himself look through the slot in the closet door again.

You were laying on the bed, butt naked, caressing your neck with the small device, sliding it down to your chest, your face twisting into a delicious frown that talked about how nice it felt to have it navigating your sink.

Donatello sighed, wishing to replace it with his hand. The desire grew stronger when you drove it close to your hard nipple and pressed over it. A loud moan escaped your lips. Electricity ran through his spine.

Donnie's heart was beating so fast he was surprised you hadn’t heard him. It beat faster when driving the toy lower. The vibration filled the room, along with your small whimpers.

By that very moment, his crotch was already killing him. It was painful to feel the pressure of his dick in his pants. It felt weird to have such a low instinct awakened by an action that was completely fucked up, but for some reason, that thought made it even more arousing.

Was he a bad person? Surely. Disgusting? undoubtedly. But everything had happened so fast, and Donnie could swear he did not come into your place with bad intentions, he just wanted–

“Donnie,”

He froze, eyes widening in disbelief. Did you moan his name? He surely must have misheard, yes, that was–

“Like that, right there…” You closed your eyes, moaning softly, pushing the toy inside you. Now the vibrations sounded different, and so did his name when you cried it out one more time: so desperate, so inviting that Donnie almost threw his self-control off the window and came out of the closet.

Almost.

Instead, his hand moved to his crotch, stroking it lightly as he bit his lower lip so as not to moan. His breathing became heavier, despite his attempts to keep it down. Donnie's eyes narrowed when fisted his cock, pre-cum already sliding down the tip. He used the liquids to lube his shaft, making small movements that were intensifying with every passing second, with every moan leaving your mouth.

“Donnie… more,” you whimpered as you took one finger inside your mouth and sucked on it. “Fuck me.”

Your voice started to echo throughout the room. “Fuck me deeper,”

He increased his pace. Wet noises filled the small closet. He grasped one of your clothes to drive it close to his nose. Gosh, the sounds his dick made embarrassed him endlessly as a pleasant, familiar feeling coaxed in his lower belly.

“Make me come…” you moaned “Donnie please… please,”

He saw you elevating your hips, your head falling back as you came long and loud. Donnie bit his tongue while waves of pleasure spread through his body, roaming it as he came all over your closet door.

The delight was so intense he couldn’t help to lose his balance, and in a desperate attempt to stop himself from falling, his hand flew to the front, seeking support in the door, but small closet doors were not made to hold up a mutant’s weight.

Before he could do anything, the door swung open, and Donnie stumbled out of his hiding spot, dick still in his fist.

“What the fuck?!!” you screamed, contracting your legs toward your chest in an attempt to cover yourself up.

All traces of arousing left his body at once. The only thing he could focus on was your shocked expression, gaze stuck in his cock, realizing what he was doing. Donatello wanted the floor to open up and swallow him right then and there.

Instantly, he knew it: he had entirely fucked up everything.

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.

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! ***

Tag List: @thegrimgrinningghost @henry-and-the-seven-lords @satans-beloved-riv @cosmixbun @sufzku @obey-mes-treasure @kissed-by-a-dementor @yukihaie @justtiarra @mammoneybb @poly-bi-mf @burrixino @rul-of-demise @pumpkins-mainside-blog @acousticpen @sucker-for-angst-and-fluff @itskrispy @10paradox10 @vallison-rea @ivoryclive @newfangled-artistry @pumpkinpatchkid @chirikoheina @sailboat21 @theother4 @todoroses @circus-of-freaks @fuzzyphotography @avatar-mikazuki @curatoroffiction @sunlightocean @taare-ginn @dragon-rider-with-a-book @korneatto @rphantom1

i feel so bad because i love this place and i love the people that have stayed with me on here but like hm

cw: breeding

dabi who practically explodes when you call him his real name while fucking. the revelation that it’s not just the villain you love - it’s all of him - the villain, the tortured child, the man who loves you - every part of him.

your mouth lets out a weak “touya” while he’s inside you and suddenly he loses all control - hips rutting ‘nd bucking into you like a dog. he practically cums on the spot, shaking and grunting loudly through a world-shattering orgasm.

then, he’s practically drooling; doing and saying anything to hear it drop from your lips.

“say it again, babygirl. c’mon, say my name.” he moans - dick as deep as it can go, before sliding out all the way to the tip and shoving back in, kissing your most plush, sensitive spot with every stroke.

“t-t-touya~” weakly rolls its way out of your lips as white cream from just before spills out of you onto the sheets below with every thrust.

“no, louder baby, c’mon… say it for me”

“t-touya-”

“that’s it. who’s making you feel good?”

“you are, touya~” you squeal, his hands gripping the meat of your thighs to push you further into a mating press.

“whose pussy is this, doll?”

“yours, touya. it’s j’st for you!”

“that’s right. all mine. and i’m the one you love right? i’m the whose baby you want - whose cum you need, aren’t i?” his blue eyes stare down at you in a mix of possessiveness, love, lust and desperation.

“yes. yes it’s you, touya - I love you, touya. want you, touya. want to have your baby, touya.”

dabi touya swears he’s never cum harder in his life.