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strawbabys-blog · 4 months

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Hi I have one-shot request, regressor regulus (1-4 age range) and CG James, in which regulus regresses because of trauma and stress and James gives him CG cuddles

Ofc!!!! Baby reggie is such a cute concept istg! Ty for the request <333

Baby Black

"Reggie!" James shouts in his usual cheerful manner, slinging an arm around the younger Black brother as he spots him in the hallway, "How's my favourite Slytherin doing?" He asks. James and Regulus had gotten very close over the last year, Regulus had eventually followed his brother out of Grimmauld Place and straight into the welcoming arms of the Potters. Of course that included James, who was like the sun to Regulus, always filling him up with light. James had naturally taken on the role of Regulus's caregiver, he was naturally inclined to take care of the people around him. The first time Regulus has regressed and stumbled crying through the house to find James and Sirius, James had found him and held him and kept him safe. So the next time it happened Regulus went to him again... and the next time, and the next time and every time after that. Their relationship quickly progressed from platonic to romantic (outside of Regulus's headspace of course) and after a brief period of horror from Sirius ("James you brotherfucker!!") The pair were accepted by pretty much everyone with ease.

"I'm fine," Regulus says, it had been a long day and he really wasn't feeling up to going back to his dorm, the older kids hated him ever since he'd left his parents house. James frowns at his tone.

"Are you really or are you just saying that for my benefit?" He asks, raising his eyebrows. Regulus sighs, looking up at James with tired eyes. He pouts.

"Can I come to the Gryffindor common room for a bit?" He asks. James face breaks into a smile.

"Of course you can Reg," he says, "do you need to...?" He doesnt need to finish for Regulus to get it.

"Maybe, but later, the older kids were being dicks again," he says. James frowns again, it was well known at this point that the older slytherins had taken to harassing Regulus in the halls when he was alone, so much so that the Gryffindor's take turns walking him places when they can.

"Okay," James says, his arm slipping down to link with Regulus's, leading him back to where the other Marauders were waiting, "We've got a visitor," he announces to the other three. Sirius grins.

"Brilliant! I've missed you too much Reggie, it's been painful," Regulus laughs and rolls his eyes.

"I saw you at lunch," he says.

"Far too long," Sirius says with his usual dramatic flair that sends the other boy's laughing too.

"Come on you lot," Remus cuts in, "Let's be getting back, the girls will wonder where we are,"

"I think they've lost hope in us Moony, they'll think we're doing something we aren't supposed to, as always," Peter says.

"Well they'll wonder where I am," Remus says with that signature smirk that has Sirius swooning while James hits Remus's shoulder.

"Rude! They love us," he says incredulously. Remus rolls his eyes.

"Siruis, can you stop with the goo goo eyes, I'm going to be sick," Regulus says, looking at Sirius's lovesick expression with disgust. Sirius turns to him, sticking out his tongue.

"Payback for every time I have to see you thirst over my best mate," he says. Regulus flushes red and James takes the opportunity to put his arm around his shoulders again, grinning teasingly.

"Reg, you've gone all red, do you have a temperature?" James says, innocently, knowing full well that he's being a dick. He glances around for a moment, deeming the coast clear he leans in and gives Regulus a peck.

"Oh for fucks sake," Sirius groans, leaning into Remus as if he's just been fatally wounded, "could you wait until I'm not around to suck faces with my baby brother?" He groans from Remus's chest.

"Oh fuck off Pads, that was as PG as kisses get," James says.

"You're just using it as an excuse to cuddle up to Remus," Regulus says. Both the boys flush red and Sirius pushes away from Remus, turning to flip Regulus off.

They continue their playful teasing as they walk up to the common room, James's hand not leaving Regulus's until they reach the portrait hole, where he helps him step in.

Regulus was determined to hold of his regression for as long as possible, he liked hanging out with the older Gryffindor's when he was big and wanted to stay for as long as possible. But being looked after, even in a small capacity, was really making things difficult.

"Reggie?" James questions, "are you okay?" Regulus nods absentmindedly, humming a confirmation, "Alright, let me know if you need anything," he says, kissing the boys cheek as he drags him to sit on an armchair in the common room.

Regulus floats in a bit of an in-between space as they hang out together, leaning against James contentedly as the Gryffindor's around him chat to each other. James seems to catch on to Regulus's drifting headspace and after a while he nudges him.

"Hey Reg, do you want to go on a walk?" He asks. Regulus's eyes light up at the thought of spending time with his caregiver and he nods happily. James turns to the group, "I'm gonna take Reggie on a walk, we'll be back later," He says. Sirius bounds over, giving Regulus a kiss on the head and a hug.

"Stay with Jamie, yeah?" He says, smoothing down his brothers hair. Regulus nods.

"Mhm, stay with Jaime," he parrots.

They say a quick bye to the rest of the group before heading back out the portrait hole.

Walks like these had become somewhat of a thing between the two boys, no matter what headspace Regulus was in. They make their way down to the great lake, walking around the path surrounding with their hands interlinked, chatting a little.

"Are you slipping?" James asks. Regulus thinks for a minute.

"No, I nearly was but I think it's cleared a bit," he explains. James nods.

Suddenly there's a rustling from behind them and both boys whip around to see people stood behind them.

There was three Slytherins stood looking personally offended just at the sight of the two boys. Malfoy and Snape were at the front, wands already out, while Narcissa hung back a bit, glancing between the two boys.

"Can we help you?" James asks, stepping in front of Regulus slightly.

"Just going for a walk," Malfoy answers, "that's allowed isn't it?" James raises an eyebrow, "Oh don't flatter yourself, what would we want with a couple blood traitors?" Regulus could think of plenty of things.

"Right, well we're heading back now," James says, grabbing Regulus's wrist and trying to pull him past the two boys. Malfoy stops him with a hand on the shoulder.

"Don't let us ruin your night," he says. Snape takes a step towards Regulus and James blocks him with his body.

"Jumpy, Potter," He drawls, peering around James to sneer at the younger boy. Regulus had frozen in place, resisting the urge to clutch James's arm, suddenly the idea of showing any form of weakness felt sickening. The voice of his mother rings in his head.

"You are weak! Disgusting! Get up!"

James steps closer to Snape, sheilding Regulus from his view again.

"Leave us alone," he says, reaching back to give Regulus's arm a reassuring squeeze. Malfoys eyes zero in on the small interaction and he scoffs.

"Can baby Black not look after himself?" He spits. James eyes flash angrily, attempting to shoulder past the two.

"Okay, we're going now," he says. Snape goes to grab Regulus, who whimpers and flinched away, but Narcissa clears her throat.

"Let them go" she says, voice clear and strong. Malfoy looks at her, confused, but something in her expression must make hom fold because he turns to Snape and nods.

"Love has made you weak," Snape hisses, begrudgingly letting go of Regulus and stepping aside.

James wastes no time, grabbing Regulus's arm and speed walking away from them, nodding to Narcissa as they pass, a brief moment of understanding passing between them before the two boys disappear back into the castle.

James stops in the entrance, turning to look at Regulus.

The boy looks wrecked, tears streaming down his face, eyes wide in shock and fear. James immediately knows that Regulus was reliving some none too pleasant memories.

"Are you okay baby?" He asks. Regulus whimpers, headspace immediately plummeting after teetering on edge, "How's about we go up to bed?" James asks. Regulus nods, reaching his arms forward and making a grabbing motion.

"Up," he whines.

Snape and Malfoy were bad enough but the sight of Narcissa had thrown Regulus right back to that house, to his mother, to the unspeakable things that happened to him and his brother. Regulus needed comfort right now. James smiles and scoops his baby up and Regulus immediately tucks himself into his caregivers neck, immediately soothed by the physical contact.

"I've got you baby," James murmurs, walking up to the common room.

They climb through the portrait hole and James gives a quick gesture to the boy clinging to him and that's all the explanation their friends need, letting them go up to bed without another word.

"Baby boy," he gently puts the boy down on the bed, feeling a tug on his heart as Regulus makes a noise of protest, "I know, I know, I'll be right back, I'm just getting you some clothes," he murmurs, Regulus pouts but nods. James quickly rushes to his drawers, pulling out a soft jumper and some shorts before going back to his baby.

"Daddy," Regulus mutters, grabbing hold of James shirt and tugging.

"I know baby, let's just get you changed and then Daddy will come cuddle," he says, making quick work of helping him change before pulling off his own shirt and climbing into bed, arranging them so that Reggie is layed comfortably on James's chest.

"M'sorry" Regulus murmurs. James was used to this, Regulus tended to feel like a burden whenever he regressed, it was rare that he slipped without apologising at least once.

James moves his hand to run through Reggie's hair, looking down at him.

"None of that baby, you have nothing to be sorry for. This helps me too, remember?" He says. Reggie screws up his nose adorably if James does say so himself as he thinks, before huffing and nodding a little.

James smiles and pulls Regulus a little closer, running his hand up and down his back to comfort him as he plays with the younger boys hair. Regulus buries his face in James's chest and makes a content little noise in the back of his throat. James thinks that if he were a cat he'd be purring.

He wants to talk to Reg about what happened earlier but he's found that Regulus isn't great at talking when he's little, that's something for him and big Reggie to talk about, so instead he watches as Regulus's eyes slip closed, his breathing slowly evening out into slow steady breaths.

Only once he's sure that Regulus is sleeping does he let his own eyes close.

#sfw agere #agere #sfw age regression #agere blog #age regression #harry potter agere #marauders agere #little!regulus #cg!james #im literally so sorry this took so long #im back now

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ohbo-ohno · 4 months

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merry christmas @luminousbeings-crudematter, here's the ghoap x reader purge au! (a week and a half after you posted about it... im so sorry)

5.7k, mind the tags <3

cw: ROUGH NONCONSENUAL SEX in all caps, pwp, under-prepared/painful anal sex, some pretty intense fear stuff, people covered in blood and referenced violence (it's a purge au lol)

Your hands tremble where they’re tucked close to your chest, blood sticky and thick between each finger. You feel coated in it, like someone has taken a brush and gone over every inch of your skin, painted you in red.

It’s in your mouth. You can feel the warmth of it on your tongue, the taste of iron sickening. You tell yourself that maybe you bit your tongue, that it’s not really your ex Phil’s blood coating your teeth.

Your thin pajamas are hardly any protection against the chill of the night air, less so with how soaked they are. The stench of piss is heavy in the air, a mixture of yours and his, but you don’t have time to go back inside and change.

You’re running on pure instinct, an animal urge deep in your mind insisting you run. You’d always thought you’d have more of a flight instinct than fight. Despite how you feel now, how your legs itch to carry you as far away as possible, the cooling corpse left behind tells you the truth.

You stumble into the wall, a wave of nausea knocking you off balance. There’s a trail of red left behind as you use one hand to balance yourself, the other held protectively over your heart.

Your security system - cheap, but usually enough to let you sleep through the Purge - is completely destroyed. There’s no chance of it protecting you, and the bust in windows will let anyone on the streets see your vulnerability. You’ll never feel safe there, and you can’t shake the need to run.

There’s no chance of any of your neighbors helping you. There’s some neighborly camaraderie between your floor-mates, but that all disappears on Purge night. It’s every man for himself, every year, without fail. You know that. You even think the same as them, pretend no one else exists when that siren goes off every year.

But now, shaking and terrified, you wish you could knock on a door and see it open. Hear the security system disengage and see a familiar face, beg for help and thank them on your knees.

It’s a nice fantasy. Reality is less kind, seeing you shake with a dawning chill as you manage to shoulder open the door to the stairwell, cringing when it slams behind you.

The cold cement is rough on your feet, and a distant part of yourself worries about slipping - your feet are slick with blood, and you can hear yourself leaving a trail of footsteps. You don’t try to slow down, holding tight to the metal railing and shuffling down the stairs.

You’re halfway down the first of four flights when the door on the next floor opens, a large figure stepping into the stairwell. Your stumble to a stop before you even register that you’re not alone anymore, and you’re backpedaling before you even fully realize.

He’s big, his face covered in a red skull mask. From your vantage point you can see his hair is shaved into a mohawk, and he’s shirtless with only a pair of gray sweatpants on.

He’s drenched in blood. Even more than you, and you feel like you’re drowning in it. If you’re painted in blood, someone took a bucket and dumped it on this man. You can hardly see any unmarked skin, and you wonder for a split-second if the skull was once white.

There’s an audible grin in his voice when he calls up to you. “Look’it you, bonnie thing. You tryin’ to run?” He steps to the side, leaving a wide open space for you to pass him to the next staircase. You’re frozen where you’re leant against the railing, hardly able to breathe. “C’mon, give it a shot.”

You listen, scrabbling further back and all but throwing yourself up the stairs on all fours. You’re only the need to get away, an innate fear that tells you to get as far from the blood-soaked man as quickly as possible. You swear you hear him laugh as you launch yourself up the next flight, panting already.

There’s no safety found in going up though, as hardly two flights later you’re tugged to a stop by your instincts alone.

Standing above you, hardly six feet away and blocking the door he must’ve just come from, is another giant. This one fully clothed and with a white skull mask, somehow bigger and more intimidating than the man you can hear coming up the stairs behind you. You can’t see even an inch of skin, black gloves on his hands and mean black combat boots reaching nearly his knees.

There’s a moment, before the chase ends, where you contemplate jumping over the railing. There’s no going up, there’s no going back, and you can’t even begin to imagine what these two men want with you. The only thing that keeps you from throwing yourself over is the fear that you wouldn’t die on impact, that you’d be left injured and even more vulnerable to these men.

You’re not sure you could’ve tried that plan had you even wanted to, because the moment it forms fully in your mind a pair of thick arms wraps around you, and a heavy weight forces you to the ground.

You cry out at the sudden shove, palms scraped raw against the cement. The man behind you covers your body completely - his knees bracket yours, his hands rest on either side of your head, and there’s no part of the back of you that isn’t cloaked in him.

He doesn’t say anything as he ruts against you, the blood from his chest soaking through your tank top and making you cringe further away. You can’t stop the quiet stream of whimpers as you try to shrink into the stairs, try to get away from the beast behind you. He doesn’t care, only drops more of his weight onto you and pantomines fucking you.

You can feel the outline of his cock through his pants, as thin as the clothes both of you are wearing are. If you weren’t wearing your shorts, if he tugged the waistband of his pants down, he’d be inside of you.

The thought makes you tear up, makes you want to slam your head back and try to knee him in the balls, makes you want to fight.

But all your fight is gone. It died with Phil and your security system, and you’re left only with a weight in your bones that makes you wish you could sink through the floor.

The hard plastic of the skull mask presses to the sensitive skin of your cheek, biting into the fat there. You can see the gleam of bright blue eyes in the sockets, the creases at the edges that tell you he’s smiling.

“You gonna fuck her here for the first time?” The white skull asks, voice deep enough that you hardly register the words. Your eyes are jerked to his form and it makes you shiver to see him sitting on the top of the staircase you’re pinned to, legs spread wide as he stares down at you with a cigarette between lips exposed by the tilted mask. You feel like a sacrifice, thrown to the stairs of a temple for a god.

“Can I?” The man over your shoulder pants, accent roughened from his own movements. You can’t tell if the wetness between your thighs is piss, blood, or an even worse option. You bite your tongue to hold back a whine, wince at the burst of iron in your mouth.

The man above you tilts his head, smoking blown into the air. “You fuck her here, you won’t get to go again on the roof. Don’t need you gettin’ spoiled.”

Your nails dig into the concrete, folding beneath the pressure as you shake beneath the red skulled man. He whines over you, like a petulant kid being told no for the first time, but goes still against you. That alone has you blinking open damp eyelashes, watching him from the corner of your eyes.

“Alright, I’ll wait,” he pants, chin resting on your soldier. “Give ye some time to get ready, huh lass? It’ll be easier for ye then. Just think about what we’ll do to ye, how good it’ll feel to get properly fucked, yeah?”

You sob when he grinds one final time against you, your hips pushed into the harsh edge of the stairs.

He’s dragging you up after that, hardly letting either of you stand fully before shoving you up the stairs. You can’t catch your balance and let out a small cry as you fall back to your knees, mouth twisting in pain at the unforgiving surface against your naked knees.

You flinch when a gloved hand grasps your chin, tugging up until you’re forced to look towards the white skull above you.

You’ve landed between his feet, a boot on either side of your body, and if you’d moved forward even another half foot, you’d have face planted into his lap.

Your heart skips a beat when you realize you’re making eye contact with him. The dark brown of his pupils blends almost seamlessly with what must be black paint smeared around his eye sockets, and the only reason you even realize you’re locked in a staring contest is the way the light reflects off the whites of his eyes.

You don’t have time to try and move away from him on your own (or, more accurately, to throw yourself backwards and pray you didn’t break something falling down the stairs) before a pair of bare hands are shoving you up from beneath the armpits, making you almost squeal as you jerk in the direction you’re forced.

“Up, c’mon,” red skull grunts, hands flitting from one part of your exposed skin to the next as he herds you upstairs. “Need to get inside ye, kitty, fuckin’ walk.”

You sob as you stumble up the stairs, the top of your foot scraping painfully against the concrete. You glance over your shoulder just in time to see White stand to follow you two, but you’re nearly sent sprawling again when Red only shoves you all the more harshly.

“Pl-please,” you manage to gasp, shoulder roughly bouncing off the wall. A glance up tells you you’re two full flights away from the rooftop. “Please, I don’t know what you want, b-but…” You can hardly talk around the sobs floating in your throat, choking you. “Please, please don’t hurt me.”

Red groans as he tugs you nearly off balance, the sound echoing off the walls and full of what you can only describe as hunger.

“Fuck, haven’t even gotten ye naked yet ‘n yer already beggin. Knew ye’d be perfect for us.”

You can hardly see through the tears in your eyes, the rest of the trip up to the roof all gray with streaks of red and black. You can’t focus enough to try and get away again, can’t get enough of your panic under control to fucking think.

The red skull catches you when you almost go careening over the rails, one broad hand catching you by the chest and gripping.

He groans, you flinch. “Fuck, cannae wait to get my mouth on these.” He pinches with his whole hand, your breast going sharp with pain on every fingertip. You whine, flinching further against his chest and trying to shrink away.

“Keep movin’, Soap.”

“Aye,” Red - Soap - pants, and you can practically hear the saliva gathered in his mouth when he swallows. “C’mon, kitty, only a little further.”

The blood on your hands has dried by the time White is shouldering open the door to the roof, your hands itching and the red flaking away every time your fingers twitch. The night air is a cold shock, just jarring enough to tug some reason back into your brain.

Soap doesn’t stop his herding until you’re far enough from the door for his partner to block it with an old metal chair, the back tucked under the door handle. You tuck your hands beneath your arms, shoulders curled in in an attempt to preserve warmth.

You wouldn’t have expected the night to be so cold. Half of the street is burning - flames painting the sky, giving you the exact opposite impression of the biting chill you feel. There are dozens of people in the streets, carrying guns and axes and chainsaws and all sorts of other weapons you can’t see. You feel bile rise in your throat when you realize the dark pools reflecting flames in the street are blood, not water.

“Fuckin’ finally,” Soap grumbles, and you don’t have any time to think before his mouth is pressed forcefully against yours, tongue shoving at your lips.

Your eyes are wide open, unlike his, and you make a shocked sound high in your throat at the sight of his maskless face. You can’t really see what he looks like with the way he’s pressed against you, but it’s a shock nonetheless.

You keep your lips pressed tightly together, no matter how much his tongue prods and tries to force its way into your mouth. You feel more than hear him laugh against you after a few long seconds, and one of his massive paws comes up to cradle your jaw pointer finger against your temple and thumb under your chin.

He stops trying to force himself between your lips after almost a minute, instead shifting to just… licking your lips. His tongue paints wide across your mouth, soaking you in his saliva. He’s almost scarily determined in the way he accosts you, his grip tight on your face as his other hand shifts to bruise your hip, covering what feels like the entire bottom-half of your face in his spit. You can’t help but grimace, trying to pull away from him, but he’s pressed too close.

“Can’t fuckin’ wait to be in ye,” he pants, breath warm and wet against your cheeks. “I know yer gonna squeeze me just right, bonnie, can tell already.”

“Please,” you say, voice weak. “Please, don’t, I don’t want you to-”

His groan is guttural. “Ye wanna know a secret, bonnie?” His voice is quiet between the two of you, bright blue eyes boring deep into yours when he pulls back. To your endless frustration, he’s handsome.

He leans close, whispering so low that you almost have to strain to hear hum. “That’s what makes you fun. Wouldnae be draggin’ you up here if ye wanted it, could get you any other night of the year for that. But it’s Purge night, lass… so you go ahead and fight as much as ye want, yeah? Just makes it more fun for me.”

You can’t help but sob at that, fat tears streaming down your face as he maneuvers you. You feel disconnected from your body as he forces you down to the ground, your soft belly left exposed when he pushes up your tank-top to cup one of your breasts, a whimper crawling out of your throat at the way the gravel presses into you.

You feel his breathing grow heavier as his hands move down to your shorts, shoving them off your hips and leaving them loose around your calves, completely disregarding your pitiful attempts at crawling away.

“Poor thing, been stuck in these the whole time? They fuckin’ reek, bonnie, no offense. That his piss or yours?”

You shake your head against the ground, face twisted up in acute humiliation. For some stupid reason you don’t want to even begin exploring, you find it necessary to whisper, “H-his.”

Soap hums, and you curse yourself inwardly when the humiliation is slightly alleviated.

“Get ‘em off her,” the white mask says, and you can’t help but jump at the sound of his voice. He’s sat on a large box only a few feet away, leaning back and relaxing, looking for all the world like he’s settled in for his favorite show. “Don’t want anythin’ of his touching her now.”

The sound Soap makes at that is animalistic, a snarl coming from deep in his chest that makes you flinch as he all but tears the shorts from your body. You wince at the wet splat of them landing several feet away.

You force your forehead into the gravel when your knees are forced wide, a rough hand and another pair of knees spreading you.

“No, no, no, no, no, no, no…” you can’t help but beg, voice trembling. “Please- god, please don’t-”

“Fuck,” he moans over your shoulder. “Yeah, keep goin’, lass.”

You sob at the feeling of warm skin against your bared behind, his thick length slotting itself smoothly between the slightly spread lips of your pussy. Your eyes squeeze shut and it takes all your willpower not to keep begging.

He slides himself back and forth against you for a few long breaths, using online the slight slickness from a mixture of piss and blood to get some friction. But to your immense horror, it only takes a few moments for the sensual movement against your clit to have your body preparing itself.

The slight wetness at your hole might be a betrayal, but it’s not nearly enough to ease the way when he pushes inside of you with no warning.

You nearly scream, a high sound of pure panic and pain when it feels like you’re being split in two. Somewhere off in the distance, you hear someone laugh. Right above you, Soap groans.

He’s buried himself to the hilt inside you before the pain has had any time at all to fade, and he’s fucking into you hardly a second after that.

Every thrust forces a grunt from your throat, the entire weight of him slammed into your back each time his balls smack against your clit. Your face is twisted up in a grimace, your whole body racked with pain that your assaulter couldn’t care less about.

“Fuck, kitty. Yer squeezin’ me so good, such a good girl, shit-! Knew you’d be ti-tight as a vice, fuck, but didn’t know you’d be squeezin’ me so tight I can hardly move.”

Your whine is plaintive, his moan is filled with pleasure.

“Yer gettin’ so wet for me, bonnie. Ye like this, huh? Bet you like it just as much as I do, gettin’ thrown around and takin’ advantage of. That it, kitty? Ye like being forced?”

You sob and shake your head against the ground, crying all the more when sharp pebbles dig into your cheeks.

“Naw, I think ye do. Why else’d you be- fuck, squeezin’ me like that?”

“Cause- because-” you try, but you can’t get the breath in to get more than a single word out.

“Huh? Cause- cause-?” Soap mocks, his voice pitching up to mimic you as he plants himself deep inside you, grinding his hips against the meat of your ass. “C’mon, kitty, tell me why. Go on.”

“Cause I want you to stop!” You cry, balled up fist slamming into the gravel. You can’t help but whine ow when the sharp rocks poke into your skin, and Soap’s laugh shakes your entire body.

“Good,” he whispers, breath hot against your ear. “Squirm all ye want, lass. I love it when you fight.”

You can do nothing but go limp beneath him as he begins fucking you again, his pace somehow faster and even more relentless. It’s a small mercy that there’s no fight left in you, that you can’t give him any more pleasure.

It certainly doesn’t stop him, though. Despite the fact that you’re doing your best impression of a dead fish, Soap pants and moans against your shoulder like you’re the single best thing he’s ever slept with. His cock is painfully hard inside of you, and his pace never once slows.

He’s loud when he finally comes, the sound of his orgasm clear enough that you know he’s thrown his head back to the sky. You can only whimper as he rolls his hips against you, working the last spurts of cum out of his cock and into your unwilling body.

“Fuck,” he sighs in your ear, sounding far more satisfied than he has any right to. “Good girl, kitty. You were perfect.”

You sniffle beneath him when he slowly pulls out, both of you groaning at the sensation. He gives you an almost perfunctory pat on the ass, and stands to walk away. You manage to open your eyes and focus just in time to see him slide to the ground in front of his partner, leaning against the wall.

“Yer turn,” he sighs. “Warmed her up good for you, Lt.”

Despite the hatred boiling in your gut, you can do nothing but lay limp on the ground and watch as his partner stands, cracking his neck and moving towards your prone form.

You want to run, you want to fight, but you can only watch the executioner come closer and wait for the metaphorical axe to fall.

He crouches by your head first, grasping your chin and pulling up until your torso tries to follow to alleviate the tension. He stares deep into your eyes for a long moment, and you find that it’s impossible to even tell where his pupils are with no real lighting. You feel like you’re truly looking into the empty eye sockets of a skull, no man and no mercy to be found.

“You’ll call me Ghost when I fuck you,” he rumbles, thumb stroking over the scrapes on your cheek. He doesn’t wait for a response, simply hauls you up by the shoulder and turns you onto your back.

He’s rough with your limbs as he shoves your legs together and up, his forearm banding across the backs of both of your knees and holding them to your chest. You whimper and wiggles as best you can, but the bruising blow against your thigh is enough to have you gasping and stilling.

“Don’t fight,” he warns, and you feel his gloved fingers running up the crack of you. “You’re hurtin’ enough as it is, and I’m not gonna help. You wanna make it worse too?”

You shake your head, unsure if he can even see you through your legs. He doesn’t respond, and hums when he swipes two fingers through the liquid gathered between your lips.

You whine when those fingers move further down, a fresh panic creeping in when he presses around your back hole.

“You should be glad Soap fucked you so good,” Ghost drawls. “He gave you all the lube you’re gonna get.”

You feel like an animal when you whine again, unsure of how to even begin trying to speak. You yelp when a thick finger slides into your hole, completely disregarding any resistance and forcing its way in until it’s buried to the knuckle. Your cries go ignored.

“Quit squirmin’,” Ghost scolds, pulling his finger out to smack your ass before shoving two back in. “You’re fine.”

You’re not, you’re terrified and hurting and upset, but none of those things matter when Ghost only coaxes more of your slick and Soap’s spend to your unused whole so there’s less resistance.

The only blessing you have is the fact that you can’t see more than the outline of Ghost’s figure with the way he’s got you positioned. You try your best to close your eyes and float into disassociation, and while you can’t fully manage it, the fact that you can’t see his face - his mask - helps you distance yourself from what’s happening.

The moment you realize this is of course the moment it stops being true.

He seems to decide you’re ready after scissoring three fingers inside of you, hefting himself up so that he looms more fully over you. You can only whine as you feel the movements of him unbuckling his belt, feel the weight of him slap against your slightly spread cheeks.

Fresh tears fall past your lashes as you stare up into the fathomless darkness that are Ghost’s eyes. There’s nothing there, just a cold empty skull prepared to ruin you.

You don’t even have the energy to beg.

The stretch of him inside your ass is five times worse than Soap was. There’s no natural lubrication, and nowhere near enough synthetic lube either. Your hole feels like it’s on fire, the stretch white hot as he gives you no mercy.

You’re not even fully sure what you’re babbling as he slowly sinks to the root, only aware of the pain and fear and panic sitting heavy in your heart. You fear you’ll choke on your tears, head jerking back and forth.

He sighs when he bottoms out, heavy barrel chest forcing your knees past your shoulders. Your hips strain, just another pain from the endless abuse.

“There,” he grunts, patting your thigh when you go limp from it all. “Stay nice and still now, just need a place to dump my cum.”

Upsettingly enough, that hurts. The idea that you could mean nothing to this man is somehow worse than the thought of him having some other twisted feelings for you, your hormone-addled mind deeply insulted.

His thrusts are long and slow, each one pulling nearly completely out before slamming back in. The sound of your skin slapping together is embarrassingly sexual, and a distant part of you is aware enough to pray that no one nearby had heard your screams and cries.

Ghost is near silent as he fucks you, the opposite of Soap. You can only hear the occasional grunt when you squeeze him because he’s inches away from your face - you can even feel the occasional gusts of breath when his hips start working a little faster.

There’s nothing you can do but lay limply beneath him and take it, just a vehicle for his pleasure. You almost manage to float away, to pretend none of this is happening or has ever happened, when his free hand moves from your thigh to the top of your cunt.

You nearly squeal when he rubs your clit, the smooth leath gliding over your slick bud. Your eyes fly wide open, back arching as much as you can with three hundred pounds of man holding you down. The loud laugh from several feet away only makes you writhe more.

“Make her squirt, Lt!” Soap shouts, his voice carefree.

“Shut it, Johnny,” Ghost grunts, voice roughened with pleasure. You don’t even have time to focus on the fact that he’s just told you Johnny’s name, far too preoccupied with the tidal wave of pleasure rushing towards you.

You have no idea why it happens. You’re never quick to come - almost every single partner of yours has complained about you taking so long to get off, it’s been an Issue in several relationships.

So it makes absolutely no sense that after hardly a minute of rough circles against your clit, you’re clenching down on the cock in your ass and moaning loudly as your orgasm overtakes you.

The natural clench of your body only makes the pain worse, a sharp spike of it running up your cunt and making your moan shift into more pained sounds. Ghost only moans in tandem above you, his thrusts becoming slightly less even as he lets your orgasm coax out his own.

You sob when you feel his cum paint your insides.

Unlike Johnny, Ghost doesn’t pull out after he comes. He lets your legs fall limp on either side of him, just barely managing to catch them for you before you slam your ankles to the ground. He leans his torso over yours, elbows resting on either side of your shoulders while you do nothing but wait beneath him.

He’s sweat off some of the makeup. This close, you can see hints of pale skin in the sockets of the mask. There’s nothing to read in his eyes, but that flash of skin tells you he’s still a man.

You swallow, trying to work moisture back into your dry mouth, and whisper, “Will… will you let me go now?”

You know it’s more likely he’ll kill you. It’s what you can only imagine happened to all those bodies in the streets, what you know happens to tens of thousands of women every year.

So it’s not a surprise when he doesn’t answer you verbally, instead covering your mouth with his palm and pinching your nose shut with his fingers.

Your eyes flutter shut after a moment, lungs tightening already, and all you can hope is that suffocation is a quick death.

———————————————————————

You wake, gasping, in a dark room.

You’re lurching forward before you’re even fully aware that you’re awake, coughing loudly and gasping when it feels like your throat is bleeding.

“Oh, poor thing,” you hear a familiar accented voice coo, and a moment later there’s a warm hand patting your back. “Yer alright, deep breaths.”

You jerk back from Soap - Johnny - as soon as your coughing is under control, scrambling back on your palms and staring at him with wide eyes. He only grins at you, looking for all the world like any other normal man in his sweater and sweatpants.

He got changed at some point - these pants are clean. He’s not wearing his mask either, and you’re struck dumb by how non threatening he manages to look.

He also changed your clothes - or Ghost did, maybe. You try to cover your chest with one hand, but there’s no hiding the fact that you’re completely naked.

Johnny only laughs at your attempted modesty. “Been starin’ at them for hours, lass. Ye’ve got nothin’ to hide.”

That’s… horrifying, and does absolutely nothing to calm you down.

It’s then that Ghost rises from a chair, stepping forward and making you aware of his presence. “Calm down, Johnny. We don’t want her panickin’ this early.”

Soap fully pouts, tilting his head at you before glancing up at his partner. “I haven’t even done anythin’, Ghost. Was just sayin’ hi, tha’s all.”

Ghost snorts, gripping Johnny’s mohawk and tugging back until the other man sprawls back on his ass. “You know how you are, pup. Give your kitty some space.”

Johnny listens, crossing one leg beneath him and bending the other close to his chest, looking casual as can be. Meanwhile your heartbeat only gets faster, and you wince when you happen to lean too far one direction and feel a throbbing reminder of what these men did to you.

Ghost steps forward again, crouching just out of arm's reach. You realize he’s not wearing the same skull mask as before, but a balaclava with a printed skull pattern instead. His eye sockets are unpainted, and you’re shocked by how such little things make him look so much more human.

“You can calm down. Long as you behave, nothin’ much worse’ll happen to you.”

You find yourself almost comically not-comforted by that, and can do nothing more than stare at him with wide eyes.

“Where…” Your voice cracks, so you swallow and start again. “Where am I?”

It’s Johnny who speaks up. “Our place. We finally brought ye home with us, kitty.”

The world feels like it’s slowed around you, and your eyes drag from one kidnapper to the other. You have to swallow again to work any moisture into your bone-dry mouth.

“Is the Purge over?”

The creases at the corner of Ghost’s eyes are painfully obvious with how pale his skin is, and you shudder at the thought of him smiling.

“Been over for… what, five hours now? Somethin’ like that.”

You can’t fight the tremble in your voice now. “Then… then you have to let me go.”

Ghost’s head tilts, the creases get deeper. “Do I?”

You nod with as much conviction as you can - which is almost none. “You can’t keep me here. You’re breaking the law.”

Ghost leans closer on the balls of feet and you lean further back, your spine pressing into the wall behind you. “Are we now? And who do you think will stop us, pet?”

“The- the police. Someone will report me missing, they’ll come looking.”

“Oh? And you think they’ll come here?”

You nod as best you can, and jump when Ghost laughs. It’s low and quiet, only a few beats, but it’s like gasoline thrown on the small fire of panic in your mind.

“You have no idea where you even are, and you think they’ll find you? I hate to break it to you doll, but you’ll be lucky if they look for you for a week. You have any idea how many people go missin’ after the Purge?”

Your breath is quickening. “So that’s it? You’re just going to… going to keep me here, forever? What are you even going to do?”

His laugh is sharper, meaner this time. “We’re gonna do a whole lot more of what we did last night, pet. Keep you as a little cocksleeve, a pretty thing tucked in the basement just for our entertainment. Ain’t that right, Johnny?”

You manage to tear your eyes away to look at Soap and see that he’s nearly salivating, having inched closer and closer and shifted so he’s knelt behind Ghost. There’s a feral spark in his eyes that has every hair on your body standing straight up.

“Yeah, tha’s right. Don’t worry, lass, we’ll make sure yer never lonely. Might even stay the night with you, cuddle up in the winter. Bet ye could keep our cocks nice and toasty in the cold, huh? Gonna let us use ye as a little heater?”

“A heater, a mattress, a fleshlight… your future’s lookin’ bright, sweetheart,” Ghost drawls, mockery dripping heavily from the cruel words.

Your eyes dart back and forth between the two men and their predatory stares, your heart racing against your ribcage.

It’s not a conscious choice for you to launch yourself towards them, reaching out and clawing your sharp nails down Soap’s face with a feral scream that tears your throat to shreds.

Even as Ghost throws you off and forces you to the ground, you vow to fight these men to the end. You’ll kill them both if you have to, leave them dead and wander however many miles it is back to your apartment.

Ghost only laughs when you shout this in his face, and you scream as you lunge forward, just managing to catch his masked chin between your teeth and bite.

With your fight instinct back in full force, you’re ready to make their lives hell.

#lumi im SORRY hand on the bible i could not tell you why this took me so long #it's pwp. it's pure smut. there is no justifiable reason for this taking a week #i literally have FOUR fucking docs of purge au's rn lmao like when i tell you i tried to write this SO MANY TIMES it was just not happening #ghoap x reader #bo writes #purge au #how do i tag this to get people to see it but not to get people complaining about dark fic to me #...i don't #oh well. special treat for you guys lol

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staybeautifulmp3 · 3 months

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SUITS -> 3x16 “No Way Out”

#IM SORRY ITS SO LONG LMAO. I NEED THE WHOLE CONVERSATION CUS ITS SO CRAZY #took me a whole two days cus the scene is so long lol #anyway . HARVEY LITERALLY ADMITS HE BECAME HIS MOTHER!!!!#AND THEN TELLS MIKE ITS ALL HIS FAULT AND MIKE SHOULD BLAME HIM!!!#suitsedit #marvey #marveyedit #suits usa #suits tv #patrick j adams #gabriel macht #amanda.doc #amanda.gif #suits #also yeah these are a little pixelated i KNEW i shouldn’t have cropped and resized at the same time but i don’t care enough to fix it lmao #suitsposting #userpunk

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fizzy-dizz · 1 month

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Lumiere's Sick Day: Pages 14-16 Prev | Next

Anxiety anxiety anxiety… what can you do

Because these pages were kinda challenging both writing and layout-wise, I'd written an excerpt to hopefully explain a bit more as i don't think i expressed it too well through dialogue??

“Cogsworth still fears something bad will happen again. The psychological toll of living 10 years under the curse doesn’t just disappear overnight after all. He feels guilty that he isn’t as quickly well adjusted to normality as everyone else has, and at the same time doesn’t understand how everyone can easily forget about what just happened. This random incident of Lumière falling ill had completely frightened him- even though he didn’t catch anything serious. Although he knows in a practical sense that this is unlikely, Cogsworth still fears in his heart a repeat of the curse, or something akin, to creep up on the castle once again. During this fragile period where he is still processing things at his own pace, Lumière’s sudden collapse had caused him to spiral, with his anxieties confirming his greatest fears for just a moment; targeting his best friend as punishment. Cogsworth wishes he could stop worrying and instead celebrate this new, refreshing era with his friends, but that doesn’t come easy when you’re wired to hold a deep protectiveness to the castle and everyone in it… and a learned sense of security to the person who’s been closest by your side through it all.

Lumière is the one that’s hurt, why is he so calm about this? He’s treating it as if it's nothing. Why doesn't he care about how the others feel about his situation? Why am I reacting so much? I wish he could just get out of his own head. So selfish…”

Also here's the rose bush detail in page 15! I like how it came out but it got covered by text lmao

#beauty and the beast #batb #disney #cogsworth #lumiere #lumiere's sick day #lumiworth #comic #artz #yay i got it done #not my motivation waning at the climax of the damn comic #I WILL FINISH THIS SERIES THAT IS A PROMISE #WE'RE SO CLOSE TO THE END #im sorry cogsy pookie pie its for the plot #Mwahahaha #part of why this took long is bc i was overthinking how to write all of this #questions comments whatever are literally always welcome

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squid-seraph · 8 months

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What's Sydney's story, and how'd she end up with so many kidneys?

(rubbing my hands evilly...)

Sydney is an octoling from the domes who moved to the splatlands!

She was supposed to join the military along with her sister after finishing up with school, but dropped out of basic training pretty early on due to health issues.

Sydney wasn't interested in any of the other job positions offered to her either, which her mom hated. They argued a lot; Sydney wanted to take her time to figure things out, and her mother seemed to always be in a rush to get her to do something with herself. Work. contribute. This was a very prominent mindset to have for dome octarians, if you weren't working then you weren't being helpful. When Sydney met her partner, Rihya, (affectionately nicknamed Riot by her fellow elites) she basically cut contact with her mother and their relationship has been rocky ever since. But who cares here look at the lesbians

Now I'm going to crush you.

Riot is never seen with Sydney or the kids in current art because she went missing for about 2 and a half years. Search parties were sent in the metro, looking for missing octolings, but it was too late in most cases. All santitized octolings are prohibited from returning to their housing units or moving to the surface until a cure can be found and they are deemed ready to re-enter society. For the first time in years Sydney got to see her partner again, only to be told she's basically a zombie and will probably never return to normal.

She moved to the splatlands pretty soon after that, home just didn't feel like home anymore. With splatsville becoming pretty popular, a lot of inkfish were looking to move there, and Sydney was hired by a family friend of some housing company and has been working for them as of now.

And to answer the second question.. Completely by chance. Octolings from the domes tend to not have as many as they would on the surface, most of the time just one or maybe two eggs that are actually going to hatch. Sydney and Riot just got lucky. Or unlucky, depending on who you ask.

#ask #splatoon ocs #seraphim doodles #xeno inkfish #xeno octoling #literally goals until i ruined im sorry #sydney(oc)#sorry i took so long to answer this ive been busy #this is why i have only like one sanitized oc bc the lore is gonna be SAD no matter what

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rafeandonlyrafe · 2 months

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🍭🍭🍭🍭 hihihi, I've been a quiet reader since a lot of time ago, I absolutely LOVE your fics, makes me go absolutely feral😭😭

omg THANK YOU im actually so honored

rafe doesn’t follow many people on social media. topper, kelce, a few of his other country club friends, and you.

the notification shocked you when you woke up one morning and saw that rafe cameron followed you back. you knew him decent enough, mostly through being friends of friends, with rafe being a year ahead of you in school.

you assumed it was a mistake, he was scrolling his recent notifications maybe and accidentally clicked your follow button. you waited for him to realize and unfollow you, but it never happened, not even after a week passed.

#answered #rafesgiirl #sorry this took me literally so long to answer #i was just dying briefly but im better now

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ask-garymiller · 3 months

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do you ever miss heaven, or are you happier in hell?

(sorry if this is a heavy question for a silly askblog but i’m curious)

I wouldn't say I love it, but I don't regret the rebellion. It's what you people would call "the lesser of two evils" as funny as that is.

At least, I'm enjoying my freedom in Hell.

#((ooc: hi picket im literally so sorry it took this long I was scared of getting it wrong lmfao))

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littleseasalt · 5 months

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"forever is a bad dad to richa-" SHUT UP!!!!!

#qsmp #qsmp forever #qsmp richarlyson #id also add in the book he wrote for the egg museum where he talked again about forever being the one who took care of him the most #but i dont have the patience to find it in vods to screenshot it #also sorry but. some people on twitter have been stressing me out A LOT over their opinions on their relationship #ive literally been stressing about it since i woke up i needed to release this stress somehow #< also im thinking of doing a long post talk about what their relationship is and isnt #bc whenever theres angst/fight between them people take it as an opportunity to mischaracterize BOTH forever and richas #in a way that makes it clear that the person 1. doesnt keep up with forevers pov #and 2. only knows richas through one pov #like. ok #disagree with forever however you want youre free to do that #i myself think he was in the wrong in multiple situations (like the tallulah fight day)#BUT SURPRISE!! SAYING HES A BAD DAD IS LITERALLY SO WRONG!!#PEOPLE CAN MESS UP!! PEOPLE CAN MAKE MISTAKE!! NO ONE IS A PERFECT PARENT!!#NO ONE ALREADY KNOWS HOW TO BE THE PERFECT DAD AND THERES NO SUCH THING AS BEING A PERFECT DAD!!#PARENTHOOD IS SOMETHING YOU LEARN ALONG THE WAY!!!#AND LEARNING HOW TO BE A DAD IS A CORE TRAIT OF FOREVERS CHARACTER SINCE DAY ONE!!!!!!!#saying hes a bad dad literally goes against canon statements from richas #saying richas is uncomfortable with forever goes against canon #“oh but i mean in the emotional way” ok so you never watched a forever stream before #because when they fight. richas ALWAYS opens up to forever later on how he felt #the fights HAPPEN because richas is comfortable making drama in front of forever #if richas' didnt feel comfortable he would literally just “suck up” his jealously and not show it often but he does shows it often #if richas was uncomfortable after fights he would just apologize and never talk about his feelings #but after the tallulah fight? he told forever about how romero richas affects his body and how he feels #after the armor fight? he told forever about how he felt towards his own life #to which btw BOTH of these times where he opened up #he had never talked about that with anyone before

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murcielagatito · 1 year

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ive got a whole ass backstory for them now. barb and mel didnt like eachother when they first met. well, barbara, chic repressed woman of god, could not stand how shameless bad girl mel was

#im sorry it took so long i literally cannot draw white ppl #you finally get some workwives LMAO #her family is in the mafia #workwives #work wives backstory #barbara howard #melissa schemmenti #abbott elementary #barbara x melissa #mi arte #ofc woman of god barbara would want nothing to do with her #aeau

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girl-named-matty · 8 months

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Dying for your HCs about the legacy boys and a tall female MC…could you pretty please with a cherry on top do a short female MC?

Of course!

Sebastian may be a nice person.

But he is not above making short jokes. I’m sorry.

When he first meets you, he’s constantly cracking jokes about your height and laughing his head off about them as if he was actually funny. (LOL)

But after a while he’s not as frequent with them.

He will use your head as an armrest, I’m sorry, I don’t make the rules.

He does find your height kind of cute though. It’s not anything weird, you’re just… small.

If you can’t reach a book off a higher shelf in the library and he’s around, he’ll just grab the book for you and hand it to you.

I feel like he’s the kind of guy who would lift you up too but only if you asked him.

Sebastian absolutely adores the feisty side of you just because you are so short and people wouldn’t really expect that out of you.

He’s your number one cheerleader. Seeing you destroy everyone in crossed wands and bragging about you winning to anyone else.

Now Ominis is above making short jokes. Although that doesn’t mean he won’t laugh at least a little if one is made.

He pats your head (and probably messes up your hair) every time he walks past you.

Because he can’t see and doesn’t trust himself enough to carry you, he’ll give you a boost whenever its too tall for you to grab something.

And he’s always offering his hand to you to help you down from something.

Although he has laughed at a few short jokes that have come your way before, if you ever expressed that the jokes were making you upset, he’d definitely comfort you and then scold whoever made the joke to you.

He understands the exhaustion that is walking up stairs. He doesn’t even have short legs, he just hates it.

And he’ll actually stop in the hallway and wait for you to catch up if you are falling behind.

#hogwarts legacy #hl #sebastian sallow #ominis gaunt #Sebastian sallow headcanons #Ominis Gaunt Headcanons #hogwarts legacy mc #mc #Idk why this took me so long #or why it turned out to be literal crap #im sorry anon #my brain has not been working properly

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ghostorbz · 2 months

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BANGS HANDS ON TABLE. SCIENTIST DADS.

WITNESS MY EPIPHANY

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rhythmmortis · 5 months

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axel + brown eyes (for @empyreasheart)

#kingdom hearts #kh #axel #sorry this took so long it was taking forever to load them in for some reason #BUT BROWN EYES!!! FOR YOU MY FRIEND I LOVE YOU!!!#youre literally so correct for this idea they suit him so well #im glad he avoided the kh blue eye curse but brown is so much better

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cheriboms · 6 months

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doctober day 30: sunset

a pair piece to the first prompt i did !! whole family reading together before bed <3

+alt vers (sans lighting) under the cut :)

#back to the future #bttf #doctober #doctober 2023 #clara clayton brown #doc brown #mary steenburgen #emmett brown #jules brown #verne brown #christopher lloyd #my arts #i was literally waiting soooo long i KNEWWW i wanted to pair piece this one and im super happy w how it turned out #but also ready for doctober to be over tomorrow LOL i am VERY burnt out from the constant content production #never drawing again ✌️ haha jk... unless... >_>#ps I FINALLY DREW CLARA PROPER !!!!!!!!!!! my love im so sorry it took this long -_-;#also dont question this sitting setup. its not abt practicality its about the VIBE (<- brown family motto) no i kid but fr #basically ur honor. at the end of the day (haha sunset prompt) i love them <3

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strawberry-cow-smut · 11 months

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Satan's Classroom Shenanigans

🌸Ageless + Minor = DNI🌸

Characters: Submissive, Top Satan (Obey Me)

Reader: Gender Neutral, Dominant, Bottom Reader

Exploring: Public Play, Secretive Play, Classroom Fucking, Blowjob, Exhibition (if you squint), Dick Riding, Overstimulation (Satan), Begging, Multiple Orgasms, Almost Getting Caught, Infirmary Fucking, Multiple Creampies, Abandonment of Restraint, Demon Form (though not playing a huge part)

Satan struggles to keep his head. Normally collected and focused, sharp as a knife in the classroom, he suddenly finds himself unable to think about anything aside from the menace hiding under his desk, prodding and rubbing at his cock during the last lecture of the day.

He's struggling to sit still. How could he when you're undoing his pants here of all places?! Do you have any idea how many people would see if he moved from his desk? What if the professor asks him to demonstrate a spell? You both would be exposed in a heartbeat.

You dig your nails into his thighs as his hips buck slightly, dick standing tall and proud before you. It's a miracle the tent in his pants didn't rip the fabric. He's leaking precum already and you've barely even touched him. He's so cute when he's this sensitive. You wish you could see his face right now, but that'd blow your cover, and you're going to be too busy blowing him.

His poor pen bears the weight of his restraint, teeth sinking into the cheap plastic covering and nearly puncturing the inkwell within the center. The professor's speaking. The class is entirely silent aside from them, and Satan couldn't stand to bear the embarrassment of moaning mid-lecture like Asmodeus had once done eons ago.

"Satan? Page 164, if you please."

Oh no.

He stands slowly, his left hand gripping the edge of his desk to the point his fingers turn white, his right hand shakily holding the textbook as he sucks in a sharp breath. The desk is at waist height, barely tall enough to hide you sucking his cock like it's the last source of water within an endless desert.

"Magical... Magical Creatures, Chapter Seventeen. The Gryffin is a-ah! A mythological beast whose body resembles that of a lion from the humAN world, and possesses the wings and head of an eagle. They range in size from as SMALL as ah... a mouse to as large as a small tank."

"Thank you, Satan. That will be enough. Are you alright?"

"Y-Yes! I'm perfectly fine! Just... a bit under the weather is all."

"Are you sure? I believe it would be in your best interest to see the nurse."

"I'll be j-just fine. I just need to relax a bit more."

Oh, he'll relax alright.

The professor dismisses him without another word, ending his lecture and instructing the class to continue reading the rest of the chapter on their own. Satan sits with a shaky sigh, cheeks flushed from embarrassment and sweat dripping down his face. He surely intends to show you who's in charge when the two of you get home, but as for now, you're the one holding the metaphorical leash.

As soon as he's relaxed enough, you decide it's time to up your game. Without any warning, your nose is pressed up against his torso, his dick down your throat as far as it can reach. It's a miracle how you can keep quiet with all the spit and the pace you're bobbing your head. He's digging his claws into the seat of his chair now, surely leaving deep cuts that go against the grain of the wood.

He's so fucking close to reaching a peak. Satan hides his head in his arms, forehead pressing against the cool lumber next to his open textbook. Tears prick the corners of his eyes as he struggles to resist coming undone. All he needs is just a bit more. He's torn between wanting to finish and wanting to maintain his dignity in front of his peers, but there's only so much he can do when you're sucking his soul out so feverously.

Satan gives up. He gives up almost completely as his body begins to shake and his claws dig further into the dark oak of his desk. He lets out a sharp whimper, filling your throat with a flowing white river. His classmates and professor look at him, concerned for his wellbeing.

Satan is panting, shaking, barely holding himself together at this point. He pants and takes a few deep breaths to catch his own before looking up at the professor.

"Satan? I do believe you'd better go to the nurse before your condition worsens."

You're quick to clean him up and fix his clothing. Satan's still shaky but agrees with the professor after noticing nothing would be amiss if he chose to stand, thanks to you.

"You're right, Professor. I'll be heading there at once. I-I apologize for concerning you all."

He gathers his belongings and shakily exits the classroom without another word. Some students utter words of concern as his legs threaten to give out with every step. You have no choice but to remain silent in place until the end of the lecture, only able to escape the room once all the other students and the professor have left first.

As the last of the students leave, you join the endless sea of demons and other magical beings flooding the halls between classes. You make your way to the nurse's office, deciding to check and see if your friend is "recovering" alright. Satan's in the third bed, closest to the wall and farthest from the door. The nurse is out for a moment, not an unusual circumstance considering it's their lunch hour.

"You! You almost got us caught with your little stunt in there! I can't believe you had the... the... the audacity to go that far! I didn't expect you to continue until I finished! We're unbelievably lucky the professor mistook me for being unwell."

Satan sighs as you draw closer and sit on the edge of his bed, taking his hand and bringing it to cup your cheek. He brushes his thumb over your cheekbone, sighing.

"Well... I suppose it wasn't all bad. That was... exhilarating, to say the least, even if it may be a bit troublesome to deal with the aftermath. Maybe this sort of thing wouldn't be bad every once in a while. I'm glad we got to explore this side of our relationship together."

He always gets so sweet and sappy after he's coming down from a high. It's sweet. He's always going on about how much he loves you and how he's so happy you both can be as rough or as gentle as the other needs them to be. Unfortunately for him, you're not ready to be sappy. There's still one more thing on your mind, and it's back in his pants.

You stand and pull the privacy curtain shut, closing the view of the bed off from the rest of the world. He stammers, questioning exactly what it is you're doing, a tiny glint of fear peaking through his normally collected demeanor. You turn towards him once more, staring him down as a cat does an injured mouse.

Your pants and undergarments hit the cold tile of the infirmary floor. You climb onto his bed, legs straddling his thighs as you pull his pants and boxers low enough to expose his half-hard cock. He's visibly excited, but his long refractory period prevents him from standing at full attention for a few more minutes. No matter, you reposition your core and take him in completely.

His growling and whining resurface and he lets out an unrestrained moan that fills the room. It's fortunate you two are the only ones in the infirmary, otherwise, there would have been no hiding exactly what's happening behind the thin white linen walls.

You grind against him with every drop of your hips, the pace unbearably fast as his erection continues to harden within you. Your nails dig into his chest, and his own claw at the sheets of the bed, eager to grab hold of something but not wanting to hurt you. He doesn't trust himself not to dig his claws into those thighs he loves so much when he can't even be bothered to restrain his voice for the moment.

Incoherent, muffled voices outside the door begin to grow louder as passing students flood the halls on their way to their dorms and extracurriculars. The only thing you're concerned with is riding him like the insatiable, cock-hungry animal you've become.

"Please! Ngh, fuck! I'm about to cum again! You need to slow down before-- Ah!"

Fuck his moans are beautiful. They start off melodic and end with an enticingly lewd growl. You didn't know he could be this expressive in bed before today. He's practically begging for mercy, still sensitive from the classroom shenanigans.

You do not grant it.

Satan's back arches and his hips thrust upward into you as he orgasms a second time. You're lifted up as his hips stutter beneath you, voice filling the room with lewd curses strung together as his eyes roll to the back of his head and the sheets begin to tear under his grip. He begins to still after a few moments, but you don't stop. You don't even slow down.

Satan's hands frantically look for anything to ground himself, worsening the tears in the fabric below him. His frantic gaze lands on the pillow lying underneath his head. He grabs at it, hoping for something to help relieve the intensity of the high you're pushing him towards, but in his overstimulated and careless state, he can't control his own strength. It takes mere seconds before there's a mess of feathery down and fabric scraps surrounding the head of the infirmary bed.

His eyes are starting to glow. Feathers are pushing out sporadically against the skin around his neck. Horns pierce through the golden hair on his crown His canines are growing sharper and his growls start sounding far less than human. There's not much left of his ability to control himself, though with you there was hardly ever any to begin with.

His claws slip from the mangled mess of a pillow and find their way to your hips, digging his nails into your sides and rutting up into your core; fucking his seed deeper without the restraint he desperately clung to before. His speed is almost unbearable. The way his cock drills into all the right places has you seeing stars and crying his name in response.

The thrusts are losing their regularity. Hips stuttering and nails threatening to pierce the soft skin of your hips, Satan bites down on his own lip until he's the one bleeding; filling you for a third time this afternoon.

It's almost unbearable. With the way his cum flows out of you like a river, you're mindlessly thanking yourself for having the foresight to make sure neither of you were still wearing your uniform pants.

With shaky legs and sweat covering both of your bodies, you fall to the side to catch your breath, grabbing some nearby tissues and cleaning the both of you up enough to at least redress before someone walks in and manages to put two and two together.

Satan's head flops to the side to gaze at you; chest heaving with every breath.

"Haah--that was... that was amazing." A hand comes up to push back his golden locks to unobscure bright green eyes, softening as they settle upon your glowing form.

His hand comes to rest gently against your cheek as he tilts your chin for a tender kiss, wanting to cherish this moment. As much as you want to indulge him and relish this moment, the growing sound of clicking heels interrupts the saccharine air of your post-orgasm bliss.

You shoot out of his infirmary bed, standing up straight and wiping the remaining sweat off your face in a flash, just in time for RAD's nurse to pull back the curtain and stick a thermometer in his mouth without a word. A minute passes silently without them acknowledging your presence. until the thermometer's beep cuts through the still air.

"Hm." The nurse pulls the thermometer out of his mouth and jots down the reading onto their clipboard.

"Professor called ahead for this one. Sweating, flushed cheeks, heavy breathing, abnormal behavior in class, sluggish and lethargic disposition. Sounds like a classic fever." The nurse turns towards you.

"You live in the same building, correct? Make sure he gets home safe and gets plenty of rest and fluids. He should be fine by Monday if he listens and takes some standard fever-reducing medicine from the drugstore. He's to stay strictly on bedrest until he can stand without losing his balance. "

"Oh don't worry. He'll definitely be getting that bedrest."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Tags: @snowsnetwork

#om! satan x reader #satan x reader #om! satan #satan obey me #obey me smut #strawberrycowsmut #holy fuck sorry this took so long i literally was stuck for MONTHS in my head and just like not in a good way #this has literally been in my drafts for ages and im not so in love with the way i wrote it compared to when i first started it but #hey at least it's done now #pspsps satanfuckers pspspsps come get your poorly made crumbs

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