#*chucks him at full force into the wall*

[good-beans]

When you're being mean to me this is who you're being mean to!!!!!

[billiewena]

FOUR YEARS SINCE NOV 5TH, 2020, as summed up by Supernatural

past recaps: year one / year two / year three / year four

full context and sources below:

various explanations + resources/sources/extra reading on this year's recap:

balls deep: misha collins says the quiet part out loud at Cross Roads 8 Supernatural Convention, saying "if the CW wasn't so homophobic dean and cas would've been balls deep for sure" at a con (x) (x) (x)

garthbenny canon: supernatural actors DJ Qualls (who played hunter-turned-werewolf Garth Fitzgerald) and Ty Olsson (who played the vampire Benny Lafitte) reveal they're married, delighting crack shippers like myself everywhere (x)

spn spooky picture book: official supernatural children's picture book is released, retconning things like john winchester as a happy father figure and castiel being their cowardly childhood friend who sorta hangs around (x) (x)

boop button: tumblr introduces a feature people enjoy for once for april fool's day and halloween and allows users to boop each other, spn bloggers re-awake like sleeper agents to use it in full force (x) (x)

bedlund speaks on destiel: former spn writer ben edlund goes on a tweet fest replying to fans, talking about destiel multiple times including this profound tweet (x)

clear text, not subtext: jensen speaks out again on the confession at Purcon 8, this time taking a more open stance on how the relationship was textual, his take on dean's feelings about cas's feelings, and how the scene with cas deserved a resolution (x)

bury your gays: famed author chuck tingle (known for his plethora of highly specific and delightfully inclusive, if strange, indie erotica novels) publishes his second mainstream horror novel, inspired by TV network studios' infamous history of censoring LGBT relationships and openly killing off queer characters. In a non-subtle nod to supernatural fans, the main character is named misha. (sidenote: did end up reading this and this book is actually really good commentary on the industry in general and really good, 10/10 recommend) (x) also someone got the book signed by misha, to further break the fourth wall (x)

tracker: jensen ackles begins starring in a CBS show where he is basically csoplaying dean winchester, with the show featuring many non-subtle spn references (i.e. him pretending to almost get in an impala before going to his truck, characters wearing spn necklaces, etc.) (x) (x) (x) (special shout-out to clarice @youre-only-gay-once for expertly tracking the tracker show and these easter eggs, highly recommend their tag for their show)

cw's walker cancelled: fans rejoiced upon hearing the cancellation news for jared's post-supernatural show, walker, a remake of "walker texas ranger." in addition to generally being a copaganda show for the notoriously racist texas rangers, jared's inspiration for the show's direction caused much concern. the actor himself said the show was inspired by the US border crisis, not by the immigrant families affected by the separation and internment, but instead wanting exploring the POV of the law enforcement agents working at the border and the moral dilemmas they had to face (x)

pro-destiel Wonder Woman: Lynda Carter (aka the iconic and beloved original actress for Wonder Woman, not the z*onist one) says she could "go for some Destiel" when promoting #GeeksandNerdsforHarrisWalz and Misha's involvement (x) the rest of the spn cast and original Showrunner Kripke were also a big part of this event

chili's backfire: the chain restaurant chili's drags destiel while interacting with 9-1-1 bucktommy shippers on twitter, immediately gets backfire. notably, their stock takes a dip the next day. coincidence? maybe so, maybe not (x) (x)

samgirl voting fraud: "who is the gayest spn character" tumblr poll surprisingly gets heated, with a blogger straight-up admitting they used a bot on the "castiel vs. sam" poll to rig the poll in sam's favor, which they apparently also did for w*ncest in another poll in the past, and posting a guide on how anyone could do the same. luckily democracy wins in this one instance and castiel prevails anyways, leading to an also contested "castiel vs. charlie bradbury" round (x) (x)

pink pony jarpad: jared is spotted at lesbian pop star chappell roan's set at a festival, un-likely place for him to be (x) also may have been one of the "boring" people called out by chappell? (x)

pro-kamala castiel: in a last-ditch effort to get out the vote, misha uses the power of castiel photo ops to campaign for harris-walz and even shouts-out destiel. I feel depressed writing this sentence, if you've made it this long in your read and you're in the states I hope you're doing alright! maybe by the time I wake up things will be a little different though. (x)

[avocado-writing]

Hello beloved Avo, do you have any pegging hcs for Wade & Logan? 👉👈

do I? of course I do.

explicit. minors dni.

Logan

When he’s younger, probably not super into the idea?

You ask him to feel out his response, he’s very “no I’m not doing that.” Which is okay! You’re glad you got that boundary and move on.

But older Logan…?

Honestly, the man is held together with fury and a praise kink, and nowadays he just wants to do stuff which makes him feel good. Fuck all that machismo bullshit of his youth.

You’ve gotta build up to it though, he’s not so used to being the receiving partner. But you love him and go slow, working him open and showering him with praise.

“You’re so handsome Logan, you know that? Gonna look so good when I fuck you…”

Once again, praise kink. He’ll follow where you lead so long as you’re telling him how perfect he is.

Eventually relaxes into it and lets you fuck him, surrendering control to you. Not super vocal during but you can hear him groan when you slide inside him, catching his cock in your hand and stroking as you thrust.

He comes so hard. Is pleasantly chill afterwards, letting you perform your aftercare routine. It’s a nice change to know that he’s loved.

Wade

Now, Wade? You say the word “pegging” three times and he’s summoned like a fucking genie.

“Pegging? What? Yes. Right now? Can you do it right now? What size strap do you want to use, I have a whole drawer full of them. You won’t believe how much I can fit up there.”

Really down for whatever. You force him to slow down though, making sure that you spend enough time working him open.

“Use your whole hand.” “Wade…” “Sorry. No, I’m not. That’s a lie.”

Kiss him to shut him up, then fuck him hard to keep him quiet.

On his back so he can look up at you, on all fours so you can pound into him “like I’m the cover model of a Chuck Tingle book”. Any way. Anywhere.

He comes shouting your name and your neighbours bang on the walls to tell you to keep the noise down.

“Sorry, I just had a prostate orgasm so hard that I think I found Jesus. He told us to try for round two.”

[betterthanyalls]

hey betty wetty bo confetti

How’s about Ares x Reader in which she’s the daughter of Odysseus and and and she’s defending Telemachus & Penelope from the suitors and after getting into a fight with Antinous or however u spell his name, she meets Ares somehow?

BTW DONT FEEL PRESSURED OR FEEL THERES A TIME LIMIT - TAKE YOUR TIME 🫵🫵🫵🫵🫵🫵🫵🫵🫵

Okay love ya 🤩🤗

that nickname concerns me BUT HIIIII so ion know how good this is :sobs: , i made it in the span of like 2-3 hours from a burst of motivation. HERE YOU GO TAKE THIS AS A LATE BIRTHDAY PRESENT

Masterlist

Warrior's Blood

Ares x Reader

EPIC: The Musical ~ Oneshot ~ Action

Words: 1.4K

Published: 11-3-2024 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A loud belch sounded from the palace’s dining hall, followed by boisterous laughter and unorganized yells. The princess of Ithaca glared down the hallway while she stalked past the dining hall to her destination of the training grounds. “Men,” a loud voice called, the speaker standing up on a wooden bench, “we have been waiting for the throne for far too long. Can’t you see we are being played?”

Y/n slowed her pace, taking a peek into the crowded room to see the one suitor she hates the most speaking. Antinous. 

“I say, we take the throne. That boyish prince and his sister only stand in our way to the queen. Once we are rid of them, we shall have full access to the crown." Cheers and yells followed quickly. The onlooking royalty sneered in disgust. Normally, Y/n would only walk away and tell her mother about the new plan, but something inside her felt different—an urge to fight, a need for conflict. 

Taking a step into the light of the hall, Y/n cleared her throat.

“What would my mother think of this? Threatening to kill both of her children and then seizing her by force?" Y/n had to keep from gagging, not only at the idea of their threat but also the horrid stench of the room. 

Antinous turned to the princess with a look of pure murder and flame.

“Well, if it isn’t the weak girl. If you speak even a word of our plan, I will rip you limb from limb so you can meet your father in the underworld,” he stalked towards the younger girl with a vicious grin. “Now that I’ve thought about it, how about we begin that plan now? Starting with you.”

Y/n was wise enough to duck down, blocking an oncoming punch, only to be nailed in the gut with his knee. Falling to the ground with a sharp gasp, she was pulled to her feet by her hair. “Come on, girlie. You had the strength before to challenge me; where is it now? You’re as weak as your father.”

Staggering and getting out of his grasp, she pulled up a loose fighting position. The princess narrowed her eyes at Antinous’ insults while taking steps back to match his steps forward. Y/n tried to find some sort of strategy to take him down, like how Telemachus taught her. Her brother would always say to fight with wisdom, but there was no wisdom anywhere near this fight. Strategy only works if your opponent has strategy too. Antinous was anything but a planned fighter. 

So with her next best option, Y/n grabbed a nearby vase and chucked it at her rival's head. She missed, making Antinous even more angry. With a yell, a foot made contact with her stomach, throwing the princess to the floor and her head hitting a pillar. Pain shot through her entire body as she struggled to regain her breath. 

‘So, I did this easily. Thanks for the amazing lessons, Tele.’ Her mind wandered, forgetting about her approaching opponent as she took a glance at a nearby wall. There, up high, hung a tapestry by her mother. The twelve Olmpyians were displayed with divine glory. Glory that could help Y/n not die, if only they saw her. With nothing left to lose, the princess sent up a silent prayer before deciding to help herself.

With much pain and huffs, Y/n managed to stand on her feet once more with a sway.

Antinous offered a loud laugh, ricocheting off the stone walls.

“You just can’t stay down, can you? Do you not want to see Odysseus in Hades?”

“Don’t you dare speak my father's name,” she hissed through gritted teeth. She leaned onto the pillar with one hand while her other held her hurt stomach. Something other than pain burned inside her—a yearning to see him hurt, to see Antinous suffer. 

A new energy boosted her body; her muscles didn’t feel as sore, and the pain was dissipating. Deciding not to question this, Y/n dodged another punch aimed for her jaw. With fast footing, she grabbed a spear off the wall beside her and countered another punch.

Antinous grabbed the spear to rip it from Y/n’s grasp. Quickly, Y/n pulled the spear closer to her and kicked Antinous in the ribs. Instead of knocking him down, he only stumbled back. 

‘Left’ A voice spoke in her mind. Y/n was about to question the order until she noticed Antinous barreling towards her and instantly followed the demanded direction. 

Dodging a swipe of his sword, the princess swung her spear down at the man's knees, causing him to trip. Looking down to where he fell, a sudden push of rage flowed through her veins.

‘Blood’

She didn’t need to hear the voice again to know exactly what to do. With momentum, Y/n brought the weapons head down into Anitnous’ thigh, earning a scream from the male. She ripped the weapon from his flesh only to bring it down once more with another bloody cry. Her thoughts seemed barren except for a new order from the unknown voice. 

‘Stop’

That order only seemed to boost her adrenaline. Stop? She couldn’t. Not with all this pent-up anger and frustration she felt for Antinous. Y/n needed to make him learn where he stood as a guest in her kingdom. But as she raised her spear once more, the voice barked a command louder and all her pain and exhaustion rushed in.

‘STOP’

In an instant, her spear clattered to the floor as Y/n held her head with a groan. Antinous was being tended to by his fellow suitors, who had opted to stay on the sidelines. With labored breaths, Y/n managed to stumble away from the dining hall and towards the empty training grounds. 

Exhausted, she slumped to the sandy floor and leaned her back against a rack of swords. Her eyes shut against the glaring sun as the royal attempted to regain her breath. To her pleasure, the heat was blocked by a sudden shadow. The young adult cracked open her eyes to see a darkened figure wearing the full armor of a Spartan soldier. A mixture of emotions flooded into her soul as she recognized the nation's armor. Was this news of her father from serving beside the Spartans? But her hope was snuffed out as the familiar voice spoke.

“Stand up.”

She wanted to argue, but something in her felt compelled to follow the instructions. So, shakily, Y/n stood up in front of the warrior. From a new angle, she could see the stranger's identity. All breath escaped her lungs as she recognized the being from similar statues and paintings.

“Ares.”

The god, who towered over her with his divine form, smirked at the recognition.

“Indeed. I’ve seen your skill, princess of Ithaca. You fight well,” the god of war stalked around the girl in a circle, seeing her state after the fight. 

Finally, the two pieces connected in her mind as she turned to face him.

“It was you. The voice. The orders. That was all you.”

“You follow orders well, except for when you’re told to stop. I like that sort of fight.” Ares stood tall, power and bloodlust radiating off him as his armor seemed to brighten a bloody red in the sun’s light.

“Why’d you stop me anyway? You are the god of bloodlust, are you not? I could’ve killed him and solved the whole problem!” Y/n argued, upset at the missed opportunity.

“Have you forgotten the laws of hospitality? You would have been punished harshly by the gods had I let you continue. Not even I can defy those.” He glared down at her with warning. In response, she looked away with a defeated huff.

“Why’d you even help me then?” She grumbled, looking at the nearby swords; a few training weapons had begun to rust from limited use. 

"You have the ambition needed for the battlefield. Why would I let such skill go to waste with no proper mentor?” This caused Y/n to look at him instantly in shock, meeting the gaze of a grinning god beneath his helmet.

“Mentor?” 

“Y/n of Ithaca. You fight to protect. You fight to the last stand. That is a warrior’s blood. Like your father before you, you have the makings of a legend.” Ares held out his hand like he was shaking for a deal. “Become my champion, and I will help you become stronger than any opponent you shall face.” 

Y/n thought it over for less than a few seconds before grabbing the gods hand in her own and shaking them up and down. 

“Deal.”

[pureomi]

˚୨୧⋆｡🪼˚ house of cards - michael kaiser

includes: michael kaiser x fem! reader. 1k wc.

themes - SUGGESTIVE! forced arranged marriage trope. drabble takes place right before their official engagement. mentions of glass shards (literally in the first sentence). toxic dynamics, family influence, power control, manipulation (its kaiser lmao).

the harsh sound of glass shattering tears through the air and echoes within the trapped walls of your bedroom. your hands tremble, hanging at your sides from the force of the throw, as you watch the vase—an intricate, one-of-a-kind piece adorned with red roses—hit the floor and crumble into a thousand jagged pieces. the once full-bloomed flowers now appear as a bunch of individual thorns and petals.

it had been a handcrafted, impossibly expensive gift chosen by michael kaiser himself to impress your family. a showpiece, much like tonight’s engagement party, and you had chucked it across the room without hesitation—at him.

kaiser stands between you and the wreckage, his presence suffocating yet intoxicatingly magnetic. he doesn’t move, doesn’t flinch. he just watches. he doesn’t seem shocked—he never is—but the faint curl of his lip betrays something darker, a flicker of amusement that makes your chest tighten.

“did that help you calm down?”

kaiser’s voice is smooth, unbothered, almost entertained. his eyes flick lazily over the shards of sugar-like fibers before returning to you, unreadable. then, with a slight tilt of his head, he adds, “or are you expecting me to do something about that attitude?”

your fists clench. heat rushes through you and reaches all the way to your ears, pulsing with fury. “how dare you come in here?”

he scoffs, mocking, as he takes his steps forward till he is at arm’s distance. yet when he speaks again, his voice is sickeningly sweet, a carefully crafted melody dripping with false warmth. “how dare i come greet my soon to be fiancé?” he pauses, as if savoring the title, his lips curving into something that isn’t quite a smile. “is that your question?”

your teeth clench, not just from the words but from the way he moves nearer, his presence shifting the air between you. the crunch of glass under his dress shoes; it’s as though he's crossing an invisible line, one you never agreed to. he knows no limits to pursuing his power.

he’s already too close, too steady, and you hate how your body reacts before your mind can catch up. goosebumps trail your arms, but not from fear.

as a reminder of your defiance, your gaze transitions to the shattered vase on the floor—the one your father had beamed over, proud as kaiser handed it to you at dinner. he’d called it a symbol of unity, expecting you to take his hand in marriage, to let him press a lingering kiss against your knuckles as though it meant something more than just a gesture. and when you did, the way kaiser’s eyes had darkened, that slow, satisfied smirk spreading across his lips—he knew. just from that, he knew how far you were willing to go to appease the family you claimed to despise. thinking about it now, your chest tightens, the memory of it burning through you.

“you’re shameless,” you seethe, willing the tremor in your voice to disappear. “haven’t we pretended enough?”

his eyes glint with something unreadable as he leans down to your height, just enough that his breath grazes your cheek. his hand then shoots out, placing itself on the surface of a table behind you, effectively cornering you. you hate the way your body betrays you, the way your skin tingles in anticipation despite the disgust twisting in your gut. he hasn’t even touched you yet, but the weight of his presence alone makes you tense, makes your fingers curl at your sides.

“so what?” his voice drops lower, teasing, taunting. “did you finally decide to put this to a stop?”

the question lingers, thick in the space between you. his free hand lifts slowly before his fingertips graze your cheek, featherlight, tracing along your skin as if testing a boundary he already knows you’ll break.

“how impressive,” he mocks.

your breath catches, but you don’t move away. you should. you should shove him, slap his hand away, spit venom at him. but instead, you freeze, your eyes fluttering for the briefest second as your body betrays you again. the warmth of his fingers, the deliberate slowness of his touch—it ignites a part inside you that nobody else can.

waiting for your mind to catch up, you manage to utter, to ‘firmly’ declare—“i don’t care, i’m not going.”

you lift a hand to swat him away. but before you can, he moves faster. his fingers tighten around your jaw in a firm, unyielding grip, tilting your chin up as he forces you to meet his gaze. his grip isn't harsh enough to hurt—yet—but it’s commanding. it’s possessive.

your lips part involuntarily as your breathing stutters. his eyes that glare at you, dark and sharp, finally reveal something other than amusement. the crack of his patience. the loss of his composure.

“i don’t give a shit what my joke of a father wants,” he murmurs, his tone now edged with something harsher, something real. his fingers press into the soft skin of your cheeks, forcing your lips together to a mewl as he inches closer. “but you do, don’t you?”

the words drip like a taunt, threading through the tension-laced air. you hate that he’s right. hate that he can see through you so effortlessly.

“i’m doing you a favour.”

his grip loosens just as his hand begins its slow descent, trailing down the side of your face, over your throat, until his fingertips graze your collarbone. the warmth of his touch spreads over your skin, leaving fire in its wake, and you despise how you lean into it.

his long fingers hook onto the thin strap of your lace camisole, dragging it off your shoulder at an agonizing pace. the cool air against your newly exposed skin sends a shiver down your spine. you swallow hard, refusing to look at him, refusing to acknowledge the heat pooling low in your stomach.

then, he leans in. his lips brush against your bare shoulder first, barely there, ghosting over your skin like a whisper. they move slowly, unhurried, dragging up the delicate curve of your neck. his cold nose follows close behind, brushing against your skin in contrast to the warmth of his lips, making you quiver as the chill of his touch lingers.

when he reaches your ear, his breath is warm and teasing, almost making you work to hear what he has to say because you can barely focus.

“the least you can do,” he murmurs, voice silk-soft against your skin but tainted with command, “is be a good girl…and get dressed without wasting more time.”

without any more words, kaiser releases his grip, straightening himself to his full height. he turns and begins to walk towards the door. the crunch of shattered glass underfoot is the only sound that brings you back to reality, as though he’s walking away from something broken, something already forgotten.

but you do as he says. you listen.

because he’s doing you a favour, after all.

a/n: ngl this is not proofread oops. me and nishi keep talking about how this man cannot be fixed and yet here we are...one toxic kaiser drabble after another... :D

[macbethsymphony]

Bb!!!!! Ok! Hear me out!!!!! Bartolomeo fucking you like a whore then later learns you’re a strawhat!!!!!! 

-M✨

MILLIE!!!!! YOU KNOW I’M FUCKING UNHINGED ABOUT THIS MAN!!!! Ok but like YES!!!! Hear me out for a sec.

It’s purely transactional, you’re looking to get fucked and so is he.

He’s all teeth and tongue as he slams you to the door of the dingy hotel room you’re staying at. He so fucking big and the way his fingers tangle roughly in your hair, guiding your head however he wants as his tongue dominates yours is downright dizzying.

When he pulls away, it’s with that shit eating grin and you’re breathless and your knees feel weak. He harshly pulls your head back and you’d struggle a bit out of principle if only you weren’t already struggling to keep yourself upright already. His other hand travels to your jaw and his fingers dig in painfully, forcing it open.

“You like that, huh?” His eyes search yours, looking for confirmation. His smirk widens as sees it, the raw desire, the want in your gaze. He spits in your mouth, his hand moving from your jaw to your mouth, bitter pads of his fingers mixing his spit and yours, dangerously close to your throat.

“Just like a fucking whore,” he chuckles, fingers so far he’s making you gag. And you can feel yourself dripping at the degradation, at the satisfaction in his gaze.

He unceremoniously chucks you on the bed. Doesn’t even bother pulling down your underwear, just pulls your skirt up and slides the drenched fabric to the side before his tongue meets your heat without warning. Goes right down to business. The metal of his tongue piercing against your clit makes you see stars and he brings you so near the edge. He’s uncaring in the force of his fingers digging in your flesh, inevitably leaving bruises behind.

He stops as you feel yourself teetering, almost there. And as you open your mouth to protest, he sneers down at you and harshly pulls your panties off, stuffing them in your mouth. The taste of your arousal strong on your tongue.

Before you can react he flips you over, trapping your thighs between his. You try to scramble up but you feel his grip in your hair as he pushes you back down. The sound of of him undoing his belt is loud in the silence of the room.

He slides in easily, his teeth sinking in your shoulder. One of his hands finds your clit, balancing the fine line between pain and pleasure as he draws out blood.

When Bartolomeo finally starts fucking you, he fucks you rough. The hand he has in you hair pushes your face ruthlessly into the musty sheets of the motel as he pounds mercilessly into you. The squelching sound is obscene and the bed creaks and slams loudly against the wall with each of his thrusts.

Your drool seeps past the thin fabric of your ruined underwear mixing with tears and snot into the rough weave of the covers and your fingers claw desperately, catching into snapping threads. Your muffled moans are desperate, stuck at the back of your throat, coming out closer to sobs as you struggle for breath. Each time his teeth sinks into your flesh a sharp cry escapes you and his attention to your clit intensifies.

You’d already been so close just with his tongue and between the ecstasy of his fingers and the ruthlessness of his cock, he brings you over the edge repeatedly, your cunt twitching around him.

When he’s over with you, his seed hot against your back and your thighs, he simply slaps your ass one last time and leaves without uttering a word.

So when Bartolomeo sees you in that house on top of the hill, chatting and laughing along with your crew, bite marks and bruises still fresh on your skin, he can’t fucking believe it. And when his beloved Luffy-senpai introduces you as a member of the crew he can feel the blood draining from his face and he can’t help but reconsider his decisions of the past night.

FUCK I really should make this a full fic… adds it to the WIP list

[hidden-behind-the-fourth-wall]

Chains of Destiny - Eva (Ch.1)

Summary: X-men including Logan, are being sent to retrieve a young mutant woman from a experiment facility. However, not everything goes as planned.

Content Warning: mean Logan, like he's actually a jerk here. Hurt, pain, angst (hell a lot of it), mentions of torture, experiments, violence, mentiones of suicide/wanting to die,

Author's note: So I actually planned on this series for a while. Not gonna lie Deadpool and Wolverine gave me a bit of a push to finally publish this series. Keep in mind that this does not take place during Deadpool 3 timeline. This series will have lots of angst so brace yourselves and I really hope you will all love it the same way I love writing it ❤️

Word count: 8 326

The room was quiet, save for the faint hum of technology from the giant monitor hanging on the wall. Around the long, metallic table sat the core members of the X-Men—Scott Summers, Ororo Munroe, Jean Grey, Hank McCoy, and Logan, who sat at the far end, his arms crossed over his chest, eyes narrowed as he stared at the screen.

Charles Xavier sat at the head of the table, his hands folded in front of him. The image on the screen showed a grainy surveillance feed from the inside of the lab they were about to raid. It was dark, but even through the low-quality footage, they could see her—Eva. Curled up in a glass cell, arms wrapped around her knees, staring blankly ahead. Her small frame seemed fragile, but the readings from Cerebro painted a different picture entirely.

“She’s been in there for years,” Charles began, his voice calm and measured. “A captive, used as an experiment by a faction of scientists attempting to create new, enhanced mutants.”

Jean’s brow furrowed, her eyes full of concern. “They’ve been adding mutations to her, manipulating her DNA. That’s… unethical doesn’t even begin to describe it. How has she survived this long?”

“Barely,” Charles answered softly. “She’s had to endure unimaginable pain. Not just from the mutations, but from the emotional and psychological torment. One of her powers allows her to absorb the pain and injuries of others, healing them at her own expense. But it’s more than that. It’s not just physical. She absorbs their emotional damage too. She’s a living conduit for others’ suffering.”

Ororo closed her eyes for a moment, her voice thick with empathy. “No one should have to endure that. We have to help her.”

Scott nodded. “She’s a mutant, and she’s in danger. That makes it our responsibility to get her out of there.” 

Logan leaned forward in his chair, his face twisting into a scowl. “Hold on a second.” His voice was rough, laced with irritation. “You’ve read her file, Chuck. You know what she’s capable of. That kind of power? You really think it’s a good idea to bring her here? She’s a damn walking nuke. You touch her, and she’s in your head, messing with your emotions, maybe worse. That’s if she doesn’t blast you halfway across the room with her force repulsion or whatever the hell it is.”

Jean glanced at Logan, her brow creasing with concern. “She’s been through hell, Logan. She didn’t ask for any of this.”

“I get that,” Logan shot back, his voice sharp, “but it doesn’t change the fact that she’s dangerous. You saw what happened in the last raid when we tried to bring in that mutant with the volatile powers. He almost brought the whole damn building down.”

“Eva isn’t a threat by choice,” Charles interjected, his tone steady, though there was a quiet firmness to it. “She’s been conditioned, pushed to her limits. The trauma she’s endured has caused her to lose control. But she is not beyond saving.”

Logan leaned back in his chair, a growl rumbling low in his throat. “That’s the thing, though, ain’t it? Control. She’s got none. We storm that lab, and she could go off on us just like that,” he snapped his fingers, “and you know it. You’re askin’ us to walk into a situation where we don’t know if we’ll be able to handle her if she flips out.”

“Her powers make her volatile, yes,” Hank spoke up, his deep, thoughtful voice cutting through the tension. “But we’ve faced dangerous powers before. If we don’t act, she will continue to suffer. And from the looks of this lab, it’s only a matter of time before they push her to the breaking point. We have to try.”

“Try?” Logan scoffed. “What if trying gets us killed? Or worse—what if she turns into something none of us can handle?” 

Scott, who had been quiet until now, leaned forward, his gaze locking onto Logan. “We know the risks. But that doesn’t change our mission. We don’t abandon our own, especially not someone who’s been tortured like this.”

“Yeah, well, maybe this time we should think about it,” Logan muttered, his eyes narrowing. “She’s not one of us. Not yet. We don’t even know who she is.” 

“Logan.” Jean’s voice was soft but firm, a note of understanding in it. “You know better than anyone what it’s like to be taken and turned into something against your will.” 

Her words hung in the air like a weight, and for a moment, Logan’s scowl deepened. His hands clenched into fists, his claws threatening to extend. He hated being reminded of what had been done to him—of the experiments, the torture, the mind games that had turned him into a weapon. He’d spent years fighting to control the rage, to stop himself from becoming the monster they tried to make him. 

But this girl… she was different. She wasn’t like him. She wasn’t hardened by battle, wasn’t tempered by a lifetime of violence. She was a raw nerve, and in Logan’s mind, that made her more dangerous than any enemy they’d faced.

“She’s not ready for this world,” Logan said, his voice lower now, but no less intense. “She’s not ready for what happens if she loses it. And we sure as hell ain’t ready for her.” 

Charles met Logan’s gaze evenly, unflinching. “I understand your hesitation, Logan. Truly. But this girl needs us. She’s been used and discarded, treated as nothing more than an experiment. If we don’t intervene, she’ll die in that lab. And if we leave her there, she may very well become the very thing you fear—a weapon. But if we bring her here, if we can reach her, she has a chance at something more. A chance to be more than what they’ve tried to make her.”

Logan grunted, looking away. He could feel the weight of the room’s eyes on him, but it didn’t change the knot of unease twisting in his gut. He didn’t trust this situation. Something about it felt wrong, and his instincts were screaming at him to walk away.

But the problem was, he couldn’t. No matter how much he wanted to turn his back, he couldn’t ignore the part of him that remembered what it was like to be the one trapped, the one without control.

Finally, after a long pause, Logan let out a rough sigh. “Fine. We go in, we get her out. But don’t expect me to play nice if she goes feral.”

Charles nodded, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Thank you, Logan. We’ll do everything we can to make sure it doesn’t come to that.”

Logan stood up from his chair, cracking his neck as he moved toward the door. “Yeah, well, let’s just hope I don’t end up regrettin’ this.”

As Logan stalked out of the room, Ororo exchanged a glance with Scott, who sighed softly. “He’ll come around,” Scott said, though there was an edge of uncertainty in his voice.

“He always does,” Jean murmured, watching the door where Logan had disappeared. “Eventually.”

Charles sat back in his chair, his gaze drifting to the image of Eva on the screen once again. Her small, frail figure was a stark contrast to the power that resided within her.

“She will need time,” he said softly, more to himself than anyone else. “But I believe in her potential. She is more than what they’ve tried to make her.”

And with that, the plan was set. They were going to get Eva out of that lab. Whether or not she could ever be truly free from what had been done to her, though, was another question entirely.

*** 

They needed to act quickly. No one was here for now, but they didn’t when they would be back.

The sharp scent of antiseptic and cold metal filled the underground lab, the walls lined with sterile, reflective surfaces that amplified the clinical horror of the place. Logan led the way. His claws twitched within his knuckles, ready to spring at any moment. Behind him, Storm, Jean and Cyclops moved in silence, their eyes scanning the corridor for any threats. They had heard rumors of this lab—where scientists experimented on mutants—but nothing had prepared them for the twisted reality.

Then Logan's senses sharpened.

"She's close," he growled, his voice barely a whisper, yet thick with urgency.

The lab was dimly lit, sterile, and cold. The sharp scent of chemicals hung in the air, mixed with something darker—something that stank of pain and fear. The X-Men moved quietly, their boots silent against the sleek metal floors. 

“Chuck better be damn sure about this one,” he muttered under his breath, his fists clenched tight. “I ain’t buyin’ this ‘save the girl’ crap.”

Jean turned her head slightly, giving Logan a sharp look. “You know she didn’t choose this, Logan. She’s a victim.”

“Yeah? You tellin’ me she’s not dangerous?” Logan’s voice was a low growl, tinged with irritation. “Because I’ve seen plenty of ‘victims’ go off and take half a town with ‘em.”

“She’s a kid,” Storm cut in, her voice firm but calm. “She’s been tortured. She needs help.”

Logan rolled his eyes, his claws itching to come out. This whole mission felt wrong to him. Saving people? Fine. But saving a mutant who could, at any second, go berserk and tear them all apart? Not so fine.

“You’re all thinkin’ with your hearts,” he muttered, his tone harsh. “And that’s a good way to get us all killed. Just sayin’.”

Cyclops shot him a look, his jaw tightening. “We’re here to help her, Logan. If you can’t handle that, maybe you should’ve stayed at the mansion.”

Logan sneered, his lip curling. “Maybe I shoulda.”

But he didn’t. Despite every instinct telling him to turn around and walk away, he came along. Part of him didn’t know why. Maybe it was the way Charles had looked at him, that quiet conviction in his voice when he said, “She needs us, Logan.”

Logan had heard those words before. He’d been the one who needed saving once. And yeah, he’d been dangerous too. But it didn’t mean he had to like this mission—or trust this girl.

They rounded a corner and found a room that reeked of fear. Through a cracked glass wall, Logan saw her—huddled in the corner, shackled to a metal chair. Her appearance was fragile, like a broken bird too wounded to fly. Tangled hair fell over her face, and her body seemed emaciated, but the air around her pulsed with something dangerous. 

Logan’s stomach tightened as he looked at her. She was small, fragile-looking, her eyes hollow, like she hadn’t seen anything good in a long time. But that wasn’t what set him on edge. No, it was the raw power he could feel rolling off her in waves, even though the thick glass. She was a bomb. One wrong move, and she’d go off.

“Let’s get her out of there,” Cyclops said, moving toward the controls.

Logan bristled, stepping forward. “Wait. What’s the plan here, huh? We just let her loose, hope she’s all sunshine and rainbows?”

 “Logan,” Jean said, her voice steady, “we can calm her down. She’s scared. She’s not going to hurt us.”

“Yeah? Tell that to the last guy who thought he had a handle on a mutant with no control.” Logan’s voice was hard, his eyes narrowed. “That guy ended up in pieces.”

Cyclops sighed, clearly losing patience. “Logan, we didn’t come here to debate this. We came here to get her out. Stand aside.”

Logan didn’t move, his eyes locked on the girl. Something in his gut twisted, but he shoved it aside. “Fine,” he muttered. “But when this goes sideways, don’t say I didn’t warn ya.”

The glass door slid open with a low hiss, and for a moment, nothing happened. Eva didn’t move, didn’t even look up. She was still, like an animal caught in a trap, waiting for something worse to happen.

Jean stepped forward, her voice gentle. “Eva? We’re here to help you. It’s okay. You’re safe now.”

Logan snorted under his breath. Safe. Yeah, right.

Storm moved forward. "We’re here to help," she said gently, trying to project calm through her voice. Her hand moved to the console, disengaging the restraints that held the girl. The moment the locks clicked open, the girl lifted her head.

At first, Eva didn’t respond. But then her eyes flicked up, and Logan saw it—the fear, the confusion. And beneath it, a barely contained surge of raw, unchecked power..

Before anyone could say a word, Eva’s body tensed, and Logan’s instincts screamed at him. Something snapped inside her, a ripple of energy that exploded outward.

“Shit!” Logan barely had time to react before the force hit him, slamming into his chest like a freight train and sending him flying back into the wall with a grunt. The others were thrown back as well, but Jean managed to hold up a telekinetic shield just in time to soften the blow.

Logan hit the ground hard, the breath knocked out of him. His head spun as he pushed himself up, his vision blurry for a moment. “Goddamn it,” he snarled.

Cyclops struggled to his feet, his visor sparking. “Jean, calm her down, now!”

“I’m trying!” Jean said, her voice strained as she reached out mentally, but Eva’s panic was overwhelming. The raw emotions she absorbed from the team—fear, frustration, Logan’s anger—were feeding her powers, making them spiral out of control.

Logan gritted his teeth, claws snapping out instinctively. His healing factor allowed him to push through the pain, but it didn’t stop the girl’s attack. The forcefield around her shimmered, pulsating with her terror. She backed into a corner, eyes wide with an animalistic rage, and her breathing was ragged, panicked.

Logan got back on his feet, his body aching from the impact, but he was pissed now. “This is what I’m talkin’ about!” he growled, stalking forward, his claws gleaming. “You can’t control her!” 

Eva’s eyes darted wildly, her chest heaving as waves of energy pulsed off her, distorting the air around her. Her hands trembled, her face twisted in terror. She was completely out of control, her powers lashing out blindly.

"Stay back!" she screamed. "I don’t—don’t come near me!"

Logan pushed himself up, panting. "We’re not here to hurt ya, kid," he said, voice gruff but calmer than before, trying to anchor her in the chaos of her mind. But her eyes had already glazed over—she was lost to the overwhelming storm inside her.

“Eva!” Jean called, her voice soothing but desperate. “Please, you need to stop!” 

But it was no use. Eva couldn’t hear her over the roar of her own panic. 

Logan moved in, fast and low, dodging another pulse of energy that nearly sent him sprawling. His patience was shot, his temper flaring hot. He’d warned them. He’d told them this was a bad idea. And now this girl was about to bring the whole lab down on top of them. 

“Enough of this!” Logan snarled, charging at her with his claws raised. 

Eva’s eyes snapped to him, her panic morphing into raw fear, and without thinking, she thrust her hands out. A blast of energy hit Logan square in the chest, sending him flying back again, slamming into a steel pillar with a bone-rattling crash.

“Dammit!” Logan spat, coughing as he got back to his feet, his ribs screaming in protest. His vision blurred for a second, rage bubbling inside him. “I told you!” he shouted at Cyclops, who was trying to keep his balance. “I told you this was a bad idea!”

Eva staggered back, her body trembling violently. She looked at Logan with wide, terrified eyes, realizing what she’d done. She hadn’t meant to. She didn’t want to hurt him. But the damage was done.

Logan’s gaze locked on hers, filled with fury and mistrust. “You’re gonna kill us all, kid,” he growled, his voice rough, dripping with venom.

“Logan, stop!” Jean shouted, stepping between them. “You’re making it worse!”

“Worse? You think it can get worse than this?” Logan barked, his eyes blazing with anger. “She’s a loose cannon, and you’re all actin’ like she’s some poor helpless kid. She’s not! She’s a damn weapon!” 

Eva’s breath hitched, her vision blurring as tears welled up in her eyes. She wasn’t a weapon. She wasn’t a monster. But that’s all they saw, wasn’t it? That’s all she’d ever be to anyone. 

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “I didn’t mean to—” 

“Yeah?” Logan’s voice was sharp, cutting into her like a knife. “Well, you did.” 

Before Eva could respond, Storm stepped forward, her voice calm but commanding. “Logan, enough.” 

Logan’s scowl deepened, but he backed off, his claws retracting with a sharp snikt. He shot an angry glare at Eva, his eyes filled with mistrust. “If you can’t control yourself, you don’t belong out here.” 

Eva’s heart clenched, her body trembling as she took a step back. The pain in Logan’s words cut deeper than any wound. She didn’t want to be this way. She didn’t want to hurt anyone. But all she ever seemed to do was cause more pain.

A tidal wave of agony and fear threatened to consume her. Haunting recollections of torment, of relentless experimentation, surged through the maze of her mind. The harsh utterances of the man had become a ceaseless refrain since her arrival here. She was reduced to nothing more than an implement of warfare, forged for the benefit of others. Her emotions, her own inner turmoil, were inconsequential. She was bereft of care or compassion. 

Tears welled up in her eyes, a dam of pent-up emotion threatening to break. The potency of his words was such that it cleaved her to the quick, opening fresh wounds and exposing deeply buried insecurities in her already scarred heart. He needed to grasp the truth, he needed to comprehend the reality of her existence: she was no monster.  

Her presence here was not a matter of choice, but rather of necessity.

Without warning, she lunged at him. Her hand made contact with his arm, and suddenly, a flood of raw emotions poured into him. Fear. Pain. Desperation. The weight of all the suffering she had endured hit Logan like a punch to the gut. His mind reeled as her powers synced with his, letting him feel what she felt.  

The room distorted around him—her memories blurring into his thoughts. Logan saw flashes: needles piercing her skin, the cold, merciless faces of scientists, the endless nights spent in isolation. Every ounce of agony and torture she’d endured slammed into him, nearly buckling his knees. 

"Get out of my head!" Logan snarled, shaking her off. But it was too late—her power had taken hold, binding their emotions together like a knot. 

"Logan!" Cyclops shouted, firing a quick burst from his optic blast. The force knocked her back, but only momentarily. The girl screamed again, and this time her forcefield flared with blinding intensity, hurling them all across the room. 

Storm shot into the air, lightning crackling around her as she tried to contain the energy swirling around the girl. "We have to neutralize her, Logan—she can’t control it!" 

"I know!" he barked, struggling to regain his balance as another pulse of energy sent a chair crashing into the wall. His claws slid back into place. He could see it in the girl’s eyes—she wasn’t attacking them out of malice. It was terror. Pure, unbridled terror. But it didn’t matter. Right now, she was a threat. 

Logan moved toward her again, determined this time. "Listen, kid," he growled, "I know what they did to you. But we’re not them. You’ve gotta stop—" 

She didn’t. Her hand shot up, and suddenly Logan was on the floor, his ribs burning as her force slammed him again. But this time, before she could do more damage, a blinding streak of light shot through the air. Cyclops’ blast hit her square in the chest, knocking her unconscious. Her body crumpled, and the forcefield flickered out. 

The room fell silent. 

Logan dragged himself to his feet, clutching his side. "Dammit," he muttered under his breath, shaking the lingering disorientation from his head. 

Storm knelt beside the unconscious girl, her expression a mix of sympathy and concern. "She's just a kid, Logan," she whispered.

"Doesn't change what she can do," he replied, his voice low and dangerous.

Cyclops approached cautiously, his visor still glowing faintly. "We need to get her back to the mansion. Charles might be able to help her... stabilize."

Logan glanced at the girl’s fragile form, her face calm in sleep but haunted by the shadows of what she had been through. Something in him twisted. She was broken, just like him—but there was something more dangerous about her. Something darker.  

"Maybe," Logan grunted. But his eyes lingered on her longer than he intended. He couldn’t shake the feeling that no matter how much they tried to help her, she was a ticking time bomb. And no one—not Charles, not the X-Men, not even himself—would be able to stop her if she went off again. 

Cyclops looked at Logan, as though sensing his unease. "You think we’re making a mistake?"

Logan snorted. "I don’t trust her." His gaze remained hard, unyielding. "And I don’t think she trusts us either." 

They gathered the girl carefully, carrying her out of the lab. But as they left the cold steel behind, Logan couldn’t shake the nagging suspicion in his gut. Something about her still clawed at his instincts. 

And Logan always trusted his instincts.

***

The X-Men team arrived back at the school in the early hours of the morning. The sky was still dark, the stars barely visible against the approaching dawn. The mansion loomed ahead, its windows softly illuminated by the interior lights.

Eva, awake already and restrained by the power-dampening cuffs, was guided through the front entrance. Her eyes were downcast, her steps slow and hesitant. She hasn’t talked much on their way back and no one was really in a talkative mood either. The only interaction Eva had was with Logan’s constant stare. 

The team moved with purpose but with an underlying tension. Logan walked alongside her, his jaw set and his eyes wary. 

As they reached the foyer, Charles Xavier awaited them in his wheelchair, his expression a mix of concern and resolve. He had been up all night, preparing for this moment. He wheeled forward to meet them, his gaze settling on Eva with a gentle, reassuring look.

“Welcome back,” Charles said softly, his voice warm. “I’m glad to see you’re all safe.” 

Logan, his eyes still fixed on Eva, grunted. “We got her here, but I’m telling you, this one’s a liability. Her powers are way out of control.” 

Charles nodded, his eyes never leaving Eva. “I understand your concerns, Logan. Eva, we’ll be taking you to the hospital wing for now. It’s important that we manage your powers and ensure everyone’s safety while we figure things out.”

Eva met Charles’s gaze briefly, her fear evident, but his kind eyes offered a small measure of comfort. She followed him and the team down the hall, her movements slow and cautious. 

As they approached the hospital wing, Charles turned to Logan, his expression thoughtful. “Logan, I know you’re worried. Her abilities are indeed formidable, and it’s natural to be concerned.” 

Logan’s brows furrowed, his frustration palpable. “Formidable? The girl almost killed me. She’s a risk, Charles. We don’t know what she’s capable of if she loses control again.” 

Charles placed a calming hand on Logan’s arm. “I understand. But she’s also a person who’s been through unimaginable suffering. We need to balance our caution with compassion. She’s scared and alone, and that’s why we need to approach this with care.” 

Logan shrugged off Charles’s hand, his gaze still dark. “Careful or not, we’re walking a tightrope here. One slip and we could all be in trouble.” 

Charles’s tone was firm yet soothing. “Yes, we are walking a tightrope. But remember, we have the means to help her, and we must give her a chance to prove that she can find control. We’ve faced dangers before, and we’ve come through. We will handle this situation with the same resolve.” 

Logan sighed heavily, his eyes narrowing. “Just keep her in check. I don’t want anyone getting hurt.” 

“I will,” Charles said softly. “And we’ll do everything we can to ensure that doesn’t happen. But we also need to give Eva a chance to find her place here, just as we all had our own moments of struggle.” 

Logan’s gaze flickered to Eva, who was now being gently guided into the hospital wing by the staff. He didn’t say anything more, but the hardness in his eyes softened slightly.

Charles watched Eva as she was led to a bed, his concern evident. He turned back to Logan, a small, hopeful smile on his face. “Thank you for your vigilance, Logan. It’s what makes you a valuable member of this team. And it’s what will help us find the best path forward for Eva.” 

Logan nodded curtly, his expression still tense. “Yeah, well, let’s hope you’re right.” 

Charles watched him leave with a thoughtful look. He knew that Logan’s fears were not unfounded, but he also believed in the power of empathy and understanding. For now, his focus was on Eva, ensuring that she felt safe and supported as she began this new chapter in her life. 

As the door to the hospital wing closed behind him, Charles took a deep breath, preparing to meet the challenges ahead with the same determination and compassion he hoped to instill in everyone around him.

***

Logan stood at the threshold of the med bay, his silhouette casting a long shadow on the floor. The hum of machines monitoring Eva’s vitals filled the quiet, sterile air. She lay in one of the beds, hooked up to a dozen wires, her frail body looking even smaller against the white sheets. Her chest rose and fell in shallow, uneven breaths, her face pale and sunken, with dark circles under her eyes. She looked fragile—broken, even—but Logan knew better than to trust appearances.

He clenched his fists at his sides, his knuckles white, his nails biting into his palms. Anger simmered just beneath the surface, bubbling up through his veins like molten steel, but it wasn’t the familiar kind of anger. It wasn’t the kind that came from a fight or from someone he hated. It was… different, raw and twisted, like a splinter lodged deep in his gut that he couldn’t pull out. 

Logan took a step forward, his boots heavy against the cold floor. His eyes never left the girl, even though something inside him told him to turn away, to leave. But he couldn’t. He had to face it—face her. 

“Why the hell am I still here?” he muttered under his breath, though the words tasted bitter in his mouth. He didn’t know why, but something kept pulling him back. Maybe it was that look in her eyes when she’d blasted him across the lab, that raw fear and regret that hit him like a punch to the gut. She hadn’t meant to hurt him—not really. But that didn’t change what she could do. 

*She’s dangerous,* Logan thought, his teeth grinding together. *Too dangerous.* 

The med bay door slid open with a soft hiss behind him, and Jean stepped in quietly. She glanced at Logan, her expression unreadable, then back to Eva. 

“She’s stabilized.” Jean said softly, her voice careful, as if she knew how close Logan was to snapping. “Her body’s been through a lot, but she’ll recover. Physically, at least.”

“Physically, huh?” Logan’s voice was low, a harsh rasp that betrayed the turmoil inside him. “That’s what you’re worried about?”

Jean sighed, stepping closer to him, her gaze flicking between him and the girl. “I know you’re angry, Logan.”

“Angry?!” He barked out a bitter laugh. “Hell, Jean, I’m beyond that.” His eyes locked onto Eva, who lay still and silent, oblivious to the storm brewing inside him. “She almost tore me apart. If I didn’t have my healin’, I’d be lyin’ in pieces right now. And it ain’t just me. She’s got enough power in her to wipe out this whole school if she loses it again.” 

Jean’s voice softened, but there was a firmness underneath it. “She didn’t mean to hurt you, Logan. She was scared. She still is.”

“I don’t care what she meant to do,” Logan growled, taking a step closer to Eva’s bed, his fists clenched. “What matters is what she can do. She’s outta control, Jean. And you’re tellin’ me you’re okay with keepin’ her here? Around the kids? You really want to risk that?” 

Jean didn’t respond right away, her eyes lingering on Eva’s small, fragile form. “She’s still young, Logan. A young girl who’s been tortured, experimented on. She didn’t ask for any of this.” 

“And what happens when she can’t keep it together?” Logan shot back, his voice harsh, laced with anger. “What happens when she lashes out again? You think the kids are safe with her around?” 

Jean’s silence stretched between them, heavy and uncomfortable. Finally, she turned to face him fully, her voice gentle but firm. “Logan, I know you’re worried. We all are. But we can’t just give up on her.” 

Logan’s face twisted, his jaw tight, his eyes burning with an intensity that made even Jean flinch slightly. “Maybe we should,” he muttered, his voice low, dangerous. 

The words felt like poison on his tongue, but part of him believed them. He didn’t want to hate her—hell, he didn’t even know why he did—but he couldn’t shake the feeling that keeping her here was a mistake. A big one. It wasn’t just about what she’d done to him in that lab, or even what she was capable of. It was the feeling that clung to his skin like sweat whenever he looked at her—the feeling that she was a walking disaster waiting to happen. 

“Look, I get it, Jean,” he said, his voice a little quieter now, though still rough. “She’s a victim. But you can’t tell me that doesn’t make her more dangerous, not less. All that power, all that hurt… It’s a bad mix. She’s too damn powerful, and she’s got no control over it.” 

Jean opened her mouth to respond, but Logan cut her off. “You don’t get it,” he snapped, his eyes narrowing. “I can feel it. She’s unstable. You saw what she did without even tryin’. That’s the problem, Jean. She ain’t tryin’, and she still almost killed me. You really think it’ll be any different next time?” 

Jean’s eyes softened, but Logan could see the conflict in them. “She’s not beyond help. Charles thinks—” 

“Charles is a damn optimist,” Logan spat, shaking his head. “And maybe he’s wrong this time.” 

The room fell silent after that, the tension between them thick enough to cut with a knife. Jean didn’t argue, but she didn’t agree either. She just stood there, her hands folded in front of her, looking at Logan like she was waiting for something—waiting for him to let go of the anger that twisted his face into something hard and unrecognizable. 

But he couldn’t. 

Logan’s eyes drifted back to Eva, lying there so still, so helpless. His gut twisted again, that strange mix of guilt and fury gnawing at him. He hated her. He hated the situation. And he hated himself for feeling this way. But every time he tried to shake it, tried to tell himself she was just another lost kid who needed help, all he could see was the blast of power that had sent him flying, the fear and confusion in her eyes as she lost control. 

*Too dangerous,* he thought again, clenching his fists.��

His mind raced. He couldn’t figure out why his anger was so fierce, why his hatred for this girl seemed so personal. Maybe it was because he’d been there—maybe not the same way, but close enough. Maybe it was because her powers were so raw, so unchecked, like his claws before he learned how to control them. Or maybe it was because he saw a reflection of himself in her—what he could have been, what he was still afraid he could become. 

Whatever the reason, it didn’t change how he felt. He didn’t trust her. He didn’t trust that she wouldn’t hurt someone again, someone who wasn’t as tough to bounce back as he was. 

“She’s too powerful,” he muttered, more to himself than to Jean. “She doesn’t belong here.” 

Jean took a step closer, her hand resting gently on his arm. “She’s scared, Logan. Just like you were once.” 

He jerked his arm away, glaring at her. “Don’t. Don’t make this about me. This is about her. She’s dangerous, and you know it.” 

Jean didn’t flinch, though her voice softened. “And so were you, Logan. But we didn’t give up on you. And I won’t give up on her.” 

Logan let out a rough sigh, turning away from her, his eyes fixed on the door now. He couldn’t stand being in that room any longer. Not with her lying there, not with all the anger boiling up inside him. His heart felt too heavy, weighed down by everything he didn’t want to feel. 

“I’m tellin’ you, Jean,” he muttered as he moved toward the door, his voice hard again, “you’re makin’ a mistake. And when it all goes wrong, don’t say I didn’t warn ya.”

With that, he stormed out of the med bay, the door hissing shut behind him. But the knot of anger and guilt stayed with him, gnawing at his insides, refusing to let him go.

 ***

Eva's eyelids fluttered open to the soft hum of medical machinery and the muted light of early morning filtering through the blinds. The room was quiet, save for the rhythmic beeping of a heart monitor and the occasional shuffle of footsteps outside. She blinked groggily, her mind struggling to piece together the events of the previous day.

The room was sterile and clinical, a stark contrast to the cold, harsh lab she’d known. Her wrists felt heavy, the power-dampening cuffs still securely fastened. As she shifted slightly, the soft rustle of the hospital bed linens reminded her of her vulnerable state. She winced, feeling the dull ache of yesterday’s emotional and physical turmoil.

She glanced around, trying to take in her surroundings. The walls were painted a soothing blue, and a small window offered a view of the gardens outside. It was a serene setting, but Eva felt anything but calm. The memories of her violent outburst and the fear in Logan's eyes replayed in her mind like a relentless loop.

Her breath quickened, and the panic spread. She tugged at the restraints, jerking her arms violently as she tried to free herself, but it was useless. The cuffs held firm, and with each tug, the fear inside her grew. Tears welled in her eyes as she remembered what had almost happened—what she’d nearly done. 

"I could’ve killed them. I almost killed them." 

Her stomach twisted, and bile rose in her throat. She didn’t want to hurt anyone. She never wanted to hurt anyone, but it didn’t matter anymore. She was too dangerous, too unstable, and the more they tried to help her, the more they were at risk. Everyone was in danger because of her. 

Her thoughts spiraled, faster and faster, and for a brief moment, she considered ripping her own wrists raw against the restraints, breaking free just to get as far away as possible. She couldn’t stay here. She didn’t belong here. She shouldn’t even be alive. 

Her body shook as the realization hit her. She didn’t want to live like this anymore. Every breath felt like a burden, every second a threat to those around her. 

"Why didn’t they just let me die?" 

Before she could spiral further, the door to the hospital wing hissed open, and heavy footsteps echoed through the sterile room. She stiffened, her eyes darting toward the figure who entered. 

It was him. Logan. 

He crossed the room with that familiar roughness, his boots heavy on the tile floor. His face was hard, expression unreadable, but the tension in his jaw and the simmering anger in his eyes told her all she needed to know. He didn’t want her here. He didn’t trust her. And she couldn’t blame him. 

Logan stopped at the foot of her bed, his arms crossed over his chest as he stared down at her. "You awake, then?" His voice was gruff, biting, as if the mere sight of her irritated him. 

Eva didn’t respond at first, her eyes still wide with fear. She could feel her heart pounding against her ribs, the weight of the handcuffs pressing into her skin. Her throat tightened, but she managed to whisper, “Why… why am I still here?” 

Logan’s eyes narrowed, his lip curling slightly. "Good question. I’ve been askin’ myself the same thing." 

The words hit her like a punch to the gut. She bit her lip, tears threatening to spill over, but she swallowed them down. “I didn’t… I didn’t mean to hurt anyone.” 

Logan’s eyes flashed, and he took a step closer. “That’s the problem, kid. You didn’t mean to, but you did. Almost tore me apart, nearly killed everyone in that damn lab. Hell, if you’d gone all the way, this whole place could’ve been rubble by now.” His voice was low, dangerous, each word dripping with the frustration he was barely holding back.  

Eva’s chest tightened, guilt flooding her system. “I don’t know how to control it,” she whispered, her voice cracking. "I don’t want to hurt anyone, but I don’t know how to stop it." 

Logan’s gaze didn’t soften. If anything, his eyes grew colder, harder. “That’s the point, isn’t it? You can’t control it. So why the hell should we trust you? Why should we risk the kids, the people in this school, just because you’re scared?” 

Tears finally spilled over, and Eva shook her head, feeling the weight of his words crush her. “I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to be alive!” Her voice was desperate, her entire body trembling. “You’re right, okay? I’m a danger to everyone, and I know it. You should’ve let me die.” 

Logan’s face twitched, just for a second, and something flashed in his eyes—something almost like regret. But it was gone as quickly as it came, replaced by that same hard, cold mask. “Maybe,” he muttered. “Maybe we should’ve.” 

His words hit her like a slap, and Eva turned her head away, unable to look at him anymore. Her chest heaved with sobs, the weight of everything pressing down on her until she couldn’t breathe. 

Just then, the door to the med bay slid open again, and Charles Xavier entered, his wheelchair moving silently across the floor. The tension in the room shifted, and Logan stepped back slightly, though his posture remained rigid.

Charles’s voice was soft, calming, as he approached the bed. “Eva,” he said gently, his eyes kind as he looked at her. “You’re safe now.” 

“Safe?” Eva’s voice was bitter, a shaky laugh escaping her lips. “How can you say that? I almost killed him.” She nodded toward Logan. “I could’ve killed all of you. I’m not safe. Not for you, not for anyone.” 

Charles’s expression remained calm, but there was a deep sadness in his eyes. “We understand that you’ve been through unimaginable pain. But you’re not beyond help, Eva. We can work with you, teach you how to control your powers. You don’t have to go through this alone.” 

But Eva shook her head violently, panic rising in her throat. “You don’t understand. They’re going to come for me. The people who did this to me, they’ll come back. And if I’m here, they’ll destroy everything in their way. You’ll all be in danger because of me. I—” Her voice broke, and she lowered her head, trembling. “Please… please just kill me. End it. I don’t want to live like this. I don’t want to hurt anyone anymore.” 

Logan’s jaw clenched at her words, his anger bubbling up again. He wanted to snap at her, to tell her how selfish it was to think death was the answer, how ridiculous she sounded. But instead, he stood there, watching her break down, and for the first time, he felt a flicker of something else. Pity, maybe. Regret. He hated it, but it was there. Deep down.

For a moment, he saw himself in her—the same lost, broken thing, unsure of his place in the world. And it twisted something inside him.

Charles leaned forward, his tone soft but firm. “We don’t give up on anyone, Eva. You have a home here, if you choose to stay. We will help you, as long as you let us.” 

Eva shook her head again, tears streaming down her face. “I’m too dangerous. You’re making a mistake.” 

Logan exhaled sharply, stepping forward. “Maybe we are,” he growled, his voice cutting through the air. “But that’s not your call to make. You wanna give up? Fine. But Charles is right—we don’t give up on people here. So you’re stuck with us, whether you like it or not.”

His words hung in the air, and Eva stared at him through tear-filled eyes. She didn’t know whether to be scared or relieved, but all she felt was the crushing weight of guilt and fear. She wanted to believe they could help her, but deep down, she wasn’t sure anyone could.

And that terrified her most of all. 

Eva’s tears soaked into the hospital pillow, and for a moment, the room was thick with silence. She couldn’t shake the terror clawing at her chest. Charles’s kind words barely registered through the haze of guilt and fear. Every instinct screamed to get away, to run before she hurt someone again. But the restraints around her wrists, humming with the suppression of her powers, kept her pinned to the bed, a prisoner to her own body.

Logan stood by the door, arms crossed, his expression dark. He had always been a difficult person to read, but right now, his anger was crystal clear. He didn’t want her here. He’d made that painfully obvious. Part of her agreed with him. She was too dangerous. Even if Charles promised help, what could they really do? 

She had almost killed them. All of them. Logan, especially, and he wasn’t going to forget that anytime soon.

Logan broke the silence first, his voice sharp and cutting. "You think just 'cause we say we’ll help, that’s some kinda ticket outta responsibility? That you can just sit back and let us fix you? You’ve gotta want it. And I don’t think you do, kid."

Eva flinched at his words, her face contorting in pain. His anger wasn’t just justified—it was expected—but it didn’t make it any easier to hear. She turned her head away, unable to look at him.

"I don’t want anything," she whispered. "I just want to disappear."

Logan’s eyes narrowed, his frustration clearly boiling over. He took a step closer to the bed, his voice rising. "You think you’re the only one who’s been through hell? You think you’re special ’cause they did some experiments on you? Join the damn club." He jabbed his thumb at his own chest, his scowl deepening. "I’ve been there. I’ve done all that, and guess what? I didn’t get a choice. So don’t you stand there askin’ us to give up on you just ‘cause you’re scared."

His words were like a punch to the gut, and Eva’s tears flowed harder. She squeezed her eyes shut. She had been through hell, yes, but she didn’t have his strength. She couldn’t fight it the way he had. Her powers were out of control, and she was too weak, too broken to even try.

“I can’t control it,” she choked, her voice breaking. “I don’t want to hurt anyone, but I don’t know how to stop it. You don’t understand. They built me to be a weapon. I’m a ticking time bomb, and sooner or later, I’ll explode again.”

Logan clenched his fists, his knuckles white as the words hit him. He hated how familiar it all sounded, hated how much of his own past he could hear in her voice. But he couldn’t let that soften him, not when the stakes were this high. Not when she could destroy everything they’d built here, everything they protected.

 “I get it, alright?” Logan growled. “You’re scared, and yeah, maybe you’ve been turned into a weapon, but that doesn’t mean you get to give up. You’re here now, and if you’re gonna stay, you better start fightin’ for somethin’ other than your damn self-pity.”

Eva trembled, her wrists pulling at the restraints as if she could somehow claw her way out of this nightmare. “I don’t want to be here! I don’t want to be anywhere. I should’ve died in that lab. It would’ve been better for everyone.”

Logan’s face tightened, a growl building in his throat. His anger, which had been simmering on the surface, was threatening to break loose. But before he could unleash another biting remark, Charles raised a hand, his voice calm but firm.

"Logan," Charles said gently, his gaze shifting from the girl to the man, “perhaps we should ease up.” 

Logan shot Charles a sharp look, but there was something in the Professor’s eyes that made him pause, though the tension in his body remained. He backed off a step, arms still crossed, but the scowl stayed firmly in place. His anger wasn’t gone—it was just barely contained. 

Charles turned his attention back to Eva, his voice soft and steady, the same calm she’d heard from him before. But this time, it pierced through her haze of fear just a little. 

"Eva," he began, "I understand why you’re afraid. I can’t pretend to know the extent of your pain, but I do know this: you are not alone. You are not the first person to feel like their powers are too much to bear, and you won’t be the last. This place, this school, is for people just like you." 

Eva shook her head, tears still streaming down her face. “You don’t get it. It’s not just me. The people who did this—they’ll come back for me. They’ll come for all of you. You’ll be in danger because of me.”

Charles’s expression didn’t waver. “We’ve faced threats before, Eva. But we believe in protecting those who cannot protect themselves. No one here will abandon you, no matter how great the risk.” 

“Maybe you should,” she muttered, her voice barely audible. “Maybe it’d be better if you did.” 

Logan scoffed from the corner, his patience thinning. "Maybe she’s got a point. You’re gambling a lot on someone who’s not even sure she wants to be saved, Charles. She could bring this whole place down." 

Eva flinched again at his words, her heart aching with the weight of them. He was right. What was the point of trying to help her if she didn’t even know if she could be helped?

But Charles, as always, remained resolute. 

“I know the risks,” Charles said, his voice calm but carrying the weight of authority. “But I also know that we must give her a chance. Eva, if you stay here, we will do everything in our power to help you gain control. You can have a life, a real life, outside of the torment they put you through.” 

Eva swallowed hard, her chest tight. She wanted to believe him. She wanted to, but the fear was too overwhelming. What if she couldn’t control it? What if Logan was right, and she was just too dangerous to be here? 

She shook her head, the tears never stopping. “I don’t know if I can. I don’t know if it’s even possible.” 

Charles leaned closer, his eyes filled with the kind of kindness she hadn’t seen in a long time. “We will help you find out. But first, you must give yourself that chance.” 

Eva’s breath caught in her throat. She stared at the Professor, searching his face for any sign of doubt, but there was none. He was offering her a lifeline, but could she trust herself to take it? 

Her eyes drifted to Logan, still standing with his arms crossed, his face hard. He looked at her like she was a threat, like she didn’t belong here. And maybe she didn’t. Maybe he was right.

But part of her wanted to fight. Just a small part, buried beneath all the pain and fear, but it was there, flickering weakly.

“I don’t… I don’t know how,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “I don’t even know where to start.” 

Charles smiled gently. “You start by staying. By trusting us.” 

Logan scoffed again but said nothing, though his eyes bore into her, still filled with distrust. But for a fleeting second, something flickered in his gaze. Maybe it was pity, or maybe just the faintest trace of understanding. Either way, it didn’t last long, quickly replaced by the cold mask of doubt. 

Eva closed her eyes, the weight of the decision pressing down on her. She didn’t know if she could trust them—or herself. But for the first time in a long time, she had a choice. She could choose to run. Or she could choose to stay and try. 

It was the scariest choice she’d ever faced.

[mothxmoons]

Hey there! Naga Wesker. Double penises and egg-laying possibilities are included. Have this man be coiled up sleeping perfectly fine and then the reader, be it rookie or otherwise, chucks a bunch of pillows into the pocket he formed and uses him as a warm pillow nest.

Give it to me baby!

It’s egg season :3

Tw: Afab but gn reader, oviposition, talks of breeding, womb talk

Wesker was nesting in your bedroom, clothes stolen from your closet, your blankets, your pillows, anything he could get his hands on. This however would not be enough for him, as always. He’d need you in his hands as soon as you came home, and you wouldn’t be able to leave the bedroom for the next couple of…days, maybe a week. Most likely a week as he has long nesting periods and is overcome with the urge to breed. He needs you to be full of his eggs, his spawn, your children. He is a snake hybrid and he goes through these things and god dammit he wanted you so badly during these times.

That’s exactly what he was feeling at this moment, rubbing his dicks against the pillows, rutting and panting hard. Biting the edge of the pillow as he grunted and groaned loudly, basically whining, wanting for you to come back home. His long black naga tail tangled with your blankets and clothes that smell the most like you, claws digging into your mattress and pillows, holding on for dear life. Growling like a feral dog into your pillow as he smelled your scent like a drug, his eyes rolling back as he gasped into your pillow.

He heard the door open and immediately shot up to see you walk into the bedroom.

“Again with my clothes, sweetheart? It takes forever to clean that.” You said with a playful smile, gesturing to the clothes of your’s tightly wound around his tail and some even made it away around his dicks.

He growled at you, lurching forward to grab you, immediately throwing aside all the pillows, blankets, and clothes into the nest. Finally! Finally you were underneath him. His hands were caging your head under him, his lower abdomen was right between your legs, dicks slapping onto your shirt. Wesker barely contained himself from ripping your clothes off, tearing them to shreds, but he held back and lifted every single article of clothing off of your body, drooling with every piece you shed. Teeth on your neck, trying to enter you through your underwear and growling when he can’t. Through frustration, he rips off your underwear by the seams, pressing you flush against his hips, his dicks rubbing against you, bare, skin to skin. His dicks were large on their own, girthy and long, with ribs poking out of the bases. It was a struggle for you to take on of them, but tonight Wesker had something different in mind.

His chest smushed against your’s, face in your neck, rutting against you, trying to make his dicks fit. It takes a little rubbing and moving his hips away, but he gets only one dick inside, the other sliding up to your stomach. Wesker growled, leaning back up to see why he felt warmth on one dick only. He was obsessed with trying to fit both of his dicks inside of you. It would be snug but it would feel so good.

He pulled back, his dick coming out of you, using his hand to guide both of his dicks together.

“You’ll fit them for me, right my love?” He whispered into your ear. He ground his dicks against you, until finally they slipped in, earning a long moan from him. Forcing his head back, leaning up from your chest.

“See? Ah…so tight…you’re so warm.” He chanted like a mantra, your name on his lips, his head in your neck. His hands wandered your soft skin, squishing your hips and thighs, pressing slow kisses to your neck as you struggled to fit the rest of cocks into you.

“Wesker….” You groaned, feeling the dicks squeeze their way through your walls, how stiff they were was felt. He chuckled as he sank deeper into you, the ribs on his dick rubbing against your walls, hissing in delight. He smirked against your neck as he began to move slowly.

“Ah…such a good little pet…” His smooth but cocky voice sounded in your ear like a beautiful symphony. Groaning and moaning, he couldn’t contain himself. Panting and staring down at you as he thrusted both of his dicks inside of you, chanting about breeding you, wanting you full of him.

“Take my eggs. Take them.”

Rutting against you, hip to hip, moaning lightly again before going back to wild thrusting. He almost gasped as you grabbed his arms, digging your nails into him, and groaned as they left angry red marks. Wesker’s long snake tail curled around the bed sheets, taking them with him as he thrusted. He pulled back just to grab your legs and put them on his shoulders, and pushed back in, growling into your face.

His thrusts synced with your gasps, and he relished every second as Wesker’s eyes rolled back before landing back onto you. With a smirk he leaned down to you, your shoulders being touched by your knees, and kissed you deeply on the lips. He swallowed every moan from you, as his dicks hit the deepest parts of you, making a home inside of you, he could only smirk and roll his eyes back while he kissed you for all it’s worth.

He moaned longingly, slamming his dicks deep into you, hips squished against you. And you could feel it. Every moan he gave, every egg slipping through his dick and into you, your womb. His children. Your children. You moaned at every movement of them inside, into you. They were oval shaved and small compared to him but to you they were rather large and you could feel them bump against your cervix before pushing their way inside. You could feel the bump in your lower abdomen, you could feel the swell, the pleasure the gave you was better than anything. Whether or not they were duds was unknown to either of you, as it was way too early into his season to know, not that you two could keep track of it.

“Take them, my dear. Take them.” He moaned into your ear, you could feel his breath on your neck. His arms circled you, around you, your legs propped in his shoulders and just so close to your ears, making room for his head.

Your walls shivered around him, he moaned more, loving how they hugged him. You felt a warm sticky sensation fill you, it spilled out onto the sheets, pouring past his dicks.

He stilled for a long time, enjoying the euphoric haze of breeding, letting himself feel you clench and squirm around his dicks, still not used to both of them inside of you. Wesker leaned back, letting your legs fall to his waist, and panted out into the openness, suddenly feeling the heat of all the blankets and clothes wrapped around his tail. Blankets and clothes that would need to be washed as soon as he was done. But…he leaned back down to you, watching you try to catch your breath.

“One more time, my dear? Just one more.”

He just needed to be sure. He just wants to make sure is all.

[imababblekat]

Under The Full Moon

Anon Request," Oh boy do i have a mikey request, so basically reader is being chased down by some people that are aafter them for being a werewolf (reader did nothing except be a werewolf) They are forced to go into hiding after mikey saves them and brings them down. Fast forward a couple months, mikey has a crush on reader at this point. They constantly argue with leo, and after a particularly bad argument they run off and hide, mikey finds them and confessions happen, they kiss and boom!"

~xXx~

The rain pelted down on Mikey’s shell; in any other circumstance, he’d revel in the feeling of the cold water against his pebbled skin, but not tonight. Not when he was in a heated rush to find you. The last image of you still projected freshly in his mind, eyes usually shinning so beautifully, filled with a searing rage and glistening with tears ready to spill. Poor Mikey couldn’t get a word out before you booked it out of the lair, Raphael immediately berating into Leonardo behind him. Mikey wasn’t sure what all had been hashed out between you and his eldest brother, but whatever it was, was certainly your final straw.

Mikey wanted nothing more then to join Raphael in getting on Leo’s case, but with you making a run to who knows where, all the youngest could do was shoot the turtle in blue the most displeased glare he’d ever received from the usually cheery turtle. It had definitely left a mark on Leonardo, the leader faltering on his words as Mikey made to quickly leave after you. Thankfully, Mikey knew Raph had his shell, the later quick to step in front of Leo to prevent him from stopping Mikey’s leave, continuing to give Leonardo an ear full.

Slipping on the wet roof of a building he’d jumped from, Mikey cursed as he came into hard contact with the dirty alley way floor. Thank goodness for his hard shell breaking the impact from being much worse, as Mikey to a moment to collect himself, something glimmering from the headlights of a passing car caught his eye. He felt his heart stop, seeing the beads to your favorite bracelet scattered on the pavement, clothes you’d been wearing that evening torn to shreds in a pile around him.

Was it really the next full moon already? Mikey felt himself become even more worried if that was possible, quickly scooping up the beads into one large hand and stuffing them into his pocket, eyes darting up to just make out the very round moon behind passing storm clouds.

The sudden sounds of loud barking alerted Mikey, something inside him telling him to follow the sounds. It didn’t take long to find where they were coming from, the brisk ninja turtle diving into an abandoned parking garage, narrowing in on the echoing sounds of stray dogs, and something more primal and low. With a gut wrench feeling about the later sound, he picked up his pace, coming into the lower basement floor to find a small of stray dogs barking ferociously at a large, huddled figure in the corner. Taking out his phone to turn on the flash light, the gleam of insanely large canine teeth and deathly glowing eyes shown back on him.

It was you, in full wolf form, no doubt still in pain from transformation and on high edge no thanks to the stray dogs who barked relentlessly against you.

“Hey! Scram!”, Mikey yelled, running off the stray dogs caught by complete surprise to the mutant turtle swinging nun-chucks in such a way to scare them off even further.

Once he was sure the dogs had fled the parking garage, tails tucked between their legs, only then did Mikey turn his attention to you.

“Hey angel cakes, it’s me, Mikey. I’m not gonna hurt ya, promise.”, he spoke calmly, hands lowered and in a crouched position to seem harmless.

It took a moment for you to recognize him, but once you had, light whimpers bubbled up from your throat, a hoarse call of his name echoing off the concrete walls.

“What are you doing here? I. . .I don’t want to hurt you.”, you lowly cried, backing yourself up further against the wall, but this time for Mikey’s safety and not your own.

“You could never hurt me.”, Mikey gently reassured, reaching out a hand but retracted when you pushed your self further away.

The action put a pit in his heart, but he knew not to push you. God, he would never even dream of doing something like that to you. As for you, a different type of pit found it’s way within you, one carved by anger and despair. Leonardo's words blaring in your mind that had sent you into the shadows you hid in now.

“You sure? Leonardo seems to think otherwise.”

Mikey frowned deeper, the bitterness in your tone seeping through his very scales. What exactly had his brother said to you? He knew that you both would get into arguments, but what occurred between you two for him to even imply such a thing? The turtle in orange had to take a deep breath, releasing slowly and unclenching his fists. You need him right now, and him getting pent up would not help either of you.

Mikey sat on the cold pavement across from you, his beautiful blue eyes filling with a softness only ever for you.

“Well, Leo’s got a yard long stick up his ass when it comes to being over protective of us.”

That made you chuckle lightly, the sound causing a fluttering in Mikey as he smiled successfully. Even if it was just a small laugh, it was still a step in the right direction.

“Come on, baby cakes. You know just as well as I do that you could never hurt any of us.”, Mikey spoke again with a smile this time.

You huffed, fur billowing in the light breath on your shoulder.

“I know, I just. . .what if I do? Even if on accident? I could never. . .”, you trailed off, eyes dulling as you peered down to the fade white line of the parking spot you sat in.

You were a monster, the world made sure that you would always know that. Memories of being chased and hunted down simply for existing. Always being shouted at vulgarly, treated as though a simple howl from you would tear the world in two.

“Then I would forgive you.”

Your head shut up, ears propping straight and golden eyes staring in disbelief at Michelangelo’s words. Yet, the soft smile he bore, baby blue eyes showing nothing but genuine honesty, reassured(?) you he meant it through and through. His unwavering kindness brought up newer, nicer memories over the ones that plagued your mind only minutes ago. Memories of when you first met the band of brothers, who had saved your life when you were moments away from giving up and letting the hunters win their game against you. You were in such a dark place, bearing sharp teeth even at your mutant saviors who no doubt had felt just as much as outsiders their whole life as you had. It was Mikey’s kindness, his bright sun lit friendliness that showed you a brighter side to life. Not once had that changed over the time you spent with him and his brothers, the two of you only growing closer and fonder of each other.

Hesitantly, you lifted a strong paw out towards the ninja turtle, the later warmly taking your furred hand into his scaly one, before gentle lips lowered to press against your bulky knuckles. It took all of your strength to not burst into tears in that moment, instead opting to pull Mikey, who’d otherwise would be like moving a boulder but was more like a feather with your strength, into a tight hug. The choked sob that threatened to spill past your maul had Mikey’s heart shattering, his arms wasting no time in coming up to wrap around your large form, deeply inhaling the forestry smell of your soft fur.

“Thank you, Mikey. Thank you.”, you softly cried out, snout digging into the space between his neck and shell.

Mikey rubs soothing circles into your back, turning enough to plant another small kiss to your head.

“No need, angelcakes. You know I’ll always be here for you.”

And he was right, you knew that, felt it, and you swore to yourself that you would be there for him always too.

~xXx~

[sneakyparsnipslicer]

A Chance Encounter

[A request from @leathercanuck90, enjoy folks!]

Neil had been on the road for hours. Driving down the motorway returning home from work, the sky was blackened and the rain was chucking it down. It wasn't exactly his ideal weather to be driving in, in fact he was anxious each time a car sped by on another lane.

It had been a rough few months for Neil, work had needed him to stay on for overtime in the office, his wife had divorced him taking the kids with her, his luck was just about running out and sometimes he wished it was all over. But he kept telling himself it had to get better at some point.

Driving on, he checked a sign at the side of the road, about 5 miles to home, and a service station coming up. He considered it for a moment. He did need to piss from all the coffee he'd been drinking on his shift, wouldn't be a bad idea to stop and get something to eat either. He switched on his indicator and moved to the left-most lane, turning onto the road that led to a car park. Neil parked his car and undid his seatbelt, turning the engine off. He sighed and looked ahead. He could see the lights of the garage in the distance. He put on his raincoat and opened his door, being greeted to the cold, wet rain hammering down outside. He shut his car door, locking it and proceeded to hurry over to the building.

Getting inside he lowered his hood and dried his shoes on the mat. Looking around he could see a little cafe with a seating area, nearby toilets, not too many people around. It wasn't too bad, quite charming infact. Neil wanted to have a look at the cafe to see what was available, but then he remembered his bladder was full. He could get some food after.

Hurrying into the men's toilet, he ran over to the urinal closest to the door, unzipped his trousers and began to piss, sighing in relief. He hoped for a moment that nobody had heard him, but there seemed to be nobody else there. He shrugged and continued pissing. A few seconds later he heard footsteps and the door was slammed open. A sweaty-looking man dressed in motorbike leathers burst in panting, spooking Neil. The man looked to see Neil and composed himself, giving Neil a nod and walking over to the urinal next to him.

'Hey, sorry if I frightened you pal. I'm bursting! Bit of a bad night huh?' the man asked, unzipping his trousers and pulling his dick out.

'Oh yeah, it's awful!' said Neil, nervously chuckling. He eyed the man next to him, he seemed to be impressively built and he couldn't help noticing the size of his cock.

'Where you coming in from then?' the biker asked, looking to Neil, who he noticed was looking and began to chuckle. Neil looked to him and read the situation.

'Oh, oh no sorry!' stammered Neil.

'Hey it's alright. Hell, I've got nowhere to be if you've got time' said the biker, winking at him. Neil froze on the spot. Was this man offering himself to him.

'Umm, sorry Sir, I'm not about that life' said Neil, looking away and beginning to zip up his trousers.

'Aww come on buddy, it'd be just us, nobody has to know!' teased the biker, leaning towards him, knocking him playfully on the shoulder. Neil thought about it. It wasn't like he was married anymore, life had been pretty shit lately but this absolute leather stud of a man was offering something he knew he'd always been curious about.

'C'moooon!' whined the biker. Neil looked to the ceiling, shaking his head.

'Fine, why not?' said Neil, flapping his arms in surrender.

'Oh hell yeah!' cried the biker, zipping up his flyers and getting a good look at Neil.

'So, uh. How would we go about this?' asked Neil. The biker approached him, sizing him up.

'Well first' began the biker, lifting Neil up by his armpits and slamming him into the wall, pinning him close to it, giving his neck a good, deep sniff.

'Oh, my…' said Neil in surprise, not expecting such force.

'Mmmm, you smell so good' said the biker seductively, kissing Neil's neck. Neil could feel himself hardening in his pants.

'It's Imperial Leather' Neil chuckled, the biker thrusted his pelvis into Neil causing him to moan out.

'Oh you like leather huh? Guess it's your lucky night!' said the biker smiling, looking at Neil's lips. He moved in and kissed Neil passionately, pushing him even more into the wall.

'God I want to be inside you!' the biker growled, moving his hands to feel Neil's slim frame. Neil thought about it, he'd never actually been fucked in the ass before.

'Does it hurt?' asked Neil absent-mindedly, to which the biker pulled back and looked at him confused.

'I mean does it hurt when a guy's entering your backside? I've always wondered' said Neil. The biker began laughing.

'Oh Honey! You're new to all this huh?' he asked, kissing Neil gently.

'Well I mean this is the first time I've had the chance to have sex with a man' Neil explained. The biker nodded in understanding.

'I see, well from my experience it doesn't. You'll love what I'm gonna do to you. You're a bit of a tight squeeze, but I can work with that' the biker said, reaching around to caress Neil's ass.

'Oh, I see. Well then, should we go somewhere so nobody finds us?' asked Neil. The biker shook his head and turned Neil to face the wall, pinning him to it again.

'Nah, this shouldn't take long' said the biker, massaging Neil's ass, crouching down to undo Neil's belt and pull his trousers and pants down. Neil placed his hands on the wall and looked down as he saw his own dick spring free of it's confines. The biker proceeded to plunge his tongue into Neil's ass hole, making him yelp out in surprise. He could feel it tickling the sides as it explored, lubricating it. It felt amazing. Neil looked to the ceiling, breathing heavily, moaning and panting.

'Alright buddy, going in!' said the biker as he unzipped his own leather trousers and dropped them to his ankles, pulling down his own boxers and placing his dick between Neil's ass cheeks. He started out slow as it slid into the untouched territory. Neil began moaning, slapping his right hand on the wall. It was like nothing he'd ever experienced and he was loving it. The biker began grunting as he began to fuck his way in gradually deeper and deeper. Eventually his whole dick was inside Neil's ass.

'Now here's where the magic happens Baby' whispered the biker, and he placed his hands on Neil's shoulders, which to Neil's astonishment began to sink through his shirt's fabric and merge with his shoulders. He was lost for words, he could only watch as the biker's arms proceeded to slip into his own, taking control of them and giving ownership to the biker. The arms began to feel Neil's body.

'Feels good don't it?' asked the biker. Neil nodded, gasping from the warm, orgasmic sensation he was feeling. The biker rested his chin on Neil's right shoulder and placed the hands against the wall, pressing his chest against Neil's back.

The biker began to move his feet into Neil's legs, starting with his right one, letting it sink in, and then the left one. Neil was beginning to lose all feeling as this new sensation of the biker invading his body overtook him. All responsibilities, all the shit going on in life just didn't matter to him anymore. It was all about this biker now.

The biker began gyrating his hips, sinking further into Neil's body, merging with his ass, back and chest. Then he pushed Neil's head against the wall as he proceeded to merge his head with Neil's. Eventually the biker was fully inside Neil's body and grabbed his new dick, pumping several loads of cum out, alongside all of Neil's memories, anxiety and sorrows. He stood there a new man with a mix of Neil's clothes and the biker's leathers. He began to chuckle.

'Well, Mr. Neil that was glorious, but I think I'm gonna go by Larry now' said the man, removing his clothing. He felt everything, his new ass, his dick, he checked himself out in the mirror. A lot of Neil's face had been kept.

'Oh Honey we're looking cute as fuck now!' Larry chuckled, flexing and admiring his own muscles. He put on the biker's leathers, leaving Neil's clothes behind and walked out of the toilets, he took a nose ring out of his pocket and clipped it on and headed back to the car park. It was still raining outside, but that wasn't a problem. He sauntered over to his motorbike and began to rev the engine.

'Mmmm, yeah. Hear that baby purr!' whispered Larry. Putting on his helmet and speeding off into the night.

[formosusiniquis]

never anything but sharing

For @genderthings Robin Gender Week Day 1: Sharing Pronouns

T | WC: 2123 | Genderqueer Robin (and also Steve) | Gender Identity; Fluff and Humor; Period Typical Discussion of Gender | AO3

The door of the Harrington house is unlocked when Robin storms through it. The only danger it would have any hope of delaying is seven unruly and unthankful children; today especially Robin appreciates that Steve has stopped making that effort. It makes it a lot easier to storm in and pull him off the couch by the hair and drag him into the nearest bathroom.

“Ow, Robin! The part is in the mail, the truck will be running by Sunday. Ow!” He doesn’t stop complaining until she has them in her favorite full-sized bathroom with the ugly tile and jacuzzi tub.

 He’s Steve, Robin’s Steve, so he doesn’t glare so much as pout as he runs a hand through his mussed-up hair, pretending that he’s tender-headed even though he knows Robin knows better. “You’re worse than Henderson, you had to bike to work one day.”

“First of all, don’t ever say that to me. But do you think I dragged you in here to talk about our truck, this is serious.”

He crosses his arms in that way that tries for bitchy but these days lands closer to fondly disgruntled. Parental, maternal, in that way that suits Steve. “Okay well seriously start talking then. I think you ripped out a clump.”

Robin takes in a breath, using the exhale to force out the thing that had worried itself in there like a burr at 11:57 that Saturday afternoon. “Someone called me sir at work.”

Robin can feel the slow track of Steve’s eyes as they take in the outfit. The wide-shouldered blazer and the pants in a different but complementary plaid pattern. Underneath is a t-shirt and, with the biking, Chuck Taylors had been a must though the thrifted, wingtip, dress shoes had called out from the closet begging to be worn instead.

“How do we feel about that?”

Always we. Steve hadn’t even been there and it’s a them problem, it’s easier to think in terms of them and we.

“She wasn’t looking at me from the front,” Robin says. That feels important to stress for some reason. Do they look like a sir from the front? Probably not, and Robin isn’t sure what the emotion that’s sitting below the breastbone at the thought of that is. 

“I was reshelving in Romance and she came up behind me and was all…” Trailing off all Robin can do is gesture, flapping hands leading away from a body that has become a source of confusion.

Arms still crossed, lazily now, relaxed. Cool and lean in the way Steve can be but only when the effort is accidental. He nods. “Oh, that makes more sense.”

“What does that mean?”

Steve’s hands on their shoulders, Robin is turned toward the mirror with Steve just behind in a blink. “From the back you have the same haircut as Byers.”

“You take that back right now.” Robin watches as their mouth moves in the mirror.

“It’s better, cause you steal my product. But when you don’t let me style it, it can get a little Byers-y.”

They’re in the ugly bathroom with the seafoam green tiles that have the print that makes no sense for a bathroom but Robin loves. That’s the only reason the counter beneath their fingers is bare. That it doesn’t have the accusing army of mousse and hairspray that has been slowly infiltrating the Buckley house.

“So you’re saying since I have a Byers-y haircut-”

“Not the whole haircut, just from the back and just sometimes.”

“That’s the only reason I’d be called sir.”

Steve slouches against the wall by the mirror. There’s a careful nothingness to the way he’s looking at them that means he saw something Robin didn’t mean to show. That he heard something in the forced sarcstic lilt in her voice.

“Do you want to be called sir?” The forced casualness extends to the question.

It makes Robin feel hysterical. Get prescribed a visit to the seaside, the real remedy is a good vibrator hysterical. “I’m a lesbian, Steve. That’s- I’ve always been a lesbian, it’s the one thing- So I can’t be a sir or a he-”

“Why not?”

The guidance-counselor-calm is infuriating, even as they make that mental note to add that to the list of things Steve could be good at if he wanted a traditional job. Robin could teach music, band, they wouldn't be broken up.

“Because..? Because it’s too much, isn’t it?”

He cocks his head to the side, circling Robin and their problem carefully.

“It’s not all the time, right? We’ll share.”

“What?”

“We’ll share.” Steve repeats, moving now to settle into the massive jacuzzi tub. Lounging for real in its dry basin now that, in their mind, the problem has been solved

“I don’t think that’s how it works.” Robin has to be careful in refusing. The two of them don't disagree. Trying to do it now tastes like ash on the tongue. Bitter and wrong.

“Why not?” Steve challenges. Brow raised in a way that hints at something bitchy like the girls at the last slumber party she’d been invited to, before she was too weird, right before someone got the dare that they’d asked for.

“That’s my shirt you’re wearing and you stole my favorite jeans last week. You’ll borrow my he and I’ll take your she and it’ll be fine.”

“Those aren’t the same thing, that’s not those words mean something.” Robin pleads. Begs Steve to be rational because Robin can’t be. Biked the five miles here faster than anyone ever has. Broke landspeed records and possibly the sound barrier powered by the feelings caused by a single word.

“Yeah, I know.” Steve says gently. But it’s Steve and gentle gives way to a catty eye roll and, “I saw that kangaroo song as a kid too, he will mean Robin sometimes and she can mean Steve and other times it’s the otherway around. It’s fine, Robbie.”

It’s Steve, Robin has to remember. Always remembers because Steve is something they are as aware of as their arm or leg or spleen. Intrinsic.

Steve would burn Hawkins to the ground for them: Robin, The Party, anyone close enough to be family.

What then would it be to him? To claim Robin’s errant she. He is Steve Harrrington. Hawkin’s perfect son. The Keg King, the reformed prep. Perfect in his John Hughes-ian glory. Everything a perfect corn-fed, Midwestern boy should be.

“But it has to mean something, you can’t just say that we’ll share because you want me to feel better.”

“When have I ever lied to make you feel better? I just told you when you don’t do anything with your hair it looks like Jonathan’s.”

“Yeah, and you’re the kind of freak who understands what Nancy sees in him.”

“And it isn’t his hair. Our whole friendship is based on saying what we really think, even when it’s annoying.”

“I thought it was based on you inability to resist doing your Miss Piggy impression.”

“Robin.” The stone seriousness of it drops Robin to their knees in front of the tub. Close enough to Steve that big hands can cup their face. “I love you. This is your moment, so you'll just have to believe me when I say it's fine.”

“It's fine.” Robin repeats.

“We’ll share.” Steve says.

“We’ll share.”

“You're a sir.” she says.

“I’m a he.” Robin says, “Today. Today I'm a he.”

“How does that feel?” She asks him.

“Good? Good. Oh my god Steve I don’t know how to be a he. This isn’t stealing your red sweater-”

She shrieks, “I knew you had my sweater!”

But it isn't going to distract him from the bigger picture. “I can’t just slip into your guy thing like it’s your clothes, you know that was the point.”

Arms crossed, she pouts, “The point sounds like you’ve been stealing my clothes.”

“Steve!”

“You don’t have to be anything to prove that you are something. Sometimes you’re a he, you don’t have to know how to shotgun a beer or something to prove it. I will show you the right way to do a keg stand, that’s a point of pride. And you should know how to fix up the truck, change a tire, to help you pick up babes.”

It's not the worst point ever made. Probably because some of it -- the first part, not the part about car maintenance as a tool of seduction though that has its merits too he supposes and it has a butch quality that is appealing -- is familiar.

“I hate when you quote me at me.”

“When did you tell me you were going to teach me to change a tire?”

“You know what I mean, dingus.”

“You’re the smartest person I know,” Steve says through her smile, “how else am I supposed to give you advice?”

“I love you.” Its the truest truth Robin can come up with at the moment. So true it's an understatement. Love too simple a word for what he feels right now and about Steve.

“I love you too.” She says back, and Robin knows its the same kind of feeling. “And you’ll love me even more when I teach you how to scale a trellis.”

“Why would I need to scale anything, why can’t I just go in the door?”

“It doesn’t have the same Prince Charming feeling. Girls love that stuff.”

“How many times have you fallen off the side of someone’s house?”

“Not as many times as you’re going to, Vickie’s house is laid out like a nightmare.”

He settles into the tub next to Steve. The oversized jacuzzi a tight fit for both of their bodies, but Steve lets him settle into her side like she doesn’t care that the faucet is digging into her shoulder. In sync, Steve lifts her head up enough that Robin can rest his in the space where shoulder and neck meet. The sound of Steve’s heartbeat in his ear gives his a steady rhythm to settle into after the flustered panic it had worked its way up to. Share, they can share.

Some things they can share.

He sits up enough to look Steve in the eye, a half-hearted glare that she wouldn’t buy for a second on his face. “Why have you been scoping out Vickie's house?”

“For you, obviously.” She says, rolling her eyes just like Robin had imagined. “I had to figure out the best point of entry.”

“It's not a siege.”

“It's breaking and entering, and it's embarrassing when someone catches you and it doesn't look cool. Trust me.”

“Some more expertise that you're sharing?”

“I'll share anything with you, Bobbin.”

He hears what's underneath that promise. Their bond forged in chaos, in danger, in blood, in fear. But it was honed in moments like these: honest, sincere, still frightened sometimes but touched by love and laughter.

“Even your green henley?”

He hopes she hears how he knows that Steve would do or give anything for him. His shirt, his time, his bathroom, his life. 

Whatever life may mean at that time. The actual thing, defending and protecting them all from whatever the next great evil is, or the more metaphorical life, marriage and it's safety net that they’ve discussed.

“Even all my best clothes when you have nothing in your closet you could possibly share too.”

“Welcome to the time honored tradition of girlhood, the friend that’s borrowing clothes from you is doing it for a reason. I’ll teach you how dress sizes work next time we’re at the thrift store.”

“Yeah okay, but who’s going to teach you that?”

She’s smiling as she says it, and the tub is too small a space for them to get a good fight started. Grief, the teasing kind, something they’ve always been good at sharing. So he takes his lumps and settles back down into the cradle of the tub and Steve’s arms that he moves elbows first. Let’s them share how unappreciated that dig might have been, the truth in it neither here nor there. 

They’ll lay here for a little bit longer, letting the moment settle. Sharing their space, their time, their breath, and probably the gossip from his day at Family Video without Steve. When the time is right, they’ll leave the bathroom and share a meal, maybe the couch or the bed. It’s just what’s right, like Steve so often is. What’s a pronoun or two among all of that.

“I know how to find a dress that fits. Just like I know that the kangaroo song is about pronouns. How do you remember a cartoon from when we were kids but not the thing they were singing about?”

[trashcatmonster]

title: when you fall apart

summary: Your whole face feels sore, sinuses swollen and eyes stinging from the hours of sobbing you’d been doing. You look the mess too, lips dry and cracked, face stained with old, runny mascara and tears. The knotted mess your hair is in isn’t much better.

notes: this ones goin out to @velvetwyrme because they're the main one who really got me to appreciate fell papyrus <3

ao3 link: here!

fic text under cut!

Your whole face feels sore, sinuses swollen and eyes stinging from the hours of sobbing you’d been doing. You look the mess too, lips dry and cracked, face stained with old, runny mascara and tears. The knotted mess your hair is in isn’t much better.

The sound of metal scraping against marble brings your eyes from the mirror to the old pair scissors being pressed hard between your hand and the kitchen sink. Staring at them makes your mouth twist into a harsh scowl.

Your hair tugs slight where he pulls it, and you glance over at him with a questioning hum.

He grins at you, eyes full of loving mirth. “You’re growing your hair out, it looks good.”

Heartbroken rage swells in your gut at the memory, and you take the scissors and a hank of your hair and shear it off with uneven chops. You watch as the strands drop to the sink in the moor, angry tears starting anew. Taking in the uneven hack-job, you snarl and repeat the process on the other side.

Fuck him. You hope he chokes on his regret.

When your hair is as short as you’re willing to risk, you drop the scissors into the sink with your hacked off hair and leave the bathroom.

Only to stop in your tracks, surprise making your face go slack. Your cheeks and forehead tingle at the new expression, but you ignore it in favor of staring at Papyrus standing in the middle of your living room with his hands on his hips.

His eye lights sweep over you, sharp teeth pulling his neutral frown into a downright scowl. Insecurity grips at you suddenly, and while usually you’d brush it off you’re too sore from the recent betrayal to do anything but sink into your shoulders.

“You Look Like Shit,” he comments, and the words feel like a shard of glass in your heart. It doesn’t take much to recover (to break even further) so you do the first thing that comes to mind.

You grab the vase sitting on the hallway table (that hasn’t been filled with flowers in a long time— he hasn’t given you flowers in so long you should have seen this coming—) and chuck it in Papyrus’ direction with an enraged cry.

“Shut up!” you shout, indignation and despair swelling when Papyrus just side steps the vase so it shatters on the wall behind him. You reach for something else— this time a picture frame on your wall (one you were going to take down anyway, it has him in it—) and throw it at Papyrus as well.

“You shut the fuck up, you don’t know anything!” you scream, a snarl of frustration forcing its way out of your raw throat when Papyrus side steps that too.

You’re about to pick up something else— a gorgeous, fake fabergé egg that your mother had gifted you years ago— but red-gloved claws are wrapping around your wrist and pulling the decor out of your shaking hand.

Papyrus’ grip is strong but it’s gentle. He’s not handling you like glass, but he’s taking care because you are fragile right now.

So fragile, in fact, that you take one look at his soft, understanding expression and you feel the feeble hold on your heart fumble. And then your heart breaks fully, ruined sobs shattering from you as you collapse into the skeleton. You’d been crying for hours already, so you’re not really sure where you find the energy or tears to sob into Papyrus’ chest but it’s not like you can control yourself.

He holds you through all of it, one arm settled across your shoulders while his other hand rubs gentle circles over your shirt. It’s more comfort than you’ve had since you found out Ron was cheating on you, and it absolutely wrecks you.

By the time you’ve fully worn yourself out, you’re hiccuping into Papyrus’ shirt, fingers aching at the joints with the tight fists you have resting on his chest. You stare numbly at them, breath shuddering for a second when your thoughts wonder to your boyf— your ex.

The silence rings in your ears, and you consider pulling away from Papyrus for only a moment before he’s doing it himself. The devastated whine that pulls from you is humiliating, but you don’t think you could have stopped it if you tried.

“Hush,” Papyrus commands, placing his hand on your cheek so he can guide you to look him in the face, “I’m Going Nowhere. I Came Here To Assist You, And That Is What I am Going To Do.”

You sniffle, but nod your understanding. Papyrus searches your face for a moment before he’s pulling you in for another hug. You wilt a little into it, but you don’t fight it when he finally releases you and steps back.

“Let’s Start With Your Hair, You’ve Done A Number On It,” he says, and you wrinkle your nose.

“He liked it long,” is your only, croaking comment. Papyrus gives you look you can’t really decipher right now, but nods as he gestures you to follow him back to your bathroom. You’re sitting on the toilet before you even really have a chance to process the change of scenery, Papyrus’ careful fingers gripping your chin and angling your face this way and that.

The make up wipe pressing to your cheek suddenly makes you jolt, but Papyrus doesn’t comment on your surprise and continues cleaning your face. You take the moment to watch him, all the little shifts of his teeth while his eye lights are zeroed in on what he’s doing. He huffs, and you feel like if he had a nose, his nostrils would be flaring right now.

“What Happened? Two Days Ago You Were Telling Me About The Vacation You Were Planning With Him, And Then An Hour Ago I Get A Message From Your Mother Asking Me To Reason With You.”

You grimace at that, brows knitting together as your lips tug down into a scowl. Papyrus tsks at you, patting your face until you sigh and let the expression go. He tells you to look up, and you do while he scrubs at the dried mascara under your eyes.

“His side piece walked up to me while I was at the store,” looking for a swim suit for that vacation, “and decided to rub it in my face that I ‘couldn’t hold down such a hot piece of ass’, his words.”

Papyrus pauses, the dirty wipe sticking unpleasantly to your skin where he’s pressed it. You chance a look down to get a read on him. He looks stony, his eye lights barely-there pinpricks and the tops of his sockets angled harshly down in a mockery of what your eyebrows were for you.

You feel like it’s a solid minute before he shakes it off and doctors his expression to be carefully neutral.

“Look Up, What Else?”

He’s back to cleaning your face, you obliging the repeated command with a roll of your eyes.

“I told the guy to fuck off, because I trusted Ron and I wasn’t gonna believe some jealous asshole over him. He—” You stop, throat closing up as the memory plays in your mind. Distant but all too present heartbreak making you want to start crying again.

Papyrus doesn’t say anything, just lets you gather yourself to avoid messing up his efforts to take care of you.

“He had a picture pulled up of him and Ron, at—” you swallow hard, “at that cute coffee shop down on sixth.”

Where you and Ron met, you don’t say, but with the way Papyrus’ hand twitches against your cheek, he picks it up anyway. He sighs, tossing the wipe in the trash by the toilet. You watch as he examines your face, letting him move your head around easily.

“You Need A Proper Shower, But It’ll Do Until I Fix Your Hair,” he says, and your heart clenches a little. You’re not really sure what he’s thinking, and that drives you to stop him before he leaves the bathroom for whatever he needs.

Papyrus stops, looking down at where your hand is clutching his wrist then looks to your face. You’re staring at each other, and then Papyrus is sighing and kneeling in front of you. He’s readjusting your grip so he can hold your hands in his, and you just continue to stare it him, eyes burning with unshed tears.

“I Am Sorry You Were Hurt This Way,” he starts, gently squeezing your hands before his thumb starts stroking at one of your palms, “What Ron Has Done To You Is Unforgivable, And I Will Not Be Brushing It Off When It’s Affected You Like this.”

He pauses, eye-lights dropping to your hands and watching his own thumb tracing the crease lines in your skin.

“You deserve better.”

Papyrus is so much quieter than you’re used to, his voice almost a whisper that sends a shudder down your spine with its novelty.

“I’m Going To Help You, If You Let Me,” he finally finishes, and you nod. There’s a second for him to pause, and then Papyrus is leaving the bathroom, likely grabbing the little hair styling kit you keep stashed for moments like this. When you’re upset and willing to ruin your hair just for some kind of change to take the hurt from your shoulders.

You’re feeling… not better, but definitely calmer by the time Papyrus has you cleaned up. Your hair is shorter than you’ve ever let it be, shaved down at the sides and the top in an un-styled mohawk that makes you giggle whenever you shake your head and it flops everywhere.

Papyrus just smiles at you whenever you start goofing with it, rolling his eyes when you stick your tongue out at him. He’s making you dinner now, having found out you haven’t eaten since the afternoon before.

“You’d Fall Apart Without Me,” he had said, and when you shrugged and agreed his cheekbones had been decorated with a pretty red blush that got you snickering.

Falling apart is easier when you have Papyrus with you, you think. He’s at least willing to help you pick up the pieces. Plus, who else is going to ask how you’d like to metaphorically rip your ex’s balls out?

[ryomens-vixen]

I don't even think I can handle Chucky!Sukuna, Can you?

Contains: NSFW, Comedy, Yandere Tendencies, Vulgar language, Non-Con.

Summary: Before Sukuna passed away he made you promise to bring him back by any means necessary, and you did... But he wasn't too happy about it.

Word count: Idk Sis... 🤷🏾‍♀️

Find my kinktober stuff on my Masterlist

*CRASH*

*SCREAM*

"Ryomen you told me to bring you back by any me- AH!" Yup he was absolutely pissed, stopping your sentence by the chuck of a kitchen knife that pierced the wall just inches from your face. Seeing this angry little devil inside of a children's doll Scurry about the kitchen floor in a tantrum curses and insult was laughable, but you knew who you were dealing with at the end of the day.

"Kuna just calm-"

"Tell me to calm down again, and you'll wish you hadn't!" He pointed his stubby finger at you with an enraged scrunched up face.

"What in your right mind gave you the fuckin idea to do THIS it me? Huh? Is some kinda sick joke? My dumb lovestruck wife couldn't find an actual vessel?!" God he's so hot when he's pissed, when he's degrading you.

"W-Well I wouldn't say dumb-"

"Stop goddamn talking, god I can't hear myself think with you running your mouth~" he paced back and forth about the kitchen area thinking to himself meanwhile all your dumb little brain could think about was his hand wrapped firmly around your neck once the both of you could find a perfect vessel. Hell maybe even once that looked exactly like him, but what? All you could think about was the way he manhandled you all the time. Just thinking about it made you more wet than him degrading you just now- if only he wasn't in the body of a children's toy... Something bigger... Something you could customize like the dildo you begged him to customize in the same size and shape of his cock.

💡💡💡-!!!

"Kuna! I have an idea!" You swiftly picked him up, your perverted mind racing with the thought of customizing a body for him...a sex doll to be precise.

"Well you better make this shit quick I can't stand this picking me up bullshit much longer- Ouch!"

In your excitement you might have accidentally banged his precious forehead against the frame of the door to your bedroom. While snickering about your pervy and full proof idea of transferring his soul to the body of a sex doll. As much as he would absolutely love to entertain the thought sukuna was far too busy trying to hold his temper with you, but at the same time excited to take some anger out on you in due time.

Finally it was here the sex doll you spent a few thousand dollars on made in the same likeness as your late husband. You watched as Ryomen was getting use to his new temporary body, the silicone abs, muscles, cock. Two? You customized it was two? You weren't paying attention, but Sukuna was definitely smirking your way at the thought of you bouncing on both of his cocks. He also thought about fucking you dumb.. But it Would only make you more dumb and he didn't need that at all.

"Do you like it, Ryomen! I worked so ha-" Ryomen had swiftly grabbed a fistful of your hair, forcing both of his silicone cocks into your mouth shutting you up completely. "Hey.. Watch the tee- Ah What the hell~" Sukuna kept a tight grip on your hair as he fucked into your throat, He threw his head back letting out a deep groan pushing his cocks balls deep down your throat. Holding you there just the listen to the coughing and gagging you made, patting on his thigh trying to signal to him that you needed air.

"Fuuuuck~ If I wasn't plastic if I wasn't plastic I swear you'd be drinking my fuckin kids right now." He pulled out from your throat, dragging you once again by the hair and tossing you to the bed while listening to how you gasped and wheezed for air. The mere sight of struggle from his lovely, dumb, perverted wife just turned him on even more.

Before you knew it he had your wrists, and ankles all tied up, ball gag in mouth, while he pounded into both of your tight holes. Sukuna watched as tears streamed down your face and eyes rolled back- oh did he take pleasure in that.. Licking your tears from your eyes, yanking and tugging at back of of you head. Right now you were just a dirty little who're to him and he loved every bit of- just like you loved EVERY bit of him right? Right.

"Awww, Does my dirty bitch of a wife want me to stop? Heh I don't think so doll face, You're mine!" He only pounded deeper completely bullying your gspot isn't almost like you could feel him in your guts it felt so good, but it was so overstimulating. It was all too good until you felt a sharp stinging pain on your back causing a muffled scream to come out of you. Sukuna was literally slicing at his name into your back with scary accurate precision. "oh be fuckin quiet, don't you get it baby? I'm a good, fuck..., good guy like that stupid doll says- so I'ma breed and mark you like a GOOD GUY should~"

"Fuck that's so good~"

"Kuuu... N... Na.. ~"

taglist: @blkkizzat @gojos-thot-patrol-main @biscuitsngravie @satkuna @callm3senpaii @candycandy00

Gonna go do my make up for Halloween Bye!

[pinkydevil16]

Rafe with spoiled mean reader who only he can control

18+ Y/n was a bitch, there was no nice way to say it, she hated everyone and didn't care enough to hide it. She got everything she wanted, including Rafe although everyone thought she had him wrapped around her manicured finger when in reality he had her wrapped around his. She was mean and abrasive but he wasn't afraid to put her in her place and she loved it. She craved it, no one else challenged her, dared to try but Rafe, he enjoyed it. She was a spoilt brat and he loved to break her, to watch her crumble and beg because of him. 

"What the fuck are you doing?" Y/n pushed the girl away from Rafe, the touran had been flirting whilst he got two drinks for Y/n and himself, he didn't care enough to tell her to back off. Smirking when Y/n stood in front of the touran, her hand on her hip, chest heaving as she glared at the girl.

"Oh sorry i didn't know." Y/n rolled her eyes, stepping closer to the terrified girl as she moved to run her hand down Rafe's chest and grabbed his shirt yanking him down into a possessive kiss. Rafe grinning into the kiss as he held the drinks not wanting to drop them on Y/n as she pushed him away and smirked at the girl.

"Get the fuck out of here before i beat your skanky ass." The touran nodding and running away as Y/n took the drink from Rafe, downing it and chucking the cup behind her, pulling him back to her lips as he groaned, her hand palming his hard cock.

"You're mine baby, don't forget it." Y/n spoke against his lips, the alcohol and anger making her forget that Rafe didn't take her shit. Pulling back and downing his drink before gripping her hips and pulling her into him, his lips by her ear as he almost growled out the words.

"You forget who you're talking to brat. You belong to me, drop the attitude before i fuck it out of you." Y/n biting her lip as she tried not to moan at his words, Rafe biting down on her neck leaving a mark as he pulled back and grinned down at her. Y/n licking her red lips with a small head tilt, a smirk taking back over her features to match Rafe's.

"You make it sound bad. We both know you're going to fuck me if i have an attitude or not." Rafe grabbing the back of her neck and pulling her into a bruising kiss, her moan being swallowed by his kiss as he grabbed at her shorts. Turning her around and pressing her into the wall nearby, the wind knocked out her as she hit the wall hard, his hands not stopping until one wrapped around her throat and the other thigh. Allowing him to grind into her as he kissed her, another moan coming from her as he tightened his grip before pushing back off her leaving her hot and bothered against the wall.

"Get upstairs right now." Y/n grinning as she nodded, slowly walking up the stairs as Rafe took another shot and followed her, Y/n running her hand along his bedding with a sly grin. Rafe glaring at her as he approached her, gripping her cheeks harshly and pushing her to her knees in front of him but Y/n still smirked.

"Wipe that smirk off your mouth and open it wide." Y/n pretended to think, licking her red lips and squeezing them shut, his thumb digging into her jaw until she opened it out of pain. Rafe spitting into her mouth and opening his trousers, slapping her lightly with his cock as she maintained eye contact. 

"Such a fucking brat." Rafe spat out, pushing his cock into her mouth as she stuck out her tongue, purely sinful as he let go of her cheeks allowing her to think she had control. Her nails digging into her thighs as she bobbed up and down, her tongue swirling around his cock and he moaned watching her, waiting until she thought she had full control, hands in her hair letting her do as she pleased. Waiting a few moments as he let out breathless moans, closing his eyes and reopening them as he gripped her hair pulling her head back and forcing his cock further into her mouth at a brutal pace, Y/n gagging as tears came to her eyes and hands dug into his thighs. Moaning around his cock as her lipstick smeared over his cock and her cheeks, Rafe groaning at the feeling of his cock hitting the back of her throat and the way she gagged and moaned around him, drunk on how she submitted to him. 

"Oh fuck, such a pretty mouth too bad you're such an annoying brat who can't control it." Y/n whining as his cock pulsed in her mouth, moments later feeling him cum down her throat, Rafe groaning as he buried himself deep in her mouth, Y/n gagging harshly and slapping his thigh until he pushed her back letting her cough out and breathe in. Looking up at him as she swallowed and wiped her mouth, red lipstick now smeared and staining her mouth, Rafe smirking at his lipstick stained cock as he tucked it back inside. Dragging Y/n off the ground and wiping the lipstick away, leaving a pink stain around her mouth as he kissed her.

"Much better." Y/n trying to move and clean herself up when Rafe grabbed her cheeks making her look at him.

"Sorry baby, but you're not cleaning that up. I want everyone to know the mean little Y/n just got her throat fucked by me for being a brat." Y/n nodding as he pulled her into another kiss, moaning as he pushed her hair out the way to deepen the kiss. Pulling away and waiting for Y/n to walk out the room, smacking her butt as she walked making her yelp and look back at him. Biting her lip with a small wipe from her thumb still tasting him on her tongue.

[konigsblog]

Ghost having an obsession with Soaps girl. He feels ashamed of himself, Soap is the closest thing he has to a friend, he shouldn’t be thirsting over his best mates girlfriend!!

But he can’t help it, getting hard at the sight of her tits bouncing during training, excusing himself to the bathroom to get rid of his painfully hard cock.. fucking into his fist like a teenager while biting his hand to stifle his groans…how embarrassing😵‍💫

Tying Johnny to a chair so he’s forced to watch how Simon fucks you, treating you like some cheap whore while you’re crying, unable to form a coherent sentence...taunting poor Soap, who’s unable to jack himself off while Simon tells him how pathetic he is, how much better Simon can make you feel🫠

Just imagine how cocky he’d get when you squirt around his big cock, “You’ve never had her gush around you like this, eh?”

johnny's all tied up and bound, gritting his teeth as he watches simom pleasure you. he's jealous, furious that simon's making your legs weak and your clit sensitive, treating you like a cheap whore, slamming into you and chucking when you squirt easily. it makes simom think that he's better than john, that he can pleasure you even better than he can :((( “who's got a bigger cock, eh? y'like that don't you? look at her, johnny.. your girl's squirtin' all over my cock, mm'..– bet you're desperate for her, to jerk off to this.”

simon's cock is larger; thick and lengthy, veins running against your walls, his thumb rubbing soothing circles as he teases you for being needy and desperate. he doesn't stop for a minute, even after he's made the both of you cum, forcing johnny to remain jealous and upset about his girl being fucked by another man!!!! “simon, simo–!” you squeel, squeezing around him and spamming down on his size, feeling as simon moves and forces you infront of your boyfriend. “go on, doll, look at him, tell him how good i'm making you feel.”

you feel so bad, but you're desperate for another orgasm, panting and looking at john in the eyes, feeling the knot in your stomach as he thrusts deep and hard inside you. sputtering out his good he's making you feel, his pace increasing with each syllable flowing from your mouth. he knocks hard into you, grunting with each sloppy thrust, slick pussy dripping down your thighs. your wrists hurt as he'd been holding onto them the entire time, making you fall to the floor between johnny's legs, john still struggling to break himself free. “joh..john.. i'm– fuck–.. sor.. sorry..” you manage through gasps, burying your face in simon's crotch, sucking his lengthy cock while the two men make eye contact.

simon laughs lowly, shaking his head before looks down at you; wet, desperate, need, full of cum. the tip slamming against the back of your throat, definitely bruising it. your gags fill john's ears, it makes him hard at the idea - his meaty cock begging to be freed from his boxers and jeans.

you're left whining at johnny, no aftercare and sore as simon grabs his jacket, fixes his fly and leaves without another word. untying johnny as he reassures you that it's alright, as long as he can eat simon's cum from your pussy. you're suprised at his standards, feeling as he buries his face between your thighs, sucking and licking at your hole, tasting simon's gross, bitter and metallic seed from your pussy :(

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

Hii, since you asked for some Sam requests, I throught about this.

What about something where reader (female if possible) is a werewolf and it's like full moon, and she's super insecure because she doesn't want to hurt him but he stays with her during the transformation? And it's just super fluffy before and after? Also, It would be great if It was season 1 Sam :3

Thank you in advance, don't worry if you can't or don't want to do this request^^

Have a good day/night <3

.⋆｡Beneath The Moonlight｡⋆.

Sam Winchester x werewolf!plus size reader

You have a deadly secret that you’ve been keeping for almost 12 years but when Sam Winchester blows back into your life, he proves to you that it’s ok to need someone else to help with the burden

Warnings: angst, self-loathing, fear, brief references to a werewolf’s diet, self-harm in the form of using silver against herself, fluff, almost confession, I made her a little more of a traditional werewolf cause I can, brief mention of dead parents, Dean really wants to be Sammy’s wingman

WC: 1.3k

Minors DNI

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

Your eyes darted to the clock above the kitchen sink as you sliced off yet another piece of pie for the ravenous hunter in your living room. There was just about an hour left till sunset- only an hour until the full moon would breach the horizon and you would be swallowed up by the monster that lived in your chest.

Even now, you could feel her flexing her claws and pushing against the walls of your mind. She wanted out and she would do anything to be free.

You squeezed your eyes shut, forcing back the sting of tears as you took a deep breath and left the solitude of your small kitchen.

Sam and Dean, the sons of the man that saved you from a werewolf pack 12 years ago. John made it a habit to check in on you every once in a while but after he went missing, Dean decided that he should take on that responsibility. So as you were preparing to weather out another full moon chained up in the basement beneath your isolated farmhouse, the younger two Winchesters appeared on your doorstep, inviting themselves in. 

You knew you had to get them out, no one knew your secret and if they found out, you were sure that a silver bullet to the heart was in your future.

“It’s gettin kinda late don’t you think?” You desperately tried to keep your voice level but the flash of hazel told you that you weren’t doing a very good job. You handed Dean his third slice of pie while vehemently ignoring Sam’s gaze.

He had always known how to read your body language, even when you were both 10. “I thought you liked having us here sweetheart.” Dean attempted to croon but instead spat pie chucks across your coffee table. You shot him a look and he sheepishly wiped it up with his shirt sleeve

“I’ve got jobs I have to do early tomorrow and if you haven’t noticed, I don’t exactly have the space to house two hunters.” Dean paused mid-bite and cleared his throat before a devious smirk grew over his lips.

“Well I guess not but you certainly have room for one.” Before you could comprehend what the older boy was implying, he had wolfed down the rest of his pie and sprung up from the couch with a speed you thought he could never possess, and ran out the front door while yelling behind him. “Have a good night!”

The roar of the Impala’s engine carried over the quiet fields surrounding your house before Sam was even halfway down the hall. Your hands trembled as he walked back into the room, an embarrassed smile on his face. “I’m sorry about him. I can call a taxi or just walk back to town if you really want me gone.”

You shook your head. “It’s fine Sam. Let me clean up and I’ll set up the bed for you.” Your throat was tight with anxiety as you felt the beast inside you grin. He’ll make a good snack, you could hear her say.

“I couldn’t take your bed.” He started but you waved him off with what you hoped was a comforting smile and not a grimace. 

“You’re too tall to fit on the couch and I won’t accidentally wake you up in the morning if you’re in my room.” Sam’s footsteps followed you into the kitchen. “Go on, I’ll only be a couple minutes. There should be some extra soap in the hall closet if you want a shower.”

You chanced a look back at your friend and caught the briefest glimpse of a soft look on his face. “Thank you.” He silently turned and left, presumably to make use of your small shower, and you breathed a sigh of relief.

If he was in your bedroom, he wouldn’t hear your screams as you turned.

——————

Pain blazed through your veins like a drug, slowly ripping you apart only to stitch you back together and do it all over again. She hated that you had tied yourself up like a dog- a silver infused iron chain wrapped around your neck and bolted to the reinforced concrete floor, the muzzle that kept her from howling bound tightly to your face and the handcuffs around your wrist that prevented you from moving lest the pure silver burn through your skin.

You eased yourself back against the far wall of the basement and turned your head to look out the lone window in the room. It was small and protected by iron bars but it allowed the warm summer breeze to wash over you, granting you a brief reprieve from the agony you were in.

As the weak moonlight finally brushed over you, your senses sharpened. You could smell the leftovers in your fridge and the scent of soap, you could see the small bugs that flew past the window and the small particles of dust that floated through the dark air. You could hear footsteps-

The basement door creaked open and you whimpered, the sound too grating on your sensitive ears. “Leave!” You snarled, your voice deeper and more dangerous as the wolf slowly consumed your mind. The footsteps continued.

Sam appeared at the bottom of the stairs, dressed only in his jeans and a t-shirt. He smelt like you with a mixture of his natural musk that you could only detect when he hugged you. His eyes were downturned and shining with tears.

“Why didn’t you tell anyone?” The laugh bubbled up from your chest before you could stop it. It was broken and sounded more like a hyena’s cackle than any sound a human could make.

“I only know hunters, what would happen if I told them I need to eat hearts to live?” Sam flinched but didn’t look scared, he almost looked… sheepish.

“Guess you’re right.” He stepped closer to you, his tall body now illuminated by the pale moonlight. “What I meant to say was, why didn’t you tell me?” 

Silence washed over the both of you and your eyes dropped down. The shadows around you were steadily getting shorter, closing you into the far corner of the basement in a vain attempt to keep your wolf at bay.

“You left, like you were meant to. I’m meant to be alone.” You were struggling to speak as your mind slipped into a more primitive state. “Alone- can’t hurt anyone.”

Your ribs cracked and Sam stepped forward. Another wave of his scent washed over you making your chest rumble with a pleased sound. “I would’ve stayed, for you.” 

Warmth bloomed across your face even as your back collided with the cool brick wall. “I would’ve taken care of you.” He slowly dropped to his knees only an arm’s length away from you, the moonlight following behind him. 

Suddenly you were both ten years old again and grappling with the concept that the monsters in your nightmares were real. But yet again, there was the hazel-eyed son of a hunter telling you that everything was going to be ok and that even if no one else was, he would be there for you, no matter what.

A large, warm hand cupped your full cheek, his thumb brushing over your soft skin. “Sh-sh-should be scared.” You growled but nuzzled into his touch anyway, desperate for the first piece of physical affection you had felt since your parents died. He smiled and took the chance to place his other hand beneath where the collar rested across your neck.

“I could never be scared of you.” Your eyes sparkled with tears which he quickly wiped away as soon as they fell. “And you don’t need to be scared of hurting me or anyone else for that matter. I’ll protect you.”

The moon bathed both of you in a serene light for only a moment before your vision began to blur and your body trembled under the strain of your transformation. “I won’t leave you behind, never again.” But it sounded more like ‘I love you’.

And as you finally surrendered to the monster within you, Sam’s face was the last thing you saw and for the first time since you had been condemned to this life, you knew peace.

SPN Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Join my taglist!

All works

@im-a-slut-for-fluff @alexxavicry @ravenwings73 @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @silverfire475 @psychadelichues @mvyalx @faefanatic @evansqueen54 @anamiad00msday @th3slothy @princess76179 @Lanielagenev @luvvvjada @km-ffluv

Supernatural

@hc-geralt-23

Sam Winchester

@pretty-npeach @jason-todds-bitch @honkytonkbabe @nini-trash-forever @mandyzsick101 @getoutofthere @l9ckheed @onlystarshere @xoxokiaraaxoxo @star-dusst @marvel-mistress @aleck-cross @ambassadortotrilliusprime @girl-of-multi-fandoms @everything-is-awesomesauce @Theantisoci-alone