#caliban imagines

[spidefox]

Hallo im not really sure if im gonna post as much as before cus uni started to morally kill me and yeees

So i mostly draw wips, sketches and studies now, gonna show more of this in the near future, sowwy

[wishchip106]

Logan but erik is also there

i need more fics that have this concept, i’ve read nearly all the ones i’ve found with this but i’m greedy so i require more

caliban just having to deal with three old ass mutants

since erik’s in his nineties i’m giving him a walker

and you know what HEARING LOSS

“Erik can you pass the salt?”

“WHAT??”

“the salt, Erik”

“WHAT??????”

he refuses to using hearing aids for some reason

him and charles sleep together but sometimes charles forgets who he is and freaks out about the stranger in his bed

erik has a spare bed in the ‘house’ when that happens

once laura comes along and they escape in the limo charles keeps going like “this reminds me of October 1962” the fact he even remembers that is crazy

when they’re in the hotel, laura shows erik her xmen comics while they watch movies until of course when the humans break in and charles has a seizure 🙁

i feel like erik would be the kind of old guy to go “back in my day!”

grandpa magneto naps

when they meet that family charles references erik as his husband

i cant tell whether i want this to be a fix-it or not

fuck it lets go down the angst path

x-24 still manages to kill charles and temporarily kidnap laura, magneto got his ass beat ☹️

beach divorce reference, erik cradling charles in his arms

they bury charles

erik refuses to leave the grave so logan and laura keep going

and that would be probably the last we see of erik

i’m gonna say he does die, maybe of old age he deserves a natural death like that

lets say someone sees an unconscious old man near a fresh grave and takes him to that hospital laura took logan where erik maybe passes in his sleep

boom kinda sad ending

and of course Logan ending for logan and laura

just imagine erik is also there or something ^^

[frost-queen]

Where angels fall (Reader x Caliban)

Requested by: anon, Forever tag:@missmelodramatic, @merlin-dahlia, @alex--awesome--22,@elllie-does-the-posts, @floatlosers, @merlieve, @queen-of-books, @glimmering-darling-dolly@denkisclown, @wildieflower, @meyocoko, @bubblybrianna, @justanothercoco@subjecta13-thefangirl, @m-rae23, @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr, @swampthing07, @melsunshine, @panhoeofmanyfandoms, @venomsvl, @the-uncoordinated-house-cat, @rosecentury,  @imagines-by-her,  @evilcr0ne, @vviolynn

Summary: You are Sabrina's friend and brought down from the heavens. When you meet Caliban, he is very suspicious you might be more than a mortal. When Caliban and you grow closer and fall in love, you decide to tell him one day about how you are an angel. Caliban wanting nothing more but to have you all for himself, corrupts you into giving up your wings to be with him.

The sky rumbled. Thick clouds covering up the clear sky. Another rumble thundered behind the clouds. Then a light lighting up some of the clouds. It got brighter as it made the clouds part. Creating a way as the light busted out, hitting the ground hard. For a moment it lighted the brightest till it dimmed out.

The light being swallowed back up. The clouds drawing closer again. On the ground a figure kneeling till it slowly rose. Taking a deep breath. Greendale. Your newly home for as long as he ordered you. The faint glow from around you dimmed out. You took your first step. Stumbling. The next one steadier. As you walked on earth for the first time. Being far away from home.

“Hey Y/n!” – Sabrina said when she entered the library. She approached you as you were seated down reading a book with much interest. – “Hey Sabrina.” – you replied glancing briefly up from your book when she came closer to your table. She smiled at you, resting her hand on the table as you suddenly heard another voice. One you didn’t knew. – “Sabrina!” – the voice called out as you noticed Sabrina rolling with her eyes.

Clearly she didn’t like this person this much. Glancing to the side you saw a young boy approach. Blonde and very attractive. – “I wasn’t done talking to you back in ...” – the boy said as Sabrina cleared her throat stopping the last of his words. She hinted with her head at you as the boy chuckled humorously.

“A memory wipe can be easy on your mortal friend Sabrina.” – he said all cocky. – “Caliban!” – Sabrina groaned out, clearly annoyed with him. – “Yet.” – Caliban continued approaching your table. You lowered your book when he set his hand by your side, coming to hover over your shoulder. He took a deep breath, taking in your smell. – “This mortal doesn’t smell mortal enough.”

You grabbed your book, lifted it up and slapped it up right in Caliban’s face. It startled him, making him stumble back and away from you. – “Personal space is a thing creep!” – you called out, shoving your chair back. Sabrina snickered silently as Caliban was touching his nose where you had hit him. You had gotten up, keeping the book under your armpit. Coming face to face with the creep that was sniffing you. Now you had a clear look of him. And he off you. – “Feisty that one is.” – he said to Sabrina.

Sabrina pulled her shoulders up with an innocent smile. You threw him a sarcastic smile to annoy him. – “So not so mortal, who are you?” – he wanted to know, dying with curiosity. There was something about you that was a mystery. There were some parts of you human, but not all. Something supernatural. When you remained silent went Caliban down in a bow. – “Caliban, prince of hell!” – he exaggerated with some flair.

Sabrina sighed loud with a roll of her eyes. – “Pleasure.” – you responded dull and unbothered. Caliban chuckled nervously when you didn’t seem impressed at all. – “And yours? Who are you?” – he asked taking a step closer to you. – “Wouldn’t you like to know.” – you answered witty taking your leave. Caliban stared stunned back at you. – “Sabrina?” – he asked, pleading with her for answers. Sabrina pulled her shoulders and hands up, not getting involved with it.

After a few classes you went up to your locker. Shutting the door, you were surprised by Caliban standing by your locker. A smug smile on his lips. – “So?” – he said leaning with his hand against the lockers. – “Must I guess or drag it out of you?” – he offered. You laughed at his eagerness. – “I’ll give you my name if you get on your knees and beg.” – you said just to tease him.

Caliban blinked surprised but then slowly went down to one knee, palms up as if bringing you a piece offering. – “Oh my!” – you said astonished that he was foolish enough to do so. You laughed loud, turning around and leaving before his other knee could touch the ground. – “But…” – Caliban muttered out, watching you leave.

“What are you doing?” – he turned his head seeing Sabrina stare confused at him. – “Nothing.” – Caliban replied bitsy, getting up quickly. Still snickering you clutched your books closer to your chest. It was kind of fun seeing the prince of hell throw himself at you like that. If only he knew you were his opposite. Pure and light.

A few days later you were at the library again. A hidden section in a corner at an hour most had gone home. You were reading informative when you heard a whish of flames burning. You immediately shut your book, sliding it down on your lap. For it could only be one person that appeared out of thin air like that. – “So here you are hiding, not so mortal.” – you heard Caliban speak as his footsteps approached from behind.

He set his hand down on the table again, coming to hover over your shoulder. He brought his head down against your ear. – “So you like playing games.” – he whispered as it felt intimate and fluttering. – “Only with you.” – you teased letting your head fall back to look at him. Caliban came hovering over your face with his, smiling flirtatious. – “For a name I shall get on my knees, I will go to hell and bring you the brightest jewel just to hear your name from your lips.” – he spoke making you smile.

“Please don’t.” – you chuckled out bringing your head back. You got up making Caliban move back to give you space. You went to a bookshelf, placing the book you had read back before Caliban could notice it. Caliban picked up another book, opening it uninterested. – “So what must I do?” – he asked. – “To hear that glorious name of yours.” – he added coming nearer.

You turned back to him, leaning against the bookcase. – “Why? Is the prince of hell interested in a mortal?” – you asked as he kept coming closer. He shut the book, dropping it on the table before he neared you. His arm he rested above your head against the bookshelf. – “Very.” – he spoke lowly. You felt yourself supress a squeal at how flirtatious that was of him.

“Not so mortal.” – he finished tilting your chin a bit back with his thumb. You took a deep breath, debating hard. Yet there was no harm in sharing a name. That still didn’t gave away what you truly were. One send from above, his sworn enemy. – “Y/n.” – you told him. Caliban’s smile widened. He was still touching your chin with his thumb. – “Y/n, a name for a princess.”

You punched him in the armpit for being so ridiculous. Caliban only chuckled as if not effected by the pain. You pushed him away returning to the table. From behind you, you could hear him mumble your name. Saying it like a mantra over and over. As if he thought he’d forget about it. It made you snicker quietly at how ridiculously cute it was. – “Caliban, saying my name three times isn’t going to summon me like bloody Mary!” – you called out to him.

Caliban smiled sheepishly, being caught by you. He hastened himself to your side, pulling a chair back to sit down with you. – “Maybe I like saying it. Y/n.” – he spoke leaning with his chin on his hand. You rolled your eyes at him. Caliban gawked in disbelieve at you. – “Don’t roll your eyes at me, not so mortal.” – he said grabbing your wrist and holding it down on the table.

His sense of immaturity only made you laugh louder. – “Don’t mock me not so mortal Y/n!” – he called out pulling at your wrist. You fell forwards coming face to face with him. Noses inches away from each other. Laughter had stopped as you could only remain still before pulling aware away. Hoping your cheeks weren’t too flushed.

Walking home that night, you gently tapped your hand against your forehead. – “Stop, stop, stop.” – you muttered out trying to knock some sense into you. – “Stop liking him.” – you slapped yourself hard, a bit too hard, making you rub the area with shame. Taking a deep breath you kept telling yourself to not fall for him. No good would come from it. The prince of hell with an angel from the heavens.

Not falling for Caliban was hard. Harder than any other task you had even been given. He wasn’t even school bound yet he kept appearing out of nowhere just to see you. His acts towards you were always full of flirts and charm. There had been a few close encounters where you had almost kissed him. The urge haven grown so desperate, you barely had any control over yourself.

Caliban was doing something to you and you couldn’t stop it. It was too late for that. There was no point in denying it that you liked Caliban and that he liked you in return. Perhaps telling him the truth about yourself wouldn’t be such a bad idea. You felt comfortable and loved enough around him to share your true self. You would do anything for him. That is how deep you had fallen for him. The prince of hell had you on your knees.

It was getting darker as Caliban was walking you home. Biting your lip, you took his hand, pulling him away from the main road over some grass fields. – “This isn’t your usual route home.” – he commented, blindly following you. – “I know.” – you answered going over a pumpkin patch, watching out carefully to not step on one. – “So where are we going Y/n?” – he asked nearly stepping on a pumpkin.

You remained silent walking over to a near small forest. You needed to be away from spying eyes if you were to reveal your true self to Caliban. Near an abandoned playground in the woods you came to a halt. – “Romantic.” – Caliban commented with a chuckle as you shushed him. – “Caliban, you were right, I’m not a mortal.” – you told him. – “I knew it!” – he called out with glory. – “I smelled it on you right away.” – you slapped him to stop interrupting you.

“Caliban listen!” – you made clear. You took a deep breath as Caliban could only stare at you. Was perhaps finally his burning desire off knowing going to be fulfilled? – “I’m going to show you who I truly am, but please don’t feel repulsed.” – you begged him. – “How can I be repulsed by you, princess?” – he answered brushing his fingers down your cheek.

You took his hands taking a step back. You closed your eyes. Caliban stared in awe at you when you started to glow. Light up with a soft bright light. Then with the sound of feathers appeared two white wings from your back. Opening briefly to its full length, before settling behind you. Caliban gawked in love at you. Going down on his knees for you as he bestowed upon your light. – “I am a child of the heavens.” – you told him after having opened your eyes once more.

“You are angelic Y/n.” – he complimented in wonder. He kissed your glowing hands making you smile flustered. Aware of your own self and Caliban’s nature, you looked saddened away. The heavens and the hell couldn’t be together. They never could. Caliban noticed the sadness on your face. He got back up stroking your cheek with his thumb. – “I want you so badly Y/n, but He and Lucifer will never allow us to be.” – Caliban spoke. – “I want you too.” – you answered bringing his hand down from your cheek to hold.

“What if we keep it secret?” – you asked. Caliban shook his head.  – “Yours and mine, would never let it pass. He will cut off your wings for loving a hell bound prince.” – he went on. – “He is forgiving.” – you told Caliban. – “He is not, not about this. We shouldn’t be.” – Caliban pushed your hand away, turning himself away. – “No!” – you called out as Caliban smirked half.

“I want to be with you. I want to be yours. I love you Caliban.” – you said desperately wanting him back. – “I love you too Y/n, but your wings prevent us from being together.” – he said saddened. – “Then I don’t want them!” – you shouted. Caliban smiled. His corruption working. – “Are you sure? There is no return Y/n.” – he had turned himself back to you. You nodded. – “I love you, I don’t want my wings if I can’t be yours.” – you told him clearly.

Caliban smiled cupping your cheek. – “Then be my princess.” – he whispered before kissing you. The moment your lips touched his, your wings started to disintegrate. The glow on you fading out to nothing. But a mortal appearance you had. Letting the change pass by you, you kept kissing Caliban. Now I have you for eternity Caliban thought.

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

Read more of my fics on my Masterlists!  

[caedmonofwhitby]

[theromanticistera]

You taught me language, and all I gained from it is that I now know how to curse.

[themanwhomadeamonster]

Between the DD2 and Warframe stuff we are FEASTIN

REAL SHIT WE HAVE 4K HD 2160P 260+ INCHES OF NOT-GREG EROTICALLY PULLING OUT AND EATING OUR HEART AGAIN ✨️AND✨️SHARED WARFRAME LORE FOR I THINK THE FIRST TIME???

[shinehalley]

I'm convinced that if Henry had known about Lily's history he wouldn't have used the serum on her either (because I'm sure Victor didn't explain why he let her go, he probably just brushed it off and left or somwthing like this because this man's modus operandi is to run from conflict as much as to breathe anyway)

I do not accept that Henry "my mother was abandoned by my father when I was a child and I hate him for it" Jekyll would not sympathize with Lily "I was abandoned with my child and lost in the most mundane and tragic way possible and I can't let go of that anger because it means abandoning my child" when this is basically the same feeling Henry has towards his own mother!!! He feels angry at his father for her and although he wants to let go of the "bad parts" of him he also constantly justifies his anger towards his own father with justice because that's what he can do for her now, never forget and never forgive even if it means he feels that anger he hates so much.

Henry would understand the mixture of affection and revenge that Lily feels for her daughter that makes her this flawed and spiteful creature despite her potential for the angelic and I truly believe they would have been an amazing duo if the series had continued.

[eufezco]

LIKE THE FIRST TIME

it has been a long time since you and logan had sex. you should show him that despite everything he hated about himself, you still craved him.

logan x afab!reader (smut, angst) + no use of y/n. english isn't my first language (!). gif credit to @/asgardswinter

it was a shitty place where you were living with logan. it was always dirty, no matter how many times you cleaned it, it was noisy, because despite being in the middle of nowhere, the train tracks were very close to it, and it was the least home-like thing in the world. both of you were working your asses off to get out of there as soon as possible.

in your free time, you helped caliban with the housework and took care of old charles xavier while logan spent the whole day out, driving and having to deal with one of the things he hated most in the world, people.

he always came home late, tired, with his whole body aching. some nights you would fall asleep while waiting for him and even though logan asked you to do it, to not to wait up for him, most times you stayed up so just to make sure he arrived safely. you waited for him curled up in bed. when he was a minute late, your heart began to beat faster and you imagined the worst. but then he would come into the room, dragging his feet and with his head bowed down.

—how was your day?

logan grunted as he sat at the foot of your bed, you felt how the mattress sagged with his weight.

—did something happen?

you crawled to him and rested your chin on his shoulder. he let out a sigh of relief when your arms wrapped around his body and you hugged him from the back.

—just a tired fuckin' day, that's all.

you hummed, understanding. —well, now you are home so you can finally relax. would you like something to eat?

logan shook his head as he let it fall back and rest on your shoulder. he just wanted to stay like that a little longer with his body between your legs and his eyes closed. he placed one of his hands over yours resting on his stomach as you hugged him. one of his big hands was enough to cover both of yours.

—i've missed you, lo. i always miss you when you are away.

you placed a kiss on his neck. the first thing he did when he entered the house was to get rid of his shirt, keeping only the white tank top he was wearing underneath. his broad shoulders were at your disposal, his muscular arms and warm skin as well.

logan swallowed when he felt your lips on his neck. you noticed so you placed another kiss there.

—i miss you too. every second i spend away from you, i miss you.

you hummed, your heart gave a small jump of joy. while your love language was words of affirmation and you were always reminding him how much he was loved by you, logan was more of an act of service man. removing makeup from your face when you got home and were too tired to do it yourself, washing your hair and massaging your head when you showered, and leaving your coffee ready when he went to work earlier than you. hearing those words come out of logan's mouth meant the whole world.

your hands traveled down his abdomen until they reached the hem of his tshirt and easily slipped under the fabric. you felt his perfect abs under your fingertips and the hairs growing below his belly button as well. he took a deep breath, it had been so long since the last time he had allowed you to touch him like that.

you took your hands out of his tshirt and moved one of them to his neck to make logan turn his head resting on your shoulder and look at you. you connected your lips with his, his bushy beard pricked your face as you kissed him, but you didn't mind, it had been so long since you and logan had kissed so passionately that you could take it.

your tongue slipped past his lips and logan moaned, allowing his to go inside your mouth as well. you moved on the bed, putting one leg on each side of logan's body and sitting on his lap, all this without stopping kissing for a second. his hands now rested on your lower back, yours were on the back of his head to deepen the kiss.

his cock got rock hard the moment you sat on his thighs and you started to roll your hips timidly against his crotch. you felt his growing bulge rubbing against your clit through the thin fabric of your underwear. god, how bad you needed to feel him.

your hands slid down from his neck, caressing his entire torso, until they reached again the hem of his tshirt. you tried to pull the white tank top over his head, but logan stopped you. his lips parted from yours and he shook his head.

—it's okay. i want you, logan. i promise everything is fine.

you held his cheeks so he would look you in the eyes.

he was getting old, there was nothing left of the young and charming boy you met at charles' academy. his body had changed, his hair and beard were becoming whiter every day, and you were still young and full of light while he was fading away. yet you still loved and desired him, like the first day you craved his body. you found him just as hot, even hotter now, but you didn't want to force him to do something he wasn't going to enjoy.

you kissed him so he could stop worrying. —let me take care of you. i want you, lo, i need to feel you —.you mumbled against his lips. he let out a grunt when he felt you pressing your pussy harder on his bulge.

your hands traveled the same path down his chest one more time until you reached the edge of his tshirt again. you expected him to take your hands off him again but he not only allowed you to keep going but he also lifted his arms so you could pull the white tank top over his head.

—fuck —. you let out in a mix of moan and gasp. his body was breathtaking. your hands were quickly attached to his chest, hairy, hard under your touch, warm, with each of its muscles perfectly defined. abs, pecs, perfect broad and muscular shoulders, and wide strong arms, with veins running from his shoulder down his arms to the back of his hands. you ran your fingers along the thick scars that marked his body. —fuck, you're so hot.

with his hands on your back, logan gently pushed you to keep rubbing yourself against him and you moaned, he was harder if possible and you were so wet that you knew that your panties would be completely soaked. you kissed the crook of his neck while his fists clenched, clutching at the tshirt of his that you were wearing as your pajamas. logan fought against his instinct, against the animalistic way you were making him feel, but his grip became so tight that he ended up ripping the fabric.

—it was one of your favorite tshirts.

—don't care.

and logan kissed your lips as he ended up tearing the fabric completely and threw it on the floor. you grabbed the back of his head when his lips moved down your neck and collarbone. your nipples were already painfully hard when logan cupped one of your tits and wrapped his mouth around your sensitive bud.

all of a sudden you got up from his lap and he had to let your nipple go. he was worried about the way you had moved away from him, had he done something wrong?

now you were standing in the middle of the room, in front of him, only wearing your panties. your body was the most beautiful thing his eyes had ever witnessed, with scars very similar to his, with all those things you hated about yourself. was that how you felt about him? if it had not been for the pain in his whole body he would have fallen off the bed on his knees in front of you.

he huffed a laugh and rolled his eyes once you started swaying your hips from side to side while you slid your underwear down your legs. you laughed too, you felt stupid, but at least you had managed to make him smile. you two weren't the type to do those things, things were always more animalistic, more passionate, rougher. you walked towards him and leaned in to kiss him as your hands worked on the zipper of his jeans.

—you're beautiful —. he whispered.

logan helped you to straddle him again. you held your body over his thanks to your knees on the bed. with one hand you grabbed his hard cock resting impatiently against his stomach. he gasped because of your firm grip and squeezed your hips when you lined it up against your aching entrance.

you lowered yourself just enough for his tip to go in. he let out a deep grunt straight from his chest, you let out all the air you had in your lungs in a moan. you never forgot how big he was, the thickness of his cock, the patch of hair on its base, and the veins running along his shaft, but you did forget about the way it stretched you open, about the sting that his dick going deeper inside you caused.

—careful —. logan mumbled against your lips.

you kept taking him, closing your eyes shut and biting your lower lip, hissing every time you took a centimeter more inside of you. you rested your forehead against his and whined when his cock finally bottomed you. —i need a moment.

logan nodded. one of your hands sneaked in between your bodies and found your clit while his hands lovingly caressed your back. it had been so long since you had sex. logan wouldn't let you touch him, he was disgusted by his own body and he was afraid that you would see him the way he saw himself. that's why that night you decided that you would make him feel so good that he would never doubt the way you felt about him or his body.

you started by slowly rolling your hips as your fingers worked on your clit. his jaw tightened while he felt your body moving with his whole cock inside. his big hands on your hips helped you to move, setting a pace and keeping you from going faster so you wouldn't hurt yourself.

—that's it, take your time —. he said. young logan wouldn't have given you a second to get used to it, he would have fucked you mercilessly and you would have loved every second of it. but now, his eyes were focused on where your bodies became one, enjoying how your pussy adjusted to his size thanks to your fingers rubbing your clit.

he moaned once you lifted your body just a little and then dropped back onto him. you wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed his lips while you repeated that same move again and again. your cries and his moans mixed in your mouths. all his body jerked every time you lifted yourself a bit more and then sucked his cock completely inside you again.

—you make me feel so good, logan. always have, fuck—. you purred in his ear. his hands, previously resting on your hips, slid all the way to your ass your hands and squeezed it. in those little details you could see how he was gaining confidence, which encouraged you to keep moving without changing your pace. it was slow, passionate, intense and intimate.

between moans and cries, you kept worshiping him, telling him how much you had missed feeling him inside you, how your fingers were no comparison to his cock, how you didn't want to share these moments with anyone other than him. there was no one like him. you didn't care about his scars, his moodiness, the gray of his hair, there would never be another one for you but logan, you did not want another one.

you were close, he could feel it in the way your walls were squeezing his cock and he knew he wouldn't last longer. logan wrapped his arms around your body, pressing you against his hard chest, and your fingers knotted into his hair. he groaned, your little jumps became irregular, your legs began to shake. logan hugged you tighter and sunk his teeth into your shoulder, getting a little choked cry from you.

—cum inside me, lo. fill me up, please, i need it. let me have it, please.

oh god, your words were driving him insane and after how well you had treated him, who was he to deny your wishes?

logan held your body down on his cock as he came, hugging you tighter against him. you buried your head into the crook of his neck, moaning into his skin while your legs shook and your pussy clenched around him. it was too much. as he released himself inside you, his claws came out and trapped you between them and logan's body, you had no escape. he groaned when he felt the pain of the adamantium ripping the skin off his knuckles mixed with all the pleasure of cumming inside you.

—shit —. he immediately put the claws away when he realized. —i haven't hurt you, have i?

you shook your head, still coming down from your high. he exhaled with relief. once you had caught your breath, you straightened your back, still sitting on his lap and feeling his cock getting soft inside you. you brought his hands to the front.

—are you okay? that probably hurt —. you caressed his knuckles.

—felt too good to even think about it.

you smiled proudly and kissed him. when you broke away, he noticed the mark of his teeth on the skin of your shoulder. —'m so sorry, fuck.

—don't be. i wish you had bitten me harder.

he shook his head, keeping himself from laughing. —you're a freak.

[mothiir]

Lion and somnophilia

cw: dubcon inherent in both the lion and this kink.

also i am trying to write drabbles to practice being concise — and also to get more porn written. lets see how it goes.

—

He has not granted you leave to sleep in his bed, and yet you do so — lazy, entitled little lass, swooning after only the lightest of exertions, curling beneath his blankets like a mouse tucking itself into a nest. He is your Lord Primarch; you live to serve him, and yet you leave him hard and wanting, choosing to abandon your duty in favour of wasteful, decadent slumber. Are all women as impudent and bothersome as you? If so, it is no wonder that the knights of Caliban tend to prefer the company of their own sex —

And yet — and yet. He does not wake you — even though he wants you, he wants you terribly. He barely had a chance to enjoy the soft, clinging warmth of your cunt before you started protesting that you were tired, and sore, and in need of slumber. By rights, he should have punished you for daring to defy him; he should have put a blade between your eyes for speaking out of turn — he has done worse for less.

And yet he did not. He had stopped, his cock so engorged with blood that it hurt, every sinew in his body crying out for you — and yet he had stopped. He could have forced you. Held you down and fucked into you while you whined and wept and pled. And yet he hadn’t.

Because the thought of you squirming and squeaking beneath him pleased him mightily — but he had not wanted to hurt you. Your wishes mattered more than his.

Your wishes. Yours. A tiny, ridiculous human woman. A serf who means nothing. A baseline with no destiny to speak of. You. Your wishes mattered more.

“Rotten little thing,” he murmurs into your ear. You snuggle closer, seeking out the warmth of his body against Caliban’s winter chill. Your bare breasts squash against his chest; both are beautifully marked by his hungry gnawing teeth; bruises that will not heal for weeks. Indeed, bruises that will likely never heal at all; the Lion certainly does not intend to allow you to go unmarked ever again.

He slips a hand between your thighs. Your cunt is pliable around his fingers, sticky with the remnants of his seed. Your brow furrows a little as he sinks a digit deeper, petting at your walls. You utter a protesting little mew, and — to his undying shame — he obeys your wordless request, and withdraws his hand. Obeying the whims of a human! He is glad none of his brothers can see him stoop so low.

Still, his cock is twitching, and he thinks he may go mad if he doesn’t indulge in you a little. So, like the masterful tactician he is, he takes another approach. He adjusts you, pushing you more firmly into his crotch, your round buttocks nuzzled temptingly against his cock. He has heard stories of —

No. Not that. Not yet, at least. Your head pressed against his chest, your thighs angled just so and — there —

He slides his prick between the juncture of your thighs, the head just brushing your well-used cunt. Your flesh is tacky from his cum, dryer than your insides, but it still feels so so good. Plush, warm, and tight — tighter still when he gently presses your knees together, and you snuggle against him. He moves his hips in painfully small circles, working his cock back and forth; grinding rather than thrusting. He wants to grab at you, to bite your lips, to sup on your blood and fill you so full of his seed it leaks from your mouth —

You murmur in your sleep. Your face is soft; relaxed. Your lips parted as if about to take a bite from something, or to receive a kiss from a far gentler man than he. The blush of your cheek; the sweet smell of your sweat. All of it sparks a savage desire in his chest: he wants to crush you close, to feel your bones shudder in his hands; he wants to bite you so badly that saliva starts to pool on his tongue as he imagines silky flesh giving way beneath his teeth, the way you would scream.

But he does not. He cannot, for entertaining that fantasy would lose him this golden moment, where you sleep in his arms, utterly vulnerable, prey-animal weak, and all his. He takes his time, following your slothful example — for long minutes he drags his cock between your thighs, his foreskin drawing back to reveal his flushed head, precum pearling at the tip. When he does finally cum, it’s with a low, contented groan; he milks his release over your belly and breasts, admiring the stark contrast between your bruised flesh and his spend.

In the morning, he decides, a yawn threatening to split his face, he will give you another chance to swallow his cock down. He’s sure you can do it; human throats are stretchy, and your whining about your aching jaw must be at least a little put on. For now, he will permit himself the luxury of rest.

[thealbatrovss]

wind song // logan(2017) x fem mutant reader

(mini series)

synopsis : you dream of a life without your powers. logan needs them to help locate some dead guys cash. a roadtrip to the Nevada desert with your ex was always bound to be a mistake. but, maybe it wasn’t.

Chapter 2 - heavy metal

chapter summary: you and logan start your journey. a man you meet starts a chain reaction for the events to come.

warnings: 18+ ONLY // MDNI - suggestive content, mature themes/subject matters, death, swearing, eventual violence and smut.

word count: 2k+

tag list: @freythecrazyfae @ayamenimthiriel

wind song masterlist // my main masterlist //previous chapter

“Just one suitcase?” Logan said, closing the side door.

You noded, wiping your eyes of the dust in the air and lack of sleep. You didn’t think you were going to end up on some roadtrip with your ex. So of course you didn’t bring much. It was just supposed to be a funeral and then a one time conversation. But now you were sitting in his passenger seat, watching a fly dart in and out of the car.

Logan never acknowledged the dress you were wearing from the day before, and you never acknowledged his suit he wore from the day before. There was that familiar understanding between the two of you. Still there, despite the way things had ended over a year ago. Those cold eyes stayed with Logan.

You could see them in the rear view mirror while he finished a repair on one of the truck's tires. Maybe he saw the same eyes looking back at him. It was hard to remember what they looked like before a heatless fire stole yours both away.

The motel sat to the right. The pale colors that painted brick walls seemed to crack underneath a silent weight. You thought you would still hear the static from your neighbors TV.

The truck rocked as he sat in the driver's seat. All that metal in his body was heavy. It was slowly killing him. Logan never talked about it. You only found out one night when Caliban told you over the phone, pleading for you to come back.

What must it feel like, for the thing that once made you invincible, be the thing that would one day kill you?

You had to force yourself to not dwell on being the one to find his dead body once the inevitable happened. Even with your work connections, you found there was no known cure for him. Didn’t stop you from looking still.

“Didn’t think I’d enjoy the limousine?” You said.

He huffed, turning the engine on. “That's for work purposes only.”

“And this isn’t work?”

“Nope. This is personal.” He pressed the gas pedal, taking you and the truck out of the rocky parking lot.

The air was hot. Salt rippled through the sky. You could taste it on your tongue. Competing motels marked both sides of the road. Signs pointed you in either direction. An employee stood by one of them, holding one advertising free car washes when you checked in. That made you chuckle imagining a freshly washed car driving back onto the street, dirt clinging to the water faster than it was cleaned.

The weather demanded filth in this small area. No one can make good money off something clean here.

It was quiet riding with him. It was always quiet with him. Logan kept his gaze forward, one hand on the steering wheel and the other in his lap. You caught the flask hiding between his thighs. This one looked older though, unlike the one from the diner yesterday. Scotts initials peeked out from the back of the metal. The same flask you remember stepping over when you found his body on the floor.

The dress was suffocating you all of a sudden. Instead of the static of the TV, you heard an old friend trying to get to Charles before he got to him.

You needed a distraction, like Logan needed the bottle. The notebook you fiddled with your hand flipped open as a breeze flew by. “Christopher Smith. 49. Assistant of Ceo David Fisherman who founded the nationwide bank Silver Well. 5’5. Fair skin. Brown Hair. Blue Eyes. Current residence, New York, New York…” You shut the notebook. “What the hell were you doing driving a millionaire banker from New York around anyways?”

He looked at you and back at the road again. The sun was sending rays of light through the windshield, occasionally obstructing his view. “You’re the private detective here. What do you think?”

“Well, we still haven’t completely ruled out you two sleeping together.”

Logan rolled his eyes, holding back a smirk. “Then rule it out now.”

You grinned. “I think you were driving around a man already dead who knew that and had nothing left to lose.”

His eyebrows lifted, fingers tapping on the wheel. “Impressive.”

“Now, can you give me a clearer picture without the guessing games?”

Logan stopped at an empty stoplight. It was still green as he turned to face you. “Look. I didn’t want to work for the fucker, but he wouldn’t stop calling me and demanding the agency to hire me. Didn’t know why, until a black van started following us around.”

The light flashed yellow and then red. “Chris was a gambler. I'd take him every weekend to some new den or high profile client. Most of the time he’d come back with nothing. But one night, he came running into the car screaming at me to floor it. He had a suitcase of cash he said he won. Bullshit. Clearly stole it.” He gripped his flask.

“A black van chased us down all night. They blew one of my headlights and tires out with their guns. When we lost them and got back to his place, he promised that next time he’d give me a tip. Haven’t heard from him since.” The light was green once again, but no one was around.

“He couldn’t give you any of the money he took from that night?”

Logan shook his head. “He told me he needed it. I don’t know what for.”

“Maybe he was in debt with someone far scarier than whoever was in that black van that night?”

“That’s what I was thinking.” A honk from behind forced him to continue driving. “Did you pick anything else up from his pen other than a direction?”

You rolled down the window even further, preparing yourself. “Not yet. I could sense his body somewhere in Nevada. I could taste blood. Whoever he was scared of, got to him. Maybe his money too.”

“My money.” Logan said. “And I sure as hell will be getting it back, like he promised.”

The words felt hollow coming from him. Like an empty pool during the summer. Since when did money become his sole motivation? You thought about Charles' medicine and the place that they lived.

“Our money.” You corrected, turning your face to the open window. “You might want to close your ears. I’m going to see if I can get a clearer picture of where he is and where we are going.”

You licked your lips, forming them in an oval shape. The air rushed out of them, a sharp whistle piercing the wind. It took you many years to master your mutant abilities. The glass surrounding the vehicle didn’t crack around you. You knew you had your powers under control.

Little clouds began to form in the wind. Like someone had reached up into the sky and pulled them down to visit those who lived below. Only you could see them, unless you decided to show another. If the ear piercing noise wasn’t enough to have Logan scrunched up in pain looking away, then maybe he was staring at the clouds starting to form a person.

The outline of Chris was limping away, carrying something in his hands. It looked like the briefcase Logan mentioned.

The fake Chris kept getting farther and farther away before the cloud disappeared, and your whistling had ended.

“Anything?” Logan said.

You turned to see blood dripping from his ears. It was like a punch in the gut. You knew he’d heal quickly, but it still hurt to see. “Looks like whoever shot at him, didn’t kill him right away.”

Logan contemplated that, seemingly ignore the fresh crimson running down the side of his head.

Without thinking, like it was second nature, you put your hand against his rough cheek. Thumb wiping the blood away as it slid into his gray speckled beard.

He didn’t move, eyes still on the road, hands gripping the steering reel harder than before, white popping from his knuckles. It looked like he stopped breathing. It felt like you did too.

The moment ended as quickly as it came. He grabbed your wrist, holding onto it for a second too long before pushing it back.

He didn’t say anything as you two drove onward, finally entering the main highway. He sped up. You turned to look up at the clouds surfing an endless, blue sky.

~~~~~~~~

It was around 11pm when you stopped for gas.

The drive the rest of the day was spent in silence, except for the occasional directions you gave. He mumbled quick thank yous and you wondered if he even missed you all that much. Given how things had ended. But, this was just business to him. At least that's what he told you. But a more hopeful spirit bubbled within you. You quieted it with a swig of water.

Logan pulled out his worn out wallet. He cursed under his breath. “My goddamn card isn’t here. I swore I had it with me before I left this morning.” He ran his hand down his face leaving a fading red streak. “Charles sometimes likes to steal it if he gets the chance.”

You recalled the Professor getting sicker. Before he killed your teammates, your friends, it was noticeable. In the way he talked or acted. How he treated everyone, how he felt, then came back to himself. It only seemed to be getting worse.

You pulled out your own money. “Don’t worry, I got it. We shouldn’t be gone more than a week anyways.”

He took the offer, noting he still had some cash on him.

The gas station welcomed you with a punchet smell of old meats and sticky sugar.

The employee at the front counter swept behind the counter. No one else was there except for a large black car you noticed pulling into one of the parking spots at the very side of the building.

Logan was in the restroom while you checked out your items. A case of water, some alcohol you knew Logan was going to fill Scotts flask with, some snacks, an over cooked rotisserie chicken that was clearly the last on the heated shelf, and the gas pump.

As you put in your digits, the bell to the front door rang from behind you. You took a quick look back, not thinking anything of it. He tipped his cowboy hat toward you, winking. You noticed one eye was green and the other red. The man strolled to the alcohol section, shifting through cases of beer.

“A mutant?” You thought, grabbing your bag, waiting for Logan to come take the case of water to the truck. “He looks like hes in his late 20s.” It was a sad reality. Mutants dying. 25 years since the last one was born.

But for some reason, your gut told you this man was not to be trusted. His eyes lingered on you the entire time he shopped. Something was off about the man in the cowboy hat and boots.

Logan finally appeared, the dried blood on his ears gone down the sink. You still felt terrible about the whole thing. Even though you knew he would heal, it still hurt to harm him. Even with years of harnessing your abilities, The Whistle was something you could never fully control. As soon as it left you, it was in the wind's hands.

“Your bathrooms smell like shit.” He told the cashier, taking the bottles of water in his rough hands.

The employee nodded, not wanting to meet Logan's stare. He had that way about him. As much as you wanted to get close to him, you wanted to be as far away from him as possible. He was both an unmovable object and a force you couldn't stop. It reminded you of all the things you loved about him. And all the things you didn’t.

You pulled Logan by his arm, eyes on the man making his way to the front counter after you. “Lets go.”

“You okay?” He said once you got back to the truck. He still needed to fill it with gas.

“That man back there,” You pointed behind you. “Another one like us. But theres something off about him.”

Logan placed the water in the back seat next to your things. “Wait here.”

He stood with his hand on his hip, filling the gas with the other as he kept an eye on the man in the cowboy hat and boots. As the man carried his beers out to his car, he sent a wave and smirked at the two of you.

Logan's eyebrows knitted together. His body stilled for just a second. He didn’t even let the gas fill up half way before putting the pump back quickly, and hoping back into the car.

“Get the fuck down!” He shouted, turning the keys in the ignition.

“What-” Before you could ask the question, a bullet came soring through the back window, grazing the tip of your ear before it shot through the front windshield.

“Fuck!” Logan pushed your head down and hit the gas. Your hand shot to your ear. The warm, crimson liquid dripped down your fingers and onto your dress. All you could think of in that moment of adrenaline was Jean gifting the dress to you for your birthday.

Logan took off into the night. Headlights shining almost blinding and weaving between cars that were going a normal speed limit. He kept looking in back of him. Back to the main road. Back to you. Curses left his mouth. You could barely hear anything past the ringing in your ears.

The crack in the windshield was small. The bullet ran clean through. But, sooner or later it would spread through the entire piece of glass. Like a spider building its web from one center point.

You could finally make out what he was saying as the fog in your head slowly faded. But that meant the adrenaline was wearing off, and you started to feel the sharp pain running along the left side of your head.

“Did it hit you anywhere else!?” Logan demanded. He was having a hard time focusing. He wished all his attention could be on you. But there was a car gaining speed from behind, and it didn’t take mercy on people who cared. “Please answer me!”

“It grazed my ear.” You struggled to get the words out. Guards stood at the front of your tongue. Every time you opened your mouth, they stabbed their spears into whatever flesh they could reach. You sucked in a breath that felt like razors. “It fucking hurts. But I’ll be okay.”

Logan was able to breath for a moment. He pulled himself together, maneuvering through the cars ahead of him. “Just hold on. I’ll lose the bastards.”

You didn’t dare look up. You kept your head low, hoping the pain would subside soon. The throbbing in your skull grew. It beat with a hellish beat. Something was wrong with this bullet. Whatever had hit you, it was doing something to your body.

Flashes of memories, of the dead you found, the families you consoled, the friends you once had, raced through your mind. It was like an endless book of millions of words and pages turning before you. Faster and faster they went. The world spun. The blood was pumping through your ears, trying to break out of your skull.

He was calling your name by the time you snapped out of the feverish dream.

You looked up to find those warm and inviting eyes that you first saw when he showed you around the mansion for the first time.

Logan motioned to your ear. Your hand shook as you took it off the wound, noticing Logan was off to the side of the road now. No cars were around, not even the one that had chased you down. Logan must have felt that it was safe enough to stop. The clock read 1:19am.

“I’m sorry.” You whispered, holding back tears. You didn’t know why that was the thing you said. You didn’t know what you were thinking or saying at all.

He stared at you, lips trying to form words. But he decided not to say anything.

Logan took out a cloth from the first aid kit in his hands, and gently brought it to your ear. You could feel the sting of the antibiotics. But the pain had died down thankfully. The worst of it was over. You could see in the mirror where the bullet had taken a small piece of your ear off.

Panic shot through you. Your eyes widened. “Wheres the pen?!”

“It’s alright.” He pointed to the pen sitting in one of the cup holders. There was blood on it. “Just focus on this. Focus on me.”

You looked down and frowned at the red stains on the black fabric. “Jean bought me this dress.”

Logan's fingers found your chin, bringing your head back up to face him. You noticed your blood was on him too. Dotting his white shirt and gray and now red beard. He wiped at the dried blood on your cheek with this thumb, making small circles in the cold skin. Every move he made was gentle, caring, the epitome of warmth.

The tips of his fingers danced across your skin, and the painful throbbing slowly died down. You didn’t know how long it took him to bandage and clean the wound, you never bothered to check the time.

The sun was rising when you woke up to Logan getting back onto the main highway. The Welcome to New Mexico sign greeted the two of you not even 30 minutes later.

[femalethink]

Why procreation should be "a fact of nature" rather than a social, historically determined activity, invested by diverse interests and power relations, is a question Marx did not ask. Nor did he imagine that men and women might have different interests with respect to child-making, an activity which he treated as a gender-neutral, undifferentiated process.

In reality, so far are procreation and population changes from being automatic or "natural" that, in all phases of capitalist development, the state has had to resort to regulation and coercion to expand or reduce the work-force. This was especially true at the time of the capitalist take-off, when the muscles and bones of workers were the primary means of production. But even later — down to the present — the state has spared no efforts in its attempt to wrench from women's hands the control over reproduction, and to determine which children should be born, where, when, or in what numbers. Consequently, women have often been forced to procreate against their will, and have experienced an alienation from their bodies, their "labor," and even their children, deeper than that experienced by any other workers. No one can describe in fact the anguish and desperation suffered by a woman seeing her body turn against herself, as it must occur in the case of an unwanted pregnancy.

—Silvia Federici, "Caliban and the Witch: Women, the Body and Primitive Accumulation".

[frost-queen]

Welcome to hell (Reader x Caliban)

Requested by: anon Forever tag: @missmelodramatic, @alex--awesome--22, @ellie-does-the-posts, @floatlosers, @merlieve , @queen-of-books , @glimmering-darling-dolly , @denkisclown , @wildieflower , @meyocoko , @justanothercoco, @subjecta13-thefangirl , @m-rae23 , 

@harleyquinnswifeyfrfr  , @swampything07, @melsunshine , @panhoeofmanyfandoms , @venomsvl , @the-uncoordinated-house-cat , @rosecentury , @imagines-by-her, @evilcr0ne , @vviolynn , @niktwazny303 , @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 , @markive-m

Summary: Being captured by hell, they want information about the Spellman's from you. Having a strong will, eventually Caliban get's assigned to you for torment. Yet after a while, he no longer can. Surprised that you show him kindness while hurt as he had shown you little.

Slowly you opened your eyes. Adjusting to the new lightning. Clearly you weren’t alone as you heard shuffling and chuckling around you. A smell of rotting overwhelming you as a presence came nearer. – “It’s waking up.” – the voice grumbled out. Their voice raspy. Groaning softly, you set your hands to push yourself up. Blinking rapidly to wake up. A pounding in your head. Your vision sharpened on a face as it made you stumble back. Frightened by the horrid face. The person laughed, gruesome teeth visible. – “Beelzebub.” – a voice spoke as the horrid figure seemed to listen to it.

A young man coming in sight, placing a hand on him. – “Give our guest some air.” – he spoke approaching more. Wary about him, you moved further back when he came nearer. With his devilish looks and dashing smile, he knelt down. – “Our guest will need her strength.” – he said reaching out to brush his fingers down your cheek. His touch made you shiver out a breath. The young man snapped his finger as two of the horrid figures approached. – “Take our guest to their chambers to get… comfortable.” – he smiled wickedly.

You got picked up from the ground by your arms. Dragged out as you screamed in protest. Knowing damn well you weren’t in Greendale anymore. Feet dragging over the ground, they led you through a maze of corridors. With each turn it got colder. Your eyes widened as they dragged you into the cold room. Nothing but stone cold walls and shackles. – “No, no, no!” – you screamed out, fighting with every might against them. The two of them pushed you onto the ground. 

One of them grinning widely as the other one shackled your hands. Cuffing you on a metal chain so you couldn’t run. – “Enjoy your stay.” – one of them said as you caught a rotten smell from their mouth. Laughing mockingly, they left you. Pulling against your shackles, you hoped it would be old enough to perhaps break. Sadly it was not. Sturdy it held ground.

Defeated you pulled your knees up, wondering how on earth you got here. Hoping perhaps the Spellman’s would soon figure out that you are gone. Coming for you…

The door opened making you lift your head up. It felt like an eternity that they decided to come. You knew they would come. Your gut telling you they’d come. Beelzebub entered, smiling wickedly. Some flies circling around him. He clasped his hands together. – “Let’s set some ground rules.” – he started, slowly approaching. – “You answer correctly and I…I won’t hurt you.” – he added with little care. You moved against your shackles to resist. – “Tell me about the Spellman’s.” – he said.

His first question made clear why you were here. – “Go to hell!”  - you shouted out. – “Already here girl.” – he said amusingly opening his hands presentable. Your eyes widened briefly at the thought of being in actual hell. – “Tell me about the Spellman’s.” – he repeated his question. You remained silence. Never in a million years would you tell on your friends. Beelzebub sighed loud. He moved his hand forwards. A chilling scream left your mouth at the burning feeling on your skin. You felt your pores open, sweat boiling on your skin.

Beelzebub lowered his hand making you gasp loud. – “The Spellman’s.” – he spoke coming to kneel in front of you. Your first reaction was to spit at him. Beelzebub closed his eyes, opening his mouth a bit before wiping the spit off his cheek. He moved his hand up again, making you scream in pain. Feeling as if the seven fires of hell were raining down on you. Screaming in agony, you curled up like a ball.

Squirming from the pain. – “The spellman’s!” – Beelzebub said impatient through his torture. You clenched your jaw, refusing to say a word. Beelzebub sighed loud. Unleashing even more pain on you. Your screams went through bone and merrow feeling your inside boil. After a long torment he finally got up, taking his leave. Beaten and broken, you laid on the ground. Fingers twitching a bit, not sure whether you were even still alive.

The doors opened as Beelzebub entered once more. Still broken from last time, you used all your strength to sit up. – “Are we ready to speak yet?” – he asked coming nearer. You kept quiet, glaring at him. Beelzebub kicked you back. You felt the force of his foot in your side as you crashed onto the hard floor. He set his foot on your wrist as your hand wriggled underneath it. – “Speak!” – he ordered out, flies buzzing around his head.

You cried in pain trying to get his foot off your wrist. Beelzebub groaned loud, removing his foot from your wrist. He gave your stomach a hard stomp with his foot. Making you curl up like a ball, crying in pain. – “You’ll die if you don’t speak.” – he told you. You weakly tried to pull yourself up, holding a hand against your bruised ribs. – “Then you’ll never get the information you need.” – you responded out of breath. Beelzebub showing you his teeth in anger.

“Let’s see how long you can keep quiet.” – he held his hand out, giving you excruciating pain once more. The cells filled with your screams as they were hearable from upstairs. Caliban who sat in his throne, barely affected by them as he continued to polish his crown. Beelzebub lowered his hand as you were worn out. Being tortured for a few days now in a row. You felt your body weaken. Not sure how much longer you could be so strong-willed. Panting loud, you barely could keep your head up. – “Well girl?” – he called out ready to give you more pain. – “Stop.” – you panted out. Beelzebub kept his hand down, tilting his head a bit.

“The… the Spellman’s…” – you breathed out needing a lot of strength to form your words. – “Yes.” – Beelzebub said excitedly. Then you started laughing. Manically as if you had lost all sanity. Beelzebub watched you in confusion. In anger that you had fooled him, he rose his hand. Causing you to suffocate on your own blood in your mouth. Gagging on the blood, you coughed loud. The blood getting spewed on across his face. Beelzebub got up, stumbling back. The blood staining your chin as you let your head fall down. He gave your body a soft kick to see any reaction.

You barely reacted, having fainted from the immense pain. Unable to get any information out of you, he returned to the throne room. Day after day. Week after week Beelzebub would visit your cells. Forcing you to speak about the Spellman’s. Each time you remained silent. Not uttering a word. Every silence was greeted with torment. Slowly weaking you till eventually you would break anyways. It was almost admirable how long you could withhold the torment. Any other human would’ve broken after the first few days. Beelzebub gained no progress with you as he begged the prince of Hell for another way. The prince of Hell had enough of Beelzebub’s failures as he assigned himself for the duties.

Weakened you lifted your head up. – “Your late Beelzebub.” – you breathed out as he wasn’t as punctual as usual. It took you a few moments to realize someone else had entered your cells. The prince of hell squatted down, taking a good look at you. He clicked his tongue, holding your head back to see your face. He let your head fall as you nearly fell over. – “I must say you are persistent Y/n.” – he said watching you. – “And who the hell are you?” – you breathed out having to do your upmost best to keep your head up.

The young man smiled. – “Caliban. Prince of hell.” – he addressed himself proudly. – “Beelzebub worn out? Pity I’ll miss him.” – you mocked with a chuckle. Caliban stroked his chin. – “You wouldn’t be laughing much more Y/n when I have my way with you.” – he spoke. – “Do your worst.” – you taunted him. Caliban gave your forehead a little push as it made you fall backwards. – “Looks like I don’t have to do much…” – he sighed out a little disappointing.

Caliban started tapping you against your cheek. – “Hey, hey Y/n! Wake up!” – he said wanting you awake for his torture. You weakly opened your eyes once more as he helped you sit up. Holding his hand on top of your head. – “Now Y/n, let’s have a chat about the Spellman’s.” – he started as your eyes widened feeling an immense pain in your head. Screaming it out as Caliban was smiling widely.

Inhaling deep he enjoyed to hear the pleasures of your pain and agony. Caliban let go of you as you fell down to the side. – “Done already? I’ve just begun Y/n.” – he teased. He nudged you against your body for you to wake up. When you weren’t moving much, he sighed irritated. Having nothing else to do, he got up, leaving once more.

Now every time you were tortured it was Caliban that blessed your cells with his presence. – “Y/n don’t make this harder than it is. Just speak.” – he would sigh out keeping you upright. – “Just kill me.” – you muttered out, having enough. Caliban’s eyes widened. – “What was that Y/n?” – he mocked with a smile. – “Stop…” – you breathed out unable to keep your eyes open. Losing the control over your body, your head fell forwards against his shoulder.

Caliban’s hand froze mid-air at the sudden touch from you. Your head slid to the side, losing contact with his shoulder. Your head was falling as Caliban caught you before your head could hit the ground. Staring down at you, he wondered what he was doing. Seeing your worn out expression. The clear bruises on your face and all over your body. As he knew some where his doing.

With a pained expression he let his hand brush up your cheek. – “Y/n?” – he whispered. You remained lifeless in his arms. Caliban slowly pulled your body up to his chest, cradling you. Overcome with a sense of shame and sorriness. He couldn’t hurt you anymore. You had suffered enough by his hand and Beelzebub’s. Caliban staid by your side till you gained conscious again. You were surprised to see him there. – “Easy Y/n.” – he said caringly making sure you were being careful. It made you feel a bit wary off him.

He gave you water and some bread to gain a bit of your strength. – “Is this a new technique? Show your prisoner kindness before killing them?” – you said keeping a close eye on him. Caliban shook his head. – “No… I…I am not going to hurt you anymore.” – he said making you stare surprised at him. – “I’m returning you to earth.” – he added. – “What… what about the Spellman’s?” – you answered, knowing he wanted information off them.

Caliban shook his head. – “I’m taking you home safely.” – he placed your hand caringly over yours. – “What… what about the others?” – you responded unsure. – “I am the prince of hell, they obey me.” – Caliban said with a certain airy vibe. – “Can you stand?”  - he asked. You nodded, letting him help you up. Caliban undid you off your shackles as it felt good to be released from them. The bruise marks clear around your wrists. Caliban took your hands in his, observing the bruise marks.

Bringing your hands to his mouth, he kissed your knuckles. Lowering your hands, he came to your side, supporting you as he led you out of the cells. You were going on a slow pace as it felt weird to walk after being chained up for so long. Caliban held you tight, making sure you wouldn’t slip out of his grip. – “Keep your strength Y/n.” – he said walking slowly with you through the corridors. Caliban and you rounded a corner as you sunk through your knees. Caliban going down with you as he tumbled over some equipment.

Grunting loud, he turned over feeling a sting of pain in his chest. You gasped loud, seeing a cut on his chest. Brown liquid dripping down the wide cut. – “You are hurt!” – you called out moving to him. Caliban look down his chest, seeing the clear cut. It made him groan even louder. – “It is nothing.” – he answered, widening his eyes as you started ripping the bottom of your shirt. – “Hold still.” – you told him, pressing the piece of cloth against his cut. You moved his arm up, to go around his chest to tie it.

Caliban watched in wonder as you helped in. It pained him to see that despite everything you were still helping him. – “I hope it doesn’t sting too much.” – you said with a smile. Caliban held his hand against your cheek. – “You are a remarkable creature Y/n.” – he breathed out with admiration. – “Showing me kindness when I have shown you none.” – he went on. – “You have shown kindness to me by bringing me home.” – you responded, helping him back up. For Caliban was talking you home.

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

Read more of my fics on my Masterlists!

[fanfics4all]

The Spirit of Christmas

Request: Yes / No List made by @alpaca-clouds

Requests are open only if its CHRISTMAS/HOLIDAY/ WINTER related <3 Have a nice day/night

Caliban x Fem!Reader 

Word count: 1159

Warnings: Nothing!

Prompt(s):

PLEASE DO NOT STEAL MY WORK, I WORK HARD ON MY FICS AND IT’S NOT COOL TO STEAL SOMEONE ELSE’S WORK! 

If you want to be on the tag list for anything (My series fics, specific character fics, or just all of them) All you have to do is send me an ask and I will add you! 

Masterlist 

If you enjoy my work, you could also show support by buying me a coffee! 

(Not my photo, credit to whoever made it!)

Caliban was literally made from the clay of Hell, so Christmas was not something he celebrated. No one in Hell celebrated the Holiday, but I wasn’t from Hell. Ever since Sabrina took over as the Queen of hell and Caliban was exiled, he’s found his way to me. I lived just outside of Greendale and was on my own, besides my familiar. Caliban just stumbled his way near my cabin and I took him in. I wasn’t like the witches he’s delt with, I wasn’t one that worshiped satan. Which is why I celibrated Christmas like the mortals. Caliban didn’t understand, but if he wanted to stay then he’d have to deal with it. 

I walked inside my home and Noctus flew to greet me. Noctus is a great horned owl and was the greatest familiar a witch could have. I smiled as he perched on my shoulder. I gave him a little scratch under his chin. 

“Where’s Caliban?” I asked as I looked around and didn’t see him. Noctus chirped at me and flew over to his perch. 

“Oh, he went to get wood? Perfect, I need some more if I want to get this potion going.” I said as I placed the ingredients I collected on my table near my cauldron. Noctus chirped and tilted his head in confusion. 

“You know what time of year it is.” I smirked and my familiar perked up a bit. He loved Christmas just as much as I did. I got to work preparing the ingredients as I waited for Caliban to return home. 

The door opened and Caliban walked in with a large pile of wood logs. I smiled at him as he placed them near the door. He looked at my ingredients and his brows furrowed. 

“Did one of the townspeople come for another potion?” He asked and I shook my head. 

“This is a special one, although I suppose it does effect the town as well.” I answered with a shrug. 

“What kind of potion is it? I’ve never seen some of these ingredients.” He asked as he picked up one of my vials. I quickly snatched it back and placed it down. 

“It’s for the spirit of Christmas, it’s time everything gets in order.” I said and Caliban groaned. 

“This is all for that stupid mortal Holiday?” He asked and I sent him a glare. 

“Making this potion makes all of the townspeople happy and makes my powers stronger for the coming year.” I answered and he held his hands up in defence. 

“I meant no harm by it, love.” He said and I rolled my eyes. He took a seat as I motioned for the logs to float under my cauldron. The flames ignited underneath and the liquid I put inside began to heat up. 

“So is this like a sacrifice type thing?” Caliban asked as he watched me intently. 

“No, I don’t do any dark magic.” I said and he shrugged. 

“Nothing wrong with dark magic, love. I could always show you.” He smirked and I rolled my eyes. 

“Keep your dark magic to yourself, I’d rather not get a visit from the Queen of Hell.” I said. Caliban rolled his eyes and rested his feet on the coffee table. 

Once the liquid started to boil I started putting the ingredients in. Caliban watched me the whole time and looked confused. I glanced at him and paused what I was doing. 

“Would you like to learn?” I asked and he shrugged. I chuckled and shook my head slightly. 

“First you make sure the Holy Water and Glacior Ice is boiling before you put in the chopped Peppermint and Gold Dust. Then you stir it together clockwise six times and it’ll look like liquid gold. Next you add Holly, Silver Dust, Pine Needles, and the very kindly donated Angel Flesh and it sure turn silver with some gold flecks streaked about. You’ll stir that clockwise twice and that’s when you get this pine smell coming through. Now we add Ginger, Cinnamon, and Clove and stir that in. The smell should mix with the pine and smell like a Christmas tree mixed with freshly baked cookies.” I smiled as I inhaled the heavenly smell. Caliban also sniffed the air and gave me a small smile. 

“Now we put in the mistletoe and blow a kiss.” I said and he chuckled. He came over and blew his own into the cauldron and I smiled at him. 

“Pass me that glass bottle, please.” I asked and he handed me the curvy, slightly dark blue tinted bottle. He examined it and his brows furrowed. 

“What is it?” He asked as he handed it to me. 

“The hardest ingredient to acquire for this potion.” I answered with a smile. I plucked the top off and spilt some of the contents into the cauldron. The simery blue, silver, white, black, and purple spilled out and changed the potion’s color to red with silver streaks. 

“I-Is that Stardust?” He asked in complet shock. 

“It is, takes me months to get it every year.” I said as I stirred. 

“And there you have it! The spirit of Christmas! Now we just say the chant and everything will be finished. 

“What’s the chant?” He asked. I smiled and motioned so my book would float over to us. I turned to the page and pointed at the spell. 

“It’ll be more powerful if you read it with me.” I said and held out my hand for him. He sighed, but took my hand anyway. 

“I hear the bells on Christmas Day, Their old, familiar carols play, And wild and sweet, The words repeat, Of peace on Earth, good- will to all!” We said together and the liquid quickly turned to smoke and blew through the house. It flew through the door and out into the world. The smoke would go through the town and give the spirit of Christmas to all. I turned to face Caliban and he was already smiling at me. 

“I feel… different.” He said and I giggled. 

“You feel happy?” I asked and he nodded. 

“Then it’s working already.” I winked. He chuckled and wrapped his arms around me. 

“I’ve never properly thanked you for allowing me to stay with you.” He said and I smiled up at him. 

“You’ve been very helpful, there’s no need to thank me.” I said. He wrapped his hand in my hair and lifted my head a bit more. He moved in and his lips placed on mine. I closed my eyes and fell into the confort of his presents. We pulled apart and he rested his forehead on mine. 

“Thank you, love.” He whispered. I pecked his lips and smiled. 

“Well, if that’s how you say thank you, then maybe I will let you say it a lot more.” I said and he chuckled. His lips found mine again and I smiled into the kiss.

Tag list: @les-bio-lie @tashy-bear @ashwarren32 @hollie-blogs-blog1 @lover-of-books-and-tea @nerdygaloresposts @teenwolfbitches28 @genius2050 @drw0301bieber @lady-of-lies @ravenmoore14 @ravenempress101 @cillianchamp @rowanthomasknapp @rachelxwayne @ready-4-fanfiction @lover2448

[comicaurora]

i've seen you answer a couple of questions about what various characters sound like (basically the main party + the void dragon), and it got me curious - what sort of voices do you imagine the various gods to have? (i'm most curious about tynan, zuurith, caliban, tahraim, gleicann, and primordial life specifically - you don't need to list out every single god you've ever mentioned existing. unless you want to.)

Tynan: When it's a musical that isn't sung through and a character who's about to belt his number is taking a couple sentences to speak "normally", which in theater-land means smoothly bouncing his lines off the far wall of the auditorium. When he gets genuinely upset it falls apart into a hissing, crackling buzz.

Zuurith: Bassy and resonant. Doesn't shout, just gets louder and more echoey. It's a pretense of control just like everythig else in his life.

Caliban: Tenor/contralto range, higher when they're excited or mad. The kind of voice with a smile you can hear over the phone.

Tahraim: Low and almost smokey, but he takes such a conversational tone it's hard to notice. Speaks openly and honestly, smiles often when facing something new. Talks like he doesn't realize anyone ever needs time to catch up to him.

Gleicann: Wind through high, creaking branches counterpoints the low rumbling of quaking earth and distant water. Slow, yet still unpredictable.

Primordial Life: Is she speaking, or did she already speak and you're just hearing the layered echoes? What would a valley sound like if it sang?

[denofimagination-blog]

Lion El’Jonson strode through the desolate deck of the Sword of Caliban, his footsteps echoing among the oppressive shadows. Every corner of the mighty Battle Barge seemed to whisper long-forgotten secrets, and his piercing gaze cut through the darkness as if seeking answers forever lost. 🦁✨

Transform your miniatures with Den of Imagination! 🖌️ Click the link in bio to make them extraordinary!

[tritoch]

wild to me to see posts like "wow everything in the tempest is named after shakespeare...emet you melodramatic bitch you sure loved theater". because the prospero-emet thing gets played up so hard in the english script and you can carry it so far!

like prospero is an asshole magician who, after being deposed by his brother as duke of milan, settles himself and his daughter on a remote island, enslaves the local spirits using his magic, and bitterly plots to reclaim his past glories. he rules through violence and deceit, and only survives and is reconciled when his plots reach their fruition and his brother is taken to his remote island and plots ensue and everyone decides he was totally right all along and they were huge dicks to him and they're sooooo sorry and he gets to go back and be duke again wow! and it's okay because he's like "i was only doing mean magic to get my rightful spot back and now i'm giving it up because magic is evil. :)"

the tempest is what emet wants his life to be. prospero is not a villain in the text of the tempest. he is barely treated as antagonistic by the text and framing of the play itself. all his abuses, his neglect and control of his daughter, his enslavement of caliban and ariel (local spirits/monsters/people of the island), his deception and plots against his brother, his abuse of magical powers (not awesome, from the pov of the contemporary audience), all that ultimately gets swept aside in the rightness of his return to milan and the warm feeling of the world being set to rights. prospero can't undo the years he spent on the island but they are ultimately a blip in his life before he returns to the rightful state of affairs. his abuse and enslavement of caliban, easily the worst thing he does in the play, is totally set aside when caliban goes "wow now i see how truly benevolent my master is. i love him and see the ways of christian good and i'm so, so appreciative he chose not to kill or beat me even though he totally could have and would have been in the right. he's so just and intelligent." everyone loves and forgives him and they all agree both his management of the island and his ultimate return are so good and so wise and so right.

emet comparing himself to the tempest (or being compared to it, depending on how you want to read the diegetic status of the place names) is absolute wishcasting. it is an attempt to manifest the happy ending he will never, ever get because his sins cannot and would not be forgiven in the way he wants. he wants to imagine himself as the righteous returned duke whose crimes, including the enslavement, abuse, and exploitation of those he saw as his rightful inferiors, were totally worth it, i promise. and if emet is prospero, the warrior of light is his caliban.