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hurthermore · 8 months ago

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»»------► 𝙱𝚒𝚖𝚋𝚘 - 𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝟹 (18+)

▻ 𝙱𝚒𝚖𝚋𝚘 (18+) 𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝟷 ▻ 𝙱𝚒𝚖𝚋𝚘 𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝟸 (18+) ▻ 𝙱𝚒𝚖𝚋𝚘 𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝟺 (18+)

Pairing: 𝙰𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛 𝚡 𝙵!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

Word Count: 𝟸.𝟹𝚔

Warnings: 𝙰𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛 𝚌𝚛𝚞𝚜𝚑𝚎𝚜 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚜 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍, 𝚖𝚞𝚛𝚍𝚎𝚛, 𝚜𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚟𝚘𝚢𝚎𝚞𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚖, 𝙼!𝚁𝚎𝚌𝚎𝚒𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚛𝚊𝚕, 𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚌𝚕𝚎𝚜, 𝚍𝚘𝚞𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚙𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 (𝚝𝚎𝚌𝚑𝚗𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚝𝚛𝚒𝚙𝚕𝚎 𝚙𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗), 𝚎𝚡𝚌𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚍𝚛𝚘𝚘𝚕, 𝚍𝚞𝚖𝚋𝚒𝚏𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗, 𝚜𝚚𝚞𝚒𝚛𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚋𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚋𝚞𝚕𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚐 (𝚜𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚕𝚢)

A/N: 𝙰 𝚕𝚘𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚙𝚎𝚘𝚙𝚕𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚏𝚕𝚞𝚏𝚏 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝙸 𝚔𝚗𝚎𝚠 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚐𝚞𝚢𝚜 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚊𝚋𝚜𝚘𝚕𝚞𝚝𝚎 𝚏𝚒𝚕𝚝𝚑 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚑𝚘𝚛𝚗𝚢 𝚕𝚒𝚕 𝚏𝚞𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚛𝚜

𝚂𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝙸 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚊 𝚝𝚊𝚐𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚜? 𝙸𝚝'𝚜 𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝚐𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚊 𝚋𝚎 𝚊 𝚜𝚖𝚞𝚝 𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚜, 𝚗𝚘 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕 𝚊𝚌��𝚞𝚊𝚕 𝚙𝚕𝚘𝚝… 𝚜𝚘𝚘𝚘𝚘? 𝙻𝚖𝚔 𝚒𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚗𝚊 𝚋𝚎 𝚝𝚊𝚐𝚐𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚗𝚎𝚡𝚝 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚜 𝚒𝚐?

Where were you?

Alastor could only feel his chest pang unpleasantly as he walked back into the room he shared with you; ready to serve you a delightful breakfast in bed before he entered the now empty space. Calling out your name, he waited to see if you were still present, but he couldn’t feel you nearby. Snapping the tray of food away, he shadow warped down into the lobby of the hotel.

As he reappeared himself into the existence of physicality, Alastor tried to sense your presence, but it was inevitable, he could not feel you here either. Unknowingly allowing his eye to twitch, Alastor looked over the contents of the lobby before his red, almost glowing eyes fixated onto the drunken cat demon behind the bar.

“Husker, my good man!” He warped in front of the bar; attempting to faze the bartender, but failing as his worry showcased as it laced with his charismatic static voice. Smiling ominously toward the pet he had on a leash, Husker slumped up from the bar counter, clearly filled with alcohol poisoning. “Have you seen my darling little lady? I can’t seem to find her!”

The owned soul deadpanned at the Radio Demon, blinking slowly as he slumped back into the countertop before pointing his index finger towards the front doors of the hotel.

With furrowed eyebrows, Alastor shadow warped immediately through the crack of the doors; standing in the outdoors of hell, he commanded every shadow in his arsenal to search every part of hell for you.

Where were you?

Humming, you walked down the streets of hell alone; something you hadn’t done since arriving at the Hazbin Hotel. You had forgotten how oddly peaceful it was hearing the screams of hundreds; it was something you had blocked out due to your total enamorment with Alastor whenever he took you anywhere.

With your hands behind your back and your chest pushed out, you glanced at your figure as you passed a window. You had adapted to a new style now, still keeping it skimpy and slutty; just how you liked it. Alastor would sometimes chastise you for wearing those particular items like the grumpy old man he was, but you knew deep down he loved seeing you in such revealing clothing.

But he wanted to be the only one to see you dressed in such ways.

Pouting your lips, you inspected each shop that you passed by as you attempted to find a place that sold something you thought Alastor would like. For a while now, you had been considering giving Alastor a gift of your very own for everything he had ever done for you, but he would only state, “You’re all the gift I need, darling.” With that cheesy grin of his that sent butterflies to swarm your stomach. Regardless, you wanted to do something for him for a change. And because of the fact he would never allow you to buy anything for him whilst you were physically with him, you had to resort to literally sneaking out as if you were some type of hostage.

Continuing to search, you accidentally bumped into a tall hellhound. Recoiling from the collision, you attempted to apologise; but the hellhound only gripped your wrist before growling at you.

Before you could register the facial features of the hellish creature, a large black appendage wrapped around its head, tightening in an instant with such force that its head was crushed open; mimicking a pumpkin that had been smashed against the floor.

Except there was more blood and brains over… Pumpkin innards.

Wiping your hand against your clothes as you grimaced at the part of brain that had landed on your fingers, clawed hands gripped onto your shoulders from behind you. Smiling as you recognised the size of the hands, you turned around before wrapping your arms around the red dressed demon. “Oh, Alastor! You rescued lil ol’ me? You’re so sweet!” You jumped, placing a barrage of kisses on his cheek.

You had forgotten what you were even doing outside by yourself as you held onto the man you were absolutely head over heels for.

Alastor closed his eyes as he held you back, basking in the attention you were enacting onto him; loving every second. “Are you hurt?” He asked you once you stopped your assault on his cheek.

Looking up at him, you shook your head. Alastor only hummed before he stroked the side of your face with his clawed fingers. “You had me worried, darling.” He almost mumbled; something that he hardly ever did. “You shouldn’t leave the hotel without me.”

You could only feel bad as you remembered how you had snuck out of the hotel to buy him a gift. But in the reality of your mind, it was Alastors own fault as to why you had to go out alone to buy him a gift in the first place; if he had just allowed you to buy a gift whilst you were with him, you wouldn’t have needed to resort to ditching him.

“I only wanted to get you a gift, Ally.” You pouted as you used that ridiculous nickname for him that he oddly found rather endearing. But he knew you; knew you would use that nickname to try to soften him up, indicating you knew you had done something wrong.

Gazing into your eyes, Alastor only smiled with evil intent as he stroked the back of his fingers against your cheek. “If you’re so insistent on giving me a gift darling,” He whispered into your ear, tickling the skin beneath; making you shudder. “Then get on your knees.” Alastor instructed. His posture leaned away from you, making him seem more heightened as he looked deep into your eyes.

Looking around, you squeezed your thighs together. “We’re in public, Al.” You whimpered as Alastor just stared at you; his gaze telling you to obey his request. Fiddling your fingers together, you slowly began to enact his demand, falling to your knees as the palm of your hands held onto the front of his clothed thighs.

You could hear, feel, people stop in the street to stare at you as you knelt before the man you loved; their voices all prattling about what you were doing as they watched. Alastors grin stretched into sinister territory as he looked down at you, his hand stroking the crown of your head as if you were some pet before he gripped your skull, pressing your cheek against his hardening and pulsing clothed cock.

“This is your punishment for leaving me when I had gone out of my way to cook you breakfast, darling. You can be a good little lady and take it, can’t you?”

God, yes you could; the current position you were in had your emotions alternating constantly. The whole ordeal was extremely hot, but you never thought Alastor was the type for voyeurism; would it be something he would actually do? Or would he end up transporting you into somewhere private? Forcing your cheek to rub against his constrained cock, your whole face flustered up as your thighs trembled.

There was no way he would see this through; you knew he wouldn’t.

“Put them pretty lips around my cock, darling.”

Trembling, you looked into his eyes to see if he was serious; if he was adamant on doing this in public. All you could see was pure excitement in his red oculi. Looking down at his pelvis, you could see the large outline of his hard cock. Gulping ever so slightly, your delicate fingertips gripped onto the button of his suit pants, undoing it before you pulled his zip down.

Suddenly, Alastor pushed you back, your vision going black before you blinked, finding yourself in your now shared room. Still on the floor, your back flushed against the structure of the end of your shared bed before Alastor materialised in front of you.

You smirked as you knew he didn’t have it in him to fuck you in the public eye of hells population. He would always fuck you within the confines of your shared privacy.

Still on your knees, Alastor pulled you from your thoughts, grabbing your head with both clawed hands, threading his fingers through your hair before he forced his thick and heavy cock down the beginnings of your throat; going past your uvula and into your windpipe. Gagging with choked coughs as he kept his cock deep within your oesophagus, you looked at his pelvis to witness that his full length wasn’t even fully within your mouth as you tried to control your gag reflex. Calming your shocked lungs, you allowed them to fill with oxygen as you breathed through your nose.

“Such a good little lady. So good; all for me.” Alastor moaned as he pulled his length away slowly, allowing your tongue to feel every little bend and vein of his fat sex before he slammed it even further into the depths of your throat until your nose pushed against his tufts of fluff that laid against his pelvis.

Tears welled into your visual organs as your mouth was filled to the brim with Alastor and only Alastor. Looking up with half lidded eyes, Your boyfriend's focus was purely on your face; watching how blown out your expression was as he stuffed you orally.

Your fingertips pierced through his suit pants and into the flesh of his skin as he pulled away, only to rhythmically force his cock in and out of your throat. You could feel your brain begin to stupify itself from the eroticism of Alastors actions and the lack of oxygen that your body was used to. Moaning at the entire situation, the mixture of your drool and Alastors precum seeped from the corners of your mouth as he violated you in ways that had your cunt throbbing in pleasure; wishing it was the hole he was fucking instead of your mouth.

As if hearing your request, you felt a slippery appendage begin to curl up the form of your body, and without looking, you knew it was one of Alastor’s tentacles; you were well acquainted with it after all.

Feeling the appendage roll up to your chest, you felt it wrap around the stretch of your top before tearing the piece of cloth off your body with a rip that could hardly be heard over the sound of Alastors cock squelching in and out of your mouth along with his heavy breaths. Trying to squeeze your legs together to give yourself some friction and therefore relief, more tentacles appeared as they enveloped your thighs, pulling them further apart with force.

Your throat rumbled, causing Alastor to almost stumble as his cock still fucked your pretty lips; the drool becoming so bad that it slathered all over your face whilst also dripping all over your now bared breasts. You felt so overwhelmed as Alastor pummelled his cock into your mouth; his multiple tentacles squeezing and prodding your chest and thighs before one particular appendage began to try to fuck itself within your core; failing due to the lingerie that covered your wet and puffy sex. As if frustrated, the appendage pushed against your underwear as it seemed so desperate to fill you up, only to rip through it, essentially fucking your lingerie into you as it forced its thick and squishy length into your cunt.

Rolling your eyes back, you could hear Alastor groan as your attempt to scream at the intrusion only forced vibrating sensations to tickle his cock in your throat. “You were made for me, weren’t you darling?” Alastor struggled to mumble through his fucked out expression as he forced another tentacle to invade your cunt; both of them moving at their own individual speeds, making your sex feel filled out in every single crevice within. The ministrations of everything made you go limp as the pleasure and overwhelming sensations made your brain slump into one of a dumb whore.

Alastor conjured more tentacles to hold your neck and waist to prevent your almost limp body from falling over, he slammed his cock harder and harder into your overly excessive drooling mouth as his cock began to tense and pulse.

The tentacle around your waist tightened as the tip slid down to your core; you could feel the appendage move rapidly from the two tentacles that filled your cunt so much that it forced your lower stomach to bulge out with every prod and thrust. Your eyes tightened as the appendage finally found your clit, only to press onto it with such force that your thighs began to twitch as your peak instantly lit up.

Tightening your grip on Alastors thighs, your screams were silenced by his cock as the sensations against your clit; being pressed with such harshness forced your entire womb to build up, your clit throbbing erratically before your cunt squirted fluids onto the floor. As your core spilled out your juices, Alastors cock stilled deep within your larynx once more before his cock throbbed as he squirted his own orgasm down your throat and into your stomach.

As everything calmed down, Alastors black appendages slipped away from your cunt and into the abyss of nothingness; an excessive amount of your natural lubrication spilled onto the floor below you.

Pulling his cock from your mouth, remnants of Alastors cum spread into the cavern of your mouth, yet you used your tongue to drink back his seed into your stomach.

Placing his hands underneath your arms, Alastor pulled you up and sat you on the bed, glazing his fingers over the mess of your hair that had stuck onto your forehead before kissing the crown of your skull.

“You will always be my favourite gift, darling.”

»»------► 𝙼𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝

@lunaramune

#alastor x reader #alastor x you #alastor #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel x reader #reader insert #alastor x reader smut #alastor smut #x reader #hazbin hotel

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daydreams-after-dark · 7 months ago

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Scientist Chan part 2 of ∞

Read Part 1 here

SMUT WARNING // MDNI ⚠️ scientist!Chan (Chris) x test subject fem!reader (feat. Video call with Minho)

Scientist Chan Masterlist

Scientist Christopher is doing experiments on making pussies come. He has a range of devices that he has been using on his subject each night. In part 1, Chris introduced sexual intercourse into the experiment, which was a success. In this installment, he explores your reaction to various sexual positions, and introduces anal penetration while on a video call with Professor Lee Minho Approx 5 minute read Unhinged level 🤡🤡🤡🤡

CW: master/dom x sub // unprotected vaginal and anal sex // videoing sex // livestream sex to colleague // anal penetration with devices // squirting // faux scientific observations // clitoral stimulation // potential masturbation

“Your pussy takes cock so well no matter what the position.” States Scientist Chris, for the benefit of his voice recorder.

It’s the fourth sexual position he has you in for the night. Starting with missionary on his desk with your legs over his shoulders, then on all fours where his cock seemed to reach even deeper parts of you, followed by you riding him facing him while he laid on the examination bed.

Now he’s got you reverse cowgirl, him sitting on his leather couch, you with a foot planted on the cushions either side of him while he lifts and drops your hips on his cock. You’ve been instructed to hold your vibrator against your clit, and under no circumstances are you allowed to remove it.

“Sir! Can’t…. Can’t take any more… pussy’s sore…” you cry out.

“Shh… I know you can give me one more. There’s… so much cream still leaking out of you.” He pants. “You’re my best test subject, yeah?”

“Mmm hmm… I’m a good girl… I wanna be good.”

“Then one more and I’ll stop.” He pulls you down hard onto his cock, and leans you back so your laying flush against his chest.

“Come for me.” He takes hold of the vibrator and rubs it hard against you while he grinds into your cunt.

You sob as you climax once more. You don’t know this, but one of Chris’ secret goals is to train you to come on demand.

You go limp against him, but he doesn’t let you rest.

“Quick. Up on the examination bed. I must inspect you.” He says, pulling up his trousers and putting his white coat back on.

“Yes. On your back. Open your legs…. Good girl.”

You’re naked, sweaty, still trembling from god knows how many orgasms. You close your eyes, happy to finally rest.

Snap. Snap. Click

You lift your head to see Chris taking photos of your swollen pussy.

“I’m just collecting evidence to show my colleagues.” He states. “Spread your lips for me. That’s it.”

Click. Snap. Click.

“Speaking of colleagues.” He pops his camera down and picks up his phone. “Remember how I told you about Professor Lee Minho?”

You nod.

“He wanted me to video call him and show him what he’ll be working with if he collaborates with me. Can we do that for him?” He asks.

Of course he can. Your Chris’ test subject and you want to help him with any experiment or project.

“Chris. Update me. How did she do tonight?” Professor Lee says through the phone.

“She did well. Her pussy adapted wonderfully to the positions. Although, it became fatigued and overstimulated by the end of it.” Chris gives his update.

“Show me.” Demands the professor, his voice laced with lust.

Chris moves the phone close to your pussy so the professor could see. He sucks in a breath. “Her labia is still engorged. Lovely.” He approves. “Spread her open.”

You use your fingers to spread your lips. “Her lubrication is of a creamy consistency.” The professor notes as Chris focuses on the camera on your hole. “And her clitoris looks agitated. How many orgasms?”

Chan checks his notes. “Six.”

“Is your test subject experienced with anal stimulation?”

Chris chuckles. “Well, friend. My plan was to begin that experiment tonight on our call. If you have time.”

“I’ve nothing on my schedule. It’d be my pleasure to witness this. Plus it’ll give me a good idea of what she can take when I’m visiting.”

Chris puts on his head strap that has a camera attached, and reconfigures his tech so Professor Lee can get a virtual front row seat of what he’s about to do.

He flicks the main lights off, and turns on the bright lamp, directing it on you so your holes are illuminated. Then he brings over a rolled up bag, placing it on his little table next to him, and settles himself on his stool at the end of the bed.

Unrolling the bag, he spreads its contents out carefully. Six anal plugs and vibrators of various sizes, and a bottle of lubrication.

“Let’s get you as comfortable as possible.” He says as he props your legs into straps that hold your knees up and open, essentially folding you in half.

“Fuck! Her little ass… ahem… anus is perfect isn’t it?” Professor Lee observes.

“It is. Ready to begin?” Chris checks in with you.

“Yes, Sir.” You gulp. You’re nervous but terribly excited.

Chris begins by dribbling some lube directly on your hole and onto his index finger. You gasp at the coldness, and then again when his finger presses against you. He uses the palm of one hand to hold you nice and wide while he massages your asshole with the pad of his finger. After a short moment, he reaches over to his little table and selects the smallest vibrating plug.

Neither of the men say a word as he lubricates the device and switches it on.

“Look how she reacts to just the sound of the vibrator.” Observes Professor Lee.

Chris has you so trained up that just the sound of a vibrator has your cunt gushing.

You moan low when it’s placed against your anus.

“Mmm… I think she’s going to like this. Chris. Where did you find such a receptive subject?” Professor Lee muses.

Chris simply chuckles to himself and pushes the tip into your ass, drawing another moan from you.

He slowly stretches you open, building up through his range of plugs, adding lubrication as needed. It feels agonisingly torturous, with his slow and careful ministrations. Your empty cunt clenches around nothing in frustration.

As he withdraws the fourth plug from your ass, the two men watch in awe as it settles back into its natural position.

“It’s a beautiful sight.” Sighs Professor Lee.

“It is.” Chris hums, sliding two fingers into your hole.

“Oh… god… fuck…” you cry as he finger fucks your ass. “Please… please… need to come.” You sob loudly.

“She’s close.” Professor Lee states. “Maybe we should skip the next two devices entirely?”

“Hmm. I feel you may be right.” Chris agrees, pulling his fingers from you and standing up.

“Do it. I need to see.” He says with a strained voice.

You hear Chris unzip his trousers and the squirting of more lube. He pushes his tip of his cock against your opening.

“Relax for me. That’s it… just like that. Let’s show Professor Lee how good you can take cock, yeah?”

The tip slides in with little resistance, but the stretch is much bigger than with the devices.

“Just a little bit at a time, you can take it. Look at you. You’re doing so well.” Chris encourages.

“She looks tight. Is she choking you? Is there much resistance?” Lee demands.

“Fuck. So tight.” He pants and stops still for a moment.

“Please…more… fill me.” You plead. You’re close to having your seventh orgasm of the night.

“She’s extremely aroused, Chris. Note the arousal leaking from her cunt.”

Chris applies more lube to his cock and around your rim. He might like testing your limits, but hurting you might cause you to be less receptive in the future, and that would set his experiments back.

Once he has you well lubricated, he withdraws his cock slightly and then presses himself in until he is three quarters of the way in. He pauses again to let you adjust, and then squeezes in the remainder of his length.

Professor Lee swears under his breath. You sob at how full you feel, your hand clinging to the thin sheet underneath you.

Chris starts to fuck you. Long, languid thrusts. Not too hard. But deep. You reach down to rub your sensitive clit. It’s still swollen from earlier, but you need to touch yourself. The combination of stimulating your clit while Chris fucks your ass has you crying with a desperation you’ve never felt before.

“Look at her taking it in the ass like that! I can’t wait to feel it around my cock.” Lee growls.

“Hear that, babygirl? You gonna let Professor Lee fuck your ass like this when he visits?”

“Y-yes… yes… want him him to have a turn.” You whimper.

“Good. Girl.” He pants and starts to fuck you harder. He grabs one of the unused vibrating plugs and pushes your fingers away so he can apply it to your clit.

You squeeze your eyes tight as you feel yourself about to burst.

“Look at you. Perfect little specimen. Come. Come for your master, little slut.” Professor Lee’s demanding words make you snap and you cry out as you come, squirting all over yourself.

Chris follows, trying his best not to throw his head back so Minho doesn’t miss a second, and coming deep inside your ass.

He stills, catching his breath.

“Female ejaculation. Interesting.” The professor purrs to himself.

Chris eventually pulls out of you and releases your legs, pulls his pants up, then picks up his phone to address the professor. “So Lee. What do you say? Want to work with me on the next phase?”

“Chris. let’s talk about scheduling me in for a visit.”

Taglist is open.

Next time, Professor Lee visits… then in another instalment we meet Dr Kim Seungmin.

@channieandhisgoonsquad @noellllslut @itsseohannbin @weareapackofstrays @kangnina @3rachasdomesticbanana @palindrome969 @xxkissesforchanniexx @chuuchuu1224 @fun-fanfics @wolfennracha @lurking-coconut sorry if you’ve already seen this… my tags broke but hopefully it’s fixed now.

#skz smut #Chan smut #lee know smut #bang chan x reader

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nataliasquote · 9 months ago

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I Will Rescue You | n romanoff

Summary: An alert from the Red Room sends Natasha, Yelena and Bucky on a last minute mission. But what they find is far from expected…

Warnings: teen pregnancy, injury, blood, guns

Pairings: natasha x adopted!daughter!reader

wc: 3.7k

note: this is just precious mama nat who holds a special place in my heart

-⧗-

"Got your six, Natasha. Approach when ready." Nat heard the crackle over her intercom and readied her gun, her elbows locked as she pressed herself against the wall.

Never did she think she'd be back in this place. The one place she vowed never to come back to. But here she was. The coldness of the stone wall was seeping through her tactical suit, which wasn't adapted to support her through Russia's freezing temperatures.

But that was the last thing Natasha was thinking about. There were girls inside. Girls that needed help. Natasha knew all too well how they felt, and she wanted to put a stop to it.

Yelena was on the opposite side of the courtyard, double ponytails swishing back and forth as she kept checking her surroundings. The sisters made eye contact and nodded, Natasha taking that as her cue to move.

Silent as the dead of night, the redheaded assassin crept through the open door, sticking to the shadows like this very place had taught her. She didn't make a sound, taking down guards with a single slice to the throat, clean and precise. Fires shot in the distance and she knew she didn't have long.

But this place was once her home. She knew it like the back of her hand, as much as she hated to admit it. She knew who she wanted to meet for the final time, but a faint rumbling told her that that plan was gone.

"черт возьми." She muttered under her breath as her once careful footing now broke into a sprint. The team had estimated about 30 minutes for extraction, but that had been cut down to 10. There were more guards than the trio expected, but they powered through.

"I'm hitting the training rooms. Nat cover the wings and Yelena-"

"Doors, yes I know. Don't need to tell me солдат."

"Buck, you know she hates being bossed around." Natasha whispered as she climbed the stairs. She heard gunshots through Bucky's comm, but carried on. They could look after themselves.

The sight of the dorm corridor made Nat sick to her stomach. But she hauled herself together and ran along the hallway, checking the rooms. They were empty.

The sight of the tiny beds empty was a relief to her. Maybe they had stopped taking so many young children.

"I've got 15 in here Nat." Bucky called over the comm.

"Take them to the jet. I've got none so far." She checked all the dorm rooms, but there wasn't a trace of life. She thought the place was deserted until a faint whimper was heard, followed by desperate attempts to console.

It sounded like a baby's cry, so Nat placed her gun in her hostler. She didn't need to have her weapons out right now. The widow bites on her wrists would do enough for now to keep her protected.

There were 5 single cells along the back wall, and only one of them was dimly lit. Nat stepped into the light so she wouldn't shock anyone who was living in there. It seemed empty at first, but upon closer inspection Nat could see a young girl curled up in the corner.

Her blue eyes were locked on Nat, muscles tense as she pressed herself into the wall.

"Я ничего не делал, клянусь!" (i didn't do anything I swear). There were bruises on her temples and a hastily tied bandage on her arm and Nat just smiled softly.

"It's okay. I'm not going to hurt you." She crouched down outside the rails and offered her hand out slowly, like you would to a frightened puppy. But the girl just stared at Nat, her eyes narrowing.

"You are Black Widow." Her english was broken and laced with a heavy Russian accent. "You disgrace him."

Nat frowned at her words but shook her head. "No, I'm here to save you. I'm gonna get you out."

"Nobody take us anywhere." As she spoke, her arms loosened to show the tiny baby wrapped in a blanket in her arms. It couldn't have been more than 2 months old, but yet the girl only looked around 15. Natasha felt sick to her stomach. What kind of sick programme had they created?

"Hey, it's okay. I'm not going to hurt you. How old are you?"

The girl stared at Nat for a few minutes before answering. "16."

"Блядь. (fuck)". Natasha sat back on her heels,

contemplating her next move. "And the baby? Ваш ребенок? (your baby?)". The girl nodded.

"Y/n." Nat raised an eyebrow. "меня зовут Y/n."

"That's a beautiful name. You want to get out of here?" The girl shook her head slowly, and Nat didn't blame here. This was all she knew. To her, it was home, as sick and twisted as it was. "You will be safe."

"Safe? You safe?"

Natasha nodded. "You're safe with me. You both are. But we need to go." As if on cue, the whole building began to shake and pieces of rubble fell from the ceiling. The girl screamed and buried her face in her daughter's blanket, holding her tightly. "Y/n, we need to go!" Nat blasted the padlock and the door swung open. "Now!"

"Can't!" The teenager gestured to her leg, which was openly bleeding. A gunshot wound was clean through her calf, and looked fairly fresh, meaning the girl struggled to walk. Nat registered it and brought her hand up to her comms, slowly to not startle the girl.

"Bucky I need backup. Quickly." After a grunt in reply, she quickly looked around the room to find something to help. But it was bare except for a bed and a sink.

Another vibration shook the building and Nat had no other option. She rushed over to the girl and helped her stand, taking the baby in her arm after reassuring the anxious teenager that she would be safe. The girl could hardly walk, but Nat couldn't carry her. Not with the baby too.

As a pair, they hobbled out onto what once was the hallway, now half broken in the middle and filled with rocks. Y/n was heavily leaning on Nat, pain shooting up her leg with every step.

A voice came yelling down the hallway, and through the dust broke Bucky, racing along trying to fit his gun back in it's holster. "What-"

"No questions. Move. Talk later. You need to carry her." Nat was clear and concise with her orders and she gestured to Y/n's leg, which was all Bucky needed.

But Y/n was wary of the new person and she grabbed Nat's arm in front of her. But the redhead turned to face her.

"Hey, it's okay. He is going to help you be safe." She looked into the girl's blue eyes, knowing they had very little time left to get out of here.

"Natasha, I don't know where you are but you better get out of here because this place is gonna blow!" Yelena yelled into her mic, cursing in Russian as she shot down guards.

"Y/n? Please?"

"если ты делаешь больно, детка, я делаю тебе больно! (If you hurt baby, I hurt you!)". Natasha nodded and carefully settled the baby in her arm. Y/n didn't take her eyes off the infant until Bucky picked her up and she felt the pain shoot through her leg. He mumbled an apology as they. began to run, dodging explosions and gunfires.

They broke through a gap in the wall and Y/n squeezed her eyes shut, not used to the blinding light of the sun on the snow.

Yelena was stood at the base of the Quinjet they had stolen from Stark, and as she saw her sister approaching she ran inside to start the engines. They lifted off the ground just as Nat managed to throw herself into a seat, the baby still safely in her arms.

They'd taken a bigger jet than the Avengers usually used, so the widow's Bucky had taken from the training room were in a separate area where they could sit comfortably together. But Nat had brought Y/n up to where she was sitting so she could look at her gunshot wound.

"мой ребенок! (my baby!)" Y/n cried out as soon as she was sitting, but Nat was already on it. She soothed the distressed girl and gently placed the baby in her outstretched arms.

The young girl may only have been 16, but she was a good mother. She calmed her child and an old Russian lullaby and gently stroked her head, kissing it softly. As she sat opposite, Nat couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy when looking at the mother and daughter. As wrong as it was, she never had that opportunity, and she hated herself for it every day.

"Can I look at your leg?" The young girl nodded and stretched her leg out, wincing slightly. The bullet had gone straight through which made Nat's job easier. "Okay it just needs a few stitches. May I? This will hurt."

Y/n shrugged and pulled down the bandage on her arm. Bucky had to turn away at the sight of the DIY stitches that were 'holding' the wound closed. Nat took a sharp inhale of breath but kept her calm. That could be sorted out back at the compound.

Y/n didn't flinch once as the stitches were being put in. She kept her eyes glued to the baby, stroking her face softly as she hummed once more.

"Why don't you get some sleep?" Nat passed the girl a blanket and stepped back to give her some space. "I'll go check on the others." She said to Bucky, who nodded and went to sit at the controls with Yelena.

Y/n was exhausted but tried to keep her guard up. Her eyes darted around the small room, but it wasn't long before she couldn't fight sleep and her eyes began to close.

~~~

"Hey hey woah! It's okay! She's here. She's right here." Natasha was trying to defend herself against Y/n fists as the panicked teenager attacked her. Nat knew the baby wasn't safe just laying on the bed as the teenager slept, so she moved her to a makeshift cot. But Y/n woke up and freaked out.

"You touched her without my permission!" She screamed, swinging a fist at Nat who caught it just in time.

"Y/n, I was looking after her. You needed the rest." Nat held the struggling girl's fists in her hands and stood still, watching as she breathed hard. "It's okay. She's okay."

With a huff, Y/n pulled her hands away and scooped up her baby, cradling her close to her chest. "She needs feeding," she said bluntly.

"Okay. We don't have anything here but why don't you and I go out today and we can buy some supplies, including a cot for our room?" Natasha asked this more as a peace offering and the girl eyed her suspiciously before nodding.

"The other girls. Where are they?"

"Fury- our director has got new homes for them. Don't worry."

"And me? New home for me?"

Nat paused, thinking about her answer. The truth was, she didn't want to see Y/n leave. Not just yet. Something about the girl had reached out to her, and the slight possibility of having a daughter raced through her mind. Maybe this girl was her second chance, a chance to do something good again. "Well, we wanted to keep an eye on you and the baby. Seeing as she's so young."

Y/n just hummed in response before disappearing towards her room with a slight limp.

"You've got a feisty one there." Came a voice from behind Nat. She turned around to find Wanda snacking on a bowl of cereal, spoon halfway to her mouth.

"Yeah." Her reply was half hearted as she stared at where Y/n was last seen.

"Nat?" She turned to face Wanda once more. "I can hear your thoughts; they're really loud. And I'm gonna say go for it, but be careful. You know what you were like when you first came out. She's not much different than you, you know. Give her time."

Natasha smiled at her friend before grabbing a banana. "Thanks Wands."

~~~

Nat really listened to Wanda's words, which is why she called up the store before they left and asked to hire it out for the day. Stark had more than enough money to make that happen, and Nat wanted Y/n to be as comfortable as possible.

They entered through the back door, and only 2 members of staff were on each level of the huge department store. The bright lights and colourful items were enough to overwhelm Y/n anyway, as she held her baby close to her chest, still wrapped in the filthy blanket.

"You can pick whatever you want, okay?" Nat informed the teenager as they entered, but she didn't respond.

She wandered around, face stoic and eyes wide. Natasha could see the outline of a glock tucked into her jeans, but she didn't comment. Where she got it from was unclear, but it brought the girl a sense of comfort and Nat trusted her not to use it inappropriately.

Nat pointed a couple of bottles and baby clothes out, to which Y/n either shrugged or nodded. She was uncomfortable, but this trip was necessary.

"Okay, how about we look at cribs?"

"Our room?"

"Yeah if you want. But there's a nursery we can set up?"

Y/n thought for a minute. "But- no. Close to me."

"She will be close to you." Y/n looked skeptical. "Okay, how about this. We can get one for our room and one for hers, yeah?"

"Okay. But you don't leave no? No moving rooms?"

Natasha couldn't help but smile. "Honey, I'm not leaving. We can get you your own room if you want? For space?"

"No."

"Okay then."

They walked over to the cribs section and looked at the options. Y/n had relaxed a bit more as she considered the options, reaching her hand out to feel the wood. She'd never had the opportunity to make her own decisions before, and it felt foreign.

But within her focussed task, Natasha failed to notice the shop assistant approaching them, until a bright and cheery "Hi there! Can i help you?" broke through their thoughts.

Y/n immediately jumped behind Nat. Her hand would have reached for her gun if it wasn't so busy holding her baby and newly found protector.

"отойди! (stay back!)" Y/n yelled from behind Natasha, who held an arm in front of her. The assistant looked startled and held her hands up in surrender, taking a few steps back.

"Sorry. Could you give us a minute?" Nat apologised quickly and then turned to Y/n. "Hey, stop struggling." The girl unclenched her fist and placed it on her child's back. "That woman is not going to hurt you. Or your baby. You're safe."

"She stay away!" Y/n grunted through gritted teeth, chest heaving. Nat knew there was no winning this, so she placed her arm around the girl, who didn't flinch like she usually did.

"We don't need any assistance right now, thank you." The now shaken woman nodded and scurried away, not wanting to spend another moment around the assassins.

"We go? Now." Y/n stood her ground, staring Natasha directly in the eye.

"30 minutes. Then we go."

"Fine."

Nat rushed around the rest of the store, grabbing baby formula, clothes, cribs, clothes and tethers. She found a bouncer and play mat, even though the infant wasn't even sitting up yet. She grabbed some clothes for Y/n, some of which the teenager picked out, others that Nat knew she needed. The small girl was currently wearing one of Wanda's sweatshirts and a pair of jeans, both of which were too big. All of the items were sent directly to the compound, so they didn't have to carry anything home. And Natasha made sure to heftily tip the woman who had approached them before, as an apology.

Stark had restricted everyone's access except Nat and Wanda to the areas where Y/n was residing. The girl didn't trust men at all, and even with Wanda she was slightly wary.

But after the intense shopping trip, Y/N was exhausted. And her baby was restless, crying even after being fed and changed. The teenager was frustrated and tired, but she refused to hand the baby over to Nat, who offered many times.

But Natasha had another plan. She turned on a movie on the TV and let Y/n sit on the bed, shushing her child desperately.

"Why don't we try her new crib? Maybe she'll settle in there?"

Y/n looked over with heavy eyelids and reluctantly stood up. Her legs buckled slightly but she continued walking to place the baby in the crib. Nat handed her a pacifier but the teenager stared at her blankly, confused at the item she was holding.

"May I?" Nat asked, gesturing to the child.

"Careful." Y/n hissed.

Nat approached the infant and slotted the pacifier into her mouth, smiling at how her cried were instantly silenced.

"ведьма (witch)." Y/n mumbled, watching as her daughter fell asleep within the minute.

"Спасибо, дорогая. (Thank you darling.)" Nat quipped with a smirk as she watched the teenager climb back onto her bed. "Why don't you come onto mine? We can watch a movie?"

Y/N's eyes filled with fear. "Not Snow White. Please no."

Natasha pushed painful memories down and she shook her head. "Definitely not. I still can't watch it."

Y/n shrugged and hesitantly climbed onto Natasha's bed, sticking close to the edge nearest the crib. But Nat didn't comment. She was too busy trying to suppress her excitement over the improvements Y/n had made in such a short amount of time.

She put an episode of Friends on, knowing it was lighthearted and not likely to trigger any fresh memories that Y/n still had.

But she didn't need to worry. Within 10 minutes the teenager was fast asleep, her head resting on Nat's shoulder ever so slightly. The redhead didn't move. She couldn't. This girl was trusting her more and more. The improvement that had been made in a week was beyond anything Nat had ever expected. She paused the movie and switched off the main light, wrapping her arm gently around Y/n's shoulders.

~~~

(5 months later)

Y/n shot up in bed, chest heaving as she broke out of her nightmare. Her eyes automatically darted to the crib beside her bed... but it was empty.

"Mama! Mama! где мой малыш! (Where is my baby!)" She leaped out of bed and raced out of the room, looking everywhere as she ran to the corridor.

She kept yelling for Natasha, calls becoming more and more frantic the longer it went on. But Nat heard her and called back, summoning her into the kitchen.

"I can't find Talia! Someone must have taken h-" The teenager stopped in her tracks, not expecting what she saw infront of her.

Her 7 month old daughter, Talia, was sat in her high chair, eating yoghurt from the spoon that Nat was feeding her. There were berries scattered across the countertop and with every spoonful of yoghurt came a wipe to the mouth from Nat.

"Little miss over her was extra fussy this morning so I made breakfast. Thought you might want to sleep in a bit more."

Y/n breathed out a sigh of relief and leaned against the doorway for a second to catch her breath. "I thought she'd been taken!"

"Well, she just gets more Natty time, don't you little one?" Talia cooed in response, her tiny fists smushing a blackberry on her tray. "Oh you're a messy girl."

"Here Mama, I can clean her."

"Ah ah! I know what I'm doing." Wanda was sat on the other side of the counter eating a plate of pancakes, but she burst out laughing as Talia squished another berry and it squirted onto Nat's white shirt.

"Talia! No baby. Don't play with food." Y/n said, grabbing another wipe for Nat, who accepted it gracefully.

"Good morning Maximoff, Romanoff, Mini-Romanoff and.... Mini-Mini Romanoff." Tony made himself known as he entered the kitchen, Pepper not far behind him.

Over the last 5 months, Y/n had become more comfortable with the rest of the team, especially Tony who spoilt her rotten. He was forever ordering random items or adding updates to her room with Natasha, even without being asked.

"Good morning Stark." Y/n acknowledged him with a smile.

"Nice moves Grandma!" Tony teased as Nat danced around, wiggling her hips, causing her to pause. She grabbed Talia's soggy rabbit plushie that she had been chewing and hurled it at his head, which he only just managed to duck to avoid.

Talia giggled at the sight of her bunny flying through the air and everyone froze.

"Was that her first laugh?" Wanda asked, and Y/n grinned.

"My clever girl! Mama loves her clever girl!"Y/n picked her up from her high chair and held her up, peppering her face in kisses. Talia giggled even more, kicking her legs at the funny feeling.

Nat sank down onto a chair next to Wanda and watched her new daughter and granddaughter laughing together. Tony had given the child her bunny back, and was having fun playing peek-a-boo with her as Y/n held her.

"They've both done so well." Wanda commented as she watched the scene unfold.

"I'm so proud of her. I'm going to ask Fury for adoption papers today." Nat smiled as she felt Wanda's eyes on the side of her face.

"Really?" Wanda's voice was laced with excitement. "You're going to make it official?"

Nat nodded. "She will officially be Y/n Romanoff. My Y/n Romanoff."

#natasha romanoff #fanfic #marvel #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x daughter!reader #yelena belova #bucky barnes #black widow

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regressionschool · 2 months ago

Text

Maturity Test Part 4: Life as a toddler

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

A year had passed since Anna had taken Olaf and Becky into her care, and the routine of their daily lives had settled into a comfortable rhythm. The once stark contrast between the two of them had grown even more pronounced, as Becky’s preschooler skills flourished while Olaf’s regression deepened. They shared a brightly decorated bedroom, with walls painted in soft pastel colors and shelves filled with toys and books, each reflecting their distinct stages of development.

Becky’s side of the room was neat and organized, her bed adorned with colorful blankets and a couple of plush animals. A large, colorful potty training chart was pinned to the wall beside her bed, and it was covered in suns, each one representing a day where she had successfully used the potty. There were a few clouds scattered here and there, but overall, it was clear that Becky was well on her way to mastering potty training. Her pride in those suns was evident whenever she looked at the chart, a smile lighting up her face.

Olaf’s side of the room, in contrast, was a little more chaotic, filled with stuffed animals, blocks, and other toddler toys. His bed had guard rails on the sides, making it resemble a large crib, and next to it was a changing table stocked with diapers, wipes, and powder. Olaf had become completely accustomed to his diapers over the past year, his potty training skills having long since faded. The few times he had tried to reach for the potty in the early days had ended in tears of frustration, leading to Anna’s gentle but firm reassurance that he didn’t need to worry about that anymore.

Olaf’s dependency on his pacifier had also grown. It was almost always clipped to his shirt, and when he wasn’t sucking on it, he seemed restless, his hands fidgeting or his lips quivering slightly. The pacifier was his comfort, his security, and it had become a constant presence in his life. He had adapted to his toddler role more fully than anyone could have imagined, and while there were moments of confusion or sadness, they were fleeting, quickly soothed by Anna’s comforting touch or a favorite toy.

Anna had taken great care to treat each of them according to their assigned ages. Becky was praised for her growing independence and learning skills. She attended preschool every day, where she was learning to read simple words, count to ten, and even beginning to write her name. Becky beamed with pride when she showed Anna the new things she learned at school, and Anna encouraged her every step of the way. At night, however, Becky still wore diapers due to her heavy wetting, something that she accepted without much fuss. It was just part of the routine—something that separated her from being a "big kid," but not something that bothered her too much.

Olaf, on the other hand, spent his days in daycare, where he played with blocks, listened to stories, and napped in a room filled with other toddlers. His diaper changes had become so routine that he barely noticed them anymore, and his remaining potty training instincts were long gone. Anna treated him like the toddler he had been classified as, her voice always soft and reassuring, never pushing him to do more than what was appropriate for his age.

One afternoon, an official from the reclassification center visited to check on how things were going. Anna had been expecting the visit, but there was still a nervous energy in the air as she welcomed the official into the house. The official was a stern-looking woman with a clipboard in hand, her expression serious as she began her inspection.

Anna led the official into the shared bedroom, where Becky was proudly playing with a set of alphabet blocks, forming simple words she had learned in preschool. Olaf, meanwhile, was on the floor with a pacifier in his mouth, stacking large, colorful rings onto a peg.

The official’s sharp eyes scanned the room, noting the distinctions between Becky and Olaf’s sides. She walked over to Becky’s potty training chart, tapping it with her pen. "I see Becky is doing very well with her potty training," she remarked, her tone neutral.

Anna nodded, smiling. "Yes, she’s been doing great. She’s very proud of all her suns. But she still wears a diaper at night since she’s a heavy wetter."

The official made a note on her clipboard. "And Olaf? I see he’s fully adjusted to his toddler classification."

Anna glanced at Olaf, who was happily chewing on his pacifier as he played. "Yes, he’s doing well, too. He’s very comfortable in his diapers, and he’s still quite dependent on his pacifier, but it helps keep him calm."

The official walked over to Olaf, crouching down to his level. She carefully examined his diaper, noting its slight sag, indicating he was wet. "Olaf," she said gently but firmly, "how are you feeling today?"

Olaf looked up at her with wide eyes, his pacifier bobbing in his mouth as he nodded. "Good," he mumbled around the rubber nipple, his words barely understandable but filled with contentment.

The official straightened up, her expression still serious. "It’s important that Olaf remains in his toddler role," she said, turning to Anna. "He shouldn’t be encouraged to behave in ways that are beyond his assigned age. Any attempt to push him toward behaviors that are too mature could be detrimental to his well-being."

Anna nodded, understanding the gravity of the situation. "Of course. I always make sure to treat Olaf appropriately for his age. I want him to feel safe and secure."

The official seemed satisfied with the response and moved over to Becky, who was showing off her block words with a big smile. "And Becky, how do you like preschool?"

Becky beamed. "I love it! I’m learning to read, and I can count to ten now! And I almost never have accidents anymore."

The official gave a rare smile. "That’s wonderful, Becky. You’re doing very well." She glanced at Anna. "It’s clear that Becky is progressing appropriately for her classification."

Anna felt a surge of pride as she looked at Becky. "She’s a bright little girl, and I’m very proud of her."

The official finished her notes and then looked at Anna with a hint of approval. "It seems that everything is in order here. You’re doing an excellent job maintaining the appropriate care and boundaries for both Becky and Olaf. I’ll submit my report, and we’ll schedule another check-in in a few months."

Anna nodded, feeling relieved. "Thank you. I just want to make sure they’re both happy and healthy."

Two years had passed since Anna had taken full guardianship of both Olaf and Rebecca, and the rhythm of their days had settled into a comfortable routine. Each day began with Anna waking up her two littles, getting them ready for the day ahead, and ensuring they were happy and well cared for. Today was no different.

Anna quietly opened the door to the bedroom they shared, the soft creak of the hinges echoing through the stillness of the early morning. The gentle hum of a white noise machine filled the air, a soothing background to the scene before her. Becky was curled up on her side in her small bed, her thumb nestled in her mouth as she slept peacefully. Across the room, Olaf lay sprawled out on his back in his toddler-sized bed, his pacifier bobbing gently in his mouth as he dreamed.

Anna’s heart swelled with affection as she stepped into the room. It was always a bittersweet moment, seeing how much both of them had changed and how deeply they had regressed into their new roles. But she loved them both dearly, and they seemed happy, even if they didn’t fully understand the depth of their regression.

Gently, she knelt beside Becky, brushing a few stray strands of hair from her face. "Becky," Anna whispered softly, her voice as gentle as the morning light streaming through the window. "It’s time to wake up, sweetheart."

Becky stirred, her eyes fluttering open. She blinked a few times, then yawned, stretching her arms above her head. "Morning, Mommy," she mumbled sleepily, sitting up with a small smile.

Anna smiled back and placed a soft kiss on her forehead. "Good morning, Becky. Did you sleep well?"

Becky nodded, though her face fell slightly as she shifted in her bed. She glanced down at the thick nighttime diaper between her legs, her lips forming a small pout. "I…I had an accident again," she said, her voice tinged with sadness. "I thought I could keep it dry this time."

Anna’s heart tugged at the disappointment in Becky’s voice. Despite her progress during the day, Becky still struggled with nighttime accidents, and it clearly frustrated her. Anna reached out, gently cupping Becky’s cheek. "That’s okay, sweetie. You’re doing so well during the day, and nighttime accidents are nothing to be upset about. We’ll get you all cleaned up and into your big-girl pull-up for school."

Becky nodded, the disappointment in her eyes softening as Anna helped her out of bed. Together, they made their way to the changing table, where Anna efficiently removed Becky’s soggy diaper, wiped her clean, and helped her into a fresh pull-up. Once dressed in her favorite preschool uniform—a light blue dress with a white collar—Becky’s mood had already lifted.

"All set!" Anna said, smoothing out Becky’s dress. "Ready for a big day at preschool?"

Becky smiled brightly and nodded. "Uh-huh!"

Anna turned her attention to Olaf next. He was still fast asleep, his pacifier gently bobbing in and out as he nuzzled into his pillow. His nighttime diaper was clearly soaked, the faint yellow discoloration obvious through the thick padding. Anna couldn’t help but smile as she reached down and gently shook him awake.

"Olaf, time to wake up, little one," she cooed softly, rubbing his back. Olaf blinked his eyes open, his thumb automatically moving to replace the pacifier in his mouth as he stirred. He looked up at Anna with sleepy, half-lidded eyes, his pacifier still firmly between his lips.

Without a word, Anna guided him to the changing table, where she expertly removed his soaked diaper, cleaned him up, and slid a fresh, thick diaper beneath him. The crinkling of the plastic filled the room as she fastened the tapes securely around his waist. Olaf remained quiet throughout, still too drowsy to do much more than suck on his pacifier and stare up at Anna with wide, trusting eyes.

Once he was freshly diapered, Anna dressed him in a simple t-shirt, the diaper peeking out from underneath. "There we go, Olaf," she said, tapping his nose playfully. "All ready for breakfast."

Olaf giggled softly around his pacifier, still content in his little world.

Together, they made their way to the kitchen, where the familiar morning routine continued. Becky, being a preschooler, was allowed to sit at the regular table and make her own breakfast. Anna handed her a slice of toast and a small jar of jam, and Becky eagerly set about smearing the jam across the toast, her little tongue poking out in concentration as she tried to keep the mess contained.

Olaf, on the other hand, was placed in his highchair, the familiar click of the buckles securing him in place. Anna tied a bib around his neck, the bright fabric adorned with cartoon animals. Olaf pouted slightly, but he didn’t resist. It was a ritual by now, and despite his occasional grumbles, he had grown used to it. He waited patiently as Anna prepared his breakfast—warm porridge, sweetened with a touch of honey and a splash of milk.

As Anna fed Olaf small spoonfuls of the porridge, he happily kicked his feet, enjoying the taste. "Good boy," she cooed, wiping a bit of porridge from the corner of his mouth.

Between bites, Olaf absentmindedly played with his pacifier, his focus entirely on the bowl in front of him. As Anna continued to feed him, a soft hissing sound filled the air, faint but unmistakable. Anna’s eyes flicked down to Olaf’s diaper, just in time to see the slight yellowing of the material as it absorbed the wetness. Olaf, however, didn’t seem to notice. He continued eating his porridge, blissfully unaware of the accident he had just had.

Anna sighed softly, her heart aching a little at how deeply Olaf had regressed. He had become so accustomed to his diapers that he didn’t even realize when he was wetting them anymore. But she didn’t say anything. Instead, she finished feeding him, then gave him a gentle pat on the head.

"Let’s get you dressed for daycare, little man," she said softly, wiping his hands and face clean before lifting him out of the highchair.

After a quick check of his diaper, which was indeed damp but not soaked, Anna dressed Olaf in a pair of shortalls, the thick padding of his diaper barely hidden beneath the fabric. He looked every bit the part of a toddler now, from his pacifier to his bib to the soft crinkle of his diaper with each step he took.

Once both Becky and Olaf were ready, Anna ushered them out the door and into the car. Becky, buckled into her booster seat, chattered excitedly about the day ahead at preschool, while Olaf, in his toddler seat, quietly sucked on his pacifier, content to watch the world pass by outside the window.

Their first stop was Becky’s preschool. As Anna helped Becky out of the car and gave her a quick kiss on the forehead, Becky waved enthusiastically. "Bye, Mommy! I’ll see you after school!"

"Have a great day, Becky!" Anna called back, watching her run off to join her friends with a smile.

Next, it was time to take Olaf to daycare. As they pulled up outside the building, Olaf’s eyes widened slightly, a hint of nervousness creeping in. "Mommy…" he mumbled around his pacifier, his voice barely audible.

Anna smiled down at him as she unbuckled his seatbelt and lifted him from the car. "Don’t worry, sweetie. You’re going to have lots of fun today, just like always."

Olaf nodded hesitantly, clutching tightly to Anna as she carried him inside. She gave him a reassuring hug, rubbing his back softly. "You’ll be okay, Olaf. Mommy will be back to pick you up before you know it."

With that, Anna handed Olaf over to one of the caregivers, who smiled warmly at him and led him toward the play area. As she watched him waddle off, his shortalls riding up slightly to reveal the edge of his diaper.

#ab/dl stories #regression school #ab/dl caption #diaper captions #wetting diaper #ab/dl girl #diaper stories #ab/dl diaper #diaper bulge #ab/dl

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lauri-rosehearts · 3 months ago

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I don’t talk about the wonderlandians all that much but I do truly love them as characters and I think the way they were portrayed as adaptations of the classic characters from the Alice in wonderland story is in many ways genius. One of these genius things is Kitty’s characterization in the Royal/Rebel conflict.

When its first brought up, it’s presented as a mystery turned argument between the narrators. And by the end we learn that she would rather not tell because she enjoys seeing them ponder over who is right and who’s wrong about her. Then in Spring Unsprung, when Raven asks her why she’s so adamant about being like her mom if she’s a rebel, Kitty’s like “Who cares. I do what I want.” Yeah, in the end we know she’s a rebel given her doll bio and her obviously siding with the argument that destiny should be a choice, and her being seated with the rebels on legacy day, but she also exhibits traits commonly associated with stereotypical Royals by wanting to fullfill her destiny and be like her mom.

I think its genius that they decided to give this characterization to her of all the wonderlandians because upon closer inspection it really calls back to the characterization of the Cheshire Cat of Alice’s adventures in Wonderland. For centuries people have argued about whether the Cheshire Cat is a villain or a good guy, since he seems to cause alot of trouble for Alice but on the other hand is helpful to her by pretty much being the only one to explain anything to her about Wonderland and ultimately being the reason she finds her way out of Wonderland (in other words he indirectly transpires the events that cause her to wake up from her dream). But what people don’t understand is that…Cheshire isn’t on any particular side of the moral spectrum, he does what he wants when he wants to do it. And while in Ever After High, we see the fluidity in morality via Kitty’s mom, we see the same kind of fluidity, non-conformity and “Screw you, I do what I want” attitude in Kitty herself through the royal and rebel debacle. My god, this show was so good with its characters….I miss it so much

#ever after high #eah #kitty cheshire #eah analysis #character analysis #eah lore

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literarypm · 3 days ago

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#agile #cinema #film #communication #i&a #inspect and adapt #information #management #product management #requirements management #systems analysis

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twis-world · 4 months ago

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The Remedy That Is You (Vil Version)

Mentions: Vil Centric, Fluff, Second Person, Gender Neutral Reader

No matter how many a time the students of Nightraven College witnessed how their Housewarden did a complete 180 in your presence, it never ceased to amaze them.

It eventually got to the point where a majority of students began to question if you really were magickless. There was just no way your mere presence could bring out such light in their eyes, face softening and a smile so tender it was as if they were gazing upon one of the Seven.

Just how did you do it?

Vil

If there was anything Vil would choose to pride himself in other than his looks, it would be his ability to adapt. Adapt, overcome, and adjust to any situation needed. It was a skill he finely tuned at a young age; it would have been utterly foolish not to.

In his line of work you were to always expect the unexpected. Anything could go wrong at any given time. A clothing setback during a shoot. An unavoidable sickness striking before his time on set. A social media scandal that could rip his career to shreds in mere seconds. Nothing was an impossibility.

However, that didn’t mean there wouldn’t be a time where he would not grow tired of it all.

“Then you would not believe what that imbecile did next,” he seethed. While he did an impeccable job at keeping the hand you held still in order to allow you to paint a clear coat of nail polish onto his nails, the rest of his body expressed his current agitation. The way his foot, though crossed over one leg, would not stop swaying this way and that. His breathing that came out in heavy puffs. “Not only did he manage to spill the very same drink he ran late for all over the place, but he then demanded we wait for his costume to be washed and dried after it got dirtied from the spill. An incredibly audacious move when that stunt ended up pushing back a week of filming because of the damage done to all the camera wirings in the area!”

“Isn’t this the second time he’s done something like this?” You asked with a raised brow, gently beginning to blow cool air onto his nails. The man in question being a fellow co-star of your boyfriend’s. A man who from day one seemed to make it his mission of making every accompanied day with him a living hell.

Vil rolled his eyes with a scoff. “Don’t even remind me. Really, how incompetent do you have to be to continuously waste not just everyone else's, but my precious time above all else? Surely no one is this daft?”

“He could be doing this all on purpose maybe? It wouldn’t be the first time someone tried to sabotage you.” You gave him a small glance before looking back at his nails, nodding once you confirmed they were indeed dry and gesturing for him to give the other. He did so whilst inspecting the one you gave back, expressing his approval before continuing on.

“I considered that but I refuse to believe he of all people would be able to dedicate himself to this extent. My dear potato, if you were ever so unfortunate to meet him face to face, you would be surprised at how he seems to create mayhem simply through breathing.”

“I know he’s basically a horror show from what you’ve told me but it can’t be that bad.”

“That bad?” He repeated, staring as if you grew three more heads. “That bad? It's only been a month and he’s already managed to delay us so heavily that the producer is considering just scraping this movie altogether. He himself owes hundreds in set damages after today!”

“Careful,” you chuckle, lips curling as you saw just how heavily he was furrowing his brows. Finished with the remaining nail you set the polish off to the side. Carefully, incredibly mindful of the still drying hand you possessed, you leaned forward and gently softened the skin between his brows with the thumb of your other hand. At the contact his eyes practically fluttered shut, barely leaning into the small massage you were giving. “Don’t give him the satisfaction of giving the Vil Schoenheit early stress wrinkles.”

A huff escaped him as you pulled away. “Never. I would rather such a despicable phenomena come from Epel with the trouble he gives me.”

You hummed, fanning his nails while giving him a cheeky smile. “Not even Neige? I’m sure he would be honored.”

“Are you actively trying to raise my blood pressure even higher than it already is?”

“What a horrid accusation! I would never,” you gasped jokingly, hand raising to your heart as he continued to glare at you. “Ah, don’t be like that my love.”

Vil huffed, avoiding your gaze. “Don’t ‘my love’ me. You are lucky I tolerate such an annoying potato such as yourself.”

“Truly,” you mockingly agreed, rolling your eyes this time at the act. Yet, when he continued to refuse looking back, you sighed. Raising his hand up you softly pressed your lips against his one knuckle, then the next, then next. Gently kissing each till you finished with one final one in the center, this time raising your gaze and finally meeting his own. The pupils were all consuming, capturing the beautiful purple you loved so much. Yet, the scarlet hue that painted his cheeks served for an even prettier sight.

“I really am sorry my love,” you murmured against his hand. While he could still hear present humor in the pet name he could also feel the adoration you poured into it. So much so that he found himself swallowing at a loss for words. It didn’t help that your gaze zero’d in on the movement, piercing yet so intimate. “But I don’t like seeing you get so worked up over some nobody who paid his way into this movie. Your movie. He’s undeserving of occupying another second in your pretty lil head.”

“Oh,” Vil began to grin, “and what would you do to make sure of that?”

“Hmm.” You pulled away from his hand, slowly, not once breaking your gaze away from his. “Whatever you would like. You know I never mind pampering you. It’s like my very own treat.” Leaning forward once again you caressed the crown of his head, lightly brushing against his hair and running fingertips down to tuck the very few strays behind his ears. “I went out earlier and picked up some new face masks we haven’t tried yet. Wouldn’t that feel nice? I’ll even run a hot bath for you if you want.”

A delicate sigh left him, cool air running down your arms. He cupped the back of your hands with his, bringing the wrist of each to his lips and leaving behind a dainty kiss. “That would be lovely.”

#vil #vil schoenheit #twisted wonderland #x reader #gender neautral reader #fluff #x gender neutral reader #disney twisted wonderland #gender neutral reader #twisted wonderland x reader #i just love it when its the reader being the all adoring one #mhm #vil x reader #vil shoenheit x reader

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a-leg-without-fear · 3 months ago

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No Fucking Way (pt.2)

and here's part two!!! thank you all SO MUCH for the support you've shown my writing. giving @sukinix a tag because they asked to be notified when this drops. love y'all!!

Ship: Logan Howlett x Mutant!Fem!Reader 🩸

Rating: 13+

Wordcount: 6.8k

Warnings: cursing, PTSD struggles, panic attack mention, and even more adorableness

Series: No Fucking Way

“I want you to name him,” you repeated. Logan stepped a pace away from you, hands raising in surrender.

“No. No fucking way,” he said. You flicked water at him as you finished rinsing off the soapy kitten below you. Logan scoffed at your reaction, moving around you to sit on the lip of the tub, “I ain’t naming a cat that’s not mine.”

“Who’s to say the cat isn’t yours?” you teased. You reached behind you and grabbed a fluffy, green towel from a hook screwed into the wall. Drying your hands, you turned off the faucet and inspected your work on the absolutely drenched kitten huddled in the sink. Blue eyes still squinted, large ears pointing straight up, gray and white fur plastered in one smooth ball around its little body.

“I say it’s not. I don’t want a cat,” Logan said. You gave him a look that said sure you don’t over your shoulder as you scooped the cat in the towel. The little purr factory was sure to bore holes in the towel with the strength of the buzzing. It nuzzled its little head against the towel in an attempt to get water out of its ears.

“Even one as cute as this fluffy guy?” you asked, attempting to reason with the forever-grumpy man sitting on the tub. He ran his fingers through his ruffled hair then placed both hands on his knees.

“How can I tell if he’s fluffy? He’s fucking soaked, doll,” Logan replied.

You sighed, eyes rolling up to the white ceiling. Sure, you loved Logan. You loved him more than life itself. But Christ could he get on your nerves.

“Your understanding of physics never ceases to amaze me, darling,” you said in a singsong manner. A humorless laugh barked from Logan’s chest. The cat looked over to him, eyes widening slightly at the sudden noise, ears perked forward.

“What’re you lookin’ at, cat?” Logan asked. His question was answered with a small “mrraow?” from the now mostly damp kitten. He scoffed at the small creature, “Now it’s sassing me.”

“He’ll sass you less if you give him a name,” you said. A rough grumble echoed in the tub as Logan stood. Boots clacked across the tiled floor as he moved to stand next to you again.

“Alright, you know what? You said he’s fluffy, so that’s his name. Floof,” Logan said. You arched an eyebrow at him, the kitten looking up at him with narrowed eyes.

“...Floof? Really?” you asked. Logan huffed and threw his hands up in frustration.

“You don’t like the name, change it!”

“No, no. I like it. Just didn’t expect that to come from you,” you said, giggles building in your chest.

Logan glared at you, grumbled “whatever,” then stormed out of the bathroom. The kitten, or Floof, watched him leave. His gray and white fur was getting more fluffy the more you dried him with the towel. You assessed the cat in your hands.

“Floof. Yeah, I like it. How about you?” you asked. Blue eyes blinked up at you.

“Maaoww.”

“Good.”

~~~~1 week later~~~~

It was no surprise that Floof became the favorite among students. Whenever the kitten walked into a room, the children would immediately flock to the furball and give it so much love, the professors started complaining about lack of focus within the student body.

Cat trees and scratching posts were a permanent fixture in nearly every room, felt obstacle courses adorned some of the common areas’ walls, there were even pots of cat grass growing in Charles’s study. Floof was free to wander into any part of the mansion, so the students had adapted to looking at the floor whenever they walked to and from class, not wanting to step on the six-week-old kitten.

The only person throughout the entire mansion who hadn’t taken a shine to the newest member was Logan. Of course it was. Mr.Grouchy hated fun, as you knew.

It didn’t help matters that whenever he would style his hair, you would compare his hair tufts to Floof’s ears. You even went so far as to take pictures of both Logan and Floof, without Logan knowing, and edited them to be side by side so you could show Logan the likeness. That had earned you an irritated “they’re not cat ears!” and the cold shoulder for a few hours.

“You look like his dad, Lo,” you said through a fit of giggles. Logan sat in one of the leather armchairs of this particular sitting room. Lit cigar clutched in his left hand, right hand raised to push away Floof should the cat get too close, ankle crossed over his thigh.

“I’m not his fucking dad. I don’t have a cat,” Logan groused, scooping up Floof by the stomach from the armrest and placing the kitten back on the floor. The movement was met with an indignant “mooaaoow!”

“Uh huh. Yes dear,” you replied. You sat across from Logan, and the rather persistent cat, on the green-clothed couch. Shelves with a smattering of books lined the walls not overtaken by huge, bay windows. Streams of midday sun lit up the room. The only other person in this common area was Via, a pink sweater-wearing mutant with telekinesis and telepathy. She sat on one of the benches affixed to the bay windows.

“Don’t ‘yes dear’ me,” Logan said. He lifted the cigar to his mouth and took a puff. Smoke curled around his head like a gray halo dispersed in the sun’s rays.

The bell around Floof’s neck jingled as the cat jumped onto the armrest again. Tiny, gray paws patted on Logan’s elbow. Logan huffed, grabbing the cat around the middle and setting him back on the floor. You watched the two over the mug you held in your hands.

“Cats are more attracted to people who don’t like them,” you mused, taking a sip of your coffee. Logan grunted in response. He pulled on the blue flannel he wore over his tank top. Floof paced back and forth by Logan’s foot.

“Oh yeah? And why’s that?” Logan asked. He gently tapped Floof with the toe of his boot to push the cat further away. Another “maow!” met the action.

“Letting them make the first move instead of forcing affection makes them feel independent,” you explained. The gray fluffball sat in front of Logan, tail wrapped around its feet, and stared up at him. Logan glanced between you and Floof, a frown set deep in his face.

“But he likes the kids, and they’re grabbing at him all the time,” he argued. You snorted a laugh at Logan trying to reason with you. You set your mug down on its coaster and leaned forward, elbows resting on your knees.

“He’s a strange one. Maybe that’s why he likes you so much. You’re exactly alike,” you said, a mischievous smile growing across your lips. Logan took another drag from his cigar.

“We’re not exactly alike,” he said, blowing out a stream of smoke.

You glanced up at the pointed hairstyle that Logan wore everyday. Two, dark, styled points on the sides of his head that faded into sideburns on his cheeks. You looked back down at Floof. His ears twitched as he took in the sounds all over the mansion. Two points on the sides of his head. You met Logan’s eyes again, leaning back and crossing your arms.

“Then explain the cat ears, Lo.”

“Stop it with the fucking cat ears!”

~~~~1 month later~~~

For some reason, the beginnings of a presidential election were taking place. Posters were hung on the walls all over the mansion, buttons had been made, flyers handed out, speeches given. Debates were even being held between students on the candidates.

Well, candidate. Singular. There was only one creature running for office.

Floof.

Started by Crys, a blonde with super strength, and Eclipse, a green jacket-wearing girl who could block other mutant’s powers, the presidential campaign for Mr.Floofen von Floofypants was all the students could talk about. It didn’t help matters that Jean and Storm were working on ballots to be used for the upcoming election.

“All this for a cat is a little ridiculous, don’t you think?” Logan called down from his place on the steel ladder. He reached down and grabbed another thumbtack from your outstretched hand, “I mean, he’s not even the legal age to run.”

You and Logan were working on hanging streamers along the foyer ceiling. It was a day before the “election,” and most of the common areas had been decorated like they were taken from an American Dream magazine. Balloons, big banners saying “FLOOF,” party hats, and posters all bearing the red, white, and blue. It had definitely taken some convincing of Charles. Getting the Brit to yankee-fy his home was like getting Logan to let Floof in his lap.

“You’re Canadian. How do you know U.S. election law?” you asked. That earned a huff from Logan as he stuck the thumbtack through the blue streamer in his hands.

“I’ve been living in America longer than I did in Canada, doll. I’m practically a citizen,” he replied. He pushed on the thumbtack to ensure it was secure, then reached down for another. Floof, the electoral candidate himself, rubbed on your calf.

“Did you take the test?” you asked jokingly. Logan took the thumbtack from you, cocking an eyebrow at your question.

“What kinda test?” he responded. You breathed a laugh. Floof started pawing at your pant leg. You took the hint, scooping the kitten around the middle and holding him to your chest.

“The test to become a citizen,” you said. Logan rolled his eyes as he stuck the thumbtack through the streamer.

“Fuck no. Did the cat take the test?”

“He was born on US soil. He doesn’t need to,” you answered. The cat in question rubbed its chin on your fingers scratching at its neck. Vigorous purrs vibrated against your chest.

“I think he should take it if he wants to be president,” Logan said. You shifted your fingers to scratch at Floof’s pointed ears.

“And what exactly would be on a cat’s U.S. citizenship test?” you asked, laughing at the absurdity of this conversation. Logan grabbed another thumbtack.

“English comprehension, for one,” he said easily. You snorted, the noise disturbing the buzzing kitten in your arms. Floof looked up at you through squinted, blue eyes.

“Maow?”

“I think he comprehends English just fine,” you said, resuming your calming strokes on the kitten’s fluffy body. It seemed your disturbance was forgiven, the purrs resuming their intensity. Logan sighed.

“Is that so? Why don’t you ask him about his policies?” he suggested. The rest of the streamer was out of arm’s reach from his current position. He started climbing down the ladder, boots clanging on the metal rungs.

“That’ll have to wait for the debate tonight,” you said. Logan grabbed the ladder and moved a few feet towards the other end of the foyer. You shadowed behind him, both Floof and the box of thumbtacks in your arms.

“Who the fuck is debating against the cat?” Logan asked as he set the ladder down. You set Floof back on the floor to continue handing Logan thumbtacks from their plastic box. An annoyed trill came from the gray fuzzball.

“You are, Lo, if you keep it up,” you said. Logan glared at you, then climbed back up the ladder. He grabbed the limp, blue streamer and held it against the ceiling, reaching down for a thumbtack. You placed the brass pin in his palm, “Just imagine, two cats debating each other on their ideas of the flow of commerce. I’m sure it would be absolutely riveting.”

“I’m not a- you know what? I’m not gonna respond to that anymore. You clearly enjoy annoying me too much,” Logan grumbled. A wide, evil grin overtook your relaxed smile.

“Took you long enough,” Storm said from behind you. The white-haired, brown-eyed woman stepped up next to you, her arms folded across her blue blouse. You met her amused smirk, then you both looked back up to Logan above you, “We’ve been waiting for you to give in since the beginning.”

“Beating a man into submission. How forward-thinking of you,” Logan said snarkily. Floof trotted over to the ladder and sat beneath where Logan stood. The kitten’s tail flicked back and forth along the wooden floor.

“Not so much ‘beating’ as getting you to see sense,” Storm replied. You snickered, digging in the box for another thumbtack, as Logan used his freehand to show Storm his middle finger.

~~~2 months later~~~

“Why are you feeding him that shit? It’ll make his fur all shaggy,” Logan called from his place at the breakfast table. Snow frosted on the window behind him, flakes steadily falling and glowing orange in the setting sun.

A collection of snowmen sat on the fish pond’s bank. The little sculptures were a variety of shapes and sizes. Some being your stereotypical circular snowmen, others taking the shape of dragons or horses. The results of the art class you held outside yesterday.

“What do you mean?” Scott asked, red glasses looking between Logan and Floof’s food bowl. He wore a yellow, wool sweater and brown slacks that complimented his cropped dark hair. He held a bag of store-brand kibble above the empty bowl.

“That knockoff bullshit ain’t good for longhaired cats, genius,” Logan said. He was leaning on his elbow propped on the oak breakfast table. That morning’s paper sat ignored next to his third coffee of the day.

You sat across from him with Floof in your lap. One hand used to stroke along the steadily growing kitten, the other grading essays on Leonardo DaVinci your students had written. Your own mug was filled with your favorite tea.

“Why do you know so much about cat food?” Scott retorted. He set the crinkling bag of kibble back on the blue-tiled counter and faced Logan, hands finding their usual place on his hips.

“Look, all I know is that when you feed him that shit, he needs way more brushing than usual,” Logan explained, gesturing to the purring, gray fuzzball in your lap. Floof blinked slowly at Logan from across the table. You rested your chin in the hand you were petting Floof with, using your fingers to hide your growing smile.

“Well, it’s not like you’re the one doing the brushing,” Scott said indicatively.

A few moments of silence filled the kitchen. The cuckoo clock hung above the sink ticked the seconds away. You looked at Logan with a knowing grin. Scott’s incredulous frown morphed into an ecstatic smile.

“Holy shit, you do brush him!” he exclaimed.

“Vampire’s usually busy with class!” Logan replied quickly, voice coming out frantic and desperate. You couldn’t hide the laughs that leaked through your fingers. Scott doubled over as he guffawed at Logan’s response.

“You-You brush the cat!” Scott wheezed, voice echoing from below the counter. Logan grumbled under his breath at both you and Scott, the two of you laughing like madmen. He grabbed the newspaper and opened it.

“Whatever,” he groused, pretending to ignore the cackles bouncing around him.

Floof took offense to your shaking chest and slipped off your lap. His bell jingled as he crossed under the table to Logan, finding the grumpy man to be a much better spot to curl up. Your and Scott’s snickers were given new life when Floof hopped up and into Logan’s lap. Peals of roaring laughter, especially from Scott, surrounded Logan.

“Fuck you. Both of you,” he said. A tiny, gray paw patted at the air by Logan’s neck. Logan sighed, lowering a hand to scritch under Floof’s chin, “I don’t get any respect around here. Do I, bub?”

~~~4 months later~~~

It was a complete shock to everyone, the day you found out that Floof was a mutant. The cat had been growing at a healthy rate. Food was readily supplied, a never ending stream of affection followed the cat like a shadow, and a large number of toys were spread throughout the mansion.

So when Floof had walked behind your chair leg and appeared next to Logan in the doorway, all hell broke loose.

Hank and Jean had run tests on Floof’s blood to see if they could find the presence of an active X-gene. Drawing his blood, under the very close watch of Logan, and running it through their typical series of tests that all turned up positive.

It was difficult for them to get any scans, x-ray or otherwise, of the cat as at the first clang or shudder of a machine, he’d appear upstairs or in the next room over.

“Damn thing just won’t stay still!” Hank exclaimed, blue fur frazzled and yellow eyes wide. His white lab coat was in a state of disarray you had never seen before. Jean sat on her office chair behind the lab’s computer. Her red hair was tied up in a loose bun, brown eyes scanning across the computer screen, lab coat perfect as always.

“You’re scaring him, asshole,” Logan said. He was leaning on a silver wall in the lab. Arms folded across his chest, leg crossed over the other, typical frown across his lips. This time, Floof had disappeared from being in the x-ray machine and appeared behind Logan’s legs. Logan stooped down to pick up the frightened cat.

“Then what do you suggest, o’ cat whisperer?” Hank asked, voice dripping with sarcasm. He rolled up his coat sleeves, white fabric bunching around his blue arms, as he reset the x-ray machine for the third time.

“I could sit in the machine with him,” you suggested. Both Hank and Logan’s gaze fell to you. You sat across the desk from Jean. You had been watching the whole exchange with a great deal of amusement. Hank sighed, lifting his glasses to rub at the bridge of his nose.

“I don’t know. Maybe. Maybe, it’ll work,” he said. He replaced his glasses and gestured to Logan, “Lord knows this one’ll throw off the readings too much.”

Logan glared at Hank, hands buried in Floof’s long, gray fur. You stood from your chair and circled around the x-ray machine to Logan.

When you were met with hesitation from your partner, you paused. Logan’s dark brows were knit together, frown deepening across his lips, arms holding Floof tighter to his chest. You placed your hand on his shoulder.

“Hey, he’ll be ok. It’s just some scans. And I’ll be right there with him,” you soothed. Logan puffed a gust of air from his scowl, the action rustling the fur on Floof’s head. The cat looked up at Logan with wide, blue eyes.

“I’ll make sure they’re quick,” Jean called from where she sat. You used the hand on Logan’s shoulder to massage soothing circles into the muscle.

Logan sighed, posture drooping, as he said, “Fine. But if he teleports one more time, that’s it. No more for today.”

“Of course, Lo,” you said. You gave him a reassuring smile. You knew all these tests were getting to him. Watching Floof get stressed over the large machinery and sharp needles reminded Logan too much of his past. Well, the parts he could remember.

You tucked your hands between Floof and Logan, fingers running across long fur and flannel alike, and you pulled Floof against your chest. The usual intense purring that would buzz from Floof’s abdomen was nonexistent. You smiled again at Logan, who returned a smirk that didn’t meet his eyes, then turned to Hank.

“I’ll need you to lay down on the table. The cat, or… Floof, will sit in your lap. You’ll have to be very still, or you’ll throw off the scans,” Hank instructed. You nodded in response, approaching the x-ray machine. As you sat on the metal table you could feel Floof’s heartbeat speed up.

“Shhh, baby. It’s alright,” you cooed, lips pressed into the short hairs on top of Floof’s head. Floof rubbed his head against your chin. A small “mrraow” accompanied a few licks on your neck.

You felt every single eye in the room on you, especially Logan’s, as you laid down on the table. Floof settled into the crook of your legs, feet tucked under his chest and tail wrapped around his paws. The epitome of a fluffy loaf. You ran your fingers across his back a few times.

“Alright. Try not to move,” Hank said, grabbing the handles at the foot of the table. You gave Floof one last scritch under the chin then placed your hands at your sides. Floof kept his eyes on you as both of you were pushed under the x-ray machine.

You ended up inside a long, metal tube. Lights lining the white metal started blinking on, one by one. Blue light filled your vision. You glanced down at Floof, who was still staring up at you. You slowly blinked back at him.

“Everything alright in there?” you heard Logan ask. His low voice ricocheted around inside the metal tube.

“Yup. So far, so good,” you replied. Floof was sitting perfectly still in your lap. You continued to slow-blink at him.

“About to take the first set of scans. Keep him still,” Hank called from the other end of the machine. You hummed in response.

A low whirring kicked on along the entirety of the tube. Floof’s pointed ears flattened against his head.

“You’re okay, we’re okay,” you said calmly. Your continued slow-blinking and soothing voice seemed to be working wonders. Other than his ears, which were now back to pointing towards you, he had remained perfectly still. There was a louder ca-chunk that slightly rattled the table near your stomach and made Floof flinch.

“That’s his top half done. How’s it looking, Jean?” Hank said.

“Looks perfect. Keep doing what you’re doing, vampire,” Jean replied.

Floof remained perfectly still as the whirring picked up again by your knees. Ears perked up at you, blue eyes slowly blinking, claws only slightly digging into your jeans. The second ca-chunk didn’t even phase the cat. He just continued to stare at you. You could even feel the purrs building in his chest.

“Okay, got what I need! Go ahead and pull ‘em out, Hank,” Jean said. The blue lights surrounding you blinked off in sync as you felt the foot of the table rattle again.

The lights of the lab were nearly blinding when you emerged from the x-ray machine. You used one hand to shield your eyes while the other stroked along Floof’s back.

Logan was at your side in an instant. He scooped Floof into his arms and cradled the cat to his chest. Fingers scritching under Floof’s chin, nose buried in the fur on Floof’s back. Seemed the whole ordeal affected Logan more than you thought. You ran a reassuring hand along Logan’s arm.

“Why don’t you two head on upstairs? I’ve got it covered from here,” you said lowly. Logan gave you a once over, nodded, then carried the ball of fur in his arms out of the lab.

You sighed as you sat up, swinging your legs over the side of the table. Your eyes met Jean’s confused expression.

“Alkali,” was all you said. Jean quietly said “oh,” then turned her attention back to the computer. You pushed yourself off the table and moved to look over Jean’s shoulder, “Anything standing out?”

“Well, for one, you have horrible bone density,” Jean replied. You gave her arm a light smack. Jean laughed at your response, then continued, “Nothing in his skeletal structure is off. All of his joints are connected where they should be, cartilage is intact, nothing’s broken.”

“So his mutation isn’t physical?” you asked. Jean shook her head while biting her lower lip.

“We’d have to do an MRI on his brain to tell for certain. But, as far as I can tell, he’s like me and Kurt,” she explained. You heard Hank scoff behind you.

“More similar to Kurt, I’d say. Both him and the cat are awful to analyze,” he said, laughing without humor. You turned to look at him, arms folding across your chest.

“At least Floof does it because he’s scared. Kurt does it to piss you off,” you said. Hank grumbled under his breath at that, seeming to recount all of the failed exams he’d given the Nightcrawler over the years. You chuckled at his disgruntled reaction.

“We should be good, vampire. Go check on Logan for me,” Jean said, drawing your attention away from Hank. You gave her a pat on the shoulder, then followed Logan’s path out of the lab.

The jarring difference between the basement and the mansion itself would be alarming to anyone who hadn’t spent decades living there.

In the mansion, warm wood and plush furniture could be found in every room. Golden sunlight filtered in through grand windows, vibrant green plants in colorful pots decorated shelves and tables, beautiful paintings and cheerful pictures were hung on every available wall.

In the basement, however, steel lined everything. Chrome ceilings, chrome floors, chrome doors, even chrome furniture constructed the entire basement. High-tech gadgets, like state of the art computers and medical equipment, were reserved to be specifically used in the basement’s lab. Giant, metal doors hid training rooms and simulation areas the older students would utilize. And, what was often sought after and coveted, lay behind a door with a large, chrome x on it.

Cerebro. A circular room with a single, metal console in its center. An array of switches and buttons were embedded in the console. Wires ran to and from the console’s base and the platform it stood on. Sitting on its pedestal was the helmet Charles would put on when he used Cerebro. Metal rods and wires protruding from a chrome cap that glowed blue when in use.

Just beyond Cerebro’s door is where you saw Charles. His mechanical wheelchair whirred as he directed himself into the open room.

“Hey professor,” you said as you passed. Charles looked over his shoulder at you and smiled.

“Hello, my dear. I was just about to do the monthly search. Care to join?” he asked. He spun his wheelchair in place so he could face you. He wore a clean, blue suit and a pale yellow tie. His shiny, black shoes reflected the artificial white light that gleamed from lights set in the ceiling.

“I’d love to,” you replied. Your shoes clicked along the polished, chrome floor as you walked up to where Charles’s wheelchair sat. The hand resting on the chair’s joystick moved, spinning the chair to face into Cerebro, then matched your pace as you walked through the huge doors.

“I wouldn’t worry too much about Logan,” Charles said, reading your mind like always. He didn’t do it out of malice or ill-intent. It was just second nature for him to hear the runaway thoughts of those around him. His bright, blue eyes peered up at you as you walked across the suspended platform, “Memories of Alkali always tend to make him anxious. Just give him time.”

“Yeah,” you sighed. Small, white lights on the sides of the platform flicked on as you and Charles walked further into the room. The enormous, paneled sphere that constructed Cerebro bounced the light all around you, giving the space a pleasant glow.

You stopped just behind Charles as he rolled up to the console. You watched as he fiddled with a few switches and buttons, none of it making sense to you, before he looked back at you again.

“You know the drill. No moving,” he said through a kind smile. You gave him two thumbs-up, which made him chuckle, then clasped your hands together in front of you.

Charles turned back to the console and lifted the helmet. The chrome glinted in the soft, white light, throwing strange reflections onto his aged face. He raised the helmet above his head, wires stretched near their limit, before he set the chrome cap around his head.

In an instant, the room around you melted away into an endless space of darkness. Clouds of black ink flooded your vision, the entire white room overtaken by a midnight sky. White dots started sprouting up amongst the darkness. First one, then ten, then millions and millions lit up the blackness until they formed constellations in the shape of the world’s continents.

Everytime you got the chance to see Cerebro in action, it took your breath away. Watching as Charles connected with every human’s mind on earth was nothing short of incredible. Brief visions of people all over the world floated past in glowing apparitions. Ghosts showing glimpses into peoples’ lives flying by in rapid succession.

Red overtook the white as Charles focused on specifically mutants. Crimson stars blinked in the dark, taking up significantly less of the night’s sky than the humans’ white spots did.

The visions flying past were now drenched in a red glow. One showing a girl, no older than three, playing with a barbie doll. Another showing a teenage boy flirting with a classmate.

Two silhouettes stood out amongst the chaos. Both female, both older in their teenagehood, but looking nothing alike.

The first was a taller girl. Hair smoothed back into a ponytail, arms as thick as tree trunks, skin reflecting light like a cluster of diamonds. A whisper of “Lindsay” from Charles gave a name to the face. Her apparition floated back amongst the constellations to land somewhere in New Zealand.

The second was a girl sitting on a rooftop. Her skin was coated in shimmering scales, eyes slitted like a snake’s, bat-like wings protruding from her back. She was curled up next to a gargoyle, surveying the city below her. “Brooke” was the name Charles said, then her image floated away and landed in Utah.

The red dots were snuffed as streaks of darkness flew through the air. Like coffee under a paper towel, the black ink overtaking the room disappeared into the console. Charles tucked his fingers under his helmet and placed it back on its pedestal.

“Right. Two new mutants. One in Utah, the other in New Zealand,” he said. He turned his chair around to face you again. A hopeful, gleeful look was painted across his face like a work of art, “I’ll send Scott and Storm to fetch them. In the meantime, have Jean drum up some high-strength pain reliever. Lindsay seems to have a migraine problem.”

“On it,” you replied, your own grin growing to match his. You pulled your phone out of your pocket and texted the details to Jean, following after Charles as he exited Cerebro.

“Two more students. Ah, I can’t wait! I have a feeling Vienna and Brooke will get along quite well. Not to mention how Crys and Daniel will take to someone like them when Lindsay arrives,” Charles said cheerfully. With the message sent, you stowed your phone in your pocket and focused on the professor. He continued to ramble on about the interactions he predicted to happen between the new and current students. You listened intently, fondness filling your chest like a warm breath.

The two of you entered the circular elevator, with cream-colored walls and a yellow light set in the ceiling, as Charles spoke. You felt the floor lurch as the elevator started to climb up to the mansion.

“Both Brooke and Lindsay seemed to be rather talented writers. Hopefully they’ll like the creative writing club. Oh, and they should enjoy the book club, too,” he said. The elevator door slid open to reveal the mansion’s first floor.

Kurt, the blue-skinned and long-tailed teleporter, threw you and the professor a wave as he passed by. Several textbooks about religious studies were clutched in his clawed hands. You gave him a wide grin and a wave of your own.

“Afternoon, Kurt,” Charles chirped, smiling fondly at the German as the two of you passed by. A quiet “afternoon!” followed you and the professor as you walked toward the west wing of the mansion. You trailed after Charles for a few more paces.

“If you don’t need anything else, I’m gonna go check on Logan,” you said. You paused in the middle of the long, windowed hallway you and Charles occupied. He gave you a nod.

“Yes, please do. Give him my best,” Charles said. You gave him a gentle squeeze on the shoulder, his wrinkled hand patting on the back of yours, before you made your way to the staircase in the foyer.

Several students greeted you as you walked through the mansion. Christopher, a dark-haired brainiac, and Josh, a brown-eyed boy with two extra arms, said a brief “hi!” before returning to the scattered chemistry homework in front of them. Mads, the short-haired plant bender, waved at you from where she knelt next to a plant with withering leaves. A subtle, green glow emanated from her palms as life was pumped back into the monstera.

While climbing up the grand staircase you noticed one of Floof’s campaign posters still pinned to the wall. Wide eyes stared out of a red, white, and blue drawing. You smirked, remembering how much the whole thing had annoyed Logan.

Rogue and Bobby gave you a brief greeting as you passed on the landing between opposing stairs. They continued down the carpeted staircase you had just climbed as they discussed seeing a movie together later that week.

When you reached your and Logan’s room, the third door on the left, you noticed it was firmly shut. Thinking it strange, you turned the brass knob and swung open the wooden door.

“Maaaooowww!” Floof yelled from where he sat next to the door. He gave your leg a quick sniff, then darted between your legs and into the hall behind you.

Perplexed, you looked at Logan. He was sitting on your shared bed. Arms crossed over his chest, boots kicked off next to the bed, eyes closed as calming piano played from his phone’s speakers.

You slowly latched the door shut behind you, toeing off your shoes, and climbed into bed next to him. A rough grunt met the jostling of the mattress. You sat next to Logan, your back leaning on the wooden headboard.

You let silence hang in the air, only disturbed by the light song playing from the nightstand. When Logan got like this, stuck in his own mind, it was best to let him take things at his own pace. If you moved too fast he’d completely shut down. Which, having known him for at least two decades at this point, was something you could easily maneuver around.

After a few minutes you felt a rustle next to you. Logan’s arms uncrossed from his chest, eyes still closed, as the hand closest to you fitted into yours. You tangled your fingers with his. A few more moments passed, then you felt the weight of Logan’s head on your shoulder.

You pressed a soft kiss into his hair. He hummed in response, rubbing his cheek along the sleeve of your sweatshirt.

“Doing alright?” you whispered. Another minute passed, piano filling the room.

“Yeah,” Logan mumbled. The hand not clutched in yours was thrown across your waist. He pulled you against his body, face buried in the crook of your neck, “Yeah, now I am.”

You let your fingers nestle in the short hairs along his neck. Soft, soothing strokes along his skin that left him practically purring against you.

“All the stuff with Floof dredge something up?” you asked. A beat, then Logan nodded against your shoulder.

“Medical stuff, ya know? It’s just… A lot,” Logan explained. He squeezed you tighter against his chest. You gave the crown of his head another gentle kiss.

“Take your time, Lo,” you breathed. You tracked the deep inhales that filled Logan’s chest and the smooth glide of his cheek on your shoulder. Good. Didn’t seem like a panic attack was brewing.

The two of you sat on the bed, cuddled against each other, light piano playing around you for another couple minutes. Calm, still settings like this were the best for when Logan was struggling with his past, you’d found. Breathing with him, gentle touches, and reaffirming words helped keep him grounded in the present.

You started chattering quietly about what the scans had shown. That nothing seemed abnormal about Floof, that the teleportation must stem from his brain, and that you apparently had low bone density. That sparked a brief chuckle from Logan’s chest.

After about an hour of the two of you huddled together, a light scratching came from the bedroom door. You sighed, head rolling back and thonking on the wooden headboard.

“Frickin’ cat,” you murmured under your breath. Logan reluctantly untangled his limbs from yours. He leaned back against the headboard, hazel eyes opening and looking at you.

“You wanted him,” he said, an amused grin growing on his lips. You groaned, pushing yourself off the bed and walking over to the door.

When you pulled it open, a gray and white furry bullet shot into the room. A chorus of indignant meows overshadowed the music coming from Logan’s phone. You scooped up the annoyed cat and moved back to the bed. Floof’s distinct, intense purrs rumbled against your chest.

“Hey, bub,” Logan said when you sat next to him. Floof squirmed in your arms until you finally released him, then the little shit jumped into Logan’s lap. Your mouth gaped open.

“Fucking traitor,” you gasped. Your despair was ignored as Floof circled himself a few times, paws kneading into Logan’s jeans, then curled up in Logan’s lap. Logan scritched under Floof’s chin.

“Sorry, doll. Guess he’s picked a side,” Logan said, cocky grin plastered on his stupid face. You huffed while curling your knees against your chest and thumping your chin on top.

“You’re lucky I love you, ya jerk. Or else I’d be fighting for that cat’s honor,” you grumbled. Logan laughed, the deep sound bouncing out of his mouth like a large bell.

“It wouldn’t be a fair fight. You’d win,” he said. Floof nuzzled into Logan’s palm, purring so strong you could feel it in your chest. You let your head fall onto Logan’s shoulder. You felt his cheek rub against your hair.

“Nah,” you said. You looked between Logan and Floof. Matching ears and hair tufts, smiling eyes filled with adoration, purrs and happy hums coming from both of them. Your initial grumpiness was overshadowed by a deep-seated adoration for the two of them, “You would.”

~~~~6 months later~~~

You stood in your and Logan’s shared room. Warm, wooden panels covered the walls decorated in landscape paintings. A black cat tree, about four-feet tall, sat in front of one of the windows by your bed. The pale green curtains were drawn just enough so only a sliver was left open for Floof, who enjoyed sitting on the top platform and watching the flying birds and bugs.

The rustling of clothes, caused by your rummaging, disturbed the peace in the room. You were digging around amongst Logan’s folded shirts in the wardrobe’s drawers. A white t-shirt sat on top of the wardrobe. Bold, black print reading “#1 Cat Dad” sat in the center front of the t-shirt, along with an image of Floof surrounded by a large, red heart.

You slipped the t-shirt amongst the space you had made in the drawer then slid the wooden compartment closed. Confident in how well you hid the new article of clothing, you took a look around the room.

Pictures of you, Logan, and Floof sat on every available surface. Earlier pictures featured a frowning and distant Logan, who was uncomfortable being in a picture with the young kitten. But, as Floof got older, Logan was seen in more and more pictures with him. The two of them cuddling on the couch, Floof curled up on a sleeping Logan’s chest in bed, Logan holding Floof up like Simba in the Lion King.

A fond smile graced your lips. The man you loved most, an unerring grump, really did have a soft spot. Him and Floof had grown inseparable. When Logan walked into a room, the now full-sized, fluffy, gray cat was sure to follow. Whenever Floof needed to visit a vet, Logan was the one to take him. If Logan were to leave for a mission, Floof would consistently yell the entire time his pal was gone.

Several footsteps passing by your open door drew your attention from the pictures. You looked into the hallway at what had caused the noise.

Logan, hair styled in the classic two tufts, had Floof perched on his shoulder. The adult cat was draped over Logan’s flannel-covered back like a fluffy scarf. The pair reminded you of a mountain lion perched on a tall cliff.

Logan threw you a grin and a quick wave. You smiled, waving back, as your vision shifted to the swarm of children following Logan. Eyes wide with adoration for Floof, toothy grins on each child’s face, giggles exchanged between students.

As the crowd passed by, the long-haired cat meeting your eyes and letting out a soft “mraow,” it was hard to believe that there was a time when Logan had said “no fucking way” to Floof.

once again, so much love to the murdock tuna team!! you all fill me with so much joy on a daily basis. i'm so incredibly thankful to each and every one of you :) also, here's what the Floof 2024 posters look like

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#wolverine #logan howlett #hugh jackman #xmen #wolverine fanfic #logan howlett fanfic #xmen fanfic #wolverine x reader #logan howlett x reader #fem!reader #murdock tuna team #i seriously love the tuna team so much #they consistently inspire me every fucking day

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