#Yandere Logan

[yandere-wishes]

⭒ㅤׂ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ ʟɪꜰᴇㅤׂ ⭒

⭒⌒★ Yandere! X-Men x Reader ★⌒⭒

゜。♡ 𝓔𝔁𝓽���𝓪𝓬𝓽𝓼 𝓸𝓯 𝓘 𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮 𝔂𝓸𝓾 ♡ ｡ ゜

˚୨♡୧˚Magneto - Erik Lehnsherr | مگنیتو - اریک لنشر 

Techno graces your body in lieu of veins. Wires coiling like arteries should. You use it to mimic him, embody him, be him. His starry-eyed parody. Erik needs you to be more, to be everything he -and everybody else- could never be. You are synthetic and sacred in every way, you are the future he so desperately craves. 

He can't help seeing them when he looks at you. The reverend wraiths of tortured adoration speak to him through your eyes. He sees a bit of everyone inside you, Charles, Raven, Rogue... their faces flashing like holy ghosts. You have too many constellations inside of you, all on the verge of erupting. It keeps him up at night, especially when you're curled up on your side of the bed, asleep and oblivious. 

"You will save us, little one, you will be the savior we have longed for"

He feels the centuries rolling through him, desperately lost, trying to find his way back to a home he never even knew. Maybe that's why he kneels, brushing his lips across your knuckles tracing each vein in hopes that'll lead him back to a place he's only ever seen in his dreams. I'll stay lost, I'll wait for you to find me. He knows you will, you'll do anything for him. He's sure of it. 

Genosha asks for a queen, demands it really. It's funny how these things work. Funny how those who rule the world are so intent on destroying it. Kingdoms aren't built in a day yet they can so easily be toppled in one. In turn, Magento asks you. Who else? It's his one cardinal tenet, you are the savior he could never be. The one his people, your people, need. Erik rolls your name between his lips, relishing as the syllables melt on his tongue. There's a magnetic pull to 'queen' it tastes like a hallowed prayer. "My queen" he whispers in your ear, his tongue sending sparks up the cartilage shell. Magneto pins you to his lap, keeping you tethered to his strong body. His fingers run lines up your hips indulging in your presence. You don't squirm although he suspects you want to. his lips lower, kissing your jugular and savoring the ungainly moan that slips past your pretty lips. "M-Magneto" He's only now realizing you've never called him by his birthname, maybe cause in some way you find it treacherous that he should bear such a human thing. He may see you as salvation, yet you've always gazed at him with the pietistic eyes of a zealous worshipper. 

"Use your power, feel the magnetic pull flowing through you."

"You're overcomplicating it again, master, I just need to command that which I need lifted."

You've always been a rebellious student. The sardonic irony isn't lost on him, Magneto finds it fitting that he should master such an intricate pupil.

He wonders if you can forgive him for the bodies he's scattered in your name. From this far up he doubts you notice the broken bodies littering the concrete. He'll do it all again, anything to keep your distractions at bay. His kind needs a leader, not another sanctimonious hero.

You will be their savior.

You will be his queen.

♠️🂱♠️Gambit - Remy Lebeau | گمبیت - رمی لیبو

Remy wonders if the king ever longs to be stacked with the queen. Holding his breath every time the cards are shuffled. Praying that this time, this time for sure, he'll be next to her. Gambit's holding his breath too. There's a lively lilt when you giggle, he wonders if you truly grasp how much he means every word. "Mon Cheri, you know you're the only one for me." It sounds so childish, so jejune and Gambit knows he's too old for school-boy crushes. But he can't help it, he's desperate too, just another aspirant king vying for the attention of his red queen. 

You once told him the blacks of his eyes remind you of a starry night sky back home. He thinks about that too much. About the sting of your hand on his shoulder and how good it felt sitting crooked in his bones. So that's why an ace surpasses the king. There is only, one who holds power. Maybe it's never been about the queen or the king or the royal house. It's been the Ace all along. Remy only has one heart, he knows he only has one ace too. There was an ace of hearts on your nightstand this morning, you don't recall how it got there. 

Remy's kisses are too explosive, they hold all the weight of a dying star. Yet the force never ceases, it feeds off the detonations only growing stronger, you think you'll be consumed in this kinetic nova he calls love. 

-`X´- Cyclops - Scott Summers | سیکلوپ - سکات سامرز

There's a shutter of loneliness crawling up his spine. He knows you feel it too. Scott bends and breaks under its crushing weight. You've always been there, tangible, solid. You're the living metaphor for a rock in a raging river. He just can't find the right words yet. You can't see his eyes, you can't withstand his power. But you can be there holding his hand through it all. 

'Is this selfishness'? Scott wonders and he kisses you under a dying moon. He's never had anything to call his own, nothing that stayed for long anyway. He's snuffed out his desires his whole life. His place is with the X-men, playing the no-choice hero of a thankless story. But you, you're still here, you never left. Even now you stand still as his lips taint yours. He feels your fear, undue thing that it is. But he can't let you go not when everything is always marred in endless red monochrome and melancholy. Not when the only blessing the universe had ever given him comes in the shape of you. He's so tired of only ever knowing the life of a perfect toy soldier. 'Stay' he begs you between each kiss, each touch. Please just stay. Ease his pain.

 

☽✭☾ Wolverine - Logan Howlett | ولورین - لوگان هاولت

He's been alive longer than he cares to count. Running from one hell to another. He remembers your ghost, essence weaving between places too blurred to be graced with a name. But he remembers you, he swears he does. It's just that time is so fickle and so few can withstand its crushing tides. 

"How have you been, Logan?" 

"I..ah... fine, just fine." 

When he looks at you he can't believe the changes. There's no trace of the rosy cheecked little girl who used to chase demons in the snowbanks. Playing hide and seek with every stray in the neighborhood. That's good, he thinks, he likes this refined dignitary better, somehow it brings out your eyes. There's a feral gaze when he looks at you, he thought he was over that. He feels the pulsing of his heart reverberate through his claws. It brings back something less than memories, something nostalgic, yet all so distant it may as well have been the sent of his childhood home. It's not right he thinks, as his claws trace your curves trying to feel something he knows is lost. You quiver, trying to make yourself smaller and he knows, he knows he shouldn't do this. But there are just so many pieces missing and he's never tried to look for any of them. Maybe just this once he can delude himself into remembering. 

˚ʚ★ɞ˚ Nightcrawler - Kurt Wagner | شب خزنده - کورت واگنر

Not too long ago this used to be fine. He's always been better within shadows, letting the soft dark weave around his body. Obscurity has always felt like a second home, a haven in everything but consistency. You speak in italics, talking and talking without understanding what he shoulders. If he didn't deem it blasphemy, Kurt would gladly dub himself Eros.

You would be Psyche. Oblivious, sweet Psyche.

Kurt longs to kiss your cheek, he knows it'll only starve him for more. He wonders how soft your hands will feel. If you'll You cradle his face nails tracing the sharp point of his ears, his fangs, the jagged scar he got from dreaming of you in the danger room. Will you grace him with a kiss? Something to relinquish the anguish stirring within. This should be fine, you're talking to him, laughing with him as he remains hidden within the dark. And yet how can he see this as anything less than retribution? You're so close, just a breath away. If only he could reach out and...

۵𓋹۵ Apocalypse - En Sabah Nur | آپآکلپژ- ان صباح نور

Your heartbeat sounds all too familiar. He used to hear it a thousandfold walking down the Bazaar's street. It's dead now, the noise, the rapture, the music. He wonders what went right for your heart to beat to such a lost tune?  He remembers once hearing that pain travels through families until it lands on the right generation. He's glad fate picked you. He's glad you share the same ancient burdens.

He puts the stars in the sky.

You've been warned against worshipping false idols so blindly.

Yet how can one not fall at his feet?

He who makes the earth tremble and mighty cower. 

He who seems to know everything you do not. 

Your fingers thread through his hair. It's too black, like staring at a moonless sky in December. You wonder if the eternal ebony is what gives Apocolypse his cynical edge. He laughs at the comment as he melts into your familiar touch."Thank you" he mutters. His pride laces every word twisting them into something metaphysical. Nur wonders if you catch the true sentiment behind the words. If the sand and stars make it through. 

You're too archaic for this time Nur thinks as he watches you run across the fields. The other mutants are there, persistent in the games you all play. In his time he'd have already declared you his wife. Do you know the ancient ceremonies? Would you have gifted him gold or flesh? The yearning builds in his throat. Maybe he should have stayed dead. 

Apocolypse lingers the days away in your room, plotting, scheming. You keep him hidden like a blood secret. He's the only one who seems to understand where your power comes from, where you come from. " I could win against you...someday" Your fingers glow igniting a forgotten glow, Nur can't help but laugh as he traces the curve of your spine. " I don't doubt you could, beloved." His blue lips are on the length of your neck. Everything about you screams dead nostalgia. You've followed him through lifetimes. Smiling as you dragged him across the sand dunes just to watch the sunset. How he longs to carve you open and feel your heart between his teeth. 

He's choking on sand.

Drowning in stardust.

Nur feels like he's swallowed the sun whole. Devoured Ra and spat out his holy bones. He still feels the sting of its rays seeping through his teeth. He's divinity and desperation are all in the same breath. Apocalypse and Nur are just two sides of the same daric. You stand in front of him, tracing the blues of his face, kissing the reds of his eyes. An excavation into the lost, unearthing that which could collapse the world. You enjoy him, savor him, keeping his gold essence on your tongue locked behind rose-tinted lips. You beg Nur to dig through your bones, open you up, unseal every crypt. He obliges, kissing the hollow of your bones until his teeth graze your unsteady heart.

"And what will you do once you meet the real world?"

"Oh, nothing, the real world will have to meet me first."

There is so much blood, he doesn't remember doing this. You stand beside him watching the sand in the hourglass run out. He is Apocolypse bringer of destruction, the end of worlds, funny how he needed you, frail sweet thing that you are, to remind him of this. It's only when he looks at you, really really looks at you that he realizes how many things are still the same. Twisted deformed yet still they harbor their old shapes. Apocolypse kisses you under the shade of a palm tree hoping it'll mean something in the end.

Hoping everything can just go back. 

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Four Walls, Two Windows, No Doors.

Pairing: Yan!Wolverine|Logan Howlett x Reader (X-Men).

Word Count: 2.6k.

TW: Dub/Con, Fem!Reader, Kidnapping, Prolonged Imprisonment, Mentions of Human Experimentation, Logan Gets Hurt (He's Fine), Mentions of Pregnancy, and Controlling Behavior.

This Was Supposed To Be A Warm-Up. It Got Out Of Hand.

The cabin was about an hour’s drive from the mansion.

An hour and a half if he took his time, less than thirty minutes if he rushed it. He brought back supplies once a week, maybe twice if he knew he had a mission coming up, but your constant reminders that you’d rather burn down the cabin with you inside than starve to death because of the man you hated most in the world were usually enough to keep the pantry stocked. There weren’t many things Logan was willing to go out of his way for, but you were an exception. You were special, you guessed, as sick as the idea of being special to someone like him made you feel.

He arrived a few minutes past sunset, while there was still light in the sky. You heard the low rumble of his bike, the hollow weight of his footsteps as he made his way across the raised porch. You were able to count out the seconds it took him to undo each of the shining, silver deadbolts mounted above the rusted-out doorknob. It was more than excessive, but you knew how he justified his security measures, how he rationalized your continued isolation. From his warped perspective, you were a problem child – the type to make bad decisions when left to your own devices. Since hiring a babysitter wasn’t on the table (an idea you’d not-so-playfully suggested more than once), limiting how much trouble you could get yourself into was the next best option.

The last deadbolt was slid out of place, then stillness. You could picture him on the other side – waiting for you to move, to yell, to throw yourself against the door as soon as it was unlocked. Fine. If he wanted to play, you’d play.

With a shoulder braced against the wood, he pushed open the cabin door and crossed the threshold. There was a flash of silver in the dull light, the weight of his body against yours as you barreled into him, then your knife buried in his stomach.

The strain was sharp, familiar. It took more effort than it should’ve to pierce the skin, to break the tension, to stab into whatever felt the most vital and twist. You didn’t wait to see his reaction – pulling the knife out and spinning on your heel, throwing yourself towards the open door. His fist was wrapped around the collar of your dress before you could make it so much as a full step, your body hauled back into the entryway without the slightest hint of strain. You swung for his throat, and he let you. It wasn’t until your knife was half-buried in his jugular that he grunted, catching your wrist. He didn’t squeeze, but he didn’t have to. Your meager weapon was already clattering to the floor, forgotten in the same time it took for the skin and muscle of his neck to knit itself back together.

His voice was raspy when he finally spoke – whether from whatever damage you’d managed to inflict or a long day of barking orders to super-powered brats, you couldn’t be sure. You’d like to think it was the former, if only to give yourself the satisfaction of having left some kind of mark on him. “Get it out of your system, sweetheart?”

“Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you.” You thrashed against his hold, kicking and clawing where you couldn’t stab. Of course, you were about as dangerous as a kitten might’ve been to a lion, and of course, his only reaction was a breath of a laugh, an arm wrapped around your waist as he carried you back into the cabin proper.

He claimed it was a gift – on lease from some vaguely wealthy, vaguely telepathic employer. In another context, you might’ve enjoyed a rustic getaway to a one-room cabin small enough to feel intimate but large enough to dampen the all-consuming sense of claustrophobia slowly mounting inside you, and yet having your world confined to four walls and a handful of bullet-proof windows had lost its charm quickly. Logan dropped you onto the fleece-drowned mattress and crossed to the kitchenette, rummaging through the well-stocked liquor cabinet. “Most wives greet their husbands with a kiss, y’know.”

“I’m not your wife.” Denial came first, the dread second. “If you ever try to marry me, I’ll hang myself with the veil.”

“Do what you want– I’m still getting a ring on that finger.” When he resurfaced, it was with a glass of wine in one hand and a highball of whiskey in the other. The latter was for him, obviously, and the former was slid into your hand as you dragged yourself to the edge of the mattress, a knot of ache quickly forming in your neck, your wrist. It was embarrassing, honestly. You could drive a knife into his lungs and he wouldn’t even flinch, but a few seconds of mistreatment was enough to leave you sore for hours.

Thankfully, physical exertion wasn’t exactly at the top of your list of concerns, not with Logan. While you pretended to nurse your drink, letting the wine wash numbly over your pursed lips, Logan downed his in a single shot and, with a bark a laughter, pulled your body back into his arms. This time, you were deposited in his lap as he collapsed onto a broken-in sofa. There was an darkened fireplace a few paces away, a century-old radio on the mantle above it, but his attention was already elsewhere, his eyes already wandering. With both hands planted on your waist, he hauled your hips against his, forcing you to straddle him. You rolled your eyes and moved to get up, but there was a row of fingers drummed against your side by way of warning, a sudden sharpness to his lazy smirk, and you fell into place.

Satisfied with your lack of resistance, he let his touch slip under the skirt of your dress. Logan didn’t have the patience to pick out your outfits by hand, but he decided what made it into your closet, how much skin you were able to cover day-to-day. His preferences skewed pastoral – all sundresses and frocks, occasionally one of his patched-up flannels or a pair of jeans too tattered to make you feel any more secure. While you couldn’t be sure if it was an intention or a happy coincidence, easy access was a reoccurring theme. His thumb slipped under the seat of your panties, dragging the thin fabric aside. Two fingers traced the shape of your cunt, pausing to rub circles into your clit.

Logan leaned back, his head settling against the armrest, his body spread out underneath yours. “Keep talking.” There was a slight drawl to his voice, a lull in his tone. You bristled on instinct, memories of bourbon-tinged kisses and metal claws pressing into tender skin bubbling up from the deepest recesses of your mind, but you pushed them back down quickly. He wasn’t drunk, just relaxed. You only had his normal brand of unbearable to deal with, tonight. “Tell me what you did today.”

“Fuck all.” His touch dipped lower, heel of his palm grinding into your clit. “You were gone when I woke up. Again.”

“Left you a present, though.”

He must’ve meant the new hickey on your collarbone. You’d found it while you were brushing your teeth and spent the next forty-five minutes sobbing into your pillow.

“’s just boring. The closest thing I’ve seen to a person all day was a herd of deer, and your cameras scared them off.” Dampness staining the inside of your thighs, his ring finger slipping into your pussy. You shut your eyes, biting into the inside of your cheek. The stretch was far from alien, but no less painful for its familiarity. Every part of him was too big – from his shoulders to the corded muscle laid over his back to the unnaturally pointed canines you sometimes caught a sliver of when his lips curled back. It spoke to the universe’s boundless cruelty that fingers weren’t the largest thing he could force inside of you. “You know I don’t like being alone.”

Your voice was cold, but it was true. You’d been alone when he found you – all curled up in the darkest corner of that prison cell, little more than wild terror and waking nightmares. It’d been a mutant testing facility, set on crafting living weapons out of whatever specimen they could get their hands on. Your mutation wasn’t dangerous, but there’d always been something new to learn, another needle to force into your veins. It’d been torture, but your captors hadn’t seen it like that. Your isolation, broken up only for the application of a new drug, a new pill, a new injectable, was a means to end. You weren’t a person inside the concrete walls of their laboratory, and they hadn’t thought of you as one.

And, when Logan’s lips split apart into an unabashed grin, it was clear that he didn’t, either. “I know, darlin’. Still remember the way you held onto me, how long it took you to let go.” His middle finger, next. You clenched your eyes shut as his palm rocked against you, encouraging your body to sway, your pussy to clench around his digits. “Thought you might’ve actually liked me, back then. But you were always gonna latch onto whoever let you out of that cage, right?”

“I was—” He curled his fingers inside of you, and you cut yourself off, swearing softly under your breath. His affection was slow and heavy-handed, no harsh thrusting or unnecessary spontaneity, just steady grinding and his fingers splitting apart inside of you. You crossed your arms over your chest, digging your nails into your bicep. “I was scared.”

You were still scared. It was just that, now, your kidnapper wanted you to pretend you weren’t.

“Exactly. Scott eats that shit up. Ororo, too.” You could feel his cock pressing into your ass, rough denim against flimsy cotton. He was hard. Obviously, he was hard. Blood loss was probably the only reason he hadn’t fucked you as soon as he stepped through the door. “You’re lucky you ended up with me. Either of them would have you on a leash, by now.”

A leash would’ve been better than a cage. Being a pet was better than being locked inside of a box, left to gather dust until he wanted something warm to dig his teeth into. You bucked your hips into his hand, fisting at the fabric of your dress, doing your best to block out Logan’s chuckle, to ignore his free hand kneading at your thigh. Like everything else he did to you, your climax was slow, humiliating, and terrible. You managed to swallow back any sounds that would’ve furthered your embarrassment, but tears leaked from the corner of your eyes, a pitchy whimper rising from the back of your that. Logan picked himself up, cupping your cheek as he pressed what, if you were feeling more generous, might’ve been called a kiss into your forehead. If you hadn’t known better, you might’ve thought he was trying to comfort you.

He nursed you through your orgasm, only drawing back after the last of the aftershocks had faded. Sniffling, you were lowered onto the floor – your back pressing into the bear-skin rug in front of the unlit hearth. You kept your eyes on the ceiling as he positioned himself in the space between your legs, as he eased himself into you. There was no pretense of a condom, and you weren’t on birth control. You’d lie awake that night wondering if he’d finally managed to knock you up, but it wouldn’t do any good to voice that anxiety in front of him. You could still remember the way his eyes lit up the first time you begged him not to finish inside, the strain as he pushed your knees into your chest, the tremor in his voice as he muttered something about swollen tits and ‘tying you down for good’. Now, you just tried to keep your mouth shut.

His hips pressed into yours, the veined shaft of his cock filling your cunt to its breaking point. Like his foreplay, sex with Logan was vicious, unrushed. It was worse when he was mad, unendurable when he was drunk, but most nights, you could melt into the faux tenderness of it all, let yourself drown in the colorless, shapeless, stomach-turning pleasure. You tried to let your head lull to the side, to drift, but Logan was quick to drag you back down to Earth – catching you by the chin and pulling you into a tragically undeniable kiss. Only half-consciously, you wrapped your arms around his neck, let your thighs clench around his waist. When he drew back, more to leer at you from a better vantage point than for air, you managed to spit something out.

“I want to go outside.”

His smile lulled into something more sympathetic. “That eager to run back to the mansion, darlin’?”

“N—not the mansion, just outside.” You dug your nails into his shoulders, breaking the skin, and Logan groaned. You guess it made sense. Pain was bad because it meant injury, and injuries were bad because they meant you were that much closer to death. He couldn’t die, and he never stayed hurt for very long. After a while, the pain would have the pain would have to turn into something else, something less unpleasant. “Just into the city, or town, or wherever. I’d settle for a walk, I just—”

Your voice broke as he pulsed inside of you, his pace growing more erratic. “Tough luck,” he muttered, all gruff and edge and acid. Still, his expression softened, his eyes taking on that half-lidded, lovesick look. He liked it when you needed him, when you were dependent on his help. Maybe if you’d been more aware of that during your recovery, been more proactive about asking him to open jars or help you shower, none of this would’ve had to happen.

“Logan.” His hips pressed into yours. You couldn’t remember the last time you said his name aloud. “Just a walk. Please?”

It was awful, the way he looked at you. No shame, no decency, just his stare burning into your skin as he spilled into your cunt. Cursing under his breath, he buried his face in the crook of your shoulder, lapping and sucking at the curve of your throat – the very same spot you’d driven a knife into less than hour ago.

His body pressed into yours, radiating searing heat. Cum dripped around his shaft, down the inside of your thighs, and you forced yourself not to think of cradles and bloating and pain, so much pain. Minutes later, he resurfaced, pulling back with a rasp of an exhale. You laid still – weary, but not quite catatonic – as he positioned himself on his knees in front of you, guiding your legs over his shoulders.

“Five minutes.” His lips against your skin, teeth against flesh. “Tomorrow morning. No farther than what you can see from the porch.”

You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, but you smiled, nodded, played as eager and as doe-eyed as you could. Logan only chuckled, burying his head between your thighs. You’d gotten what you wanted, if a bit less. That was good – or, a good start, at least.

It might’ve been less bittersweet if you didn’t have to wonder how much he’d take, in return.

[tomhockstetter7-111]

Ex boyfriend Logan X reader…….

Thank you for coming to my TEDTalk

~~~~

Bonus points if it’s yandere!ex boyfriend!Logan (or at least possessive) cause…….DAMN

[animeyanderelover]

May or may not write in the next few days also some poly!relationship with Morticia and Gomez Addams (as portrayed in the two movies in the early 90s). For now I would like to try my skills with my currently other hyperfixation. We're talking about the Wolverine version as portrayed in the first 3 X-Men movies.

Tw: Yandere themes, possessive behavior, obsession, stalking, overprotective behavior, death

Wolverine Hc's

The situation would be quite difficult and most definitely unexpected for Logan. He has spent years just aimlessly wandering around with no clear recollection of who he is and how he came to be, spent years just getting by somehow before Professor Charles and the X-Men offered him the closest thing to a family he has had since he came to be. He's loyal yet still sees himself as a loner who prefers keeping to himself. He's very conscious of his own feelings above anything else and even though he's known for his short temper and crude attitude he is by no means a bad person which is why he tries to put some distance between the two of you, fully aware that you shouldn't associate with him. At that point it is most likely too late already. For Logan to get so attached to you to the point of obsession it's likely that the two of you have known each other for a while now and that you've opened his heart up without even being aware of it. You've essentially just gained yourself a guard dog who will take any physical harm for you all too gladly.

Whilst Logan can be very possessive, especially in an established relationship, above all he is very protective. He spends most of his days just watching you from a distance, usually able to track you down by scent and sound alone. Normally his days do not require him to be overly busy unless Professor Charles needs something from him so he has a lot of time on his hands which he gladly devotes to you. All too often you have him always a few feet away from him, watching over you and willing to interfere as soon as anything or anyone should pose a threat to you. As someone who doesn't like when his own freedom is limited Logan at least gives it a try to not be too protective yet the fact that his senses are so much keener do not make this task easier. Never think that he isn't good in noticing your current mood. He hears it when your heart starts racing and his elevated sense of smell makes him very sensitive to changes in your body odor as he's able to detect the chemical changes when your emotions change. This plays a role in how he reacts and if his darling is highly emotional or on a more anxious Logan will be naturally more protective.

Your existence is a blessing as much as it is a curse for him simply because you make Logan aware just how painfully lonely he feels now that he has started yearning for you. You make him miserable in more than one way. Somehow he makes the situation even worse for himself though whilst being your devoted watchdog from the shadows. He's usually there when you spend time with friends or family outside, observing from a safe distance all whilst feeling a strange sensation tugging at his heartstrings, a strange sensation edging between warm comfort and cold loneliness. He'd like to be by your side too but knows that there are things he still has to work on. Jealousy is one of a few emotions that tends to make you aware that there is in fact a man following you around and the first time you hear that guttural growl from behind you you believe for a short moment that a beast is standing right behind you. One may call him too protective but he isn't irrational when he's jealous for neither his nose nor his ears lie to him. He knows exactly when you feel attracted to someone or vice versa.

People have insulted him more than once as being no better than an animal, a beast with no mind of his own. That is not true as Logan doesn't blindly attack people but killing others he will do if it guarantees your safety. There's a difference between arrogant stupidity that some may put up for show and the genuine bloodlust , the will that it takes to kill someone and Logan is able to tell the difference which often spares idiots their life as a few simple threats with his adamantium claws are more than sufficient enough to have grown men running away like little kids. Anyone who really comes for your life though will be met with the beast he has been called he is. Logan is fully prepared to murder anyone who would even dare try to lay a finger on you and his regenerative abilities tend to make him very reckless, fully prepared to use his own body as a shield and endure all injuries if it means that there isn't a single scratch on you. The one mistake someone could make though is triggering him to go berserk by hurting you, leaving him attacking and hurting anyone around him blindly, his mind clouded in red rage as he tears through blood and flesh.

In all the years since he has awoken without any memories of his previous life he has never been able to settle down once as a unease deeply rooted within his soul kept him moving from place to place, too restless to ever allow himself to sit still for even a moment. He has no place where he could keep you and Logan knows that yet strangely enough the longer he starts spending time near you the more he feels a previously unfamiliar ease washing over him, one that motivates him to give a permanent stay in a place a chance, something that previously used to be unimaginable for him. Even if he were to actually take that step and buy a small house he would still refrain himself from kidnapping you unless his trauma that lays dormant somewhere in his mind would resurface when he has to witness the heart-shattering situation of almost losing you, a vice on his mind that would taunt him forever that you almost lost your life because he couldn't protect you. The guilt will most likely only serve as an additional shackle around his soul yet his paranoia would ultimately outweight his guilt.

You may fall in the same trap as others do when they initially lay eyes upon the wild-looking man. Whilst Logan is gruff, crude and quite aggressive at times he is not only that. He's more but that is a side he only reserves for the people he trusts and you figure out that there is far more beneath his hardened surface. He's kind, he's loyal, surprisingly gentle and downright flirty once you get to know him better. He's usually careful with his touches, aware that his grip may hurt you more due to the adamantium that coats all of his bones. Your scent usually manages to calm him as soon as he gets a whiff of it unless it would be tinged with distress in which case his own emotions would quickly start stirring up with worry. There are still occasionally moments where he appears more uncertain and hesitant, moments where he questions just how much he should indulge in all of this and to a degree even how much he deserves it. At that point he's already aware that it is far too late to recover though as he'd leave half of his heart with you if he were to distance himself from you now, doomed to always live only half the life he could have if he were to have you.

[devilgirl101]

Call me crazy, I feel yandere potential from these two

[sleep-0-deprived]

I literally am lovinggg your stories! Especially the yandere ones omg. I usually hate the yandere trope but yours is just so yummy. What about a yandere Logan, him being jealous over his “best friend” hanging around Scott a little too much🎀

Ambrosia (Yandere Logan x male reader) ~! ꒰ᐢ⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝ᐢ꒱⸒⸒

WC:. 2.5k

Tags: jealous sex, gay sex, slight praising, Yandere themes dark content and gaslighting ect! Blow jobs (reader receiving) pet names, biting, mating press, Logan is a lil mean but with good intentions, anal creampies, little bit of cum eating, slight feminization, Logan obsessing over your scent, dirty talk(referring to readers hole as a cunt) <33

A/N o’m gosh! I love your page it’s designed so cute and I’m obsessed with your writing, specially Logan! I always see you in my notifs and I appreciate you’re likes sm ,I never see enough male reader posts on this man and I’m goin feral over here~ ໒꒰ྀི˃ ⤙ ˂ ꒱ྀིა

It was no surprise to anyone in the x mansion that you always cling to a man like Logan, you were anywhere he was, or the other way around and some people being storm and Scott always tried to warn you how unhealthy it was for the two of you but gosh if you weren’t just a naive man.

Logan would just murmur out “they don’t know a thing doll” while his hands massage your thighs keeping you to himself all hours of the night in his bedroom and that was just fine by you after all this was normal friend behavior right?….he just cares a lot is it!

In the current weeks though, Dr. Xavier had put you on more missions with Scott and occasionally Jean, and Logan was dead set that professor X was against him thinking he was trying to pry you away from him that they were trying to steal you away. Logan would be damned if any of them got to have you, after a long day with Scott you and Jean coming back from a mission you were approached by Logan. “Can you stay with me?…I’m having nightmares again and I really don’t wanna be alone..”

His head drained down to your neck looking over at Scott with narrowed eyes as he spoke in a gruff and mighty convincing tone to you having you all wrapped around his pretty claws practically humming you and massaging your crotch through your jeans getting you to his bedroom leaving a pissed off Scott looking right at you “he never listens to me dammit! I told him he needed to start getting more independence from Logan!” He yelled over at Jean in a hushed whisper

“we can’t make him learn, they are both as codependent as eachother and in a unstable way they are like the perfect storm” Jean just shook her head and turned on her heels heading down her own hallway to her room leaving Scott taking one last glance at Logan’s bedroom door shutting behind the two of you before he himself just headed off to his own room.

“Why are you spendin s’much time with Scott these day…? Do you not like being around me anymore angel?” He’d coo to you his hand reaching between your thighs gripping your cock kissing the back of your neck making you shiver. “Mh—no it’s not that Logan- never”

you’d just whine as he undoes your belt pushing you back down onto his best and slipping his thumbs under your waits band getting your boxers off you. “Of course you wouldn’t would you doll? You’re just a sweet boy” he murmurs gently stroking your inner thighs with your uniform shirt skin tight with the leather hugging each and every plump curve of you w/s waist.

“Yeah I promise Lo, I promise—“ you can’t help but for him like a puppy chasing its owner with your cock leaking a slick mess against the black leather of your shirt driving you insane feeling torn rim rubbing all against his bed sheets, “I know you mean well darlin, think you deserve a reward?”

He lets one of his claws break the skin on his knuckle and traced up your red cockhead. His face dipping clutching at your thighs with a sense of infatuation looking up at you like some god with his chocolate eyes never leaving yours when he pressed a wet kiss against your tip removing his hand off your thigh and holding it still taking one big lick up the side of it.

“Take me more, just a little more Logan, c’mon” you instinctively buck your hips on the bed arching your back just wanting to grip his head and make him deep through you, your brows inching together and the zipper of your shirt feeling to tight with your heated circumstances leaving you unzipping and stripping for him.

“Goddamn angel! you’re like sugar on my tongue doll” suddenly you were his ambrosia, he picked up his pace and took your cock fully into his mouth deepthroating letting his tongue slip licking at your balls while you sit on the edge of the bed reaching your hand down gripping his hair tightly while me massages your thighs with his claws poking out of him like some feral dog breathing in your scent nuzzling his face into your groin making you feel his shaggy beard.

“Lo, I’m getting there- oh fck~!” Your back arches instinctively leaving your pecs pressed upwards to the trailing having rapidly as a sweat line builds up on the arch of your back. “That’s it, just let go for me I’ve got you baby”

his hands gentle up on your thighs feeling your cock start to twitch on his tongue like it was doing laps desperate to explode feeling and rating your bitter ropes shooting him in the throat while he just reaches his work worn hand down to your balls cupping them making sure he milks you good when he looks up at you.

The sensation overwhelming you losing torn grip on his head feeling your cock fall flat when his mouth leaves you bare again, “shh, you did so great angel, so fucki’n perfect it’s pitiful” Logan grumbles and gets up off his knees gripping you up softly by his standards holding York hips letting his claws leave red marks as he slides you up further on the bed with his signature smirk showing off his pretty canines.

“Need you right now Lo….i need you so bad” a broken whisper floods your mouth looking up with a pout presented on your lips when his hand reached around his neck pulling off his war tags, undoing them and reaching down putting them over your head “here, I wanna see you clutching those while I stretch that cunt out” he murmurs right in your ear and leaves you no time to think.

His hands spreading or cheeks apart spitting right in your rim watching it wink at him “you’re all wet like a sopping pussy aint’cha angel” his thumb rubbing your rim pushing it in open making you squirm but his other hand holds your hips down into the bed leaving you a mess with your cock getting hard again and weeping lonesomely between your thighs “add another” you spoke unsatisfied ranting meow already after the sensation of something inside you felt good

“Of course doll, wanna please this greedy hole” his thumb gets replaced with his index finger going in knuckle deep and curling up before he adds a second finger and scissors you with his eyes sole set on your face. “Is this better than Scot? You let all guys get their fingers inside this lil cunt?” His breath halts crossing the line of pure and utter infatuation feeling his cum flavored breath against your rim kissing it as he fingers you.

“Course not Lo! Only let you stretch and touch this..only you” your back arching holding the bed sheets feeling his fingers curling deep enough to leave you breathless when his finger pads rub that bundle of nerves, “I think you’re ready for the real thing, think you’re ready sweetheart?” His voice softens up a little seeing that fragile line of weakness you were tight lining when you laid out and splayed out for him like some pretty doll— no, His pretty doll.

“Yeah, I’m all ready I’m ready Logan” your words slur out drunk off of arousal with a pearly bead of precum rolling down your shaft looking up at Logan biding back your own tears not wanting to wake anyone else in the X-mansion when his fingers slide out of your puckered rim and his other hand slips to your hip grabbing them and pulling you backwards to him.

“It’s gonna hurt for a bit, promise I’ll go as slow as you want it baby boy..” his hands grip his belt buckle and unbuckles it pulling down his pants and throwing them somewhere in his room leaving you batting your lashes at the large bulge in his jeans protruding begging to come out as you try to calm down clutching the name tags around your neck.

“Fuck Lo- c’mon please” your voice whispering his name out like it’s your only prayer trying to get his boxers down with his thighs before he pulls them down leaving his cock standing eager and tall against his stomach with a prominent vein going up the curved side nearly having your mouth water when he spreads your thighs apart opening you up and holding your legs to the mattress letting his cock nudge and nuzzle between your cheeks while he looks down at you clutching his Wolverine tags.

“Just stay nice and quiet, don’t want Jean to hear you moaning…not yet alt least” he hums starting to nudge his tip inside past the gummy rim of muscles watching how it stretches, how the light in your eyes go glossy, how your pupils go wide like a cat when he stretches you—he’s already about to come just from that stupid little look on your face, oh the things you do to him.

His head droops down like a hound shoving his face in your crook holding you down to the mattress with your thighs gripped and wide apart slowly bottoming out into you “dammit doll, it’s like she’s purrin, does this little cunt like getting stretched?”

He groans biting your Adam apple pinching the skin between his canines stripping you of little gasps while he stays mounted on you leaving your cock sandwiched between his hair covered abdomen while the head board creaks when he pulls out a little and shallowly slams back inside you making your hole go wide burning from the sensation leaving your hands shaking clutching onto his tags hanging on your neck like they were prayer beads.

“Right there Lo, c’mon little more oh!” Your jaw slacking up under him going wide eyed when his cock drags along your inner walls pulling nearly all the way out to his tip and shoving back inside leaving you out of breath. “Shh, stay quiet baby doll, doin so good so far- don’t wanna have Scott seeing you like this”

his voice comes out like a choked growl letting his claws come out a little again shredding his own bed sheets while he buried his face further into your neck nibbling and sucking on the bite marks taking in deep whiffs of your scent making you swear his cock was pulsing every time he took a breath in,

“Smells so good baby, such a sweet doll” his hips start circling around and shoving forwards between your thighs letting his spit make for lube with your cock stuck against your belly button covered in Logan’s saliva while you reach your free hand to the back of his hair letting his beard leave red marks on your s/c skin.

“Lo-gan t’much, can’t take it Lo” your voice strangely from your lips letting your eyes gloss over and roll back when his cock head presses bullying your prostate making your rim feel like fire around his cock when he stretches you over and over bordering a painful pleasure. “Don’t say that angel, my pretty boy can take it all can’t he?” His voice speaks pressing sloppy wet kisses against your neck watching your face and how your fingers trembled to clutch his tags.

“I’m tryin Lo, I really am~!” You squeak your feeling your thighs go numb from being gripped tight and shoved to the bed not feeling his thrusts let up once. Logan’s hips start to stutter a little leaving you feeling his cock piercing you and keeping you spread as he slips his hands further up your legs moving from your inner thighs moving under your knees and shoving them to your chest allowing him to reach a deeper angle inside you.

“I know you’re tryin, doing so fucking well, just lay there and spread wide f’or me darlin” he grunts letting you feel how rigid his breath is dampening his beard with his drool licking up your neck mounting you hard leaving you beneath him feeling his body weight with a small huff removing one hand off your legs keeping his left hand under your knees holding them to your chest before he reaches around and gives your cock a firm grasp at the base making you arch.

“Oh~ I’m close Lo- I’m— gon’Ah” your voice cracks in half breaking into shards when your glossy eyes finally spill over with tears of pleasure leaving your ears ringing clamping and twitching around his cock feeling your base shudder under the rough hand cumming all over your own thighs and chest laying fucked out “look at’cha squirting all over yourself angel”

he heaves making your feel every buck and jerk of his hips with his mouth slipping upwards biting at your bottom lobe fucking you into the headboard.“Where do you want it sweetheart? Want it in your tummy or that pretty little mouth of yours hm?..or maybe all over them pouty lips” Logan whispers in your ear leaving his hot breath cooling the drool on your neck making it harder to speak just letting go of his hair trying to point at your belly trying to urge him inside.

“Nuh-uh baby doll, good boys use their words don’t they” he mocks you a little letting go of your softening cock to grip your hip with one hand and holding your right knee up to your chest letting your other leg hoop around his hip and bring him closer. “I wan’it inside me Lo- please inside”

you plead over and over going breathless when you finally feel the pudgy cock head pulling against your prostate letting you know what came next, white streams spewing all through your body making your feel like a little furnace under him while his grip loosens and his muscles tense up holding you steady looking up at you kissing away the tears on your cheeks growing more and more insane over you, enjoying how your skin held its afterglow and how your curves felt beneath him.

“There, there baby, don’t cry, lemme hold you…not letting you go [name] I’m never gonna” your heart skipped at those words never understanding he really meant them, only thinking he was trying to be all sweet to you when his hands leave your body letting his claws pull out of the mattress they were buried in as he crawls from between your thighs pulling out nice and slow with a slick pop.

“Logan” you wanted to tell him you needed more and you really would’ve if the feeling of his chin on your shoulder blade and the arm snaking around your waist from behind didn’t shut you up. “I know sweetheart” the only words that left his lips as he pressed a kiss to Your sensitive skin leaving the air field with a mutual understanding lingering in the air while he holds a you like he’s about to have you ripped away, his embrace tight and firm but holding a world of comfort to your used up body.

[missglaskin]

Yandere Scott Summers, Remy Lebeau, Logan Howlett Headcanons (Romantic/Separate)

For Scott, there is an awareness in everything he does. He knows his strong feelings for you are not "normal," and at first he tried to deny them. Scott even pushed you away, leaving you wondering if you had done anything wrong.  Little did you know that this was just his way of shielding you from him. 

At a certain moment, Scott realized he had to face the truth—he desired you; he could no longer just ignore you. Initially, there was that air of coldness, as if he were to disappear from a room upon your entering, and his replies were as brief. But, you were blind to the fact that his eyes were always on you—an advantage for his visor/glasses — you had no way of knowing how intensely he stared.

You don't realize how you're getting drawn into small talks with Scott. Sometimes it happens you run into him at breakfast time or when you happen to cross paths in the hallways, he greets and asks about your day. There is an air of awkwardness but you just ignore it; finding it endearing how he's making an effort to get to know you better.

When the initial awkwardness fades, Scott can be quite charming. When a joke of his makes you chuckle, Scott wanted nothing more than to record it and listen to it on repeat. His approaches become more bold, handing you a cup of coffee not missing how your fingers touched, or informing details of a mission. Scott may even make a flirtatious comment and seeing your flustered response, he smiles to himself. 

Jealousy or protectiveness are the two things that can put Scott in a situation where he could expose his tendencies. Despite his training in handling stressful situations and his role as the Xmen's leader, his impulsivity never left him.

You may or may not notice Scott's glare when someone interrupts your conversations. Or how he observes from a distance while you're speaking with someone, clenching his fists, thinking about what could possibly make you laugh that hard or why you feel the need to be so close. It should come as no surprise when you feel uncomfortable or if there is a disagreement that Scott is the first to intervene, standing between you and the said person.

His protectiveness shows when the two of you are on a mission. At first, he believed you could take care of yourself, but has seen how you distract him, taking him away from the task at hand as he rushes to your rescue. You have begun to notice how Scott is giving you fewer missions, making up all sorts of excuses. If you keep pressing him, he'll raise his voice confessing he can't afford to lose you. 

Scott will eventually confess, aware he can't hide his feelings any longer. You must have noticed his intense jealousy, his fear of losing you, and the sometimes confessions of how much you mean to him. Regardless of all those slip-ups, you convince yourself Scott is the good guy; he just has too much on his plate, or so as everyone tells you.

Remy has always known he had feelings for you from the very beginning, but he never imagined those feelings would grow to be as strong as they are now. There was more confusion than there was denial. Even so, with Remy, you had no way of knowing the difference as he gives you his usual charming smile and quips.

Remy happily adapts the role of your 'friend' at first. Finding any excuse to spend time with you, but he never comes across as desperate. Getting up in the morning and heading to the kitchen, Remy already has breakfast and coffee ready just the way you like it. Or when the team plays sports together and he walks over to your side, showing off by purposefully taking off his shirt.

Remy is more jealous than you think. He tries to keep his cool, but you don't notice the quick glare he gives to those who take away your attention - he quickly turns his head the other way to ensure you saw nothing. He'll remark on how close you seem, teasingly asking with a forced smile if you've replaced him.

Still, Remy is more lenient than most; he doesn't consider trapping you in one place. The last thing he wants is for you to look at him with such fear or hatred. He lets you reside in the xmen, and make as many friends and allies, jealousy still stings but is it really that bad to see you happy as long as nothing 'happens'.

With Remy, expect his flirtatious nature to never go away. He always has an incentive to touch you in some way. Whether it's tucking something in place, or placing his hand on your shoulder to catch your attention or on your back to guide you. Every time, he gets bolder, daring you to reject him.

Remy is not all about keeping his feelings hidden; you may never learn the truth of his 'nature', but he lets it be known that he desires you. Remy stays close to you during missions, and if you ask him why, he'll simply respond that he's only watching out for you. Catch him staring and tease him on it, and he'll tease you back, replying he was staring at your gorgeous self. You could even ask of his feelings and he'll come clean.

As said, Remy will eventually make a move, make his feelings known, even if he anticipates being rejected. However, Remy knows that all those moments spent winning you over have done something. Making you warm up to him, allowing him to comfort you during your lowest moments, making you share your deepest secrets. It will all work in his favor.

A life with Remy seems normal to most. Remy the ever most devoted and affectionate, attuned to your every want and need, others look at the two of you with envy. It's just the thoughts in his head, the actions done behind your back, the doubt he whispers in your ear, the strings he pulls would be enough to frighten anyone. But with that charming smile of his, the eyes watching you with fondness, arms wrapped around you as he presses soft kisses on your skin, how could you ever know.

Note- a little nsfw in Logan part, but it's implied

For a man who has lived as long as Logan did, he had countless lovers and night affairs. So his feelings for you were not a surprise. But his intense attachment; the need to be near you at all times left him wondering just how much he really felt for you. 

Logan always watched you from the corner of his eye; years of experience have taught him to go undetected by most. And if he wasn't with you, he's become familiar with your scent, easily focusing on the trace of it. He has made a comment or two teasingly asking if you brought a new fragrance, but you brush it off as Logan being his typical self. 

Mutant or not, Logan is protective of you, as said he watches out for you like a hawk. Even if you're powerful, he still insists on shielding you nonetheless. Besides what are the chances of you overpowering him in the first place. He simply thinks if you were to ever discover his true nature and decide to escape; he'll simply hunt you down and bring you back. 

Despite what most may believe; Logan does not want to cage you. In his eyes, everything is good as long as he stays in the same place. He will give you the impression that you are free to do whatever you wish. There are however moments when Logan's possessiveness and jealousy overcome, he has no qualms in threatening or even unleashing his claws to ensure the person gets the message.

Logan knows out of all people he doesn't seem like the easiest person to approach, he tries to be as "nice" as he can be to get you to warm up to him. There was an instance when you were thirsty/in need of a midnight snack, and you found him in the kitchens. He'll try to begin a conversation, even offer you to sit down. As you warm up to him, you don't notice how he's staring intently at your thighs; visible cause of your pajama shorts. 

Expect Logan to always be there in any mission you go on; Charles merely raises a brow when he demands it, but complies for the time being. He will just shrug if you remark on how the two of you always seem to be paired up. God forbid you sustain any injuries on the missions. Logan will see red, whether it's a sentinel or a person; they are facing his fury.

After he comes back to his senses, Logan will pick you up even when you insist you're fine. Bringing you to the medical bay himself. Standing outside as he informs Hank not to let you know he has been there all day. Moments like these make him question whether you are cut out for this kind of life and that perhaps it's possible to steal you away from others. 

Logan makes a concerted effort to resist at times, but his ugly side is revealed not only by jealousy but in fighting the urge to touch you. Sometimes he gives in to temptation and you feel his fingers caress your check. If you don't resist, he'll bury his face in your neck, letting his lips touch the skin. You will find his hands reaching to take off your clothes, desperate to have you there and then.

[luv-lock]

⸻ ᴡ ᴏ ʟ ᴠ ᴇ ʀ ɪ ɴ ᴇ ⸻

Pairing: James Howlett x Fem Reader

Headcanon: how would he be when he's obsessed?

Note: English is not my first language. Requested by lovely @fexi626. Hope you enjoy!

Logan first notices you when you move into the same small town he’s been hiding out in. It’s supposed to be a temporary stop for him—stay low, avoid attention, move on. But then there’s you, sweet and quiet, with a kindness that catches him completely off guard. It’s the way you smile when you pass him at the local diner or the soft “Good morning” you murmur when you see him on the street. It sparks something primal inside him.

Logan’s the kind of guy who tries to convince himself to stay out of it. "Don’t need to drag her into my mess," he tells himself, nursing a beer at the bar while you laugh with your friends a few tables over. But he keeps looking your way, and when some jackass sidles up to you and tries getting handsy, Logan’s out of his chair before he’s even thought it through.

The guy gets the message fast—hard not to when Logan slams him into the nearest wall. "You touch her again, you’re leavin’ here in pieces. Got it?" The look in his eyes isn’t one anyone would argue with, not if they wanted to keep breathing.

After that, Logan decides he’s gonna keep an eye on you. For your own good, he tells himself. You’re too damn sweet, too damn trusting, and the world’s full of people who’d take advantage of that. He’s doing you a favor, really. "You don’t even know how much trouble’s out there, darlin’," he mutters, walking a few steps behind you on your way home, just close enough to make sure nothing happens.

Logan’s not subtle, though he thinks he is. You start noticing him everywhere—leaning against the counter at the diner where you work, walking past your building more times than coincidence could explain. When you ask him about it, he just shrugs. "Town ain’t that big. Guess we keep runnin’ into each other." But there’s something in his tone, in the way his eyes linger on you, that makes it feel like more.

He starts inserting himself into your life. Fixing your car when it won’t start. Showing up at the bar when you’re out with friends. "Just lookin’ out for you," he says gruffly when you question it. "Not like anyone else around here’s got the balls to."

Logan’s protectiveness is… intense. If someone so much as looks at you wrong, he’s ready to start a fight. And if someone flirts with you? Forget it. You don’t even hear about half the times he’s dealt with someone behind the scenes. He doesn’t see it as a problem—it’s just him taking care of things. "Don’t need you worryin’ about shit like that. That’s my job."

Despite the rough edges, there’s a softness to him when it comes to you. When you’re upset, he doesn’t say much—just pulls you close, lets you bury your face in his chest while he rubs your back. "I got you," he murmurs, his voice low and steady. "Ain’t nothin’ gonna hurt you while I’m around."

But make no mistake—his love comes with a possessive streak a mile wide. If you ever tried to pull away, Logan wouldn’t take it well. He wouldn’t yell or plead; he’d just… make sure you understood. "You don’t get it, do you? You’re mine, darlin’. Always gonna be. Doesn’t matter where you go—I’ll find you. And I’ll bring you back."

Logan doesn’t think of himself as a good man, but when it comes to you, he’s downright delusional. "You deserve better, I know that. But better ain’t what you got. You got me. And I ain’t lettin’ go."

His jealousy burns hot, but his devotion runs even deeper. You’re the one thing in his life that makes him feel… human. And he’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe, even if it means crossing every line he swore he wouldn’t. "The world’s a shitshow, sweetheart. But you? You’re the only good thing in it. Don’t expect me to let that go."

Logan’s a rough-around-the-edges—possessive, protective, and dangerously loyal. He doesn’t sugarcoat things, doesn’t try to hide who he is. His love is raw, fierce, and unrelenting, just like the man himself.

𝒍𝒖��-𝒍𝒐𝒄𝒌 ☆ 𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒄𝒐𝒑𝒚, 𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒔𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒐𝒓 𝒖𝒔𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒐𝒇 𝒎𝒚 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒌𝒔 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒐𝒓 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒘𝒆𝒃𝒔𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒔.

[electricgg]

Ancient Dreams In A Modern Land

Chapter 7: Silver Spoons And Butter Knives, Living Hand To Mouth I’m Getting By

Masterlist Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6 / Chapter 7 (Here!) Trigger Warnings: Descriptions of Bullying, Suicidal implications, Body harm, Body Horror

The concept of boarding school wasn’t as bad as people portray it.

A boarding school is an institution where students live on the premises while receiving formal instruction, essentially providing both lodging and meals. Unlike normal schools, boarding schools offer a residential experience, often encompassing a wider range of extracurricular activities and a sense of community.

At least, that’s the literal definition she found on the internet. 

When Bobby (with whom she had exchanged phone numbers and yapped the whole weekend through text, and sent her way too many TikToks she didn’t really understand but found funny) had asked her if she was staying at the dorms so they could hang out after class, she suddenly found a ray of hope of getting away from the Waynes.

Which led her to do a thorough research on Wikipedia.

Gotham Academy has been a prestigious, private boarding school for Gotham’s elite. And anyone who could afford it, or had a scholarship. 

Most members of the Wayne family had gone to the academy. Most of the said members were expelled or dropped out of it.

Including Bruce himself.

Which is why she was currently pissed off on a Monday morning as Alfred drove the younger members of the family to school.

“This is bullshit,” She muttered while pouting at the window, arms crossed and legs sprawled out in the passenger seat.

The butler gave her a pointed look, letting her know that she should behave. The young girl readjusted her sitting position with a grumble. Her glare followed the tall buildings and the people walking around the busy sidewalk, passing them by in a blur to those with normal eyesight.

Not for her, thought. Everything seemed so slow-paced today.

It was quite annoying. From the moment she woke up that morning, it had been like stepping into a slow-motion sequence. The curtains of her room moved oh so gently, it almost seemed like they were floating. The water from her shower had stopped for a few moments, and she could even count the drops of the stream that stood frozen in the air before she received a cold splash in the face that almost made her crack her head open again if she hadn’t hung onto the built-in shelves on the wall. Then, the gremlin at breakfast. He seemed to take his sweet time eating his French toast, which was almost disturbing to see how slow someone could chew on his food. It made her sick to the stomach remembering it.

They were short lapses of time. Didn’t last too long, but those moments still managed to unsettle her and keep her on the edge.

“I’m afraid this is something you will have to discuss with your father, my dear.” His voice took her away from her musings, returning her mind to the present.

‘Where was I? Oh, right,’ her anger returning once again.

Just when she thought she had found a way to escape from the suffocating manor, the family had once again meddled with her brilliant plans.

Apparently, she did not form part of the whole boarding school experience. (Well, Wayne didn’t)

Due to the many incidents involving her ‘siblings’ and ‘father’ at the school in their scholarly years, they had gained a rather infamous reputation. This led to taking away certain privileges when a member of the Wayne family was to be enrolled at the academy.

Said privileges were not being able to partake in staying at the dorms through the semester.

(aka. Waynes were banned from the academy dorms.)

“I don’t understand why a sudden need to stay in such facilities.” Damian retorted from his place in the backseat. Still giving her the stinkeye for taking the front seat first (she had taken off while yelling ‘shotgun’ through the halls, making Drake get up from his deep sleep and come out of his room to see what was happening with his sheets all tangled on his legs.)

“Pennyworth makes far better meals, and the beds haven’t been thoroughly cleaned in ages. That’s without mentioning having to share your personal space with a stranger who lacks manners.” That last part made her bite her tongue hard.

‘When the irony is ironing,’ She thought sarcastically.

 “It’s all about the independence and socializing. Who doesn’t like talking to total strangers and getting to know them while also sharing a bathroom?” Her lips were curling in a grin, her tone letting on very clearly what she was referring to.

Damian tutted, harshly crossing his arms while glaring at her. Alfred simply sighed as he pulled through the metal front gate of the academy.

“Since when do you like socializing, Embarrassment?” He remarked on the nickname with a cold glare at the back of her seat. 

And as if she had sensed it, she took off her seatbelt and turned half of her body to the back so she could face him directly. Both of their glares clashed with one another. 

Alfred got out of the car to take out her school bag from the back of the car, wondering to himself if he was truly paid enough to deal with teenagers.

Damian was very much annoyed at her new attitude. It was getting on his nerves how she stood her ground and didn’t flatter. He couldn’t have missed this part of her. He was the son of the greatest detective in the world, and he took pride in his deduction skills. And he had deducted his sister from the first moment they met. Never, in a million years, would she have the courage to act like this. Too insecure. Too weak. Too scared.

She would have had to die and be reborn to be acting like this.

“Don’t act like you know me, Damian.” His name sounded like a curse in the making on her tongue. Her deep, dark eyes stared directly into his own, a glint of something akin to sardonic gone the moment she turned back on her seat and opened the car door.

“You don’t have the right to judge. Not then. Not now. Not ever.”

With that, she stepped out and slammed the door shut, leaving him with words in his mouth.

He could only follow her stomping outside towards Alfred out of the corner of his eye, refusing to turn his face a single inch towards them. She seemed to mutter something to the older man, to whom he put a hand on her shoulder and spoke very gently. 

Her eyes softened, and Damian couldn’t help but be put off by it.

He was well aware that she used grey contact lenses. She always wore them, no matter what. One would think she would sleep while wearing them, but he knew she wasn’t that stupid.

He never wondered why she used them, scraping it off as some odd fashing trend girls her age were into. They just were part of her and he went along with it. Never putting much thought into it.

Now, Damian was putting a lot of thought into it.

He had always known that he was an almost carbon copy of his father. Black hair, facial structure, etc. There was little doubt about his heritage and he took pride in it.

His half-sibling was another story. No matter how hard she tried to dress, act, talk, and move like them, she didn’t seem to fit in. The cold colors and heavy presence that were very characteristic of the Waynes didn’t suit her. 

It had been obvious before, but now it was undeniable to Damian. 

And it was all because of those damned eyes.

He wouldn’t dare to say it out loud, maybe just ponder it to himself, only in his thoughts, but Damian wanted her grey eyes back.

Those grey eyes that would crinkle in worry when he came back upset from a bad patrol night. Those grey eyes that would widen in excitement when she looked over his sketchbook and praised his skills. Those grey eyes that were full of softness and care, asking about how his day was at school.

…Maybe he wasn’t missing the grey. Not really.

‘It doesn’t make any sense.’ His mind hissed, making his frown deepen. ‘Why is this bothering me so much? She is just a nuisance and below-’

“Hey! Bobby! Over here!”

Her shout made Damian snap his head towards the car window with a snarl. Which slipped down slowly as he took in the scene happening outside.

She was waving her arm over her head quite fast towards someone. A guy who was smiling way too much for his taste (it almost made him turn away in disgust, but he fought against it), as he moved towards her with a jump in his walk. He looked like an overgrown golden retriever, wearing the academy uniform.

What happened next made Damian’s blood go cold and hot at the same time, his nails sinking into the fabric of his clothes, and his lips pressed tightly.

Because that guy dared to come close to his sister and pick her up in a hug while twirling her around.

Her bright laugh as she was put down, quickly jumping into a conversation with the big oaf while patting down her now wrinkly uniform, made his stomach twist into a feeling he couldn’t quite place yet.

The warmth in her eyes had Damian bite inside his cheek, chest tight as she began to walk away with the guy, with a quick goodbye to a smiling Alfred, who had begun to go inside the car and pull away from the school grounds.

The young boy’s stare didn’t move away from the pair. Not until he lost them out of sight due to the distance.

Who did that guy think he was?! Coming so close to her and acting so touchy with his sister.

Was he a friend? No way. She didn’t have any friends. He was sure.

Was he?

Was he a boyfriend? Ridiculous, there was no way she would have hidden something like that from the family. She wouldn’t.

…Would she? 

What else had she been keeping quiet? What else didn’t he know about her? When had she changed? Had she even changed? Was she always like this and he just came to notice? When she grew tired of his prickly nature and sharp words? Did he lose her affection? Was he too late?

Did he lose her without even knowing?

‘No,’ He thought, fingers curled into fists by his side as he gave a glance to the smaller view of the academy through the window.

‘Something is wrong here.’

‘And I will find out.’

 ━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━

The academy was huge. It had halls over halls and stairs over stairs. An old smell stuck on the stone walls that gave the building an even more mystic flair, as if the gargoyle statues on every corner of the gate halls weren’t enough. It even had tall stained glass windows that gave a view of the huge campus: the main fountain, the track field, the outdoor gym, and many other places.

It was by pure miracle that she didn’t end up lost. But that was mostly because Bobby would drag her by the back of her school vest whenever she wandered off.

She was very thankful for that, since her ghost companion was not here today to guide her.

Wayne said that she would stay at the manor for the day, something along the lines of that she should experience the full school experience without her help (which screamed bullshit but she wasn’t going to fight her on that. If she was a ghost and had the choice to not go to school, she would also do the same) and trying to find any clues for their small quest.

So now, she was walking by herself for the first time at a school. So exciting, right?

“-and then the coach said I could play in the next game if someone hurts themselves. Which is not bad, but I don’t know. I don’t want anyone to get hurt just so I can prove myself as a player, y’know?”

“Aren’t you here because of a scholarship? Don’t you need to play to be able to stay here?” She asked the stressed boy, who had been talking about this for the past few minutes as they walked towards their third class of the day.

Bobby was from New York, and he had taken a sports scholarship in the academy this very year, so he could get into Gotham University to study accounting. Just like his father, who was a bank accountant back at home. 

He formed part of the baseball school team and had been on the bench since he got inscribed into the academy.

Leading to his sudden stress of not having the chance to prove himself.

“Poor athletic performance can lead to losing the scholarship, so yeah. If I don’t play, I could lose it.” He quoted with his shoulders down, a deep sigh leaving his lungs as she patted his shoulder in a small show of support.

They had gotten along quite fast. Probably because Bobby had been the first open person with his thoughts and feelings since she woke up in that nasty pool. 

No underhanded comments. No pushiness. No expectations. Always asking if what they were talking about was okay. If she was comfortable with anything. 

It was a breath of fresh air, and she felt great hanging around him.

“What if I help you out with practice? I know jackshit about baseball, but I think I can throw some balls so you can practice swinging?” She offered with a shrug as they went into a half full classroom.

Bobby perked up with a huge smile and put an arm over her shoulder, slightly moving her side to side. “Please, and I will buy you ice cream every time after practice.”

That made her snort and shove him off of her playfully by pushing his face away with her hand, making him guaff and laugh.

“Personal space, jeez,” She said as he sat down on the second table and moved a chair back so she could sit beside him.

As he muttered his apologies, she couldn’t help but feel somebody’s stare on her back.

Just when she was gonna look over her shoulder, the bell rang, and everyone took their seats. Conversations quieted down as students began to pull out their books without a second thought.

Following everyone’s lead, she put out her history book with a sigh and kept her eyes downcast.

Now, there were many different stares and murmurs in her direction. From the corner of her eyes, she could see a few classmates whispering to each other or staring openly at her. 

‘Yeah, that ain’t gonna fly,’ she thought, twisting her head to give her classmates a dead stare that had them gasping and looking in different directions while pretending they were busy with their phones or books.

“That’s weird,” Bobby’s voice took her away from her successful intimidation. “Professor Jones is usually here before any of us.”

The girl shrugged, leaning back on her chair while she brought one crossed leg on the seat as the other bounced against the floor. “Maybe they got stuck in traffic or somethin-”

The classroom door slammed open, taking all the attention of the students and making the room fall into silence.

A man stepped inside and closed the door behind him, his steps heavy as he walked towards the desk and put down his brown leather handbag on the chair and a pack of old-looking cigars inside one of cabinets. 

He didn’t spare a single glance at them, picking up a piece of white chalk and beginning to write on the chalkboard.

He had a heavy build, like the ones that those wrestling guys on TV have, judging by how his shoulders and biceps stood out underneath his dark leather jacket. Some of the girls and a few other guys were staring intensely at his tight jeans, showing off his sculpted legs as well. 

What stood out more for her was his hairstyle, spiked on both sides of his black hair.

Once he finished writing on the board, he clapped his hands to shake off the chalk on his palms and turned around with a grunt. A severe frown on his face as he looked over the quiet students.

“Your professor has taken a sudden leave for the rest of the semester.” His gruff tone had people straighten up and glup loudly.

Bobby exchanged a quick look of confusion and uncertainty with her.

This man didn’t look like the type of person to give a history class.

“You may call me Teach or Mr. Munroe. None of that formal stuff. Whoever calls me Professor will give ten laps on the track field, am I clear?” He almost snarled the last part. 

Everyone nodded.

The man nodded and sat on the corner of the desk, crossing his arms. His tag necklace glinted with the movement as he pursed his lips in distaste once he saw the books sitting neatly on the desks.

“Now put those books away. We’re learning real history from now on.”

Some students muttered in confusion while a few others cheered as they put the books back in their bags. Bobby almost scrambled and rattled the desk as he took his book away, which made her snort a laugh and put her book down.

As the class continued, bustling with excitement over the new mysterious teacher and his unconventional method of teaching history, she had forgotten the odd stare she felt at the very beginning of class. It had simply slid off her mind.

In the back of the classroom, a guy with golden curls and clear eyes didn’t take his gaze off of her for the rest of the class.

 ━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━

Bruce wasn’t expecting any visits this early in the day.

He had recived plenty of calls from Dick, trying to check on him and see how the investigation on the case had been going but he didn’t pick them up. Tim had gone to stay at the Titans’ tower, claiming his sleep schedule was messed up and staying at the manor wasn’t helping keep him focused on the case (Bruce had the fleeting suspicion that Conner had something to do with that decision.)

He was more than sure that everyone was clear that he wanted to be left alone at the moment.

But Jason couldn’t give two fucks about what Bruce wanted.

The past Robin had parked his bike by the Batmobile, leaving his red helmet hanging by one of the handles of his vehicle. Sauntering towards the concentrated detective, who was sitting in front of the main computer and surrounded by many documents and files both on the screen and on paper.

“You look like shit.”

Bruce only switched the documents in his hands without lifting his head.

“Gordon told me about the bodies.” He answered, a cold tone in his voice.

Jason threw himself on the nearest chair, legs spread as he stared at Bruce’s back with a smug air around him. 

“Jealous much?” He snarked. “That I got to them before you did?”

He was pushing his buttons. 

Jason wanted to see how far he could get. 

He was hoping for a fight, that way he could at least calm down the fury still running in his veins.

“You left them headless, and Gordon is still looking for their fingers, Jason.” Bruce hissed, finally turning around to glare at the guiltless man.

“They had it coming.”

“That was execution, Jason. It’s not how-”

“I ain’t one of your little robins, Bruce,” Jason retorted, leaning forward with his fists curling and gaze flashing green. “I did what you should have done the moment she was attacked.”

“There wasn’t enough proof yet-” The older man argued back, making Jason scoff and get up from the chair harshly.

The outlaw began to roam beneath his jacket, taking out crumbled files and dumping them over the keyboard of the computer. As soon as it hit the surface, pictures and documents fell out of it onto the ground and the desk.

“Take a look at your precious proof.”

Bruce took a moment before picking up a few of the pictures that had fallen on the floor. His jaw clenched, and his eyes darkened when he realized what the image showed.

It was from a surveillance camera. All the pictures were from different cameras around the city. The school grounds. The city parks. The mall. 

And even from the abandoned public pool.

In all of the pictures, she was there. Getting pushed around. Harassed by the same four guys. He could recognize that they had the same uniform as her from the academy. Maybe seniors, since they easily towered over her. 

The ones from the school contained different scenarios. Getting a phone flash shoved right in her face. Shoved down the stairs. Pushed on the school fountain. Yanked by her school bag or clothes. Getting too touchy with her, to the point of it being visibly rough.

One of the pictures showed her running in one of the parks, face blurred in panic as she looked over her shoulder at the boys trying to catch up to her.

Another one showed all five of them at the pool. Her on the ground, holding her head as it bled. Two of the boys were crouching down to hold her down while the others lifted a bloody brick.

He slammed the pictures down with a shuddering sigh. Throat tight, cold anger sinking from the tip of his fingers.

How long had this been going on? For how long had she been keeping this quiet? Why had she kept it quiet? Why didn’t she say something?

‘Had she said something? Did she say anything about it?’ His mind came on empty as many questions surfaced.

All those times he had turned her away, her knocks at his office door, and her silent voice asking if he was too busy. Always shutting her down, dreading to see her face and find old ghosts staring back at him. 

Was it right there? Did she reach out just for him to turn her away? 

Bruce felt a burning sensation behind his eyes.

“The documents are the transcripts of what I managed to get out of them on record.” Jason’s voice sounded far away.

Did she gather up the courage to come to him, and he gave her his back?

“Sick bastards, the lot of them,” Jason spat. “They had been tormenting her for years.”

Did she feel by herself in this? Nobody willing to listen? No one to trust?

“It went on from simply things. Spreading rumors about being into witchcraft and stuff. Saying that she would curse people with her bad luck if they came near her and odd shit like that to isolate her.”

How many times did he even talk to her? How many chances did he allow her to have to tell him about this?

“Then it moved to more physical stuff. Shoving, pushing, typical asshole stuff. Did you notice any bruises on her when she came from school?”

Bruises? What bruises? She was always wearing long sleeves, claiming it was too cold in the manor.

“You did notice, right? They said that it got ugly plenty of times.”

Long sleeves. Even when it was hot out. She always wore them. How could he never piece it together? How many bruises did she hide from Him?

“Bruce? Did you-”

His daughter. Bianca’s child. With long sleeves. Bruises. From that filth. How many? How many times was she hurt? How many times did he not notice? Gods, did she also- Had she also done it to herself? Had she felt there was no other way out of the lonesome existence he had put her into? That he was the one to inflict that on her? That would explain her current attitude. Her anger. Her glares. Her snarls. How could he ever blame her for acting out when it was all on him? Only himself to bla-

The sudden throbbing pain in his jaw snapped him out of his thoughts, making him stumble back as he looked at a fuming Jason with a lowered fist.

“No,” His glare was agitated, chest heaving, and teeth in a snarl. “You don’t get to feel sorry for yourself.”

Bruce took a sharp breath, his gaze lost as the sharpness of Jason’s words cut deep into his throat, making him unable to utter a word.

The younger man pointed a shaking finger at him in anger, taking steps closer towards the shocked man. “Either you fix this and admit you failed her, just like you failed me,”

Jason got up in his face, fist hitting against Bruce’s chest with a shuddering breath. Eyes blazing a toxic green, staring right into his grey ones.

“Or I will make sure that she turns out just like me.”

With that, Jason turned around and stomped to his bike. The engine roaring to life as he took off from the cave without giving him a single look back towards the currently shocked, quiet man.

Bruce then sank to the floor, hands tangled on his hair strands as he took deep breaths. Mind echoing with many words and questions.

But he could only choke out a few words to himself and the air.

“Oh, Bianca, I fucked it up to hell and back, didn’t I?…”

 ━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━

The piano room was too silent.

Ever since Cassandra set foot in the manor, the piano room had always been filled with contained noise. The keys echoing down the halls, a soft melody that made her skin embrace the foreign warmth of a ballad repeated over and over, day by day.

She hadn’t heard a single note in the past week.

It made the air in the manor heavy and constricted, the halls darker, and the silence almost unbearable.

Cassandra didn’t plan to pass by the piano room. Her feet just led her wandering steps towards the halfway-opened wooden door. The creaking made goosebumps break out on her skin.

The curtains were closed, and no natural light entered the room. Just a few lamps that flickered every once in a while and a very cold sensation covering her when she stepped inside.

Her legs guided her to the untouched piano. A hand passed over the worn keys, feeling a thin veil of dust under her fingertips.

A shard of guilt stabbed right through her stomach.

She had gotten exactly what she wanted…

Silence.

╰───────────✧──────────────╮

Call it pettiness or whichever useless feeling people came up with, but Cassandra was done with all the noise that she made.

It's always the same song. The same melody. The same lyrics.

She was tired of it.

She stood by the door, staring directly at the young girl who didn’t seem to notice her as she continued to sing that ballad over and over.

“If I can’t reach you, let my song teach you,” the younger girl sang softly, eyes closed as her fingers played smoothly over the keys.

Cassandra clenched her teeth. 

She wanted silence.

“All you need to keep our love alive,”

She was tired of her playing.

“If I can’t hold you,”

She was tired of her.

“Remember what I told y-”

“Could you keep it down?”

The girl startled, smashing the keys and making an awful sound. Both of them cringed at it. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to-” She tried to apologize with a stammer as she stood up, stumbling and fidgeting fingers.

But Cassandra didn’t let her finish.

“You don’t know any other songs?” she questioned.

“Not really. My mom only taught me this-”

“Then why play at all?” She didn’t understand. It was useless to know just one song on the piano. A waste of skill and talent, if she were honest. It didn’t make any sense.

The girl took a sharp breath, hands wringing with the hems of her sleeves and fingers. “It’s an important ballad. My mom used to say it was a protec-”

“It’s too loud. Keep it down.”

Cassandra didn’t care about the importance of the song. She just wanted silence. Her ears were ringing, and she could feel a headache coming on if she heard another keynote from the piano.

They stayed quiet for a moment. A slow nod from the younger girl was answer enough for her.

Cassandra turned around and left.

She had blessed silence for the rest of the day.

╰───────────✧──────────────╮

That happened years ago. She still played the song, but kept the door closed and put heavy curtains to muffle some of the noise. It still managed to slip through, but Cassandra didn’t really care as much anymore. It had blended into the background noise of the manor. 

It had become part of their daily life. Something that just fitted right in.

And now that it was gone, the absence of it had been loud.

Such a loud silence.

She didn’t like it.

Cassandra hummed to herself, looking around the room one last time before walking outside into the. Leaving the door open behind her.

Maybe she could ask her if she could play again after she came from school? It wouldn’t be too much to ask of her. It wasn’t like the younger girl had done a lot around the manor lately. Just stay in her room all day and night, only coming out to eat and talk with Alfred, and then just go back to her-

‘If I can’t reach you…’

Cassandra came to a full stop at the end of the hallway.

The piano played slowly inside the room.

‘Let my song teach you…’

Her chest became heavy. Throat tight, as if cold fingers wrapped themselves over her shoulders. A wet sensation was sinking through the fabric of her shirt, making shivers go down her spine.

The voice was like a whisper, only for her to hear.

“Am I too loud now?” Cold lips whispered in Cassandra’s ear.

Out of the corner of her eye, Cassandra only managed to see a tangle of wet, dark hair and a bloodshot grey eye with blood dripping down a side of her deadly pale skin.

When she finally got the strength to turn completely around, the hall was quiet. Not a single echo or resonance of the keys was heard. 

Cassandra patted herself down quickly, shaking away the sudden cold over her skin. She felt over her shoulders, trying to find any wet spots on her shoulder or near her ear and back.

There was no trace of it.

She left the hall quickly, deciding to put this on the back of her mind as a headache invaded her head.

The lights flickered in the piano room, the door creaking closed by itself.

 ━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━

“I wasn’t expecting to like history that much.”

It was already past three in the afternoon, the classes had barely been over a few minutes ago.

But Bobby had already dragged her through the halls towards the baseball field so he could practice some pitching and bat swinging. As he had explained excitedly over lunch to her, shortly after Mr. Munroe’s class. It would be just like playing catch, but with some real damage on the side.

She could play catch! She remembered playing it with Billy before!

And with a white haired man.

And by herself, oddly enough…

“I guess Mr. Munroe just knows his stuff,” Bobby suggested, dodging a few students who walked in the opposite direction from them. He then grinned, “You could even say he lived through it with the way he talked about war stories.”

“He can’t be that old.”

“Just saying. I mean, how old could he be?” He quipped with a shrug.

She wheezed a short laugh. “Can’t be older than the Great Depression.”

Both of them were wheezing as they stumbled down the stairs, shoving and hitting each other on the arms and shoulders. That gained them a few odd looks, but they didn’t notice it at all. Too busy fighting to stay upright and keeping air in their lungs.

They made their way through the front doors of the school, taking the outside route but still inside the school grounds to the sports field.

“He has such a stern air around him, too. He kind of gives-”

“Please, don’t even go there.” She pleaded with a hiss. But Bobby only began to whisper loudly to her.

“Hey, everyone was looking at him like a piece of meat.”

“It doesn’t make it right.”

“Oh, please. You totally looked.”

“Did not.” She denied with red ears.

Bobby looked way too smug. “Liaaaarrrr.”

She shoved him, making him burst out laughing as she stomped faster and a couple of steps ahead of him, ready to take a corner.

To which she instantly froze on the spot with a wide-eyed look.

Bobby took notice of her sudden change, still laughing as he looked over her shoulder. “Hey, what’s-”

She quickly pushed him back until they were back to back with the corner wall, away from the view of the hall. Her hand gripping his vest with white knuckles as she looked carefully over the edge. Holding back her breath, cursing to hell and back the person standing by the front gate.

Dick Grayson was leaning against a expensive sports car, looking at his watch every five seconds when he wasn’t looking around the premises and between the groups of students walking around.

‘The fuck is he doing here?!’ She shouted in her head as she bit her tongue.

She had written to Alfred that she was going to stay for a longer time to hang out with Bobby. Why was the touchy asshole here? He was supposed to return to Bludhaven yesterday and give her some peace and tranquility!

“Um, you good?” Bobby muttered, reminding her that she wasn’t alone. She quickly let him go and apologized.

“Sorry,” she grumbled. “It’s my, ugh, brother.”

That last part was said between her teeth. Bobby frowned at that. “I guess you don’t get along, then?”

“Not exactly.” She remarked with a wince, giving a quick glance back towards the gate. He had moved closer.

That wasn’t good.

“We gotta be quick,” she urged, pushing Bobby back slowly as he let her guide him.

Before they could take off without catching too much attention, someone decided it was the right time to yell her ‘last name’.

“Wayne!”

The duo snapped their heads forward, towards the male voice that echoed through the hall. Her eye was twitching in annoyance.

A guy with golden curls and a snobbish air around him approached them with decision and fists curled in fists. He looked furious, and even then she could appreciate his handsome features. 

He looked straight out of a magazine, to be completely honest.

“What the hell are you doing?” He hissed in her face, fuming.

If she weren’t in such a hurry, she would have given him a few choice words. But she really needed to run.

“Office hours are closed at the moment, sorry!” She stated, pulling Bobby deeper into the hall behind them. He looked with wide eyes between the three of them.

“Suddenly got a sense of humor?” The guy chided with a roll of eyes, following her steps forward. “Where have you been?! Did you forget about practice?! We have the damned recital in two weeks!”

“Listen,” she fretted, eyes bouncing around to make sure Dick wasn’t nearby. “Right now is not the time to discuss this. I gotta-”

“No, you and I made a deal.” He claimed with a hiss. “I help you with your recital and you-”

“Hun, what is going on here?”

The cold tone made the three teens look at the tight-smiling man who stood beside them. His arms crossed over his chest with his head tilted to the side, blue eyes staring directly at their hands.

Now that she noticed, the two boys had taken hold of her arms while standing between them.

It stayed quiet for a bit. Dick smile becoming tighter and tighter.

‘Fuuuuucckkk-’

“Who are your-”

She didn’t even let him finish. Her legs moved before she could even process it.

It all happened too fast.

She had taken off running, dragging with her the still startled boys down the hall and leaving Dick behind with the words in his mouth. The man also looked caught off guard, yelling after them as he began to run after them.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck fuck-” she repeated over and over while Bobby and Goldielocks shouted at her.

“Unhand me! You’re ruining my shirt!”

“Take a left! Take a left!”

Without thinking about it too hard, she listened to Bobby and took a sharp left. Shoes squeaking as the three of them almost slammed against a poster board, before taking off again. 

They took several turns, with mixed shouts and yells between all of them. Mostly with Bobby yelling directions and the other guy screaming in her ear about going too fast.

It all came to an end when all three of them ran over someone.

Well, more like they slammed solidly against someone and crashed to the ground.

They became a tangle of limbs and curses. Bobby was face-first on the ground, complaining about the heavy weight, trying to lift them off the ground but too tired to do so. The goldilocks was cursing while swinging his arms and legs around, flailing like a stray cat. And lastly, the young girl who lay over the two of them with a manic grin on her face and laughing to herself.

‘That felt soooo good!” She gushed as she laughed breathlessly. 

It felt so right. Running like that felt so right. She had to do it again! Her heart was about to burst out in excitme-

A gruff grunt made all of them fall into silence. Three heads looking up with a gaping expression.

Mr. Munroe stood before them with a crushed cigar by his feet. An annoyed frown in his face that made them gulp at the same time.

“Drake. Worthington. Wayne.” The teens looked at each other with pale faces.

“Detention. Now.”

…That could have ended worse, to be honest.

 ━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━

Author's Note: The gangs all here! Finally got to introduce Maximoff's core friends! And so much happened in this chapter too! I had so much fun writting it, you guys have no idea. And logan is now in the plot ( I will shove my Storm x Wolverine agenda down your throats and YOU WILL LIKE IT-) Let me know what you guys liked, theorize or go and scream in the asks. I love reciving asks and answering them💖💖 Lots of love and hugs, GG✨

Tag List:

@bat1212 @kneelforloki @1abi @galaxypurplerose @yhin-gg @cxcilla @momentomoribitch @stargirl404 @initial-ari @welpthisisboring @icefox8155 @bunniotomia @alittlelostmoonchild @devotedlyshamelessdetective @shycreatorreview @nirvanaxx1942 @soulsire @ryuushou @rinkydinkythinky @lithiumval @ithoughtthinks @reeyy0-2 @cssammyyarts @lordbugs @ilovecoffe0 @kore-of-the-underworld @fortunatelydifferentqueen @vanessa-boo @livingund3ad @aelxr @im-so-goddamn-tired @lovebug-apple

Bonus Memes:

[blakeswritingimagines]

You'd Look Cuter With Something In Your Mouth

Summary: Your captor makes good use out of you,

Warnings: Dark! Logan, Mean! Logan, Rape that sounds like Dubcon, Praise, PWP, Dom Logan and Sub reader, Anal, Begging, Degradation, Fingering, Free use! reader, Upset! reader, Several rounds, Toys, Overstimulation, No protection clearly, Being filmed, Oral (M and F receiving), Face painting, Toys.

Word Count: 4.3k

A/N: This is the thing that started it all to part one but I think it can be read as a stand-alone. Enjoy!

"Ass up… time to break in your other hole."

Logan's rough handling sent jolts of sensation through your sensitized body, each tug on your hair and push against your shoulders rekindling the embers of your arousal. As you presented yourself to him, your ass high in the air, you could feel his heated gaze roaming over your exposed skin. The air was thick with the musk of sex, your own scent mingling with Logan's potent essence. You knew what was coming, and a thrill of trepidation mixed with eager anticipation coursed through you. Logan's large hand descended upon your cheeks, spreading them wide open as he leaned in close, his hot breath washing over your trembling flesh. "Gonna make this tight little hole mine too," he growled, his finger probing at your asshole. Your body tensed instinctively at the invasive touch, your sphincter clenching reflexively against Logan's questing digit. But he was relentless, applying steady pressure until your resistance began to crumble. Slowly, incrementally, he worked his finger past the initial barrier, sinking into the tight, scorching heat of your rectum. A low moan escaped you, half pain, half pleasure, as he started to move his finger in and out, stretching and preparing you for the much larger invasion to come. Logan's thumb found your puckered rim, rubbing and prodding until it began to relax, opening further for his probing finger. "That's it, baby… take it," he coaxed, his voice a seductive rumble. "You were made for this, for being stuffed full and used like a dirty little whore."

Logan's filthy words, coupled with the exquisite discomfort of his finger violating your most intimate passage, pushed you closer to the edge. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as he relentlessly worked his way deeper, the burn giving way to an unholy pleasure. Your hips rocked back against him, seeking more of that delicious friction, even as your mind rebelled against the degrading language. "Please…" you whimpered, not sure if you were begging for more or mercy. Logan added a second finger, scissoring them apart to stretch you wider. The pressure was immense, bordering on painful, but you found yourself craving the sensation, needing it to consume you entirely. Just when you thought you might break, Logan withdrew his fingers with a slick pop, leaving you empty and aching. He grabbed your hips, positioning himself behind you once more. "Ready for my cock?" Your answer was a desperate nod, even as a flicker of fear danced in your belly. Logan's girthy member throbbed against your stretched entrance, the broad head nudging insistently at your rim. With a grunt of effort, he pushed forward, the engorged tip breaching your anal ring and sinking into your clenching heat. You cried out, the sudden intrusion overwhelming your senses, but Logan didn't pause, driving forward until he was buried to the hilt, his heavy balls slapping against your sensitive clit. For a moment, he simply stayed there, his thick length filling and claiming you so completely that you felt like you might split in two. Then, with a guttural groan, he began to move, withdrawing until just the tip remained inside before slamming back in, setting a brutal pace designed to pound your tight hole into submission.

Each merciless thrust drove you closer to the precipice, the relentless pounding of Logan's cock against your prostate sending shockwaves of ecstasy coursing through your veins. Your mind went blank, overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of the sensations. All that existed was the feeling of being utterly conquered, owned, and used for Logan's pleasure. The wet slap of flesh against flesh echoed through the room, punctuated by your muffled cries and Logan's grunts of exertion. He gripped your hips with bruising force, holding you in place as he ravaged your ass, his cock plunging in and out with savage precision. The pressure built and built, coiling tighter in your core until you felt ready to explode. With a final, brutal thrust, Logan drove into you one last time, his cock throbbing as he emptied himself deep inside your convulsing channel. As Logan's hot seed flooded your insides, your own orgasm crashed over you, your body shaking and quaking as wave after wave of intense pleasure ripped through you. You could feel his cum pumping into you, marking you as his, sealing your fate as his personal fuckdoll. The knowledge only amplified your climax, your inner walls clamping down on his spurting cock as if trying to keep him inside forever. Logan's grip on your hips never relented, holding you in place as he rode out his own release, his movements growing sluggish as the last spurts of his cum painted your insides. Finally, with a satisfied grunt, he pulled out, his softening member slipping free of your well-used hole with a lewd squelch. You collapsed forward, your exhausted body sprawled across the sheets, while Logan stepped back to admire his handiwork.

Logan's gaze roamed over your spent form, taking in the mess of sweat, cum, and tears that coated your skin. A smirk played on his lips as he surveyed the evidence of your thorough claiming - your gaping, reddened pussy, your puffy, abused anus, and the sticky trails of their combined releases painting your thighs. "Look at you," he murmured, his voice a low purr of satisfaction. "So beautifully wrecked. You're going to be a favorite toy of mine, aren't you, baby?" He reached down, gathering some of the cum oozing from your stretched holes and bringing it to your lips. "Clean up our mess," he ordered, his tone leaving no room for refusal. Obediently, you parted your mouth, allowing him to paint your tongue with the salty tang of his release. You obediently licked Logan's fingers clean, savoring the taste of his essence mingling with your own. As you swallowed, you met his gaze, seeing the dark hunger still smoldering in those piercing blue eyes. It sent a shiver down your spine, a mix of trepidation and anticipation for whatever came next. Logan's hand slid through your hair, gripping the strands tightly as he tilted your head back. "I think we've broken you in nicely," he purred, his breath hot against your ear. "But don't worry, we're just getting started. There are so many ways I can use you, so many holes to claim and fill." His fingers trailed down your neck, over your collarbone, and lower, teasing the swell of your breasts. "First things first though… let's get you cleaned up and presentable for round three."

At Logan's words, a chill ran down your spine despite the lingering warmth of your post-orgasmic haze. Round three? What did that entail? Your mind raced with possibilities, none of them particularly comforting. Still, you knew better than to question or resist. This was your new reality now - existing solely to serve Logan's desires, to be molded and shaped into the perfect plaything. As he guided you to the bathroom, you couldn't help but wonder what new depths of depravity awaited you. Under his stern direction, you washed away the remnants of your previous defilement, the warm water doing little to ease the ache between your thighs. By the time you emerged, wrapped in a plush towel, Logan had already set up the camera, angling it to capture your every move. His eyes gleamed with predatory intent. "Show me how eager you are to please me, to offer yourself up for my pleasure." You stood before the camera, the towel draped loosely around your curves, acutely aware of Logan's hungry gaze boring into you. His command hung in the air, an unspoken challenge to prove your devotion, your willingness to surrender completely to his whims. With trembling hands, you untied the towel, letting it fall to the floor, baring your nakedness to the lens. Your heart pounded in your chest as you slowly turned, presenting yourself from every angle, showcasing the marks of Logan's possession - the swollen folds of your pussy, the tender peak of your nipples, the delicate curve of your ass, still bearing the imprint of his palm. Each movement was deliberate, calculated to convey your eagerness, your desperation to please.

Logan's appreciative hum filled the room as he watched you pose, each subtle shift of your body a silent declaration of your submission. "That's it, baby," he purred, his voice dripping with approval. "Let them see what a good little slut you are for me." He stepped closer, his large frame looming over yours, making you acutely aware of your vulnerability. Reaching out, he traced a finger along your collarbone, down the valley of your breast, before pinching your nipple hard enough to make you gasp. "We're going to have so much fun together," he whispered, his breath hot against your ear. "And I'm going to make sure everyone knows who owns this pretty little body." A sharp intake of breath escaped you as Logan's cruel pinch sent jolts of pain through your sensitive nipple. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, but you bit back a whimper, determined not to show weakness. Instead, you arched into his touch, silently begging for more, craving the sting of his dominance. Logan's words sent a thrill through you, the promise of shared pleasures and public displays of your degradation. You were his now, a plaything to be used and showcased as he saw fit. And as much as the thought terrified you, there was a twisted part of you that craved it, that reveled in the idea of being reduced to nothing more than a vessel for his desires. "Please," you breathed, the word barely audible over the pounding of your heart. "Use me however you want. I'm yours."

Logan's eyes flashed with triumph at your plea, a wicked grin spreading across his face. "Oh, I plan to," he promised, his voice low and menacing. In a swift motion, he spun you around, pressing you face-first against the wall. Your cheek flattened against the cool surface as his hands roamed your body, grasping and squeezing, claiming every inch of you. "First, though, I need you to look directly into the camera," he instructed, his breath hot against your ear. "Tell them all why you're here, why you're willing to debase yourself for me." His fingers found your clit, rubbing it in firm circles that made your knees weaken. "Speak loud and clear, so they can hear every filthy word." You pushed your hips back against Logan's hand, desperate for more of the pleasure he was offering. As he demanded, you straightened your stance, turning your head to meet the camera's gaze. Your voice trembled slightly as you spoke, the words spilling out in a rush of confession and desire. "I'm here because I belong to him," you said, your body growing warm with shame and arousal. "Because I crave his touch, his control, his domination. I'm willing to degrade myself, to be used as his personal fucktoy, because it's the only way I can feel truly alive." Your breath hitched as Logan's fingers intensified their assault on your clit, sending sparks of ecstasy racing through your veins. "I exist to serve him, to pleasure him, to be claimed and filled by him again and again… please."

Logan's grip on your hip tightened as he listened to your impassioned declaration, a low growl rumbling in his chest. "That's right, baby," he praised, his voice thick with lust. "You were made for this, for serving me, for being my perfect little slut." With a sudden jerk, he pulled your legs apart, exposing your dripping sex to the camera's lens. "Look at her, so wet and ready, just for me," he gloated, his fingers delving between your folds to gather your slick arousal. "She's been starving for my cock, hasn't she?" He brought his glistening fingers to your lips, forcing them past your teeth. "Taste how much you need me," he commanded, his eyes burning with possessive hunger. You parted your lips obediently, accepting Logan's fingers into your mouth. The musky flavor of your own arousal mixed with the salt of his skin, a potent reminder of your submission. As you sucked gently, trying to coax more of his essence onto your tongue, Logan's other hand moved to the small of your back, applying pressure until you felt the heat of his bare skin against yours. "Mmmph," you moaned around his digits, the vibrations traveling through his fingers and into your core. The sensation of being so thoroughly claimed, of having your most intimate acts performed for an unseen audience, sent a fresh wave of desire crashing over you. When he finally withdrew his fingers, you whined in protest, only to gasp as he replaced them with something harder, thicker.

Logan's cock pressed insistently against your entrance, the bulbous head nudging your clit with each thrust. "Get ready, baby," he warned, his voice rough with anticipation. "I'm going to fill you up so deep, so full of my seed, that you'll never forget who owns this cunt." With a powerful surge, he drove into you, burying himself to the hilt in one brutal stroke. A scream tore from your throat as he stretched you wide, the intense pleasure-pain making stars burst behind your eyelids. Logan's hands gripped your hips, holding you steady as he began to move, each piston-like thrust jarring you against the wall. The sound of flesh slapping against flesh echoed through the room, punctuated by your ragged gasps and moans. "Fuck, you take my cock so well," He groaned, his praise mingling with the obscene sounds of your coupling. Every harsh slam of his hips sent shockwaves of bliss radiating through your core, the relentless pounding threatening to consume you whole. You could feel him so deep inside, his thick length stroking your innermost walls, claiming every inch of your channel as his own. The knowledge that he was filling you, that you were being bred by this dominant man, only added to the intensity of your pleasure. "Yes, yes, fuck me!" you cried out, your voice hoarse with need. Logan's response was a guttural growl, his pace increasing as he chased his climax. The camera captured every moment, immortalizing your debasement for an unknown audience.

Logan's thrusts grew erratic, his balls slapping against your clit with each frenzied pump of his hips. "Gonna cum, gonna fill you up," he grunted, his fingers digging into your flesh as he neared the brink. The tension coiled tighter within you, your own orgasm building in tandem with his. "Do it, baby, come on my cock," he urged, his voice strained with effort. With a final, brutal plunge, he buried himself to the hilt, his cock throbbing as he erupted inside you. Hot jets of semen flooded your womb, marking you irrevocably as his. Your own release crashed over you, waves of ecstasy washing through your body as you clamped down around him, milking every last drop of his essence. Your vision blurred as the force of your climax overwhelmed you, your screams of rapture echoing off the walls. Wave after wave of pure, unadulterated bliss pulsed through you, each contraction of your inner muscles drawing Logan deeper, urging him to give you even more of his seed. As the aftershocks slowly subsided, leaving you trembling and spent, you felt Logan's softening member slip free, his cum leaking out to trickle down your thighs. You sagged against the wall, your legs no longer able to support your weight, your mind reeling from the intensity of your shared release. "So beautiful," Logan murmured, his hands gentle as he turned you to face him, his cum-stained fingers brushing away a strand of hair from your sweaty forehead. "My perfect little cumslut."

Logan's words sent a shiver down your spine, the endearment both derogatory and arousing. You leaned into his touch, craving more of his affection, even as you knew it would always be tempered by his dominance. "Thank you," you whispered, your voice barely audible. The gratitude wasn't for the act itself, but for the validation it brought - proof that you had pleased him, that you were worthy of his possession. Logan's expression softened, a rare glimpse of tenderness beneath the surface of his ruthless exterior. "Shh, don't thank me yet," he cautioned, his thumb tracing the curve of your lower lip. "We're far from done. There are still so many ways I want to use you, so many things I want to do to you." Your heart raced at his words, a thrill of excitement mingling with the lingering echoes of your orgasms. You knew that once Logan set his sights on exploring new depths of depravity, there would be no limits to what he might demand of you. And yet, the thought of surrendering completely, of allowing him to mold you into his ideal plaything, filled you with a perverse sense of pride. "Show me," you breathed, your eyes locking with his in a silent challenge. "Use me however you wish. Break me, remake me, make me yours in every possible way." Logan's smile was feral, a predator savoring the taste of fresh prey. "Oh, I will," he promised, his voice dripping with dark promise. "And when we're finished, you won't even remember your old life."

With a wicked grin, Logan reached for the array of toys laid out before him, selecting a gleaming metal collar adorned with spikes and studs. "First things first," he purred, striding towards you with purposeful steps. "You're going to wear my mark, a constant reminder of who you belong to." His fingers deftly fastened the collar around your neck, the cold metal biting into your skin as the points dug in. You winced, but the pain was fleeting, soon overshadowed by the thrill of submission. Logan's hands roamed your body, squeezing and kneading your flesh, mapping out every inch of territory he intended to claim. "Now, let's see how loud you can scream for me," he taunted, producing a set of nipple clamps from his collection. With a wicked grin, Logan reached for the whip coiled beside him, its leather straps gleaming in the dim light. "Let's start with something to remind you of your place," he purred, the tip of the whip trailing along your collarbone, raising goosebumps in its wake. "Bend over the table, hands flat on the surface. I want to see that ass high and ready for me." His command was firm, brooking no argument, and you found yourself obeying without hesitation, your body moving of its own accord to present yourself to him. As you assumed the position, Logan stepped behind you, his hot breath ghosting across your ear. "Such a good girl, already knowing exactly what I need," he praised, his hand coming down in a sharp slap across your left cheek.

The sting of the impact sent a jolt through your body, your nerves alight with a mix of pain and pleasure. You bit your lip hard enough to draw blood, the coppery taste a grounding presence amidst the whirlwind of sensations. "Y-yes, sir," you managed to stammer, your voice shaky but obedient. Logan's palm struck your right cheek with equal force, the dual blows leaving red imprints on your skin. "That's it, take it like a good slut," he growled, his fingers digging into the meat of your ass cheeks as he spread them apart, exposing your vulnerable hole. The cool air hit your sensitive flesh, making you shudder, and you could feel the wetness of your arousal coating your thighs. "Look at this pretty pussy, so desperate for me and my cock." Logan's grip on your ass tightened, his thumbs pressing against your slick folds as he spread you open further. "Mmm, look at all this juicy cunt juice," he murmured, his tongue darting out to lap at your exposed slit. The sensation of his warm mouth on your most intimate area made you cry out, your back arching involuntarily. Logan chuckled, the vibrations sending tingles through your core as he continued to taste you. "Delicious," he purred, his lips closing around your clit and suckling gently. Two fingers pushed into your tight heat, curling to stroke that sensitive spot inside you that made your knees buckle. "Come on, baby, ride my face," he commanded, his voice muffled by your flesh. "Let me feel you lose control, drench my chin with your cum."

Your hips bucked reflexively, grinding against Logan's face as he worked your clit with his lips and tongue. The dual stimulation of his fingers pumping in and out of your aching core sent you hurtling towards the edge, your pleasure cresting higher with each passing second. "Please, please, I'm going to--" you whimpered, your words dissolving into a keening wail as your orgasm slammed into you. Your inner walls clenched around Logan's fingers, rippling and fluttering as wave after wave of ecstasy washed over you. At the same time, your juices gushed forth, soaking Logan's chin and neck as he devoured your convulsing sex. The sheer intensity of your climax left you limp and gasping, your body quivering in the aftermath. Logan released your spasming pussy with a satisfied hum, his fingers slipping free as he sat back on his heels, admiring the sight of you sprawled across the table, still shaking from the force of your orgasm. A smear of your arousal marked his chin, and he licked it clean with relish, savoring the taste of your essence. "Beautiful," he repeated, his gaze roaming over your glowing skin, your breasts heaving with each ragged breath. He stood, towering over you, his erection straining against the confines of his pants. "But we're not done yet, sweetheart. That was just an appetizer." Logan unbuckled his belt, letting his pants fall to the floor to reveal his thick, veiny cock, already leaking precum. "Time to feed the beast again… on your knees."

Trembling, you pushed yourself up onto your elbows, your gaze drawn inexorably to the impressive length of Logan's cock. The sight of it, hard and throbbing, made your mouth water with anticipation. Without hesitation, you slid off the table, your knees hitting the cold floor with a soft thud. You looked up at Logan, your eyes locked on his, as you began to kneel before him. "Yes, sir," you breathed, reaching out to wrap your fingers around his shaft, feeling it pulse in your grasp. You leaned forward, running your tongue along the underside of his cock, savoring the salty tang of his precum. Then, taking him into your mouth, you began to suck, your head bobbing as you worked to pleasure him, determined to prove your worth as his willing pet. Logan groaned, his fingers threading through your hair as you took him deeper, your warm, wet mouth enveloping his aching cock. "Fuck yeah, just like that," he rasped, his hips jerking forward slightly, seeking more of your eager suction. You hollowed your cheeks, applying gentle pressure as you slid your tongue along the ridges of his shaft, coaxing out more of his salty essence. Logan's grip on your hair tightened, guiding your movements as he thrust shallowly between your lips, the head of his dick bumping the back of your throat. "Take it all, baby," he urged, his voice strained with pleasure. "Swallow every inch of my cock." With a final push, he buried himself fully in your mouth, holding still for a moment as you adjusted to the intrusion. "You'll learn to worship every inch properly."

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you struggled to accommodate Logan's girth, your nose pressed against the wiry hairs at the base of his cock. The musky scent of his arousal filled your nostrils, adding to the overwhelming sensory experience of being thoroughly claimed by him. You swallowed hard, trying to relax your throat muscles, and Logan rewarded you with a slow, deliberate withdrawal, only to plunge back in, setting a relentless pace. Each thrust forced a moan past your lips, the vibrations traveling up his shaft and eliciting guttural responses from him. Logan's hands tightened in your hair, using it as leverage to fuck your mouth with increasing fervor, his balls slapping against your chin with every deep penetration. Despite the discomfort, you reveled in the powerlessness, the knowledge that you were nothing more than a receptacle for his pleasure. Logan's rhythm grew more erratic, his grunts and curses interspersed with praise for your efforts. "Good girl, such a perfect little cocksucker," he praised, his hips snapping faster now, driving his thick cock deeper into your throat with each thrust. You felt him swell, his veins bulging as he neared his peak. Suddenly, he pulled out, his cock slapping against your cheek as he stroked himself furiously, chasing his release. "Gonna paint this pretty face with my cum," he snarled, his abs tensing as he reached the brink. With a hoarse shout, Logan erupted, his hot seed spilling over your face and on your tongue in thick, pulsing jets. You drank greedily, swallowing every drop as he rode out his orgasm, his cock twitching against your lips.

Your face was smeared with Logan's cum, the sticky fluid coating your cheeks, eyelids, and lips. You savored the taste, a mix of salt and masculinity that was uniquely him. As Logan's breathing slowed, you gently licked his softened cock clean, then looked up at him with a submissive smile. "Thank you, sir," you said softly, your voice husky from the thorough face-fucking he'd given you. Logan's eyes glinted with satisfaction as he tucked himself back into his pants, zipping up and adjusting his belt. "You've earned a break," he allowed, offering you a hand to help you stand. "But don't get too comfortable. We're far from done tonight." He gave your ass a playful smack, the sound echoing through the room.

"I have some special plans for you later, my naughty little cumslut."

[yandere-wishes]

Alice in Marvel-land

𐙚Yandere! Deadpool (Wade Wilson) x Reader x Yandere Wolverine (Logan Howlett)

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ In some worlds, you were Logan's little darling. In others, you were Wade's starry-eyed lover. But here in the void, there is only one of you and two of them.

⁀➷ GORE, yandere behavior, kidnapping, Deadpool being Deadpool.

⁺₊𝄞₊⁺ IDK, probs the Deadpool and Wolverine soundtrack

Logan feels the world slipping away.

Piece by piece, atom by atom.

In a blink, he's falling down darkness.

An endless rabbit hole.

What was the name of that fairy tale you liked so much?

The one with the girl who gets lost in splendor?

The dust is kicking up, framing the sunset portrait along the horizon.

The envoys are nearly home, this time they've brought someone back. The cage balls chime along the unsteady road. If you squint just far enough you can almost make out vibrant specks of red and yellow.

Strange, the void tends to wash out bright colors. Well, it tends to wash out just about everything.

You scrape your nails along the skeleton's sockets. Leave crescents in the decaying cartilage. "They're almost here" you call out awaiting Cassandra's next move. You watch dolefully as she's transfixed on a portal. The sparky thing unfurled like a fresh wound, strewing salt on persistent lacerations. She watches her brother, or well some variation of her brother. Surrounded by his new family, surrounded by those he loves. He's forgotten her, or maybe never even knew her. You think that the latter would hurt the most.

"Cassandra" Your voice rises in octave, this time getting her attention. "They're here".

"Coming" She sings, voice so chip it almost sounds like unshed tears. You send a final glare at the portal before it collapses on itself.

If you tried hard enough, maybe you could bring yourself to understand her pain. Those pesky notions of desperation for someone to love. But it

doesn't matter now everyone you've ever loved is dead anyway. And unlike Cassandra, you've long since given up on the childish dreams of being rescued by someone who would offer up love so freely.

"Maybe shut up now"

Logan's nerves are frying. Thin strings snapping with every syllable that leaves the red merc's mouth. He's starting to appreciate Stryker in a way he didn't even know he could. The man was a psychotic sadist but at least he knew when to sew someone's mouth shut. Maybe he can convince this Cassadra chick to do the same.

Logan's eyes are almost at 90 degrees of a roll when they stop. He stops, frozen. In the gaping mouth of the rotting skull, something all too familiar stands.

Or rather someone.

Someone he knew.

Someone he loved.

Your name tastes bitter on his tongue. All death and whisky.

Maybe cause it's been so long since the attack. Since he walked off for the night and left his family to die. Cause the last time he saw you, you were a mangled corpse laying in an open grave. Deadweight as he cradled you in his arms.

You walk closer. Face painted in too many shades of confusion.

Curiouser and curiouser.

Damn, he's started quoting that stupid book again.

"How do you know my name" You ask. You look just as beautiful as he remembers. Spine carved straight in pride with perfect lips, perfect eyes. His talons itch to glide across your soft skin, to feel you so intimately once more.

"LOOOGAN did you see what the bald chick just- HEY!!"

It takes too much effort to pull his gaze away. To stare at red and black and be reminded of cruel realities. But Wade has a tendency to be a persistent ache, some unwelcomed anchor to every problem he's ever had.

Only this time when he actually looks at him. Looks at the jittery body that's stilled abruptly. He can't help but be glad that he did. A bitter laugh bubbles in his throat. Maybe Wade's shut up for good this time.

He always knew you were special but this is truly a miracle.

"IT'S YOU!!"

Nope, didn't work. He knew he couldn't be that lucky.

Wade whispers your name, a forgotten prayer. Logan didn't even know the loudmouth knew how to pray. But he seems to almost soften when he sees you. That feral, cheeky killer, looks so so soft when he stares into your doe-eyes. Reaching out zealously to twirl a lock of your hair around his blood-soaked finger.

He can almost feel Wade choking on your essence, heart erratic, like a child finding a lost toy. He's drowning in ecstasy, and Logan is almost tempted to join him. You're here, a breath away. So close it's taking every ounce of self-control not to pull you to his chest and keep you locked between his arms until he finally dies too.

"Penunt look that's my girl!!"

"Your girl!?"

He had taken you for granted as he tends to do with most peaceful things. The realization had occurred a little too late. Right as he had been emptying a round into the target of the week's head.

He lands.

Arms high like an Olympian pleasing the crowd.

He wonders if he can make you cheer for him.

Clap and shout his name as he twirls around the mess he's made.

He wants to feel loved, although he'll never say it out loud. He's only ever been good with words when they're laced with sarcasm and profanity.

And maybe 'I love you' is just about the most obscene thing he can ever say to someone as sweet as you.

Wade plays the white rabbit, fluffy coat stained red from every kill. Tricking poor Alice into following him down cruel rabbit holes. Making you chase him through labyrinths then leaving you at every turn. He leads you to every kill, makes you watch as he dances in slaughter. He can even feel your eyes right now. Starlight slicing him open to quench vulgar interests.  

Alice always follows the rabbit.

He stalks closer, white eyes fixated on your deliciously bewildered expression. Precious thing caught in a warzone. He can almost taste you on his tongue, the sharp tip of a star slivering the inside of his mouth, soft hands painting crescent moons along the back of his neck. He needs to carve his essence across your lips, to pour the after-kill adrenaline into your soul. He needs you.

Only this time...

This time he'd been too distracted. So caught up in claiming you as his victory prize that he didn't notice the grizzled man clinging to life...

And a pistole.

The bullet punctures his shoulder. An afterthought.

But the lead keeps going.

Penetrating the air until it lands bunglingly between your eyes.

You fall into his arms.

Deadweight.

Did the white rabbit ever miss Alice?

Did he ever realize how truly special such a curious girl made him feel?

He doubts it.

Doubts that a stupid rodent would have better emotional stability than him.

He's been given a second chance. A whole plethora of them actually. He's been deemed holy, righteous. And aren't gifts of marvel bestowed upon the truly blessed? What better blessing than the sight of you standing amongst the sand and skulls?

Good to see your affinity for dainty dresses spans across all universes...

He lets the blood trickle down his claws.

What else is there to do but dream of you?

It's the fourth day of his massacre and he's lost count of how many humans he's killed. Maybe cause after the first hundred the faces tend to blur.

He leaves your pleasants in between the rotting carcasses and broken glass. Only taking the torturous parts of you. The things that can hurt him. The sharp edges that he can slit his pulse point on, the vague memory of your glare before you cried. The soft skin of your neck between his jagged teeth.

Enough to keep the hate burning.

He wonders if the creatures of Wonderland wept after Alice left. He wonders if Wonderland lost its wonder.

But now you're standing here.

Alive.

And he wants so badly to remember the sweet taste of your lips. The soft push against his chapped lips as he swallows you whole. Even desperate rabbits can go a little feral. His eyes take in every breath, every scowl.

Alive.

Alive.

Alive.

Good to see your affinity for dainty dresses spans across all universes...

Aliath skids forward, mystified in lightning and smoke. You feel your bones collapsing under the rugged man's, Logan's, vice grip. You thrash and scream trying to break free but he only barks out orders to his friend before they take off running.

"Your safe, don't worry we got you." There's a comedic cadence to every word Wade says. You can almost fool yourself into enjoying it if the two weren't actively attempting to defy Cassandra, to defy Aliath, to defy deities and absolutes. To ripe you away from the only semblance of opulence you've come to know.

"Let me go, you custome-wearing freaks." His gripe tenses. "Don't struggle so much, we said you're safe, now hold still" Logan's anger ripples through you. It's almost muscle memory to still, to obey.

Did you know him? Know them?

In some past life too out of reach?

The ground shutters to a jagged rhythm. You're flying up, escaping the misty horrors of the ground. Your head pounds with the force, air slapping across your body as you taste the cotton of the clouds between your teeth.

Is this how Alice felt as her head hit the roof?

Wade mutters about the stars and educated wishes. About people who live and matter. Logan slices through his thigh, the mercenary's optimism making his body ring with phantom pains.

No one matters.

And when they start to, they die.

There are cruel absolutes in this world. He's tasted them all. Let them slice his tongue and heart and danced to every tune they've sung. He rips his claws out and digs them into Wade's chest.

Again

And again.  

Wade savors the salty tang of blood inside his mouth.

Licks his teeth and runs his tongue over the gaping holes.

He's sitting in the front seat head rolled back.

High off the blood and adrenaline and the thought of having you so close.

"I take it all back, the Honda odysseys fucks hard"

Bones crack, interrupted mid-heal as Logan turns his head to glare. "Shut up" he rasps and Wade almost, almost, hears approval.

There's a low moan reverberating across the broken car. Late night sleepy mumble that's half 'I love you' and half 'I need you'. Neither one has heard it in such a long time.

"Finally awake sleeping beauty? Kinda surprised you could sleep through all of that" Wade shimmies to the back, only to be greeted by your foot smashing into his face, cracking his nose open, and sending a fresh wave of blood into his mouth. He pins your knee to the seat and wiggles himself between you. caging you with his elbows as he stares down at your pretty face. "Miss me, angel baby?"

"Wrong fairy tale" Logan turns around in his seat, claws out running them across your cheek "Please stop, just let me go" you've never begged before, never fallen so low. But these two things, mutants, mutates, or whatever they are, scare you. Reckless, suicidal, dangerous. You feel so helpless in their presence. Never knowing you're to be kissed or killed.

"You're as lovely as I remember" The melancholy colors him in a monochrome of sympathy. Here is a man who's gone through every horror and still gets out of bed. Or maybe he has to, maybe he can't quite die and can't quite reach heaven. So he gulps down his immortality with black coffee to at least pretend he's being buried six feet deep. "Even after all this time I still love you" You almost melt in his brown eyes. So lonely, so desperate.

Kill or kiss

You want him to do both. Want to kiss extinction on his lips while being impaled by the claws. Kill or kiss.

Both, both, both.

"You know~" Wade pushes himself up, "I think your dress should be red...and black. To match your favorite man."

"Who the hell said you were the favorite?" Wade leans forward, in a blink he's gripped Logan's wrist and lunged the Wolvarine's claws into your abdomen.

You writhe, the bones and metal feel almost heavenly inside of you. When he retracts the claws you moan out, it's too saccharine to hold back. Everything feels so much lighter, colorful. You feel your essence slipping out, gushing over the back seat.

Red waterfall, so pretty.

Dress stained red.

"Told ya so!"

Wade pulls you roughly by the shoulders and smashes his lips against yours. He's so cute, fickle Cheshire cat, tongue dancing across your mouth, slitting itself on your peaked teeth, and filling your mouth with thick red caterpillar smoke. "What the hell is wrong with you? You really are God's perfect idiot" Logan's anger is tangible, sweet, and bitter like hatter tea at midnight.

"S'okay Logan, it feels nice" Your words slur, slipping gauche from your tongue as you giggle profusely. You feel like Alice cracking open Wonderland's ribs, crawling inside, and smearing the wonder across your face.

"When I used to read fairy tales, I fancied that kind of thing never happened, and now here I am in the middle of one" You've heard these words before, Alice's words. she's right. Your fairy tale is painted red with pretty, crazy, princes who think that slicing open a princess is easier than kissing her. You reach out for Logan, desperate for a kiss. "eat me" you mutter, and Logan's face morphs into pure terror "Wade what the hell have you done to her?".

"What? It's better this way trust me"

"I hate you"

Logan bends, meeting you halfway. He kisses you with all the wary of a dead man walking. All teeth and heart and bitter memories left to rot three lifetimes ago. He pushes himself between your bones, trying to carve out his ethos in your body. He'd burn the world so long as he gets to keep you.

You squeeze your thighs around Wade's muscular thighs and hips unlocking a gibby giggle from the man. His mask is half pulled up as he trails sloppy fervorous kisses across your neck and chest. The nostalgia slithering under your skin has you squirming, you've been through this all before. In a past life somewhere where storm monsters and voids don't exist. "Remember how good this feels?" Wade mumbles as his fingers dig into your puncture wounds, drawing slow, desperate moans from your puffy lips. You don't dare answer you don't know what would be worst admitting to liking the loudmouth ministrations or admitting there were other versions of you out there, other happy versions.

"Oh for hell's sake," Logan reclines the front seat and shuffles closer. Pulling down the back of your dress. His kisses are bite marks in disguise rabid and feral, the two things the man will never escape. His name rolls across your tongue, you let it slip in an airy moan. "No fair " Wade complains "I want you to say my name too." He pulls out his baby knife and etches the skin of your thighs. Scribbling doodles of stars and half hearts and the little symbol he wears on his belt. "W-wade" you gasp never knowing whether to scream in pain or giggle in bliss.

Logan laughs into your neck. You didn't even know he was capable of such a gentle thing. You bite his lip playfully. Dragging your fingers across his muscular arms. Your thumb pushes into the space between his knuckles asking for the claws. For the most macabre parts of him. You glide your tongue across the parish where flesh meets metal. Kissing the metal and bones and lapping at the blood. Watch curiously as he draws out a long airy sigh. "Good girl" he mumbles voice marred with ecstasy and you almost see the ghost of a smile smear across his pretty lips.

Wade's thumb gently rubs against your hips. Softly usering you into peace, tranquility. Your eyes get heavy, the car gets blurry. The grotesque realignment of their bones steering you into a deep, content sleep.

"Hey Peanut, you think Alice in Wonderland here would mind if we keep going? "  

"Shut it, moron "

"Oh, how I wish I could shut up like a telescope! I think I could, if only I knew how to begin.”

🎀Bonus

Deadpool: "Do you think the author's going to write about us again? Or is she planning to finally write that Dune fic she keeps talking about?

Wolverine: "I have no fucking idea what the hell you're even talking about.

🪐@yandere-romanticaa @bad4amficideas @sugarplumz100 @oscarissac2099 @facelessfionna @siphite @tocotuesday69 @linoleunm @mei-simp @shamelessdarkprince @gabriqllas @lovely-liliacs @shiroi-asashin17 @failinguniversity

[l0sercat]

Yandere alphabet with/ Logan Howlett

A/n: Obviously this deals with yandere stuff which is dark, but only is r*pe mentioned in the letter H so just skip that if it makes you uncomfy. MDNI for my safety and yours.

Affection — how do they show their love and affection?

Pet names/Nicknames and light kisses and touches. He wants to respect your boundaries, but he just needs to touch you. Don't worry though that's about how far as it goes unless you want him to go further!

Blood — how messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling?

He will kill everyone in his way and everyone who wants to hurt you. You will always be safe with him, no one is spared <3

Cruelty — how would they treat their darling once abducted?

Your treated really nice sure your locked up in a cabin miles away from life. But hey it could be worse and at least it's cozy. You get to keep your clothes and the shackle on your ankle is long enough so you can go anywhere in the house. It also is padded so it doesn't bruise you! Logan may not be a good cook, but his eggs and toast are decent! He will always make sure your fed properly<3

Darling — aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling’s will?

Calling them names reserved for lovers, touching them briefly and kisses. A light touch on the hips or back and a quick peck on the forehead or lips. Nothing extreme because he knows anything else is to far.

Exposed — how vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling?

He may be softer with you but he still doesn't let all his walls down. He smiles more but he is self aware that you don't want this and don't love him for real which hurts. But when is very sleepy or drunk he is really open and vulnerable.

Fight — how would they feel if their darling fought back?

He doesn't enjoy it at all and he just shakes his head. It's pointless he doesn't know why you do it. You harm yourself more than harming him.

Game — is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape?

It's not a game and it freaks him out when he sees you've tried to escape. He finds you quickly and his heart aches when he has you caged in his arms kicking and screaming for help and for him to let you go.

Hell — what would be their darling’s worst experience with them?

You scream insults at him and bring up all his faults. You mock him and bring up the fact how he was to scared of rejection he had to kidnap you to secure you. He doesn't take to kindly to that and slaps you hard and pins you to the bed and.... Yeah that was the first and last time he took advantage of you. He still feels bad about it and he hates how you barely talk back to him. You just give into him, but at least your more compliant to his touches.

Ideals — what kind of future do they have in mind for their darling?

Where your just the sweetest thing that is loyal to him the way he is loyal to you. Your always hugging him or at least have a hand on him. You cook the meals while he goes to his job. He just wants a simple life with you <3

Jealousy — do they get jealous? How do they handle it?

If he does get jealous he'll just kill the person or beat them up badly. They're talking about you inappropriately well expect them to be found in the alley torn to shreds.

Kisses — how do they act around or with their darling?

He is sweet and treats you with care. He may put up a persona with other people but with you he is his real self to an extent.

Love letters — how would they go about approaching their darling?

He tries to run into you normally, but he intimidated you so brushed by him. He tries to stop but you but the words get stuck in his throat and decides he'll just take you because this was too difficult lol.

Mask — are their true colors drastically different from the way they act around everyone else?

Duhhhh he is a stone to other people and comes off standoffish. But with you he is so caring and is always calling you pet names hoping you'll call him one back.

Naughty — how would they punish their darling?

Slaps here and there wether on your face or ass, you can choose. Deprive you of your senses is reserved for when you do something terrible. He will never do anything that will leave lasting marks.

Oppression — how many rights would they take away from their darling?

Just a few. Your freedom is one, only he gets to decide where and when you go places. He will bathe you from time to time.

Patience — how patient are they with their darling?

His patience is stretched thin but he tries to keep it composed. If he can't hold it together don't blame him please he has a bit of a anger problem :(<3

Quite — if their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on?

If darling dies he is distraught and no longer himself. He drinks 24/7 and prays for death so he could see you again. He doesn't stop blaming himself. If darling leaves he is tracking you down. He is finding you in less than 48hours thanks to his good sense of smell and hearing.

Regret — would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling?

Yes he'll occasionally reflect on it and it stings, but he tries not to dwell on it. Because I'm the end you ended up with him and who could ask for more!

Stigma — what brought about this side of them (childhood, curiosity, etc)?

Probably his past, he lost one partner he doesn't want to lose another. So when someone catches his eye he just needs to make sure they are safe and what's safer than at his little cabin.

Tears — how do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves?

He doesn't like them screaming it loud and annoying and crying he enjoys (he finds it hot) Your not able to isolate your self but if you try he'll just laugh at your attempt tell you stop the nonsense. If you don't he'll leave you alone for a day to cool off.

Unique — would they do anything different from the classic yandere?

He wouldn't hurt your family and friends. He may threaten them to silence you, but he would never hurt them. He knows how it feels to lose people that are close. He doesn't want you to go through that. He will occasionally let you visit them, but if he thinks anything fishy is going on he is running outta there with you being held bridal style.

Vice — what weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape?

How he can be a softy for you and only you. If you play your cards right you may be able to have him let you hang out with your friends and hope they'll be able to help you escape.

Wit’s end — would they ever hurt their darling?

Maybe a slap and a little slice from his claws, but nothing permanent and too painful. He loves you even though you act out from time to time.

Xoanon — how much would they revere or worship their darling?

He doesn't worship you, but he would go to hell and back for you. He would burn the world down for you. He priorities your safety above all else.

Yearn — how long do they pine after their darling before they snap?

I give it two weeks or a month, but no longer than five months. He's never been a patient man. He can't help it! He just wants you safe in his arms!<3

Zenith — would they ever break their darling?

I don't see him breaking them, but in the multiverse there may be a broken darling. But only because he was too rough with them and kept them chained in a basement. Poor baby is scared and traumatized that you may leave him or you accidentally get hurt and die. :'( <3 If darling does break he will be hurt and try to help them and if letting them go means helping them he will let them go. Hopes they get better over time(he is always watching) and when they do get better he is taking them back.

[tomhockstetter7-111]

I never got the Wolverine thing honestly but seeing him charge at Wade in the new Deadpool movie woke something primal in me

Like imagine with me for a second……any scenario I’m not picky

[imjustdelusionalok]

yandere dc: cam girl! reader

˖𓍢ִִ໋𓇼think about it though, a darling who does r18 stuff on the internet either because they're bored or they just want money.

˖𓍢ִִ໋𓇼knowing how many perverts are on the internet, our witty girl uses that to her advantage! (especially knowing that she has a few stalkers that clearly doesnt need ALL of that money in her eyes...)

˖𓍢ִִ໋𓇼one word about this falls from your nonchalant lips as you tell this to your friends, and their mouths are agape and so are the weirdly familiar people at the back who are deeply concerned dressed up so much for some reason! :D

˖𓍢ִִ໋𓇼and of course it continues with you pulling out a box of newly bought 'equipment' with a brand new camera for that HD quality goodness, and you grin fiendishly as a result. your friends warn you and call you dumb as sh*t for doing what your about to do but that's okay in your eyes.

"relax girls <3"

"tf? how we supposed to relax if you're gonna be showing your ass off on the internet?--"

"but seriously (Name), we're worried. what if there's a creep out there and their really--'

"chill you two, that's too wild, i know how to handle myself >:3"

˖𓍢ִִ໋𓇼they DON'T... trust your judgement. but they'll keep an eye on you just in case since besties look out for each other forever <3

˖𓍢ִִ໋𓇼a month has passed and woah... being an 'artist' of sorts is quite the hardwork. your 'viewers' are demanding, but so are those cash donations that keep flooding in your comments section. so you keep on spreading those thighs of yours to them, alright? <3

˖°𓇼𓂃 𓈒𓏸

'$100 from Jay_B1RD'

'$100 from DAM1_W'

'$100 from C.K3NT'

'$100 from W4llYW3sT'

'$100 from AR$3N4L'

'$10 from 1MPulS3'

'1MPulS3: sorry thats all i got-- 😭'

'In3rt1@: you're pathetic, Allen.'

'$100 from In3rt1@'

'$100 from BlUB33Tl3'

'BlUB33Tl3: aint no way we got bart's evil twin donating money on a porn site before gta6-- 💀💀'

'$100 from DA_BEAST'

'DA_BEAST: stfu jaime your one to talk 😭'

'$100 from DrizzyDrake'

'$1000 from GR4YS0N_68'

'GR4YS0N_68: Put on the bunny ears and smile for me sweetie <33'

you nod dazedly at the camera, and wore the floppy little bunny ears while finishing it off with a lopsided smile.

'$10000 from GR4YS0N_68'

'C.K3NT: enough about him ill give you 10000 dollars if you show me your tits 😈'

you rub the tips of your index and thumb together.

'C.K3NT: correction, 100000 dollars <3'

you smile to that, and your lacy top accidentally drops as if on cue.

at this point your comment section is struck with ridiculous amounts of unending money donations, while perverse comments continue to rile up and try to out do the other in terms of lewdity and vulgarity.

you sighed, simply content and happy with the everyday good pay... but then you gasp.

'TM_G!nn!S has entered the chat.'

'$1000 from TM_G!nn!S'

'TM_G!nn!S: sorry baby, but this is all i have for now. ill give you your $100000 dollars tom, kay?'

you heart reacted his comment.

'TM_G!nn!S: and to everyone here whose names are Jason, Tim, Damian, and Dick, dad wants you off the website.'

'DrizzyDrake: ...you did not just snitch on us--'

'TM_G!nn!S: i think i just did :3'

'Jay_B1RD: 💔'

'GR4YS0N_68: ...'

'DAM1_W: trip on a rock, mcginnis.'

'TM_G!nn!S: <3'

˖°𓇼𓂃 𓈒𓏸

(i couldnt help but add terry since hes also a batboy and we need more batmen in the chaosss 😩)

(and also btw, should i also add klarion the witch boy? i think im liking him already after watching young justice 🫣..)

[raventhebard]

Everyone come on, we need more protective and possessive/yandere Wade Wilson fanfics in the Poolverine

I've read so many fics where Logan sees Wade hurt and starts stabbing people or someone gets a little too close to Wade and he goes feral, but what about Wade?

What about the X Men wanting Logan back and Wade threatening to kill them all? What about Wade snapping and doing his best to keep his Wolverine safe?

I just want Wade to be a little more unhinged here and to be super protective because I want his Logan to be taken care of, Logan has been the protector for so long, he doesn't have everyone bending over backwards to make him feel safe when he's forkhands mchealing factor.

Logan realizing he actually likes being taken care of and not having to constantly look out for himself.

Wade wrapping himself around Logan(comic accurate height because I think him and Wade are cute) and whispering sweet things into his ear.

[honey-minded-hivemind]

OH MY GOD imagine platonic yandere adults, find out that the reader is their biological child somehow. Maybe from one of the scientists while doing some test and yans find out they need all of there reactions, especally if Wanda and peitro find out they have another sibling.

Ooooooh, yes! Yeah, that WOULD make things different. Because now the adult/s in question feel more attached (or entitled) to Reader, especially if they were someone who turned out very different from them (as in, saner and maybe a bit nicer)...

If it was Magneto who was Reader's biological parent, surprise, he's now doubling his efforts to free himself, his kids, Charles, and the rest of them out. And those who harmed his kids? They'll be dead when he's done with them. Of course, he is going to try and get closer to Reader, attempt to tell them what he now knows. Hopefully they believe him...

If Charles Xavier is Reader's biological parent, oh, what's this? A few guards mysteriously ended up in a coma? Oh, some head scientist who saw him went insane? That's nothing to worry about, but let's talk, try to calm down, and enjoy a bit of peace, shall we? Yeah, Xavier is ready to keep Reader safe, be it by incapacitating their abusers or simply helping calm his kid down. He wants to badly tell them their relation, but he's aware that it might not be a good time. But on the other hand, he doesn't know how long any of them have...

If Logan is Reader's biological parent, he's scared. He doesn't want them to get hurt, and he doesn't want them to be used as a weapon. He also doesn't want to hurt them. But he also wants to be close to them, wants to protect them. He's worried even more, because they could get hurt just for being related to him. He feels like he can be a bit more feral around them if he's their parent, because it's just as likely they're feral, too, and neither one of them would hurt the other when they're like that, would they? He'll be by their side as long as he can, and he'll try his best to keep them safe. He just hopes Reader survives long enough so they can escape...

If Victor was Reader's biological parent, he's ready to break out even sooner. He has a cub? And they're hurt? And they're sweet? And they're his blood? Ooooooooh, he's going to be goring those lab rats when he's free. He can share his kid with Jimmy, Logan, his runt, but the others? ... He'll think about it. He gets more possessive of them, more protective. If Reader is his by blood, then he feels he should have a say in how they handle them... And he won't hurt them, he'll try not to, but they shouldn't run if he goes to collect them. They don't need to be scared of their papa, right? He's keeping them safe, getting rid of their enemies and freeing their friends and uncle...

If Ororo was Reader's biological parent, she'd be very loving and motherly towards them. She'd happily accept them, and she'd be happy to take care of them. She's sorry they're in this situation, and wishes they could have found this all out some other way, but she hopes that they can move past their trauma and heal together, along with Evan and their friends. She will be electrocuting anyone who lays hands on them, and will be keeping Reader close once they've all escaped. She just has to break the news to them first, that they are related... Hopefully it won't make things worse, finding out about all of this...

Mystique would feel happy about it. One of her kids actually likes her? And this child is friends were her other two children? It's perfect! Perhaps she can finally reconnect with them, the way she's wanted to for a long time. She however hates that they're all stuck in this death trap of a place. She'll get rid of the ones who did this to them, and then they can all go home. She has to do this. If not, she could very well lose them all before they've got the chance to leave. She just hopes she can tell Reader about this newfound information next time she sees them...

Hank would enjoy knowing this, while also being bewildered. He, has a child? Him? When did this happen? And with who? Where? Why? It doesn't matter, he supposes. It just matters that he tells them, eventually. And that they survive, and get out. He knows his team, his family, will accept Reader, they already do, so knowing Reader is his kid will only make him more able to have a claim over them, to truly parent them. He already has ideas, and he's so ready to be done with this awful place. All they have to do is make it awhile longer, and it will only be a bad memory...

(I'd gladly discuss each possible parent option further, but I myself like any of the feral guys as possible parents for Reader. What can I say? They're my comfort characters! But I would find it fun if Reader were someone's hidden kid/clone... What do y'all have in mind over this?)