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d1stalker · 6 months ago

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All of You, All of Me [Logan Howlett]

Summary: In a world of black and white, the only person who could bring colour to your life is the last one who'd want to.

Warnings: au where everything is black and white until you meet your soulmate, fem!reader, slow burn, angst, running away from feelings, pining, grovelinggg WC: 14.2k - MASTERLIST - A/N: help i'm sorry i didn't mean for it to get this long, but this fic is my baby

----

You've always cherished the idea of having a soulmate—someone who would love you unconditionally, waiting just for you as you them. The thought of finding that perfect match, the one who complements you in every way, is something you’ve always dreamed of.

But as you get older, the hope you carry seems to dwindle more and more each year. Everyone around you has found their other half, reveling in the newfound ability to see colours in all their glory, and soaking up every moment of shared affection.

Everyone, except for you.

Your world remains a stark, colourless void, as if the universe is deliberately withholding the one thing you desire most.

And to make matters worse, despite not finding your soulmate, you are unequivocally, irrevocably in love with someone who has.

Logan Howlett.

You can’t remember a time where you didn’t feel anything toward him. His rugged, lone-wolf demeanor snuck its way deep into the crevices of your heart, and made itself a home there.

You and him formed an unlikely friendship, formed through the desire to fight back against all the people who’ve wronged mutants. Over the years, you had accepted the fact that while he wasn’t yours, at least you were alone together. Well, until she came.

Jean Grey.

She was strong, charming, and everything you felt you weren’t. It was no wonder her and Logan were meant to be together—the stoic, brooding mutant and his graceful, strong-willed counterpart.

You remember the day it happened so vividly, it’s almost like you were the one who found their life partner. You and him had been walking around the mansion, when Charles had called you into his office to meet someone new. One look at their faces when they made eye contact and you knew you’d lost him.

It pained you to see them all over each other, all the time. Your once-regular walks in the garden became rare, then vanished entirely. On missions, he no longer looked out for you; his attention was consumed by protecting her. And as much as it hurt, you couldn’t deny they seemed perfect for each other—just as soulmates should be. You had no right to feel jealous.

Then, just as quickly as she had entered his life, she left it.

The Pheonix was too strong, ripping her apart from the inside out. The pained scream he let out as not only his heart died, but as the world around him faded back into black and white, was forever ingrained into your memory.

Logan was never the same after that.

—

You trudge down the familiar halls of the mansion, your feet heavy with the weight of the day. It’s been long, filled with training sessions, team meetings, and a lot of paperwork. All you want to do is retreat to your room, lose yourself in a book, or maybe just sleep until the ache in your chest dulls.

As you walk, you hear faint commotion down the hallway—a low murmur of voices and the occasional clatter of something being moved. But you pay it no mind, too lost in your thoughts to care. Another mission, another discussion, another moment where you aren’t needed. It’s all so routine now.

Lost in your reverie, you don’t notice the figure walking toward you until it’s too late. You collide with a solid chest, the impact jolting you back to reality.

“Oh, sorry—” you begin, stepping back, but the words die on your lips as you look up.

It’s Logan.

Your breath catches in your throat as you stare at him, shock rippling through your body as you process his presence. And for a moment, neither of you speak. You just stand there, taking him in—the man who was once your closest friend, the man who was torn apart by grief and loss. His clothes are rumpled, his skin rougher than you remember, like he’s been through hell and back.

You hadn’t seem him in a long time. After the devastation, he stopped talking to everyone. He holed himself up in his room for days at a time, only coming out in the dead of night to eat. Either that, or he was away on a mission–anything to stay distracted.

But now, looking at him, there’s something different off. Something you can’t quite place your finger on. Did he always look like that? Maybe it’s the way the light above is reflecting off of him. Or maybe it’s—oh.

Looking around in surprise, you watch as the usually dark, stoic walls explode into a deep, rich shade. The carpet below you—no longer a mural of grey—radiates colors you can’t name. Your hands, his eyes, his hair-

You want to open your mouth and say something, anything, to the man who has caused your world to shift on its axis, but he’s already turned, walking away from you.

“Give me a fuckin’ break.”

----

Brown. Logan’s hair is brown.

After Logan leaves you paralyzed in the hallway, you run to your room, find the book on colors you had stashed in your bedside table, and throw open the cover. In it is a diagram that displays every known colour and their names. You learn that your favorite pair of pants are maroon, your bedsheets are navy green, and the X-Men suits are bright yellow and blue.

You stare at the page, each word blurring as your mind tries to process the impossible. Logan’s hair is brown. The thought keeps repeating in your head like a mantra, over and over again, until it becomes a steady thrum, drowning out everything else.

Brown.

You sit back on your bed, letting the book slip from your hands, the pages crumpling as it hits the floor.

Why him? Why me? Why now?

You begin to fidget, the adrenaline of the prior moment causing your heart to flail in your chest like crazy. You can’t stay here, you think to yourself. The idea of locked in your room with only your thoughts for company does not sound appealing. You need air, something to ground you, something to clear the haze clouding your head. Without thinking, you jump out of bed and find yourself heading up to the roof, the one place where you can breathe without feeling like the walls of the mansion closing in on you.

The trip up the stairs feels longer than ever before, each step heavy under the weight of your mind. It’s like every thought adds ten pounds. When you open the door, the cool night air hits you like a welcomed slap to the face, and you exhale deeply.

Walking to the edge, you lean against the railing. You’re in a daze - wondering if you made up the entire thing in your head. The only proof that you haven't, and that Logan being your soulmate is real, is the colours that coat the mansion’s grounds. The moonlight bathes everything in what you now know as a soft, silver glow, and for a moment, you just stand there, looking out into the distance.

It doesn’t make sense, and the more you try to wrap your head around it, the more tangled your thoughts become. You don’t want to face the possibility of what it could mean, but you can’t just brush it aside either. It has quite literally changed your entire life.

You close your eyes, taking a deep breath in an attempt to quiet your racing mind. But when you open them again, you freeze.

Logan is standing at the other end of the roof, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, his gaze fixed on the sky. He hasn’t noticed you yet, and for a split second, you consider turning back, retreating before he sees you. It would be a wise idea - he didn’t want to talk to you then, and he probably doesn’t want to talk to you now. But, it an act that can only be seen as your own body betraying you, you take a step forward.

The sudden movement catches his attention, and his head snaps in your direction, his eyes locking onto yours.

“Why are you here?” he asks accusingly.

You hesitate, unsure of how to answer. Seeing him out here was the last thing you had expected, and now that he’s in front of you, you are at a loss of words.

Logan’s eyes narrow, and he pushes off the wall, walking toward you. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“I needed air,” you manage to say, swallowing the lump in your throat. “I just needed to clear my head.”

“Well, find somewhere else to do it,” he snaps, “I don’t want company.”

“Logan, I—”

“Don’t,” he interrupts, not even bothering to hear you out. “Don’t start. I know what you’re gonna say, and I don’t want to hear it.”

You blink, taken aback, and hurt at his coldness. “What are you talking about?”

He lets out a low, humourless laugh, running a hand through his hair. “You think I don’t know what’s going on? God, I… this is all so fucking stupid.”

Your heart skips a beat, and you feel a flush of embarrassment rise to your cheeks. “I wasn’t—”

“Enough!” he barks, his voice echoing in the night. “I’m not interested, alright? Whatever it is you think is happening between us, it’s not real. It’s just some stupid trick of the universe, and I’m not playing along.”

His words hit you like a physical blow - like you’ve just been shot at right in the heart - and you have to bite your lip to keep from crying out. “I don’t understand. I didn’t mean for any of this—”

“Yeah, well, neither did I,” he snaps at you, “And I’m not gonna sit here and pretend like there’s something here,” he gestures between you two, “when there isn’t. You’re not mine, and I’m sure as hell not yours.”

The finality in his tone leaves you breathless, and for a moment, all you can do is stare at him. You have nothing to say back, he’s not giving you any slack. The reality of his rejection sinks in with a brutal, crushing weight, you have to put in effort to not stumble over.

After a long moment, you finally collect yourself. Then, “Okay,” you whisper. “I understand.”

Logan’s expression doesn’t soften; if anything, it grows colder, more distant.

“Good. Then stay away from me.”

You nod, eyes filling with tears. You quickly turn your face away, not wanting him to see just how much he’s hurt you.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur, barely audible. “I didn’t mean to make things worse for you.”

He doesn’t respond, doesn’t even acknowledge your apology. He just turns away, his back to you, effectively shutting you out.

You stand there for a long moment, watching him walk away for the second time that night. The colours that seemed so vibrant, so full of life just a moment ago, now feel like a cruel reminder of everything you could never have.

—

When you eventually return to your room, all you can do is lay in bed and stare up at the ceiling as your encounter with Logan on the roof replays in your mind on an endless loop, each harsh word he’d thrown at you cutting deeper than the last. It’s causes pain unlike anything you’ve ever felt before, pain that seems to have no end, no respite.

If he doesn’t want you in his life, you’ll accept that. You have to - it’s not like you have a choice. Soulmates are a two-way street.

You can’t force him to feel something he doesn’t, can’t make him see you in a way he clearly never will. And you understand, don’t you? You can’t even imagine how difficult this would be for him. Losing your soulmate, and then the universe saying Fuck You and giving you another?

You’ll never ever forget how wrecked he was when Jean died. How her death shattered him into pieces so small you weren’t–no–you’re still not sure he’ll ever be whole again.

And you—where do you stand in the grand scheme of things? Just as the unfortunate recipient of a bond that neither of you asked for? Are you even allowed to be upset about this?

—

Waking up the next morning, you honestly wish you hadn’t. You knew you weren’t on good terms with Logan after his little rooftop showcase of emotions, but nothing could have prepared you for the way he starts to treat you.

His face is stuck in a perpetual scowl when you’re in his vicinity. He’s leaving every room the moment you enter, refusing to look at you, speak to you, or acknowledge your presence in any way. It’s as if you’ve become invisible, a ghost haunting the same halls you once shared with him. There’s only one thing you two seem to wordlessly agree on: don’t tell anyone.

Each day following becomes a struggle, an unbearable test of your strength as you try to make it through without breaking. You begin to avoid Logan as much as he avoids you, but the mansion is only so big, and there are always moments when you catch sight of him in the distance, his broad shoulders hunched, his brooding face glaring daggers in your direction.

It hurts you every time, an unending torture that leaves you stumbling. Still, you bite your tongue and keep moving, pretending you don’t care.

But you do care. You care more than you want to admit, more than you think is possible. Because despite everything—despite the rejection, the coldness, the anger—you still love him.

And that’s the cruelest twist of all.

So you endure it, day after day, week after week, month after month. Letting it tear you apart piece by piece, because what else can you do? You carry this burden alone, just as you’ve carried your feelings for him all these years. And maybe one day, the pain will fade, the bond will weaken, and you’ll be able to move on.

—

The only person you tell is Charles.

“What’s on your mind, my child?” he asks one day, while you’re sweeping the dust in his office.

You hesitate, your gaze dropping to your hands as you focus on cleaning. You know he’s just asking out of courtesy, and that he could easily crawl into your mind and figure it out himself. He probably wouldn’t even need to put in that much effort, given how loud your thoughts are. But still, you don’t yield to his probing.

“Nothing, really,” you mutter, forcing a small smile that doesn’t reach your eyes. “Just… tired, I guess.”

Charles watches you carefully, his eyes full of the warmth and compassion he always has, but this time, it makes you feel uncomfortable. Like he can see right through the facade you’re trying so hard to maintain, which you have no doubt, he does.

“I’m here to help, whatever the burden.”

You want to groan. It’s not like he’s doing it on purpose but damn does it feel like he’s trying to guilt you into confessing that you just recently had your heart shattered.

“I know, Professor. But… it’s nothing you need to worry about.”

“You forget, I worry about all of you,” he replies gently. “It’s in my nature.”

The chuckle that crawls out your throat is nothing short of bitter. “It’s just… complicated.”

“Complicated doesn’t mean you have to face it alone.”

You bite your lip, trying to keep the emotions at bay. Do you really want to explain to him the insurmountable suffering you’re in, the rejection you faced from the one person who is supposed to be your soulmate? How can you tell him that the bond the universe forged is the very thing tearing you apart?

“It’s just… I don’t know how to make sense of it, Professor,” you finally admit, your voice barely above a whisper. “Everything’s so… wrong.”

He leans forward slightly, his gaze never leaving yours. “Wrong how?”

Knowing that you’re teetering into confession territory, you hesitate, needing time to collect your thoughts.

“Logan… he… we… It’s not supposed to be like this, is it?” you eventually get out. Not your best work, but you know he’d get the gist.

Understanding dawns in Charles’s eyes, and you can see the sympathy there, the quiet acceptance of the truth you’re struggling to voice. “The bond you share… it’s more than you expected, isn’t it?”

You nod, feeling the tears well up again. “But he doesn’t want it. He doesn’t want me.”

The professor sighs softly, and he looks at you like you’re a lost puppy. “Logan has been through so much, more than most could bear. His heart has been wounded in ways that are difficult to heal, and it’s not surprising that he would resist this new connection.”

“So why me?” you ask. “Why bind me to someone who will never love me?”

Leaning back in his chair, his fingers steepled thoughtfully, he says, “I wish I had an answer for you, my dear. The universe works in mysterious ways, ways that often defy our understanding. But I do know this: the bond you share is there for a reason. Whether it’s meant to bring you closer or to teach you something important… that remains to be seen.”

“It feels like a punishment,” you whisper, the tears finally spilling over. As much as you hate being put on the hot seat, you can admit that it feels good talking to someone about it. “Every day, it hurts more. And he won’t even look at me. I don’t know how to make it stop.”

“The heartache you’re feeling is profound, but you must understand that it’s not your fault. Logan’s reaction isn’t a reflection of your worth, but of his own pain and fear.”

He reaches out, placing a comforting hand on your own before continuing.

“To love, even when it’s not returned, takes incredible courage. But you must also take care of yourself. Give Logan the space he needs, and in the meantime, allow yourself the grace to heal.”

So you do. In the days that follow your conversation with Charles, you make a promise to yourself—to try, really try, to focus on your own life, to reclaim the parts of yourself that have been overshadowed by the pain of this unrequited love.

The colours are still there, vivid and vibrant, and though they sometimes feel like a bittersweet reminder of what could never be, you find moments where they bring you joy. You marvel at the deep blue of the sky, the rich greens of the trees, the way the sunlight filters through the leaves and paints the world in golden hues. It’s like seeing the world anew, and in those moments, you allow yourself to feel happiness.

Moreover, you busy yourself, volunteering for every assignment that comes your way. The adrenaline, the focus, the purpose—they all help to drown out the pain, even if only temporarily. And when you return from each mission, tired but satisfied, you feel a little more like yourself again.

The mansion, too, becomes less of a prison and more of a home once more. You start spending more time with the others, rejoining them for meals, for training sessions, for movie nights.

You laugh with Rogue, spar with Scott, and even find yourself engaging in playful banter with Remy. It’s not perfect, and there are still moments where you catch yourself faltering, when the weight of everything threatens to pull you under, but those moments are becoming fewer and farther between.

You’re healing, slowly but surely, and with each passing day, you feel a little stronger, a little more in control of your life—of your emotions.

But then there are the times when you cross paths with Logan, and those moments are the hardest.

One evening, after returning from a particularly grueling mission, you find yourself heading toward the kitchen, your mind on the sandwich you plan to make. The place is quiet, most of the team out on various assignments, or finishing up on some work, and you relish the peace as you walk down the corridor.

However, just as you reach the kitchen door and push it open, you find Logan standing there, preparing to exit the room at the exact same moment. Your heart lurches, and you stop dead in your tracks, almost like a deer caught in headlights.

His gaze meets yours, and all you can see is his impassive, stoic expression. He steps back, giving you space to enter, but the tension between you is palpable.

“Sorry,” you mumble, stepping to the side, trying to make yourself as small as possible.

Logan doesn’t say anything, barely nodding—if you could even it that— before brushing past you, his shoulder grazing yours. The brief contact sends a jolt through your system, and you have to force yourself to stay still and not physically react.

Once he leaves, you let out a shaky breath, your heart still racing from the encounter. It’s been so long since you’ve been this close to him—so long since you’ve seen the deep brown of his hair that you love so much. You hate this.

Why does he have no reaction to at all? Why is it only you who seems to care?

Because you are the only one who does care.

You move into the kitchen, still intent on eating, but it’s a challenge. Your hands are trembling.

—

It all comes to a head one night during dinner. In this rare occasion, both you and Logan are in the same room. You’re supposed to be celebrating Rogue and Gambit’s anniversary, and even though you insisted that they share this special moment together alone, they didn’t take no for an answer.

That’s how you find yourself, sitting at the grand dining table with all your friends, and Logan.

He’s across from you. Just your luck.

He refuses to spare you a single glance, his eyes staying busy the whole night. And while it’s been months and months of this, you have never gotten used to it. Still, you can’t help but sneak a few looks at that chocolate-coloured hair. Brown.

Everything seems to be going smoothly, the food is delicious and the dessert even better, but when Gambit presents Rogue with a giant painting, that’s when you slip up.

“I love how you blended the red with the blue!” You compliment, loving the way he managed to create the perfect contrast between shades. You’re too caught up in staring at the artwork to realize the table as gone deathly quiet, all eyes on you.

Rogue's expression is one of gentle confusion, her head tilted slightly as she tries to make sense of your words. “Darling, I thought you couldn’t see colour?”

In any other situation, you’re sure the team would have laughed at how comically large your eyes got, and how all the blood draining from your face makes you look like a gaping fish, but in this moment, nothing is funny. You can feel Logan’s eyes on you, and when you finally muster the courage to glance at him, you see that his all-too familiar glare you’ve been subject to for the last half-year. It makes your heart thud painfully in your chest

“I…” you begin, but you falter. Your mind is going through a thousand thoughts per minute, searching for an excuse you can use to deflect, to pretend it was just a mistake, but the silence is too heavy, too demanding.

Rogue’s confusion deepens, her gaze flickering between you and Logan, who is now staring at you with an expression that’s impossible to read. She starts to say something, but Remy gently places a hand on her arm, shaking his head slightly as if to tell her to let you speak.

Logan’s gaze stays locked on you for a moment longer. Then, without a word, he pushes his chair back, the legs scraping harshly against the floor. The sound echoes in the silence, and before you can react, he stands up and walks out of the room, his movements stiff, almost mechanical.

The door closes behind him with a quiet click, and the tension in the room thickens. You feel a rush of embarrassment flood through you, your heart sinking as the reality of what just happened crashes over you.

You lower your head, your eyes stinging with tears that you fight desperately to hold back. But it’s no use. The emotions you’ve been trying to keep buried for so long bubble to the surface, and before you can stop yourself, the tears start to fall.

“I think I need a moment,” you manage to whisper, your voice trembling as you stand up from the table. Without waiting for a response, you hastily excuse yourself and head for the door, not before mumbling a quick apology to the couple in which you were there for.

Soon you find yourself outside in the gardens, the nightly breeze hitting your face as you make your way to a secluded bench. You can’t even appreciate the beauty in what you see, because all you feel is the overwhelming sense of failure and sadness that threatens to swallow you whole.

Sitting down heavily on the bench, you bury your face in your hands and let go. The sobs come hard and fast, each one ripping through you with a force that leaves you breathless. You’re heartbroken and angry and absolutely over it, but at the same time you feel like a massive asshole because who are you to be upset with a man who’s mourning the loss of a soulmate?

It’s not fair.

You don’t know how long you sit there, lost in your grief, but eventually, you hear the sound of footsteps approaching. You look up, wiping at your eyes, and see Scott walking toward you.

“Mind if I join you?” he asks gently.

You shake your head, unable to find your voice, and Scott sits down beside you on the bench.

“I’m sorry,” you croak, “I didn’t mean to ruin the night.”

Scott clicks his tongue in disagreement, his gaze focused on the gardens ahead. “You didn’t ruin anything. It’s clear you’ve been carrying this burden for a long time. It’s no wonder it slipped out tonight.”

“So everyone knows now?” you ask. He nods.

“It wasn’t hard to put two and two together,” he concludes, and you groan, bringing your hands to your face.

“I just… I didn’t want anyone to know. I didn’t want to be pitied.”

“Pity isn’t what anyone feels right now,” Scott says softly. “We’re worried about you. You’ve been hurting, and we didn’t see it. That’s on us.”

“It’s not your fault,” you bring your hands down from your face. “I’ve been trying to deal with it on my own. I thought I could handle it, but… clearly I was wrong”

With a serious expression, Scott turns to look at you. “I know what you’re going through, more than you might realize.”

You glance at him, surprised by his words. “You do?”

He nods, a sad smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I was in love with Jean, remember? When her and Logan found out they were soulmates… it tore me apart. I didn’t think I’d ever be able to move on, and for a long time, I couldn’t.”

The mention of Jean’s name brings a fresh wave of emotion crashing over you, but there’s also a strange comfort in knowing that Scott understands your pain. “How did you… how did you get through it?”

He sighs, “It wasn’t easy. It took a long time, and I had to accept it.”

You wipe at your eyes again, sniffling as you try to compose yourself. “I’ve been thinking about leaving for a while. Taking a longer mission, just to get away for a bit. Maybe then I can figure out how to move on.”

He is quiet for a moment, considering your words. “If that’s what you need to do, I understand,” he says, “sometimes, a change of scenery can help. Though I think you should try to talk to Logan again.”

Letting out a bitter laugh, you shake your head. “I don’t know if he’ll even listen to me. He’s made it pretty clear how he feels.”

“He’s hurting too,” He decides, “He’s not handling it well, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t care. You both need closure, and running away won’t give you that.”

“What if it just makes things worse?”

“It might.” Scott places a comforting hand on your shoulder. “But it might also give you both the chance to start healing. You deserve that chance.”

You nod slowly, letting the weight of his words sink in. “I’ll… I’ll think about it.”

“Take the time you need,” he says. “We’re all here for you.”

“Thanks, Scott. That means a lot.” You offer him a small, grateful smile.

With a final nod, he turns and walks back toward the mansion, leaving you once again alone in the quiet of the gardens. You take a deep breath, the idea of leaving still tugs at you, but now, there’s also the thought of confronting Logan—of finding some kind of closure, whatever that might mean.

You really don’t want to do it, and you’re pretty sure it’s just going to end the same way it did last time - with him shutting you out. But Scott’s words echo in your mind, reminding you that healing often requires confrontation, not avoidance.

Goddamn it.

You huff as you stand up from where you’re seated. You can’t keep running from this, can’t keep letting him run from this. You need to talk to Logan, to lay everything out on the table, even if it tears you apart in the process.

Your anxiety builds with each step as you approach his room, and you pause outside his door, your heart pounding so loudly you’re sure he could hear it if he was listening. This is it. There’s no turning back now. With a shaky breath, you finally raise your hand and knock.

There’s a long, agonizing pause, making you strain to hear any movement on the other side. For a second, the silence causes you think he might not answer, that he might just ignore you like he’s done so many times before. But then, you hear the faint sound of footsteps approaching the door. Your heart catches in your throat as it slowly opens, revealing Logan standing there, his expression hard and unreadable.

The moment he realizes it’s you, his eyes darken, and he immediately moves to close the door, shutting you out yet again. However, you’re not letting him get away that easily. Before the door can fully close, you stick your foot out, blocking it with more force than you intended.

“C’mon, Logan,” you press. “You know we need to talk.”

He freezes, his grip on the door tightening until his knuckles turn white. His jaw clenches and unclenches, nostrils flaring. He still doesn’t look at you, his gaze fixed on some distant point as if he can will you away if he tries hard enough. But he doesn’t push the door shut either. The room is thick with suspense, both of you standing there in a silent standoff.

Finally, with a low growl of frustration, Logan steps back, opening the door just a smidge wider, barely enough for you to squeeze through. It’s a reluctant invitation, but it’s all you need.

“Fine,” he mutters, his voice rough, edged with irritation. “Talk.”

You step into the room, and he closes the door behind you, lingering close to it, as if he’s ready to bolt at any second. You feel vulnerable and exposed. It’s suddenly hard to gather your thoughts when he’s standing so close, when the heat of his presence and the distance he’s placed between is right in your face.

“Why did you come?” Logan questions. He still refuses to look directly at you, his gaze fixed somewhere over your shoulder.

“Because we can’t keep pretending this isn’t happening,” you reply, “We need to talk about what’s going on between us.”

His jaw tightens further, and his teeth grind with barely contained frustration. He finally looks at you, his eyes hard and defensive. “There’s nothing to say,” he says bitterly. “I told you how I feel. I thought that was enough.”

“It’s not enough!” you shoot back, your own frustration bubbling to the surface. “You think you can just push me away, pretend like this bond doesn’t exist, and that’s supposed to solve everything? It doesn’t work like that, Logan.”

He flinches slightly at your words, but his keeps his expression hard. “Well what do you want me to say?” he demands, his voice rising. “That I’m sorry? That I didn’t mean to hurt you? Because I am, and I didn’t. But that doesn’t change the fact that I can’t be what you want me to be.”

His words hurt.

“I know you told me how you feel,” you start, “but you’ve never let me tell you how I feel. You’ve never given me the chance to say that it’s been tearing me apart.”

A flash of guilt. “I didn’t think… I didn’t think you needed to say it. I already knew.”

“That isn’t fair,” you argue.

“You don’t understand,” he counters, “I lost Jean. I loved her, and when she died, it broke something in me. And now… now I’m supposed to just… move on? With you? It’s not that simple.”

“I never asked you to love me, Logan,” you say, your voice trembling with the intensity of your emotions. “I never pushed for anything more than friendship—it’s not like you gave me the chance! You’ve been shutting me out, ignoring me, making me feel like I’m nothing more than a burden, like I don’t even matter!”

You can see that the pain in your voice hitting him hard, but he doesn’t apologize. Instead, he looks away, his expression conflicted. “I’m trying to protect you,” he mutters, the words sounding hollow even to him

“Protect me?” you echo incredulously. “All you’re doing is make me feel like shit. Like I’m worthless. I can’t even be your friend, to help you through this.”

You pause. “You expect us all to know how you’re feeling, but you can’t even communicate it.”

Logan winces, his eyes flicking up to meet yours, filled with a torment you’ve never seen before. He opens his mouth to say something, but the words seem to get caught in his throat. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, he breaks the silence, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I can’t be what you want me to be,” he admits, his tone filled with a deep, aching sadness. “I don’t know how to let you in. Without her, I feel like… I can’t let anyone in.”

Your eyes soften a fraction his confession, but there’s also a deep frustration that burns inside you, a frustration born of months of pain and rejection.

“You haven’t even tried,” you say softly with a quiet resignation, “You haven’t even tried to let me in, to see what we could have been, even if it was just as friends.”

What follows is a long, nagging silence. You let it linger, giving Logan the chance he needs to think of something to say. But there’s no answer, no promise that things will change, and then you realize, with a sinking feeling, that he’s not going to take that step, too broken to try.

That’s when it really hits you.

Whatever you were fighting for, was a losing battle from the start.

You give up.

This time, it is you who turns your back on him.

“Goodbye, Logan. Take care of yourself.”

You don’t wait for a response. You don’t glance back. You walk out of the room, the door closing softly behind you, and with it, the last remnants of hope you had for something more.

—

You decide to go on the mission.

It’s nothing complicated. Your task is to survey different regions of Europe, ensuring that there are no burgeoning anti-mutant operations threatening the safety of anyone. The primary goal is gathering information, and quiet observation. No violence, Charles told you in the debrief.

The lack of immediate danger doesn’t make leaving any easier, though. This is as much about finding yourself as it is about fulfilling your duty.

Rogue and Kitty are with you during your final preparations, helping you pack the essentials and offering support in their own ways. They don’t ask many questions, probably sensing that this decision was not just made on a whim. And for that, you’re grateful.

“I still think you’re crazy for going solo,” Rogue says with a half-smile as she zips up your bag. “But if anyone can handle it, it’s you.”

You manage a small smile in return. “Thanks, Rogue. I just need some time…”

Kitty, who’s been quietly folding clothes and tucking them into your bag, looks up, seriousness clouding her gaze. “We get it. Just promise you’ll keep in touch, okay? And don’t hesitate to call if you need backup.”

“I promise,” you assure.

She hesitates for a moment before reaching into her pocket and pulling out a small device—the X-Men communicator gadget. She holds it out to you, and you reach your hand out.

“Here,” she says softly, pressing the device into your hand. “This is so you can update us on your whereabouts, your status, or any important mission details. Even if you don’t need anything, just… let us know you’re okay, alright?”

You look down at the communicator in your hand, and close your fingers around it, nodding as you meet Kitty’s gaze.

“Alright, I’ll check in regularly. I won’t leave you guys in the dark.”

Rogue finishes the last bit of organization. “You’ve got this,” she says, “And we’ve got your back, even from a distance.” You nod, appreciating their support more than you can express.

It almost feels like a walk of shame—leaving the mansion. Everyone knows why too, and that makes it a thousand times worse. But you won’t let it get to you. With one last look, you get in your car and begin on the windy path to the airport.

—

When you arrive in Europe, the first thing that strikes you is the sheer beauty of the landscape. Each city, each town, has its own unique charm, its own story to tell. The bustling uphill streets of Porto, the serene canals of Venice, the ancient ruins of Athens—they all offer a distraction from the turmoil inside you.

The only good part about this whole mess is that you can see colour, and truly appreciate the sights before you.

You move from one place to the next, blending in with the crowds, quietly observing, gathering information, and sending brief updates to the team through the communicator Kitty gave you. Every message is short, to the point, just enough to let them know you’re safe and on track. You don’t share much beyond the essentials, not wanting to burden them with your personal struggles.

Then, in a small café in Rome, you meet a man named Marco. He’s a traveler like you, exploring Europe with a curiosity that matches your own. He’s warm, easygoing, and before long, the two of you strike up a conversation over coffee.

He is charming in a way that makes you feel at ease, his laughter infectious as he shares stories of his travels. You don’t tell him much about yourself, keeping the details of your mission and your mutant abilities hidden. To him, you’re just another traveler, searching for something—though he doesn’t pry into what that something is.

As the days pass, you and Marco continue to cross paths, and it’s nice to have someone to talk to, someone who doesn’t know about your past, about the things you’re running from. With him, you can be anyone, and for the first time in a long while, you start to feel a little lighter. You find yourself laughing more, the weight on your chest lifting a little each day. You don’t talk about the mission, and you certainly don’t talk about Logan.

One evening, as you’re both sitting on the steps of the Spanish Steps in Rome, watching the sunset, he turns to you with a grin. “So, where are you off to next?”

You hesitate, not wanting to reveal too much, but then you smile. “I’m heading to Florence. There are some places I need to check out.”

His eyes light up. “Florence? I’ve been meaning to re-visit. Mind if I tag along?”

A part of you wants to say no, to keep the distance you’ve carefully maintained, but another part—the part that’s been lonely for so long—nods in agreement. “Sure, why not?”

—

Back at the mansion, things haven’t been as positive. The once lively atmosphere has dimmed, replaced by an uneasy tension that lingers in the halls. The X-Men carry on with their duties, but there’s a noticeable shift—a missing piece that everyone feels but no one talks about. Logan, in particular, has become even more withdrawn, if that’s possible. The man who was once brooding and distant now seems even more so, his mood volatile and unpredictable.

His behavior has become a source of concern for the team. He’s always been rough around the edges, but now, it’s like the slightest thing can set him off. He snaps at everyone, his temper flaring at the smallest provocation. On missions, he’s reckless, throwing himself into danger without a second thought, as if he’s trying to outrun something—or someone.

In many evenings, Logan finds himself in the mansion’s gym, trying to work off the restless energy that’s been plaguing him for months. The room is always empty, save for him, the steady rhythm of his fists pounding against the punching bag being the only sound. Sweat drips down his face, his muscles straining as he channels all his frustration and anger into each punch. Yet, no matter how hard he hits, he can’t seem to shake the thoughts of you that have been haunting him.

This night, door to the gym creaks open, and Logan doesn’t need to look up to know who it is. He can sense the other man’s presence, feel the weight of his gaze as he steps inside. He doesn’t slow his punches, doesn’t acknowledge Scott’s presence, but he knows why he’s here. They’ve had this conversation before—or something like it—but nothing’s changed. Nothing’s gotten better.

Scott watches him for a moment, his expression unreadable. He’s been watching Logan spiral for weeks now, but he’s kept his distance, knowing that he’d only be pushed away. But this can’t go on—Logan can’t keep doing this, can’t keep tearing himself apart over something he refuses to confront.

“She wouldn’t want this,” he finally says, voice cutting through the steady thud of Logan’s fists against the bag.

Logan’s movements falter for just a second before he resumes, his jaw tightening. “Who?” he growls, not bothering to turn around. “Her or Jean?”

Scott doesn’t flinch at the harshness in the other man’s tone. He steps closer, his eyes steady on their target as he answers, “Both.”

Finally, Logan stops. His fists still as he leans against the bag, his breath coming in ragged gasps. His shoulders are tense, the weight of Scott’s words pressing down on him like a physical burden. He doesn’t want to hear this, doesn’t want to be reminded of what he’s lost—of who he’s lost.

Taking a step closer, Scott’s voice is firm. “Look, I’m not a spiritual person. But I also don’t think the universe messed up with this.”

Clenching, his fists, Logan knows what the other man is getting at, but he doesn’t want to acknowledge it. Doesn’t want to think about what could have been, what he’s been too scared to even consider.

“I know you know how I felt about Jean,” Scott says quietly, knowing he’s breaching a sensitive subject. “Losing her… it killed me too. And if I had been given a chance—a real chance to be with her, to make things right—I would have taken it. No hesitation.”

Logan’s breath hitches at that. The truth is, he’s been running—running from you, from the bond you share, from the possibility of something real.

“I’m not saying you should chase after her,” he continues. “But I am saying that you need to stop running from her. The universe doesn’t just throw things like this at us for no reason. And you know that.”

The weight of Scott’s words settle over Logan like a shroud. He knows the other man is right—deep down, he’s always known. But that doesn’t make it any easier. The fear, the guilt, the pain of losing Jean—it’s all still there, gnawing at him, holding him back.

There��s something else too, something he’s been trying to ignore but can’t any longer: the way he feels about you, the way he’s always felt, even if he couldn’t admit it to himself. One of the first thought’s that ran through his head when his world re-erupted into colour was that, had this happened before Jean, maybe it could have worked. Maybe he could have been what you wanted, felt something real.

Scott takes a step back, giving Logan the space he needs. “Just think about it,” he says softly. “Think about what you really want. And don’t wait until it’s too late to figure it out.”

Logan doesn’t respond, but Scott doesn’t need him to. He’s said what he needed to say, and now it’s up to him to decide what comes next. With a final look, Scott turns and leaves the gym, the door closing softly behind him.

The clawed mutant stands there for a long time, his fists still clenched, his mind racing. He knows he can’t keep doing this—can’t keep tearing himself apart over something he can’t change, something he’s too afraid to confront.

But change is terrifying, especially when it means facing the truth. The truth that maybe, just maybe, the bond he shares with you is something worth fighting for. Something that Jean wouldn’t want him to throw away.

With a deep, shuddering breath, Logan finally lets his fists unclench, the tension in his body slowly ebbing away. He doesn’t have all the answers—hell, he barely knows where to start—but he knows one thing for sure: he's can’t run away anymore. Not from this, not from you.

—

You’ve now spent days in Florence, wandering through the Uffizi Gallery, marveling at the works of the Renaissance masters, and evenings enjoying the quiet serenity of the Arno River. With you, Marco. You’ve grown to trust him. He’s never made you uncomfortable, never had any intentions to take advantage of you, and knows all the best restaurants.

But there’s always been a small, nagging doubt that you’ve pushed aside—a feeling that something isn’t quite right. You’ve ignored it, convincing yourself that you’re just being paranoid after everything you’ve been through. After all, he has been nothing but kind, always knowing the right thing to say, always showing up just when you need someone.

It isn’t until the two of you are exploring a quieter part of Florence, that the doubt flares into something more. You’re walking through an old, narrow alleyway, the kind that tourists rarely venture into, when Marco suggests you take a shortcut through a small, unmarked door in the side of a building.

“I found this place the last time I was here,” Marco says, his smile as easy as ever. “It’s a hidden gem, leads right to a beautiful courtyard. You’ll love it.”

You hesitate, something in his tone—or maybe it’s the way his eyes gleam just a little too brightly—sets off alarm bells in your mind. You’ve come to trust him though, haven’t you? You’ve traveled together for weeks, shared countless stories and laughs. Surely, he wouldn’t lead you into danger.

Still, as you step through the door, the darkened space beyond immediately feels wrong. The air is colder, damp, and the walls are lined with strange, unidentifiable equipment. You glance back at Marco, and that’s when you see it—the change in his expression. The warmth is gone, replaced by something cold and calculating.

Before you can react, you feel a sharp prick in your arm. Your vision blurs, and your body goes numb almost instantly. You stumble back, trying to push away, but your legs give out, and you collapse to the floor.

Marco looms over you, the smile gone from his face, replaced by a look of triumph. “Did you really think I didn’t know?” he sneers, his voice dripping with disdain. “You’re a mutant, and you thought you could hide it from me?”

The world around you spins as the drug takes full effect, but you force your mind to stay focused. “What… why?” you manage to whisper, the betrayal cutting deep.

“Why?” He laughs, the sound harsh and devoid of any warmth. “Because mutants like you are worth a fortune. My clients pay top dollar for… research subjects. And you, my dear, are about to make me very, very rich.”

You try to move, to fight back, but your body refuses to respond. Panic rises in your chest as he kneels beside you, pulling out a small device that looks like a portable scanner. He runs it over you, and it emits a low hum as it registers your vital signs, confirming what he already knows. You’re weak.

“You won’t get away with this,” you say.

“Oh, but I already have,” he replies with cruel satisfaction. “No one knows where you are. And even if they did, it’ll be too late by the time they find you.”

With the last bit of strength you can muster, you reach into your pocket, fingers trembling as you fumble with the X-Men communicator that Kitty gave you. His attention is momentarily distracted as he prepares a syringe filled with a clear liquid, and you seize the opportunity. You manage to pull out the communicator, your fingers barely able to grip it. Then, with a deep breath, you press the SOS button, the screen flashing to life.

You type in the message as quickly as you can, your vision blurring even more as the drug takes hold.

Location: Florence.

Message: Help.

Just as you hit send, Marco notices what you’re doing. His eyes widen in anger, and he grabs your wrist, yanking the communicator out of your hand. “You little—!” he snarls, but it’s too late. The message has already been sent.

His face contorts in rage as he slams the gadget against the ground, smashing it to pieces. He glares down at you, his hand tightening painfully around your wrist. “You think you’re so clever, don’t you? But it doesn’t matter. They’ll never get here in time.”

Your strength is nearly gone, the drug pulling you into unconsciousness, but you manage one last defiant look. “You won’t win,” you whisper with the last of your energy.

Marco releases your wrist with a sneer, standing up and looking down at you with contempt again. “We’ll see about that,” he mutters before turning away, leaving you on the cold, hard floor as darkness overtakes you.

You can only hope they—that Logan—will reach you in time.

—

The signal comes through during a meeting. A sudden, loud beep cuts through the room, and everyone freezes, their attention immediately drawn to the source of the sound. To Kitty’s pocket. It’s the X-Men communicator, the one linked to your device.

Logan’s head snaps up, his eyes narrowing as he recognizes the tone. He’s on his feet before anyone else can react, his heart pounding in his chest. “What the hell was that?” he demands, his voice tense with urgency.

Kitty quickly pulls it out of her pocket, her eyes widening as she reads the message that’s flashed across the screen. Her face pales, and she looks up at the others, her voice trembling as she speaks. “It’s from her… Florence… Help.”

There’s a brief pause, maybe a second long in length, and then the room erupts into a flurry of movement.

Chairs scrape against the floor as the team rises to their feet, already preparing for action. But Logan is the first to react, his face a mask of fury and determination. “I’m going,” he growls, already heading for the door.

“Logan, wait!” Scott steps forward, blocking Logan’s path with a firm hand on his chest.

“Get out of my way, Summers,” He snarls, his voice filled with barely controlled rage. “I’m not waiting around while she’s in danger.”

“We can’t just rush in without a plan,” Scott insists, trying to keep his own emotions in check. “We need to know what we’re dealing with.”

Logan shoves the other mutant’s hand away, his eyes blazing with anger. “She sent an SOS, Scott! She needs help, and we’re wasting time standing here talking about it!”

The rest of the team watches the confrontation with anxious eyes, knowing that things could easily escalate. Logan’s been on edge for weeks, and the urgency of the situation—of you— has pushed him to the brink.

“Logan,” Ororo interjects, “We understand how you feel, but we need to think this through. If this is a trap—”

“I don’t give a damn if it’s a trap!” He snaps, his voice rising. “She’s part of our team! We can’t just leave her there!”

“That’s not what we’re saying,” Scott tries to reason, but Logan isn’t having it.

“Then what the hell are you sayin’?” He demands, his frustration boiling over. “Why are we wasting time when we should be getting her out of there?”

There’s a brief, uncomfortable silence, and then it’s Rogue who steps forward, conflicted. “Logan… what if… what if she doesn’t want to see you?”

He freezes, the words hitting him harder than any physical blow could. He stares at Rogue, disbelief and anger warring in his eyes. “What the fuck are you talking about?” he growls.

Rogue swallows, her eyes filled with worry. “She left because she needed time, Logan. Because things between you two… they weren’t good. Maybe she—maybe she doesn’t want you to be the one to save her.”

Clenching his hands into fists, his body is taut with tension. “Fuck that!” he roars with a fierce, protective rage. “She’s part of our team! She sent that message to us, to the X-Men, because she needs our help. I don’t care what’s happened between us, I’m not leavin’ her there!”

The room falls silent, the weight of Logan’s words settling over everyone. They know Logan is right—she’s part of the team, and they can’t leave her behind. But they also know that the situation is more complicated than that.

Scott takes a deep breath, his gaze steady as he looks at Logan. “We’re not saying we shouldn’t go after her, Logan. We’re saying that you need to be prepared for whatever we might find when we get there. She might be in a bad place, and she might not be ready to face you.”

“I don’t care,” he says after a brief pause, his voice quieter now, but no less determined. “I’m going to get her out of there. Whether she wants to see me or not, I’m not lettin’ her go through this alone.”

Scott studies Logan for a long moment, then finally nods. “Alright. But we do this together, as a team.”

Logan nods, his jaw set in a grim line. “Fine. Let’s go.”

—

Your eyes snap open, the dim light of the room piercing your vision. You’re in a large, abandoned warehouse. Your head feels heavy, like it’s filled with cotton, and there’s a dull, throbbing pain at the base of your skull. As you try to move, you realize with a jolt of fear that you’re restrained, your arms and legs strapped tightly to a chair. Panic flares in your chest, and you struggle against the bonds, but they don’t budge.

And then you see him—Marco, standing a few feet away, watching you with a smirk that sends a chill down your spine. His eyes gleam with satisfaction, and you realize with horror that you’ve been caught, trapped in whatever twisted game he’s been playing.

“Ah, you’re awake,” he says, voice dripping with mock concern. “I was starting to wonder if I’d given you too much of the sedative. But it seems you’re tougher than I thought.”

You try to respond, but a gag in your mouth muffles your words, turning them into incoherent sounds. You glare at him your eyes burning with fury.

He only chuckles, clearly amused by your resistance. “Oh, don’t bother trying to speak. We wouldn’t want you calling for help, now would we? Though, I must say, I’m impressed you managed to send that little SOS before I caught on. Clever, but ultimately futile.”

He steps closer, his eyes narrowing as he looks you over, his expression turning cold. “You know, I’ve dealt with a lot of mutants in my time, but there’s something special about you. Something… unique.” He reaches out and grabs your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. “Too bad your powers won’t do you any good here. The drug I gave you should keep you nice and powerless for the foreseeable future.”

Straining against the bonds, you continue to try to break free, but he drug in your system dulls your abilities, leaving you feeling weak and vulnerable. All you can do is stare at him with hatred as he continues to taunt you.

“Such fire in your eyes,” Marco murmurs, almost to himself. “It’s a shame you’ll never see the light of day again. But don’t worry—I’ll make sure your abilities are put to good use.”

He lets go of your chin, his hand trailing down to your shoulder in a way that makes your skin crawl. “Now, let’s see what we can do to make you a little more… compliant.”

Just as he reaches into his coat pocket, presumably for another syringe, a sudden, loud crash echoes through the warehouse. The sound of splintering wood and shattering glass fills the air, followed by the unmistakable hum of energy blasts and the heavy thud of boots on the concrete floor.

The X-Men have arrived.

Marco’s eyes widen in surprise and then narrow in anger. He spins around, barking orders at the security guards scattered throughout the warehouse. “Stop them! Don’t let them get near her!”

The guards rush forward, weapons drawn, but they’re no match for your friends. The familiar sounds of battle flood your ears—Rogue’s powerful punches, Scott’s optic blasts, and Storm’s lightning crackling through the air. You struggle against your restraints again, desperate to free yourself, but it’s no use.

Then, you catch a glimpse of Logan. He’s fighting his way toward you, his claws out, slicing through anyone who gets in his way. For a brief, heart-stopping moment, your eyes meet his, and you can see the raw determination in his gaze. He’s coming for you.

But just as he takes a step forward, something changes. He hesitates. You can’t hear what he’s thinking, but you can see the conflict on his face—the way he seems to second-guess himself, the way his steps falter. Your heart sinks as you realize he’s unsure, almost as if he's torn between wanting to save you and fearing that you don’t want him to.

In that split second of hesitation, Rogue swoops in, landing beside you with a determined look on her face. She doesn’t waste any time, using her strength to tear through the restraints that bind you. “We’ve got you, sugah,” she says, her voice steady and reassuring as she pulls the gag from your mouth. “You’re safe now.”

You nod, your throat too dry and your body too weak to speak. Your muscles scream in protest as you try to stand, but she quickly wraps an arm around you, helping you to your feet. You’re shaky, your body still reeling from the effects of the drug, but you’re free. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Logan still standing there, his eyes locked on you, his expression unreadable. He wanted to save you. He wanted to be the one to pull you out of that nightmare, but something held him back.

Rogue helps you toward the exit as the rest of the team continues to subdue the guards and Marco. You lean heavily on her, your legs barely able to support your weight, but you force yourself to keep moving.

And when everyone else has back in the jet, hugging you and comforting you, you look over to Logan, who sits far away, on the opposite side, refusing to meet your gaze.

—

Returning to the mansion feels like stepping back into a familiar, comforting embrace. You missed the soft, warm bed in your room, the quiet serenity of the gardens, and the comforting presence of your friends. It's been a few days since the whole ordeal in Florence, and the drug has finally worked its way out of your system. Your strength has returned, and physically, you feel like yourself again. The mansion, too, seems unchanged—still the safe haven you’ve always known.

But as the days pass, you begin to notice that while many things have returned to normal, some things have not. You’ve seen most of your friends, their faces lighting up when they see you, their hugs tight and full of relief. There have been quiet conversations and laughter, shared meals in the kitchen, and moments that remind you why this place is home.

Except, there’s one person you haven’t seen. Logan.

His absence is like a shadow that follows you wherever you go. You’ve felt his presence in the mansion—heard his voice in the halls, the sound of his footsteps on the floorboards—but he’s kept his distance. He hasn’t sought you out, hasn’t tried to talk to you, and that stings more than you want to admit.

You’ve tried to stay strong, to remind yourself of the resilience you found during your time away. You’ve reminded yourself over and over that you don’t need anyone else to validate your worth, that you can stand on your own. Yet the longer Logan avoids you, the harder it is to hold on to that strength. The old wounds, the ones you thought had begun to heal, start to ache again, and you can’t help but wonder if anything has really changed at all.

More often than not, you find yourself retreating to the front lawn. The sun is warm on your skin as you lie down in the grass, a book in hand. The soft rustling of leaves in the breeze and the distant hum of life inside the mansion create a peaceful background, and for a moment, you manage to lose yourself in the pages of your book.

Still, even here, in the sanctuary of the garden, the thoughts you’ve been trying to push aside keep creeping back in. The memory of Florence, of Logan’s hesitation, lingers like a bitter aftertaste. You replay the moment over and over in your mind, trying to make sense of it, trying to understand why he stopped, why he didn’t come for you.

You’re so lost in your thoughts that you don’t notice the shadow that falls across your page until a deep, familiar voice breaks the silence.

“I’m glad you’re alright.”

The voice startles you, and you jerk slightly, looking up to see Logan standing above you. His expression is guarded, as if he’s not sure how you’ll react to his presence. There’s a tautness to his posture, a stiffness that you recognize all too well.

For a moment, you just stare at him, caught off guard by the suddenness of his appearance. He’s as rugged and intimidating as ever, but there’s something different in his eyes—something a tad bit softer. You close your book, sitting up slowly as you meet his gaze. The question that’s been gnawing at you since Florence rises to the surface, and you know you can’t keep it inside any longer.

“What happened?” you ask, your voice steady but filled with quiet intensity. “In Florence?”

His jaw tightens, and he looks away for a moment, his gaze shifting to the trees in the distance. He doesn’t answer immediately, and the silence stretches out between you, thick with unspoken words.

You just watch him, waiting for an explanation, but there’s a part of you that’s already bracing for disappointment. You’ve been here before, waiting for Logan to decide what happens next, to take the lead. And you’re tired of it. You’re tired of being the one left in the dark, of being the one who has to wait for him to be ready.

Finally, he lets out a heavy sigh, his shoulders slumping slightly as if the weight of the world is pressing down on him. “I… I hesitated,” he admits huskily, almost in a growl. “I wanted to save you. Hell, I was going to. But then… I didn’t know if you wanted me to.”

His confession hangs in the air, and you feel a mix of emotions—surprise, confusion, and sadness. You hadn’t expected this, hadn’t realized that his hesitation was rooted in something so painfully human.

“Why wouldn’t I want you to?” you ask softly, searching his face for answers.

Logan finally looks at you, really looks at you, and the raw emotion in his eyes takes your breath away. “Because of everything that’s happened between us. Because I pushed you away. I hurt you, and I thought… maybe you’d be better off if it wasn’t me.”

You shake your head, trying to make sense of his reasoning. “Logan, this can’t keep being about what you think is best,” you begin. “And it’s not about who saves who. It’s about being there when it counts. You were there. You came for me.”

He doesn’t have a response to that, at least not right away. He looks down at the ground, his fists unclenching, his shoulders slumping even further. It’s like he’s carrying the weight of everything he’s done, everything he’s failed to do, and it’s crushing him.

“I’m sorry,” he finally manages to get out. “For everything.”

You stare at him, your heart pounding in your chest.

“I know I’ve messed up,” he continues. “I know I haven’t been there for you like I should’ve. But I’m here now. And if you’ll let me… I want to try to make things right.”

You know you should be happy—this is everything you’ve wanted to hear from him for so long. But it’s also too much, too late. The doubt, the pain, it can’t just disappear with a snap of your fingers.

“I don’t know if I’m ready for that,” you admit.

There’s pain on his face. “I get it,” he says, his voice rough but steady. “I know I’ve got a lot to make up for. And I know it’s not going to happen overnight. But I’m willing to do whatever it takes, if it means I can earn your trust back.”

“I need time. I need time to figure out where I stand, and where you stand with me.”

He nods slowly, his gaze dropping to the ground again. “Take all the time you need,” he says quietly. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“I appreciate that,” With a small nod, you stand up, brushing the grass off your clothes. “I need time,” you repeat, more for your own benefit than his.

“And you’ve got it,” Logan replies. “As much as you need.”

—

Days turn into weeks, and weeks into months. You focus on yourself, on healing the wounds that were reopened during your conversation with Logan. It feels strange, being the one who needs space, but you know it’s necessary. You find things to take your mind off him: you train more, read more, spend more time with Rogue, Kitty, or Remy. It’s nice.

But Logan… Logan doesn’t give up. He knows you need time, and he respects that. He doesn’t push, doesn’t pressure you to make a decision, but he makes it clear through his actions that he hasn’t forgotten about you, and more importantly, that he isn’t going anywhere.

It starts with the small things—things so subtle that you almost don’t notice at first. You probably wouldn’t have suspected anything if you hadn’t known the kind of person he is. He’s nothing if not persistent. He knows you better than you realize—the rift he created after Jean’s death muddling with your memory—and he uses that knowledge to quietly, almost imperceptibly, work his way back into your life.

In the mornings, you wake up to find your favorite snacks waiting for you in the kitchen, carefully placed where you’d be sure to see them. He never mentions it, never takes credit, but you know it’s him. It’s in the way he glances at you from the corner of his eye as you take a bite, a small, almost imperceptible smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He never makes a big deal out of it—just a quiet, unspoken gesture that says, I’m thinking of you.

Then there are the late-night training sessions. You go down to the Danger Room or the gym, hoping to clear your mind with a bit of solitary exercise, only to find Logan already there. At first, you’re tempted to leave, to find somewhere else to work out, but something in his demeanor stops you. He doesn’t approach you, doesn’t speak unless you initiate it. Instead, he just… exists beside you, his presence steady and reassuring, like a rock in the storm.

It’s in these moments that you begin to see a different side of Logan—one that’s patient, understanding, and perhaps a little unsure of himself. He follows your lead, mirroring your exercises or silently spotting you during weightlifting, always attentive to your needs without ever making you feel pressured or overwhelmed. He’s just there, offering his support in the quietest, most understated way possible.

And then there are the little surprises in your room—small, thoughtful gestures that you can’t help but notice. A favorite book you’d mentioned in passing suddenly appears on your nightstand, its pages pristine and waiting for you to dive into. The time-worn leather straps on your gear are suddenly replaced with new ones that fit perfectly, the stitching unmistakably done by Logan’s hand. Even your plants, the ones you’d worried would wither away while you were on a mission, seem to thrive in your absence, the soil freshly watered and the leaves turned toward the sun.

He never asks for thanks, never draws attention to what he’s doing. It’s all done quietly, behind the scenes, as if he’s afraid that if you notice too much, you might push him away. But you do notice. How could you not?

At first, you try to ignore it, telling yourself that these gestures don’t change anything, that they’re just a way for Logan to assuage his guilt. You tell yourself that he’s just doing this because he feels bad, because he wants to make up for the past, not because he actually cares. You’ve built walls around your heart for a reason, and you’re not ready to let them down just because he’s being nice.

But over time, those small gestures begin to chip away at those walls, brick by brick. You start to realize that Logan isn’t just going through the motions—he’s really paying attention, noticing the little things that make you who you are. It isn’t just about the snacks or the books or the plants—it’s about the way he remembers the details of your life, the things that matter to you, the things that make you feel seen and understood.

After a particularly long and stressful day, you return to your room exhausted, and all you want is to collapse into bed and forget the world for a while. But when you walk in, you find a small bouquet of wildflowers sitting on your nightstand, the beautiful colors a stark contrast to the dark thoughts that have been swirling in your mind all day. There’s no note, no explanation—there never is—but you know who left them.

You just stand there, staring at the flowers, your heart squeezing in your chest. It’s such a simple gesture, and yet it means so much. You’d forgotten that Logan knew how much you love wildflowers—you’d mentioned it once, years ago. The way they’re resilient, thriving even in the harshest conditions, blooming where others wouldn’t. It’s as if he’s telling you that he sees that strength in you, that he admires it.

And it’s then, in the quiet of your room, surrounded by the small, thoughtful gestures that Logan has left behind, that you realize something. This isn’t just about making up for the past. Logan is showing you, in the only way he knows how, that he wants this. Wants you.

He's finally picked up the pieces of him that fell apart after Jean’s death, and he is willing to pick up the pieces of you that fell apart after his rejection.

So, one evening, months after that fateful conversation on the lawn, you find yourself standing in the common room, staring at the fireplace, lost in thought. The mansion is quiet, the rest of the team either out on a mission or asleep. It’s just you and the flickering flames, the soft crackling of the fire the only sound in the room.

But when you hear footsteps behind you, heavy and deliberate, you know instantly who it is. Without turning, you can sense his presence, the way he moves with that quiet confidence, the way the air seems to shift when he is near. Logan has always had a way of grounding you, even when you don’t want him to.

He walks up beside you, stopping just short of touching you, his warmth radiating in the small space between your bodies. He doesn’t say anything at first, doesn’t ask why you’re here or try to force a conversation. He just stands there, his hands shoved into his pockets, waiting patiently, giving you the time you need. It’s something you’ve come to appreciate about him in recent months—his newfound ability to just be, without pushing or demanding more than you’re ready to give.

"I’ve been thinking," you say finally, your voice soft, as you continue to gaze into the flames.

"Yeah?" Logan asks, his tone careful, as if he’s afraid of saying the wrong thing.

You turn to face him, your heart pounding in your chest. "You’ve been… different. Doing all these little things… I see them, you know."

Logan’s eyes meet yours, and for the first time in a long time, you see hope there. "I just wanted you to know that I care. That I’m sorry," he says, with so much emotion. “You were never a burden to me.”

You swallow hard. "It’s hard for me, Logan," you admit, "I’ve been hurt before, and I’m scared. Scared that if I let myself love you again, you’ll just… break me."

He steps closer, his hand reaching out to gently cup your cheek. "I’d never hurt you again," he says, "I’d rather cut off my own damn hand than hurt you. The past is the past, and you are my future."

That’s enough to make your walls crumble completely. You know, deep down, that Logan is telling the truth. That he’s willing to do whatever it takes to earn your trust again.

And in that moment, you realize that maybe, just maybe, you’re ready to let him.

You don’t say anything. Instead, you let your actions speak for you. You close the distance between you, standing on your toes as you press your lips to his in a gentle, tentative kiss. Logan freezes for a split second, as if he can’t believe this is really happening, but then he kisses you back, his arms wrapping around you as he pulls you close, holding you as if he never wants to let go.

The kiss is slow, tender, full of everything that has been building between you for so long. It isn’t just a kiss—it’s a promise, a commitment to try again, to rebuild what has been broken. When you finally pull back, your breath mingling with his, you rest your head on his shoulder. "I’m still scared," you whisper.

"I know," Logan replies, his arms tightening around you. "But I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere. We’ll take this slow, darlin’. Whatever you need."

You nod. "Okay."

Logan smiles then, a real, genuine smile that makes your heart flutter in a way it hasn’t in years. It’s a smile full of relief, of gratitude, of love—a smile that tells you that he understands just how much this moment means, just how much you’re giving him by letting him back into your heart.

—

The time that follows is a slow, steady journey of rebuilding trust. Logan is true to his word—he is patient, understanding, and surprisingly tender in ways you hadn’t expected. The small gestures continue—coffee waiting for you in the morning, a gentle hand on your back during missions, quiet moments of companionship where no words are needed.

You can feel the doubts you’ve been holding onto slowly begin to fade. Each time Logan shows up for you, each time he puts your needs above his own, it chips away at the fear that has kept you guarded for so long. It’s in the way he listens when you talk, truly listens, as if every word you say matters. It’s in the way he looks at you—not with the same fury he once had, but with a steady, enduring affection that speaks of something deeper.

With Jean, he loved her because she was his soulmate, she was who the universe destined him to be with. He loved her because that’s what he thought he had to do.

With you, he has a choice. He doesn’t need to acknowledge the bond, but he chooses to. He chooses to everyday and he’ll never stop. He loves you because he wants to, not because he has to.

One evening, you find yourself sitting on the mansion’s porch watching the sunset. Logan joins you without a word, sitting close enough that your shoulders brush.

“You’ve been quiet today,” he says softly, breaking the comfortable silence.

“I’ve just been thinking,” you reply, leaning your head on his shoulder. It’s a simple gesture, but one that speaks volumes about how far you’ve come in trusting him again.

“’Bout what?” he asks, his voice gentle.

“About us,” you say, your voice steady. “About how things have changed. How… how good they’ve been.”

Logan’s hand finds yours, his fingers lacing through yours in a way that feels so natural, so right. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you echo, squeezing his hand. “I’m not scared anymore, Logan. Not like I was.”

He turns to face you, his eyes searching yours. “You sure?”

You nod, smiling softly. “I’m sure. You’ve shown me that this bond means something to you, that you’re not going to hurt me. And… I want this. I want us.”

Logan’s face lights up with so much love, that it takes your breath away. He leans in, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. “I’m glad, darlin’. Because I want us too. More than anything.”

—

It isn’t long before the rest of the X-Men begin to notice the change in Logan as well. At first, it’s subtle—small things like the way he looks at you during briefings, or the way he seems to be more patient, more relaxed when you’re around. But over time, it becomes impossible to ignore.

During a training session in the Danger Room, you’re paired with Logan for a simulated mission. The others watch as Logan moves with you in perfect sync, his focus not just on the mission but on you—making sure you’re safe, supporting you when needed, and trusting you completely. It’s a far cry from the Logan they had seen when he was in mourning, where his moves were rash and careless.

After the session, as you and Logan leave the Danger Room, you catch sight of Ororo and Scott exchanging a look, the kind of look that speaks volumes, full of surprise and a touch of amusement.

“What?” you ask, raising an eyebrow as you approach them.

Ororo smiles warmly, a knowing glint in her eyes. “Nothing, just… noticing how good you two are together.”

Scott nods in agreement, his expression softening as he glances at Logan. “Yeah, it’s… different, finally seeing him like this. In a good way.”

Logan shrugs, but there’s no hiding the small smile that tugs at the corners of his mouth. “What’re you guys talking about?”

“Just that it’s nice to see you happy, Logan,” Ororo says gently. “Really happy.”

Logan looks at you then, his smile growing as he meets your gaze. “Yeah. It is.”

More members of the team begin to notice the change in Logan as time goes on. Rogue, who has always had a soft spot for him, comments on how he seems more at ease, less burdened by the weight of his past. Hank, ever the observer, points out how Logan’s demeanor has shifted—less brooding, more open. Even Charles, who has seen Logan through his darkest times, pulls you aside one day to express his approval.

“I must say,” Charles says, his tone warm and approving, “I haven’t seen Logan like this in a very long time. Whatever you two have managed to sort out, it’s working.”

And it is. Slowly but surely, the wounds that had once held you back have healed. The doubts that had kept you from fully embracing your relationship with Logan have faded, replaced by a deep, abiding love. It isn’t just the little gestures anymore—it’s the way Logan makes you feel seen, heard, and cherished in a way that no one else ever has.

—

“I never thought we’d get here,” you admit one night whilst looking up at the stars.

Logan looks at you, his expression tender. “Neither did I,” he says, his voice full of sincerity. “But I’m damn glad we did.”

You smile, leaning into him as he wraps his arm around your shoulders. “I love you, Logan. And I trust you. Completely.”

His grip tightens slightly, as if to hold onto the moment, to hold onto you. “I love you too, darlin’. I never thought I’d feel this way about someone.”

You know what he’s trying to say. So without thinking, you reach up and cup his face, drawing him closer until your lips are just a breath away from his. “Show me,” you whisper, your voice low and filled with desire.

He doesn’t need any more encouragement. He closes the small gap between you, capturing your lips in a kiss that is soft at first, almost tentative, as if he’s savoring the feel of you.

You can feel the heat between you building, the kiss growing more fervent as your hands roam over his chest, feeling the hard planes of muscle beneath his shirt, then into his hair. Brown.

His hands slide up your back, one hand tangling in your hair as he angles your head, deepening the kiss further until you’re both breathless.

When you finally pull back, your foreheads resting against each other’s, you’re both panting, your hearts racing in sync. His eyes are dark with desire, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he holds you close.

“You’re everything to me,” he murmurs. “I never thought I’d get my happy ending, but here you are… and I’m never lettin’ you go.”

You smile, feeling the last remnants of pain melt away, replaced by a certainty that this is where you’re meant to be. “And I’m never leaving,” you whisper back, sealing your words with another kiss that quickly reignites the fire between you.

This kiss is hungrier, more urgent, as if you both need to make up for lost time. Logan’s hands roam your body with a possessiveness that sends shivers down your spine, his touch igniting a fire in your core.

That night, you lose yourself in him, in the way he tastes, in the way he makes love to you as if you’re the most precious thing in the world. Because this time, you’re not just in love—you’re in love with a man who loves you back, fully and completely.

And that makes all the difference.

----

a/n: i love you if you made it this far. please check out my new series The Feeling's Mutual

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kittysarchive · 6 months ago

Text

Dirty, Sunghoon

runner up on poll :)

warnings- smut, fem reader, horny reader, rough Sunghoon, uber driver Sunghoon, car sex, making out, grinding, fingering, more experienced Sunghoon, riding, pet names, big cock Sunghoon, eating reader out

synopsis - horny and no wallet, you had to find a way to payback your uber diver. Fucking him sounded about right.

Straddling your uber drivers lap and making out with him in the backseat was not where you expected to be.

Having been horny and left your wallet at home, this was the only way to pay back your uber driver. With his tinted windows, you had nothing to worry about.

"Fuck" Sunghoon whispers, latching his lips back onto yours. His hands were squeezing your ass as you slowly grinded on him. Bulge growing, he only kissed your rougher.

Panting in between the kisses, one of his hands left your ass. Moving to the back of your head, he pulled you in closer. Softly biting your lip, he demanded access into your mouth. Letting him is, he tasted more of you.

Moving your hips faster onto his bulge, Sunghoon groans into your mouth. Finally pulling apart, he breaths for a moment.

"Is this how your gonna pay me back?" Sunghoon smirks, signalling you to move on. Making out and grinding was clearly not enough for your uber driver.

Hopping off his lap, you quickly pull down your shorts and panties. Throwing your shirt over your head, you leave you white lacey bra on. Sunghoon pulls down his own pants, sliding down his boxers as well. It was hard to not gawk at was he was packing. A solid 8 inches, red tipped, leaking with precum and veins along his shaft.

Hovering over his cock, you gasp as you feel his fingers play with your clit. Rubbing and pinching your clit, his finger soon enters your pussy. Holding onto Sunghoon's broad shoulders, you cry out as he curls his thick finger inside you. Pumping it quickly, you hold back you small whines.

"What the heck...."You cry out, holding back your pleasure so you don't cum early, so you don't embarrass yourself.

"Had to prep you...did you think you were gonna fit?" He laughs at both your innocence and how quickly you became wet over his fingers. You don't answer him which causes another laugh to emerge from Sunghoon.

Quickly moving on, his hands ghost over your hips as you struggle to slide down his cock. Even though he prepped you, he was still too big, still too thick to enter your tight pussy.

Inch by inch, His large cock fills you up to the brim. Waiting a moment, feeling how he fills you up, how you see a bulge in your stomach makes you wetter.

Finally moving your hips, you begin to ride him. Hips moving up and down, you quickly create a rhythm. Softly biting your lips, you struggle to compress your moans.

"I wanna hear you doll" You blush at the pet name. Feeling less and less like a payment, your move your hips faster and harder, you let go of your lip, releasing your small moans. Changing rhythm, you start to bounce up and down.

Moans becoming louder as your own pleasure grows along with Sunghoons. Gripping onto his shoulders, you bring your body closer to his. The closeness enables you to hear Sunghoons own groans.

As quickly as you pleasure built, you become tired. Hips moving slower, barely enough to give Sunghoon pleasure.

"You tired baby?" Sunghoon smirks, admiring how your hips slowly grind along his cock. You nod you head to his question, within only matter of seconds, Sunghoon takes you off his lap. Pushing you into the soft leather seats, you feel Sunghoon enter your pussy.

"Want me to fill you up?" Sunghoon whispers into your ear, the closeness makes you squeeze his cock. Smirking at his effect on you, he continues.

"Want me to fuck you pussy rough like you deserve it?" Nodding your head, only mewls come out of you. Wanting to be fucked hard, you once again squeeze his cock. Groaning out how tight you still were, Sunghoon pulls a few inches out before slamming into you.

"Fuck!" You cry out as you pushed further into the car seats. Gripping your waist hard, he was sure to leave marks. Pulling out and thrusting harshly, he lets out a small moan that he had been holding back.

"So tight" He comments, fucking you slowly and deep. Gaining the energy to fuck you hard, he started off slow. Cock begging to throb more and more, begging to release, he had to hold it in. Not knowing Sunghoon was holding his pleasure, trying not to cum, you beg him to fuck you harder.

"Please...s-stop teasing and just fuck me" Not needing to be told twice, he roughly thrusts into your pussy. You body rocks with every hard thrust of his. No longer slow and deep, his thrusts were fast and deep. Every thrust, his head prodded you g-spot.

"yes yes yes" You cry out, waves of pleasure wash over your body. Squeezing his cock, you hear Sunghoon curse out behind you. Quickly pulling out of your heat, He releases his thick, warm cum over your ass. Small whines leave you as your pussy squeezes nothing.

Breathing heavily behind you, Sunghoon regains his energy.

"So fucking tight" He comments as you slowly turn around, no longer pushed against the car seats, you sit against them. Glancing next to you, Sunghoon's cock is now soft, however he still isn't satisfied.

"Lie down" Sunghoon speaks up. Obeying him without, you lay down, across the seats.

"Rais your legs" He bluntly says, knowing where this is going, you don't stall.

"Good girl" Sunghoon quietly praises. Squeezing himself between your legs, he doesn't waste anytime remembering he is still working.

Latching his lips onto your clit, he licks a swipe across your pussy. Tasting your juices, he has to make you cum now. Sticking his tounge deeper into your pussy, he tastes more of you. Groaning into your pussy, the vibrations cause you to buck you hips up.

"Oh fuck" You grab Sunghoon's hair, pushing him deeper into your cunt. His fingers rub your clit, causing another jolt of your body. No longer holding back your moans, you cry out at every swipe of his tongue, at every curl of his finger.

Still holding his head tight in-between your legs, you feel his fingers enter your pussy. Tongue out and finger in, you hips buck up again. Curling his finger in your pussy, you clench down hard. Panting as he eats you out like a starved, you quickly warn him.

"Gona cum...gonna cum" You chant out, staring up at the ceiling as the familiar wave of pleasure washes over your body. Nodding his head, his lips latch around your pussy again. Sucking hard on your clit, he was ready to catch you juices.

Releasing into his mouth, you whine out feeling Sunghoon slurp your essence up. Body jolting with ever drip of your own cum, Sunghoon eagerly swallows it all up. Waiting a few seconds, he continues to slurp you dry. Letting go of his hair, Sunghoon pulls out, lips and chin glittering with your juices.

"You taste so fucking good" Sunghoon sits up against he backseat, next to you. Both of you recovering from the previous event.

"You know my uber ID....ask for me again" Sunghoon pipes up, knowing he was going to get another taste of you soon.

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

Hope you liked it! I don't normally right this long:)

Like, Reblog, Follow and send in your own asks :)

#enhypen scenarios #enhypen smut #enhypen hard thoughts #enhypen hard hours #enhypen sunghoon smut #sunghoon smut #dom sunghoon #rough sunghoon #sunghoon scenarios #sunghoon hard thoughts #sunghoon hard hours #sunghoon imagines #sunghoon x reader #kittysarchive!

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angelfic · 2 years ago

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Heyyy

I don't know if your still doing this but if you are, I would LOVE a Mattheo Riddle, mutual pining, prompt 1. Love you so much.

ask and you shall receive😚💌

mattheo riddle x reader + mutual pining + “who did this to you?”

➺ part of my 2k milestone writing game

The castle is silent when you make your way to the Astronomy tower. Over the last week, you’ve figured out the best possible route to get there after curfew without bumping into Peeves or the Baron while avoiding any particularly loud portraits.

Ever since Hermione started pacing around the dorm while knitting, the Muffliato charm has been rendered useless and the clicking of the needles has driven you crazy. Combined with Fred and George’s experiments in the common room until early hours of the morning, the Astronomy tower is the only place you can get a moment’s peace.

Your footsteps into the tower become hesitant though, when you spot a wisp of smoke coming from behind one of the pillars. After taking a few tentative steps further, you realise with a jolt that it’s none other than Mattheo Riddle sat there, cigarette loosely held between his fingers. You recognise him from the barely visible angle pretty quickly, owing to the fact you’ve found yourself staring at him from afar more times than you’d care to admit.

He doesn’t turn around, flicking at his cigarette and when you shuffle, making a noise, he lets his head fall back to rest against the pillar. “Enzo, if you’re here to pester me again, you can fuck off.”

“Er, not Lorenzo,” you reply, voice quiet in the echoing tower. Mattheo sits up straight immediately, twisting around to look at you with wide eyes. “Sorry…”

“It’s fine,” he says quickly, giving you a hint of a smile. He nods over to a spot near him. “You can come sit if you want.”

You contemplate politely refusing since you probably won’t get any work done with Mattheo right in front of you, but another glance at him has your feet moving of their own accord.

Once he comes into full view, you notice in the moonlight that Mattheo’s nose shows the remnants of dried blood, there’s a bruise blossoming on his cheekbone and his knuckles are split open. It isn’t an unusual sight and you’ve often seen him around the castle either in the middle of a fight or with cuts and bruises as a result of one, yet you still find yourself staring.

Mattheo raises an eyebrow and smirks, despite the cut on his lip. “What, have I got something on my face?”

You blink, silent for a couple beats before clearing your throat. “Who, uhm, who did… this… to you?”

He shrugs, bringing the cigarette back to his lips to inhale. “Some Ravenclaw prick this morning.”

“How come you haven’t healed yourself?” you ask, tilting your head in curiosity. “You normally do by this point.”

Mattheo’s lips quirk up in sort of a pleased smile, his eyes crinkling. “You pay attention to me, do you?”

“No, I- It’s just,” you stammer, fiddling with the corner of your planner and avoiding his gaze. You most definitely do pay attention to him, but you’d much rather jump off the Astronomy tower than admit to it. “You’re always getting into fights. It’s kind of hard not to.”

It isn’t clear if he believes you or not, since his face still displays an unwavering smile, but he nods slowly before answering your previous question. “Enzo usually does it. The healing spells.”

You consider this and hesitate for a few seconds, biting your bottom lip in nervous habit before abruptly standing up and walking over to the Slytherin. Plopping down next to him, you take your wand out of your pocket, which he eyes warily.

“I know some healing spells,” you explain. Raising your eyebrows in question, you point your wand at his face and wait for his consent, which he gives in the form of a nod. Starting with his lip, you mutter “Episkey.” The cut seals itself up, so you do the same with his knuckles before using ‘Tergeo’ to siphon off the dried blood around his hands and nose.

“Back to looking flawless?” he asks with a cheeky grin and you choke out a laugh, surprised at how relaxed he’s being with you. Mattheo isn’t as brooding as the rest of his friends, but he certainly isn’t all sunshine and giggles with people he isn’t close with. And it’s not like the two of you have ever conversed before, so you’re a little more than puzzled. Not that you’re complaining. “What’s had you so exhausted this week?”

“Hermione’s been staying up knitting and I can’t sleep through it like the others,” you sigh, moving back to sit against the pillar like Mattheo is. This is your first night coming to the Astronomy Tower though, so you furrow your brows and turn to Mattheo to tell him exactly that. “How do you-”

“You’ve been nodding off at breakfast,” he says, matter-of-fact. You don’t know how to respond, opening your mouth but not having anything to say. Mattheo notices your loss for words and swallows, suddenly sheepish. The tips of his ears have turned a light pink and he shuffles, making your shoulders touch slightly. “I pay attention to you too.”

“Oh,” you breathe out, heart about to burst out of your chest. You look down to where his hand is on the floor next to yours and in a brave move, you move your own so your pinkies are touching.

Mattheo is silent when he interlocks your fingers, meeting your eyes. His smile reappears, one that feels reserved for you. You’ve never seen him look more gentle before, and when he finally reaches over to kiss you in the quiet, moonlit tower surrounded by the stars, you begin wishing you’d started losing sleep weeks ago.

#mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle x fem reader #mattheo riddle fanfic #mattheo riddle fanfiction #mattheo riddle scenarios #mattheo riddle fluff #mattheo riddle smut #mattheo riddle imagines #mattheo riddle x y/n

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liz-on-leash · 4 months ago

Note

Yena music show noncon please

My thought is Yena is preparing for a preshow interview, when the director of the music show barge in, shoo everyone out except yena saying that he wants to have some private talk, he end up raping her to get her win in the music show

You stride into the dressing room, a confident smirk on your face as you survey the bustling scene.

The air is thick with hairspray and the buzz of excited conversation, but your eyes lock onto Yena instantly.

She's sitting in front of a mirror, her stylist fussing with her hair, and you can't help but admire her beauty, enhanced by the soft lighting.

Her smooth skin, the hint of cleavage peeking from her low-cut top under the purple crochet. You've been fantasizing about this moment for far too long. It's time to make her yours.

"Alright, everyone out!" Your voice booms, startling the room into silence. "I need a private word with Miss Choi Yena."

The stylists and assistants exchange confused glances, but they start to file out, leaving you alone with Yena, who looks at you with a mix of curiosity and concern.

"Sir, is something wrong?" Yena's voice is soft, her eyes wide and innocent.

You chuckle, moving closer, relishing the power you hold over the situation. "You could say that. But it's not a problem that can't be solved."

Leaning in, you speak, "You see, your CEO has put me in a rather delicate position. He asked a favor, and I'm afraid it involves you."

She frowns, her brow creasing in confusion. "What do you mean, Director?"

"Well, they want you to win the show, but there's a catch. A price to pay." You pause, letting the tension build as you stroke her cheek. "And that price is your body. I want you to pleasure me however I wish."

Yena's eyes widen in shock, and she tries to stand, but you're quicker as you grab a fistful of her hair, feeling the silky strands between your fingers, and yank her back down, forcing her onto the couch.

She lets out a startled cry, her eyes now filled with fear. "N-no! Please, Director, you can't do this!" Yena struggles, her hands reaching up to pry your fingers.

"Oh, but I can, and I will. If you don't cooperate, I'll make sure your career is over. I have connections, Choi Yena,” you threaten.

“One call, and not only will you be blacklisted, but I'll see to it that your brother's career goes down the drain too. You won't sing or dance again, and neither will he."

Her eyes dart around the room, searching for an escape, but it's futile. The room is empty, and she knows it. Her screams for help echo off the walls, but no one comes to her rescue.

You straddle her waist, pinning her down with your weight. She squirms beneath you, her body writhing. Raising your hand, you deliver a sharp punch to her stomach, making her gasp and curl inwards.

"Scream all you want, sweetheart. No one's coming to save you," you snarl, punctuating your sentence with another punch.

Yena whimpers, her breath coming in short gasps as she tries to protect her stomach with her arms. Her makeup is now smudged, tears mixing with the black liner, creating dark streaks down her cheeks.

"Please... D-Don’t hurt me– Anything… I will do it…" she pleads, her voice hoarse from screaming.

You lean down, your lips almost touching hers, and whisper, "That's more like it. Now, I want you to strip, slut. Show me what I'm about to enjoy."

Trembling, Yena begins to comply, her fingers fumbling with her clothes.. She knows resistance is futile, and the thought of saving her brother's career pushes her to obey. The top falls, revealing a black bra that contains her perky breasts.

"Faster," you command, your hand gripping her throat, squeezing just enough to assert your dominance. "And while you're at it, tell me how much you want this, how much you've been craving my touch."

"I-I want it..." Yena chokes out, her voice strained. "I've wanted you to fuck me since the first time I saw you... Please, Director, just don't hurt me..."

Your cock throbs at her words, and you grind your hips down, letting her feel your hardness against her soft core through the thin fabric of your pants.

"That's a good girl. Admit that you've been fantasizing about this, about being my plaything."

As she continues to undress, her hands shaking, you admire her body, the curves that have driven you wild with desire.

Her nipples hardening under your intense gaze. She hurriedly slides off her skirt, revealing a pair of matching lace panties, already damp with her fear.

"Now, spread those pretty legs, Yena," you order, your voice thick with lust. "Show me that sweet pussy. I want to see how wet you are for me."

She complies, her legs falling open, exposing her glistening folds. You lean down, inhaling her scent, the musky aroma of her core filling your nostrils.

"Such a filthy slut," you whisper, running a finger along her slit, collecting her juices. "You're so wet for me, aren't you?"

Yena whimpers, her body betraying her as she arches into your touch. "Y-yes, Director. I'm so wet..."

Withdrawing your finger, you bring it to your mouth, sucking her essence off your skin, savoring the taste of her. “Delicious. But I want more. I want to hear you beg for my cock, Yena."

"Please, fuck me..." she instantly begs, her voice breaking. "I need your cock inside me, Director. Please, just fuck me hard and make me your slut."

You grin, your cock throbbing painfully in your pants. "That's what I like to hear, you whore. Now, get on your knees and suck me off. Show me how badly you want it."

Yena scrambles to obey, positioning herself between your legs, her hands working at your belt. She frees your straining erection, her eyes widening at the sight of your thick, veined shaft.

"Suck it, Yena," you command, your hand tangling in her hair again, guiding her mouth to your tip.

She wraps her lips around you, taking you deep, her tongue swirling, and you groan, thrusting into her warm, wet mouth. "Oh, Yeah, fuck. What a cocksucker bitch, hah!."

Yena gags slightly, her eyes watering, but she persists, determined to please you to save herself. You hold her head in place, fucking her mouth with abandon, your balls slapping against her chin.

You grunt, your hips moving in a frantic tempo. "Suck me good, and maybe I will consider being gentle with that cunt of yours."

Her mouth works feverishly, and you can feel her tears mixing with the saliva coating your shaft. The thought of her degradation only serves to heighten your arousal.

"Enough," you grunt, pulling out of her mouth with a pop. "Now, get on the couch and spread those legs. I'm going to fuck you like the slut you are."

Yena scrambles onto the couch, her body trembling, but she does as she's told, presenting herself to you, her pussy slick, ready for your invasion.

You position yourself at her entrance, the head of your cock teasing her wetness. "Beg for it, Yena. Beg me to fuck that pretty cunt."

"Please... fuck me, Director..." she contends, her voice vibrating. "I'm yours... just fuck me..."

With warning, you bury yourself inside her, tearing through every layer, claiming her with one powerful stroke. Yena cries out, her body adjusting to your size, her walls clenching around you.

"Fuck, you're tight," you groan, withdrawing almost entirely before slamming back into her, over and over, pounding her pussy harder. "You like that, whore? You like being fucked by the man who holds your career in his hands?"

"Mm! Yes... yes, I do… Ahh!" her nails digging into the couch cushions. "Harder, please... fuck me harder… Nngh!"

You oblige, your hands gripping her hips, leaving bruises as you slam into her, driving her towards the edge. Her pussy grips you tightly, milking your cock, and you can't hold back much longer.

"I'm gonna cum, shit–" you inform, your balls tightening. "Where do you want my load, huh, slut? In that pretty pussy or all over that fucked-up bruised tummy?"

Yena's eyes roll back as she climaxes, her body shaking. "I-inside me... fill me with your cum, Director..."

You pull out, your cock glistening with her juices, and position yourself at her entrance again. With one final penetration, you spill your seed deep within her, filling her up as promised.

Your body shudders as you empty yourself into her. "Remember this moment, Choi Yena, because you're mine now, and there's no going back."

As you catch your breath, you watch her, your cock still twitching inside her, marking her as yours. Yena lies beneath you, her chest heaving, her body spent, but her eyes now hold a new light, one of defiance and surrender all at once.

"Get cleaned up, slut," you say, withdrawing from her. "You have a show to win, and I expect a private encore performance later."

With that, you straighten your clothes, leaving Yena to process what just happened, knowing that she's now irrevocably yours.

#kpop smut #tw noncon #male reader #short smut #izone yena #yena smut #izone smut #choi yena #girl group smut

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jeonqbunny · 1 year ago

Text

sounds like denial

megumi fushiguro x reader smut ♡

summary: megumi & you never got along as roommates, until one day you found him using your panties to get himself off.

content warning: dom!megumi x sub!f!reader, degradation, pussy slapping, choking, cnc if you squint, edging, use of petnames (slut, whore, good girl) MEGUMI IS AGED UP!

word count: 3.7k

MINORS & AGELESS BLOGS DNI!

megumi fushiguro was the absolute bane of your existence. his cold shoulder was one that made you fume with anger. he was a neat freak, constantly moving your items from the place where you had left them to leave you frantically searching for them in your time of needing them.

“megumi– i swear to god if you move my keys again, i will strangle you.” you growled under your breath as you snatched them out of the top drawer in your shared kitchen. he shrugged, not paying much mind to your anger as it didn’t intimidate him like you thought it did. his spiky raven locks fell into his face when he snapped his head to look at you scurrying out of the kitchen and heading towards the front door.

“yeah yeah ye– wait, where are you going? don’t you have something better to do? like y’know.. study for your finals?” he crossed his arms over his chest, his dark blue orbs burning holes into your skin. you reached up to tug at your hair in annoyance, shooting back the same glare he gave you.

“god, is what i do really any of your business megumi? you’re my roommate, not my fucken dad.” you spat, adjusting your stance as you rested against the door frame. “you’re in a pissy ass mood and i’m not having it. if you’re gonna go, just go.” he barked back, a hint of annoyance coating his words. kicking his feet up on the coffee table in front of him, he rested his arms behind his head as his eyes closed as if to instigate some more.

he tried his very best to act nonchalant, but you were genuinely striking a nerve at this point. normally, as much as he hated to admit it, he did enjoy getting a rise out of you, but only when it really benefited him. and right now, you weren’t benefiting him in the slightest.

you swallowed thickly, biting back the venom that your thoughts threatened to spit at him. you let out a scoff, pivoting on your foot to leave the apartment dramatically. you had a meeting with your teacher to go over your exams, and no thanks to megumi, you were now running late. when megumi heard the door click shut, one of his eyes opened to the side as if to make sure you were really gone.

he hesitantly stood to his feet, a thought weighing on his mind as he lugged himself to his bedroom. he threw himself onto his plush mattress, a small ‘squeak’ sounding from the extra weight added to the wooden bedframe. he let a soft sigh fall from his pretty lips, his eyes closing once again as he tried to gather his thoughts

suddenly, memories of his friends constantly teasing him about his supposed crush on you filled his mind. it angered him to think about, there was no way in hell he would ever find you, of all people, attractive. at least that’s what he told himself every time he took a huff of your panties while fisting his throbbing, leaky dick.

the view of you walking around the house in nothing but a t-shirt and underwear began flooding his mind, his member stiffening and straining against the fabric of his sweats. the way your hips swayed with every step you took, the moans he would hear coming from your room late at night when you felt lonely. god, he wished he was the one to make you moan so prettily like that.

his hand ghosted along the expanse of his toned abdomen, slipping under the waistband of his sweats to palm at his needy cock. a whine bubbled in his throat, his hips gyrating forward into his hand to cause more friction. his hand shot over to his nightstand, haphazardly tugging the drawer open before stirring around his belongings. that’s when he felt it, the fabric of a fresh pair of your panties he stole from your dirty laundry hamper the night before.

he gripped it in his clutch tightly, slamming the drawer shut before sniffing them. a wanton groan fell from his throat, his eyes closing tightly as he inhaled your scent. his hand moved against his cock faster, pants and moans of your name filling the air as he continued his more than sinful ministrations.

the lustrous fabric of his boxers decorated with precum became increasingly more annoying, causing him to huff in frustration before tugging his pants and boxers down. he sighed in relief when his needy dick sprung free, the tip flushed a shade of angry red as his precum dribbled down his shaft to his balls.

a pang of guilt filled his chest as he began to fist the tip of his cock, his thumb brushing over his aching slit. he used his precum as lube, a loud squelching sound following each swift stroke of his hand. he ran his tongue along the fabric of the panties where your pussy would sit, shivering in ecstasy as his head flopped back in pleasure. “i’m so sorry y/n.. i– i’m so sorry..” he whimpered under his breath, gripping his member tighter and thrusting it into his hand.

he felt this climax approaching rapidly, the scent of your pussy lingering on the panties he was lapping at so desperately. the knot tightening in his abdomen and threatening to burst at any moment, and just as he was right about to finish.. he heard his door slowly creak open as you began to talk.

“sorry for wh– oh. oh my god?” there you stood, looking like a deer in headlights as you took in what laid in front of you. you chortled in shock, your palm smacking your mouth to stifle the laugh that threatened to come out. you didn’t really know what to say or do at this point, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks as you stood there, entirely unable to move as it all processed.

those were your panties, a pair you’ve been trying to find for a hot minute, in fact. megumi ceased his movements all together, scrambling to try and pull his pants over his hips as he tossed the panties to the side in an attempt to hide them. but it was already too late, he had been busted jerking off with your panties pressed to his face. his cheeks were just as red as yours, the both of you exchanging a look of ‘what the fuck’ for a brief moment before you padded over to sit on the edge of his bed.

“that’s literally humiliating, i would not want to be in your shoes right now.” you mocked, a toothy grin growing on your face as you watched his chest heave in anxiety. he didn’t know what to say or do, wanting nothing more than to just disappear from existence in that moment. “shut the fuck up oh my god. just– just get out!” stammering, he sat up in bed and huffed at you in exasperation. this only caused you to giggle under your breath, shaking your head gently as you slide your hand up the length of his leg before reaching the erection twitching in his sweats.

“well you started, might as well finish it.” your head was spinning in confusion, you never in a million years would have thought that megumi saw you like that. you were palming at his erection teasingly before his hand flung down and gripped your wrist tightly. you gasped, slightly taken aback, your eyes flickered into his with confusion written all over your expression.

he wasted no time in pushing you to your back, crawling on top of you before he made the decision to let go of your wrist. “listen, if you think that i’m actually attracted to you, you’re–” you cut him off swiftly, letting out a scoff and smirking at him. “oh, so you only find me attractive enough to sniff my panties while getting yourself off?” you retorted, your head tilting to the side as his body caged you in. “sounds like denial to me, ‘gumi.”

this only provoked him further, his eyebrows knitting together in frustration before looping his fingers around the waistband of your shorts and yanking them off with little to no effort. you shrieked, squirming to escape his grasp as you began to protest. “stop bein’ stupid and let me go, you asshole!” you whined, your body writhing underneath him only stroking his newfound ego all the more.

“oh, so your little pussy soaking your panties means you don’t want this? sounds like denial to me.” he snapped back like a rubber band, a cocky smirk gracing his glossy lips as he looked down at you. you rolled your eyes, a slight pout forming on your lips as your legs quivered. his hand reached in between your legs, pressing two fingers against the outline of your soaking wet folds through the panties. he didn’t expect you to give in so easily, but it didn’t exactly surprise him, either.

he rubbed up and down your aching slit with two of his fingers, entirely neglecting your swollen clit as if to tease you even more. you struggled a bit more, bucking your hips on his fingers for at least some stimulation on your swollen nub. he tsked, leaving a harsh smack on your sloppy cunt before rubbing his palm against it to soothe the sting. “you’re such an annoying slut, even in bed.” he husked out, his steel blue eyes eating up the way the thin fabric of your panties stuck to your pussy.

you mumbled out a small ‘sorry’ as you bucked your hips forward, in urgent need to get your pussy touched by him again. “not so hard, now is it? i just knew you were a cock hungry whore, scampering around the house in your dirty little panties to tease me..” he trailed off, two of his digits ghosting over your clit. “just admit it, you need me to fuck you.”

“i hate you.” you hissed back, your eyebrows furrowing in anger from the way he teased you. he pulled his fingers away, throwing a glare your way before shaking his head. “nah, i don’t think you do, y/n.” he cooed, his fingers running along the edge of your panties to provoke you further. “but i could make you hate me, if that’s what you want.” he snickered, his eyes darting between your angry expression and your throbbing core.

“fuck you, disrespectfully.” you still tried to show even an ounce of control, but deep down you wanted him. you knew it, and he did too. “so that’s how you like it?” he asked in a low grumble, slowly sliding your panties down your plump thighs. his gaze never left yours, your panties now hanging loosely at your ankles before you kicked them off to the end of the bed.

megumi felt his breath catch in his throat from the sight of your leaky cunt, swallowing thickly, causing his adam’s apple to bob in its wake. he visibly shuddered in excitement when he finally made contact with your bare heat, his tongue sliding across his bottom lip in concentration as he swiped the pad of his thumb over your clit.

you let out a whiny yelp, reaching up to grip his shoulder as he continued pleasuring you. his chest was swelling with pride at this point, his pretty blue eyes fluttering closed as he felt your grip tighten with every movement of his finger. “such a pretty pussy.. i wanna taste it..” he groaned, his eyes snapping open to look at the way your arousal dripped down to your ass and onto the bed sheets below.

“i thought you said you weren’t attracted to me.” you snorted, batting your eyelashes at him with a knowing smile pulling at your lips. with this, megumi wasted no time in grabbing your panties and shoving them into your mouth. “do you ever shut your whorish mouth up or what?” he shoved them further into your mouth, causing you to gag and whine. the sight of you choking on your own panties made his cock twitch in his pants, a dark stain bleeding through his gray sweats.

“doesn’t feel so nice does it? choking on your panties, and you still need more. now you really understand how i felt.” still rubbing quick circles on your aching clit, his other hand gripped your inner thigh, digging the tips of his fingers into your skin and holding your legs open with ease.

“can’t say much now, can you?” your reactions amused him, his thumb never relenting from the pace he set on it. he reached up with his spare hand, spitting on his middle and index finger before swiping them against the edge of your needy little hole. he pushed them in slowly, his forearm tensing up from the way you gripped onto his digits.

“fuck, you’re so mmnhh– tight. for a greedy slut, that is.” he pumped his fingers in and out of your heat, his jaw falling slack as he watched his fingers slip in and out with a loud ‘squelch.’ you mewled at the feeling of his fingers sliding against your gummy walls, your eyes closing tightly as a sheer coat of sweat started to grow on your forehead. “please ‘gumi.. please fuck me.” you cried out, your syllables breaking with every thrust of his fingers.

the sight was absolutely marvelous from megumi’s point of view. the way your lips parted, your legs trembling and the way your eyes slammed shut in pleasure as he ravaged your insides with his fingers, fuck it was all almost too much for him to handle. he was finally able to put you in your place after months of torture with your bratty and unbearable attitude.

“now you’re begging, such a good little whore.” he chimed, his fingers curling upwards into your g-spot, his wrist moving back and forth rapidly. your body tensed up, your hands gripping the sheets below you until your knuckles turned a pearly shade of white. “i’m so close.. i’m so close.. please..” you sobbed, your hips lifting off the mattress to match the thrust of his fingers.

megumi halted his movements, watching you writhe and cry from your orgasm fizzling away. “you’re not gonna get to cum that easily, sweetheart. you gotta work for it. you can do that for me can’t you, slut?” he chuckled deviously, his fingers moving inside of you once again, you immediately clenched around his fingers, that familiar feeling building in your tummy again.

“gonna cu–” you were immediately cut off, his fingers pulling all the way out and leaving you empty. you squealed in displeasure, a flood of frustration filling your veins as your hips stuttered forward in a desperate endeavor to reach an orgasm. megumi tsked again, biting the inside of his cheek briefly before leaning down to press a soft kiss to your clit.

“don’t worry, i’ll let you cum. eventually.” he goaded, running the tip of his tongue up your slit to lap at your juices. this elicited a blissful groan from megumi, his tongue diving into your throbbing hole and licking upwards to gather more of your slick. your hands shot down to tangle in his jett black hair and pull him closer to your pussy, your moans unwavering as he slurped up your cunt like his last meal.

“me– megumi!” you gasped, your thighs slamming closed around his head. he removed his tongue from inside your cunt, licking up your folds to your clit and sucking it into his mouth. he swiftly pulled your thighs apart, pinning them down to the mattress as he continued to suck your clit hungrily, his tongue sliding against it. your eyes rolled into your skull, your head falling backwards onto his silken pillows. “i’m– fuck. i’m gonna cum.” you choked out, your voice muffled from the panties in your mouth as your fingers grasped at his hair tighter, your hips grinding against his lips.

he let out a hum of approval, the vibrations of his voice shooting through your mound as you squeaked out in pleasure. your long awaited orgasm finally crashed over you, your back arching off the bed and your legs trembling as your tight walls pulsated and fluttered continuously. megumi collected your cum on his tongue, swallowing down every last drop that dripped from your pleasure-ridden cunt.

your chest heaved as you finished riding out your high, looking down to find megumi already slipping his painfully hard cock out of his sweats. “your pussy tastes better than i could have imagined, the panties didn’t do you nearly enough justice.” he said, his voice laced with pure and utter arousal. he gently plucked the panties from your mouth, shooting you a devilish smirk. you whined, your head falling back again as he pressed the tip to your entrance.

“now it’s my turn, greedy slut.” he pushed the tip in, your walls struggling to accommodate his length as your eyes rolled to the back of your head. he trembled, taking a deep breath through gritted teeth as he pushed in to fill you up to the hilt. you shrieked, a sting shooting through your inner walls from the sudden stretch. you reached upwards, wrapping your arms around his neck to hold yourself together while you adjusted to his size.

he remained still, his patience running thin as he felt your hot gummy walls coil around his cock. “i’m gonna move now, so be the good little slut you are and take it.” he growled, reaching up with one of his hands to grip your chin firmly. he slowly pulled out and pushed back in, letting your slick cum coat his dick entirely before setting a pace.

his hips slammed into you ruthlessly, the bulbous tip of his cock grazing over all of your sweet spots with every thrust of his hips. he fucked you like his life depended on it, he’d rather die than have to stop fucking you. months of fantasizing about your tight pussy, and he was finally getting it.

your cum from your previous orgasm splattered with every harsh thrust into your pussy. still reeling from the way your walls gripped him like a vice, megumi let out a strained moan and slammed his eyes shut tightly. his hand slid down your chin to your neck, squeezing the sides lightly while his other hand grazed your hardened nipples through your shirt.

“i want this off, wanna see how pretty your tits look when they bounce.” he grumbled, his hand getting closer to the hem of your shirt to pull it over your chest. he gasped slightly, his eyes drinking up every curve of your breasts before capturing one of your nipples in his mouth and sucking softly. you wiggled underneath him, the sensitivity making your head feel like it was going to explode. he pulled off your sensitive bud with a subtle ‘pop’, his dark eyes finding yours to send you a threatening glance. you immediately knew what it was for, trying your best to hold still as you clamped down on the cock that was currently splitting you open.

“that’s more like it, good girl.” he praised with a hum, running his slick hot tongue across your nipple again before sucking it between his lips. he drifted the hand that was gripping your neck tightly down to your other breast, kneading at the flesh. his hips began to stutter from the way your gummy wet walls clenched around him, an exasperated huff coming from his chest.

you could tell he was getting close from the way his manhood twitched inside of you, and you really weren’t far behind him. “i– i’m gonna cum ‘gumi.. ‘m so close..” whimpering and moaning, megumi rutted his hips into you faster. a breathy chuckle leaving his lips as he looked down at you all fucked out on his cock.

“i– fuck. i’m close too. go ahead and cum for me, slut.” he permissed harshly, his hand gripping your tit tighter as he felt you unravel around him. your second orgasm hit you like a truck, your head light and spinny as it rolled to the side. sobs and moans tore through your throat, pleads of his name rolling off your tongue as your slick absolutely drenched his dick.

this threw megumi over the edge, gritting his teeth, his thrusts became a lot less calculated and a lot more sloppy. “gonna cum inside of you, make sure you really know your fucking place.” he mumbled in finality– his cock now pushed right against the entrance to your womb as he filled you up with his load.

you hissed, sucking in air through your teeth as you felt his hot cum paint your walls. megumi’s arms shook as he held himself up, choking back moans as he came down from his high. once you were both finished and panting, you looked at each other in a certain way that had you both holding back laughter.

he pulled his softening dick out of you, hurriedly getting up from the bed to grab a rag. “fuck fuck fuck such a mess.” he stammered, reaching you to wipe up the cum that was beginning to leak from your insides. you cackled breathlessly, propping yourself up on your elbows to look at him as he cleaned you up, his eyes narrowing in concentration.

“you literally just came in me, and you’re worried about the mess?” provoking him in your fucked out state was the wrong idea. he laid another harsh smack on your clit, causing a loud shriek to rip out from your lungs. he smirked, swiping your leaking slit once more before tossing it in the dirty bin.

“you just became a slut for my cock and you already forgot how to speak to me?” he paused, sliding on a new pair of boxers as he looked down at you all sprawled out on his sheets. “i thought you were pretending to be stupid, but maybe you really are.” you scoffed, your hand gripping your chest in faux offense before speaking. “i hate you so much.” you mumbled, your lips forming into a small pout causing a throaty chuckle to bubble up in megumi’s chest. “i promise, i hate you more.”

#smut #geto suguru #gojo satoru #megumi fushiguro #megumi smut #megumi x reader #jjk megumi #jjk gojo #jjk geto #jjk toji #jjk x reader #jjk smut

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cheapshrimpysheep · 2 years ago

Text

Onesie Party

SUMMARY: Ace and Deuce, with a hint from Cater and financially support from Kalim, gave you a costume made Grim onesie. And decided to throw a surprise (to only you) onesie party at Ramshackle Dorm and invite all the students you knew. Onesies were the mandatory dress code!

CHARACTERS: All NRC Students. (Leona is mentioned because, let’s face it, he would only wear a onesie if he was forced to)

TAGS: Fluf; GN Reader.

WORD COUNT: 3.780

COMMENTS: I'm new at posting here on tumblr. This is the first thing I write as a fan of something. I already read other things like this here and I enjoyed them. One night I was wearing my own onesie and got this idea. I also like to write so, why not?

I hope you enjoy reading. I did enjoy writing it.

BTW: English isn't my first language.

You were on Ramshackle Dorm. It was already late night, and you were getting ready to go to bed when you decided to make one last check at your Magicam.

You had a massage from Cater. He sent to you a post. It was a photo of someone wearing a black cat onesie with red fire in its ears.

Cater: It reminded me of Gri-Chan

Cater: they're making custom onesie!!

Cater: a Grim onesie would be so adorbs!!!!!

Cater: and you'd look so cuuute on one ;)

That made you giggle. You checked the post just to confirm what you´ve already thought.

You: They’re sooo CUTE!!!

You: I would love to have a Grim onesie but…

You: they’re so expensive :(

You: That and Grim would probably tease me about it and his ego would inflate even more -.-

Cater: hahahahaha He would do that because he would love to see you in that too XD

Cater: but yah... it's a shame it's so expensive :(

Cater: Ow... I need to go... Don't want to lose my head to be up past hours

Cater: nighty night~

You: good night ~

Little did you know Cater would tell your two dummy best friends about the onesie thing.

It was a chilly night, some days after that chat, and the sun was just a few seconds of set, when you heard a knock on the front door.

Grim smelled the air. “I smell FOOD!” he said, rushing to the door.

You hear Ace and Deuce's voices. And then you see them appear in the lounge where you were sitting on the sofa. If you were drinking something, you would have spit it out or choked on your laughter.

Besides having some bags with snacks, they were also wearing onesies. Ace had an ace of hearts onesie and Deuce had a two of spades onesie. They say that line of onesies were made based on the Queen of Hearts card soldier.

Ace was loud when he greeted you. Deuce was probably still embarrassed about the situation.

“You look so adorbs!” You said, purposely imitating Cater, and laughing. That made Deuce blush a little.

“HA ha ha. I know right?” Ace said, “But don’t think can escape from join us.”

“I would love to, but unfortunately for you, I don't have a onesie.”

“Are you sure?” Ace took out one of the things Deuce carried in one of the bags.

“OI!” Deuce protested. And Ace threw you a paper bag. Like a package that arrived in the mail. When you picked it up, you realized that by the softness, inside the bag there should be some kind of clothing.

You opened the bag while they took the snacks out of the bags and placed them on the table. And unfurling a gray onesie with a trifurcated tail, blue fire coming out of the cat ears and a black and white striped bow around the neck, which the zipper handle being a pendant.

“Don't just stand there looking at it. Go dress it before the party starts!”

“Party?! What party?!”

Ace had a mischievous smirk on his face.

“Sorry, (Y/N).” Deuce said, “I wanted to tell you, but they wanted it to be a surprise.”

“They? You mean there more people than you two who are involved in this?”

“Of course.” Ace said, “That thing was expensive. Who do you think we tricked to… I mean, who do you think offered to pay for the whole thing when he knew about it?”

You looked at him with a raised eyebrow. And someone else nocked at the door. Either it was a huge coincidence or a great timing. You put the onesie on the sofa and went to open the door.

Kalim’s greeting was as warm as always. He was wearing a red parrot onesie. He had his signature smile, until he saw your clothes.

“Oh, did we come too soon? Ace and Deuce haven’t arrived yet? I hope I didn't ruin the surprise.”

“Oh no. They are here. I just haven't put on my onesie yet.”

He sighed with relief “I got scared for a second. Then go try it one! I can’t wait to see how it looks on you!”

You smiled “Ok, I’ll go. After you enter.”

Kalim wasn't carrying anything, but the person who came in after him and greeted you had about three boxes stacked in his arms. You controlled your laughter because you knew he wouldn't like that. But Jamil looked so cute in his dark red snake onesie. You felt the need to say something.

“Don't be mad at me, but you look kinda cute on that.”

“D-don’t worry. I’m not mad” and he quickly balanced the boxes on one arm to pull the hood up to cover his blushing face with the other. “Thanks.” He whispered. That just made it worse. He was now even cuter.

You went to one of the empty rooms to change to your new onesie. When you returned to the lounge all the boys ware looking at you the same way, but Kalim was the one saying what probably all of them were thinking.

“Aw! You look so cute (Y/N)!”

“Myahaha. Looks like we find the perfect uniform for my hench-human.”

And before you could say something back, another knocks the door. You were so excited about seeing another NRC student in a cute onesie than you almost rush to the door.

OMG. Now it was Trey and Cater on a three of clubs and four of diamonds onesies. They'll tell you that the four card soldier onesies pack was on discount, so they took it. And of course, Trey brought one of his cakes. Like Deuce, Trey was a little embarrassed. But Cater...

“OGS, you look cuter that I thought! I need a pic of us (Y/N)!”

(OGS = Oh Great Seven)

They entered and after them… surprise of surprises:

“Riddle?!” It was already too late to try to sound less cooked. And he was wearing a red hedgehog onesie. “I-I didn’t thought… um…”

“Think, (Y/N), I didn't think.” He corrected you. maybe because he would anyways, or maybe to try to soften the soft blush that was already starting to form. “Well, since you always go to our unbirthday parties when invited, and sometimes even help preparing them, I thought the minimum I could do to show my appreciation was to attend to one of your parties.”

After he entered, something on the back of the onesie caught your eye. You weren't looking at that, swear! But that little round tail was so cute.

A few minutes later, new knockings on the door.

“Kalim?” You asked, “How many people did you invite?”

“Well, to be honest, I was thinking about inviting all the students at school. But Jamil said that you could not like that especially because it was a surprise party, so he suggested only invited the people you know.”

You smiled at Jamil as saying thank you.

“So I only invited… um, let me see… Jamil, Riddle, Trey, Cater, Leona, Ruggie, Jack, Azul, Jade, Floyd, Vil, Rook, Epel…”

Another knock interrupted Kalim’s list. Whoever it was from that list, it was better to open the door and fast.

Ruggie was wearing a hyena onesie. You were as happy to see him as he was to see you but... “Isn’t it a little bit… weird for you?” You asked.

“Hey! I'm a very loyal guy to my roots. Shehe.”

“That and Leona-senpai said it was either that or a lion onesie.” Jack said. He will revel to you that Leona was the one paying for Ruggie's onesie. and he wanted to buy the lion one for Ruggie, just to mess with him, but eventually Ruggie convinced him to buy the hyena one. Jack himself was wearing a dark blue onesie with little stars and little moons that glowed in the dark, what made you look confused and with a lot of questions at him.

Jack blushed. “L-listen, it's a long story. It was the only thing I had. I bought this a couple of years ago because of my little sister. I can explain it later...”

You didn’t saw anyone else with them. “Oh, what a shame Leona couldn’t come.” You say to Ruggie with a smirk on your face. Despite you really wanting to see him in a cute onesie, you know he wouldn’t do such thing.

And speaking of him, if you’re questioning why Leona would buy Ruggie a onesie just for that party. They made a deal. And Ruggie’s part of the deal was sneakily snap some pictures of your pretty figure on that cute onesie for Leona. And maybe he would save some copies to himself too.

Them entered and you saw that Ruggie’s onesie covered his entire back. So, his little tail was inside. Unlike Jack's tail, which poked out of his onesie and struggled not to wag like a happy dog’s one.

After the two of them entered the lounge, Ace started messing with Jack, and Ruggie started messing with Riddle because of they’re onesies. Nothing to make neither of them too mad, but it made you star worrying about other possible gests.

Not long after, you open the door again.

“Awww... why an azarashi-chan onesie? You should have got a Shrimp one.” Floyd whined. “Ne Jade?”

“He Floyd.” His Twin agreed “Oh, but you still look adorable on that direbeast onesie.” After Ruggie, it was no surprise seeing them on eels onesies. The funniest thing about their onesies was the feet getting out of the onesie while the tail continued a little further back.

But honestly, even more funny was Azul in front of them. Was he using an octopus onesie? Unfortunately for you, no. He was wearing a… business onesies! A onesie that looked like a suit. How did he even find one of those? You could have asked if you didn't just start laughing.

Azul looked a little upset about your laugh.

“I told you that one was stupid.” Floyd said. “You should have got a cute one.”

“I didn’t want a cute one.” Azul said back to Floyd, and then asked you: “Is there something wrong about the onesie I chose?”

“No, no.” You assured him, still giggling a little. “There’s nothing wrong with it. It’s just that I never saw a onesie liked that. I didn’t even know those existed.”

“I would rather see Azul on an octopus onesie myself as well.” Jade said with his signature smile that only the people who knew him knew it was a mocking smile.

“Absolutely not!” Azul reiterated. And as if trying to change the subject of the conversation. “Though, (Y/N), despite the preferences of my colleagues, I may say that you look wonderful in those clothes.” Oh, he tried to control the blush, but little did he know it was stronger than his wishes.

The Tweels smiled mischievously but didn’t say anything about it. Looking at them and thinking about the people that were already on the lounge, you realised something. You opened your arms in a signal for them not to enter yet.

“Wait, just… Can I please ask you something?” you opened your arms in a signal for them not to enter yet. But you quickly remember when you saw their, let's say, villainous smiles. You wanted a favor from the Fish Mafia, hum?

“Of course, prefect.” Azul said with his charming smile. “Anything you wish. You already should know that.”

There was only one thing you could use to your advantage when dealing with those three. And especially in this situation. They soften when their poor unfortunate souls are cute.

“Can you please not anger anyone? You know, teasing them about the onesies? I wanted everyone to enjoy the party.” You asked with only the necessary amount of puppy eyes.

“Anger anyone?” Floyd repeated, then smiled. “Is kingyo-chan here?”

Time to increase the puppy eyes, directed at both at Floyd and Azul. And while Azul was thinking you thought of a possible offer to Floyd. “I'll buy a shrimp onesie!”

Floyd’s smile softened and warmed. “Really~? And would you visit me with it dressed at Octavinelle whenever I ask you~?”

“Not whenever you ask.” You stood.

“And what if we set a maximum limit?” Jade said, as if that deal was of his interest as well. “Once a week maximum?”

“Once a month.”

“Twice a month” Floyd pouted.

“Fine. Twice a month maximum.”

“Okay~! What do you think Azul?”

“Um… Allow me to be the one selling the onesie to you, and we have a deal.”

You signed. “Fine.”

“It’s a deal then, my dear (Y/N). It’s always a pleasure to do them with you.”

If it makes you feel better, remember that you just made a dela with them while everyone wearing onesies. And little did Azul know he would be teased for his choice of onesie as well. At least Jamil had that to counterattack.

Next knocks on the door.

“Beauté! Oh, Trickster, your onesie is magnifique! Such clothing specially designed based on a close friend! What a wonderful show of beautiful bonds.” And Rook did it again, made you blush with his flourish. “Ah~” he whispered at you with a smile. “And of course, you could get even more beautiful.” He was wearing a light purple bear onesie.

“Rook, don’t spoil (Y/N) already with your complements.” Vil said. He was wearing a peacock onesie. He looked at you and smiled. “But I agree, it is a pretty cosy sight to behold. I even dare say you may look better than Grim himself.”

You smiled, still blushing. “Don’t say that in front of him.”

They entered and finally you see your fellow Pomefiore freshman. Epel was wearing a purple onesie with white lines with little drawings (like a Christmas onesie, but purple instead of red). But the biggest surprise was seeing him with his excited smile. You would think he from all people wouldn't like a party like this. I mean, it's kind of hard looking anything other than cute on a onesie. But he seems looking forward to the party.

“Ah! I love your onesie.” You tell him.

“Thanks! My grandma did it for me some time ago. I never had the opportunity to use it with other people wearing their own onesies too!”

“I also told him that he wouldn't need to worry about being the only one being called cute on this party.” Vil said.

“Oh! I'm eager to see what our dear schoolmates chose to wear on this night.”

“Um, Rook?” You ask before he continued followed the other two to the lounge.

“Oui?”

“I’m curious. Epel is wearing a onesie that his grandmother made. Vil is wearing, well, the animal that I most associated with him.” You giggle. “But I was wondering why you’ve chose a bear?”

He smiled at you. “I’m glad I picked your curiosity.” Rook had his, let’s say, hunter smile on his face. “Well, since you’re the host, I may tell you. You see, I always found fascinating by how a huge beast like a bear could turn into a soft and cute toy for children. Both an efficient predator and a fluffy friend. I thought it was a good fit for both the party and me. Wouldn't you agree, trickster?”

“Indeed.” you smiled, slightly worried.

Some minutes later, more knock on the door.

“HIII, prefect!” And you thought Ortho couldn't look cuter. He was wearing a magenta onesie with little horns, and with the ways he was moving you were able to glance a pointy tail behind him as well. He even changed his flames hair colour to match the onesie. “Wow! The Grim-san onesie is so cool! It looks so good on you.”

"Thank you. Your onesie is so cool too."

“Ha ha, thank you. They are from characters we really like. We thought it would be cool to matching clothes for this kind of party.”

“We? Matching?”

“And I’m already regretting that.” You heard a familiar deep voice saying somewhere outside.

“Ni-san! Come on, you said you wanted to show everyone how superior our onesies are.” Then he imitated Idia's voice. “There's no way those guys have better onesies than this. I personally upgraded mine from their standard self to accommodate my shut-in needs.”

“Fine, fine… you don't need to info-dump everything in one line of dialog.”

Instead of waiting for Idia to came out of his hiding place, you snick out your head to find him crouching to the wall close to the door.

“Heep! N-no need to jump-scare me.” He was wearing a onesie similar to Ortho’s, but his was teal, and the horns were longer than Ortho's. He was using the hoodie to hide his face, despite the long blue flames of hair that lit him. You could also see the pointy tail lying on the ground.

“Sorry.” Your eyes widened. “Your onesies are so cool! And the fact they’re matching is so adorable.”

Idia looked up at you, saw your cat ears with flames that match his own hair, and the ends of that same hair began to turn pink.

“(Y/N), could you help me convince my brother to enter the party. Please.” The please wasn't needed, he was asking you with his cute little brother's voice, and you existed heart couldn’t say no to that. That and you also wanted Idia in the party.

“Um… If I tell you some of the onesies others are wearing, would you feel more comfortable?”

“That could be considered a spoiler but… yah… If the game offers you some hint about the element of your opponent’s attacks, you’re a noob for not taking advantage of that.” And with it he at least got up. Making you be the one looking up.

“Let me see… Ace, Deuce, Trey and Cater are matching to. They’re card soldiers.”

“Um… I think I saw the pack online…”

“Riddle is a red hedgehog.”

“WHA-? Riddle-shi is here?! And on a hedgehog onesie?!”

“Right? I was as chocked as you.”

“Well, from the small sample my theory still holds.” Idia whispered with a smug smile.

“So, will you enter with me Ni-san?”

“Y-yes. I-I can go with you.”

Ortho happily thanked you and tugged his big brother by his onesie sleeve. After they entered you could see in both onesies a little pair of demon wings.

You were still waiting for someone else. But it seemed to be taking longer than the others.

“Kalim. Please tell me that you didn’t forget to invite de guys from Diasomnia.”

“I could swear I invited everyone… AH! That's what I forgot to tell Lilia in music club meeting!”

“What?! You didn’t invite them?!”

“Don’t warry, (Y/N).” Jamil said to you. “I made sure to go to the music club room after their meeting was over and I came across Lilia on the corridor. I can assure you that I informed him of the party.”

You could hug and kiss this boy right there and then and it shown on your eyes. “Oh Jamil, you’re the best!” he said it was nothing as he hid his face in his onesie's hoodie.

Despite that, you were only relieved when you finally heard another knock on the door. You open it with an expectant smile on your face and...

Nobody?

“Goodnight, (Y/N).”

“Aaaahh! Lilia!” you scold.

Lilia just did one of his popped out of nowhere upside-down things. This time appearing on the top of your door trim.

“Fuhuhu. Forgive me, but I couldn’t resist.” He said as he turned to land his feet on the floor. He was wearing a black dragon onesie, with fluffy horns and tail and a purple belly.

You looked at him, he looked at you.

“You look so cute!” you both said to each other at the same time. And while you were laugh it off, three tallest figures appeared behind Lilia.

They were all wearing the same black dragon onesies. The only exception was that Malleus' onesie didn't have the fluffy horns. Instead, there were holes on the hoodie specially made for his real horns take the place of the fake ones. He had his charming, delighted smile on. The smile he always has when he's invited for something.

“Indeed, that is certainly a flattering attire. Especially on you, Child of Man.”

“Thank you.” You smiled and blush. “Come on in! I want to see your onesies better.”

“HA!” Sebek yelled. “A human capable of understand the grandiosity of waka-sama to be willing to admire his figure in such admirable garment.” He was probably calling the onesie admirable because it was design based on the dragon form of the Thorn Fairy.

This also made a sleeping Silver standing next to Malleus wake up. He sighed. “I knew this onesie was too comfortable.” He was the last one entering the hall.

It was funny seeing Sebek so proud for using a dragon’s onesie alongside his Waka-sama. Seeing sleepy Silver on that onesie was one of the cutest sights of the night. But you also felt sorry for him because he was struggling more than usual to stay awake.

And Malleus, the warm way he was looking at you on your Grim onesie plus how cute he was on his, you suddenly felt like hugging him. He would probably like it. Sebek wouldn't.

You told them they could join the others on the lounge, and they started walking there. But you saw Malleus staying behind with you, and with a little help from Lilia, the other two didn't realise it. The moment they walked in the lounge you heard Sebek starting an argument with Ace about their onesies.

“Is something wrong, Tsunotarou?”

“Do you remember me giving you permission to touch my horns?”

“Yes.” And you already did it once or twice.

“I know they are part of your suit, but would you allow me to touch your ears?”

It took you a moment to finally answer with a wanna-be smug smile. “You can touch them, if you're willing to suffer the consequences for the audacity.” And you even dared to try to strike one of Malleus' powerful poses.

“Ha ha ha ha.” You successfully made him give you one of his genuine laughs. “Fine then. I have never been one to cowered over anything.” He got closer to you, reached out his hands and started petting your cat ears.

And while he was entertained by that, you hugged him. He widened his eyes looking down at you on his chest.

“The consequences.” You told him. What made him giggled and return the hug.

If you would like to read more from me, you can find it in my pinned post: INDEX

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stinkysam · 4 months ago

Text

Serge “Frenchie” - Gris.

Warning : none

Genre : fluff

Synopsis : “Hey! it’s me again, so i just finished s4 of the boys and boy am i feeling bad for frenchie. i mean that poor guy just feels so unloved and unsafe like idk i mean ofc kimiko is like the closest he has to a safe person but i fell like he needs a home in form of another person yk?! Just give him a break ok. I NEED TO SEE THIS COMFORTED AND HUGGED AND SMOCHED!!! please i need some fluffy and kissing happiness for him.” - @jadenisdead

Reader : gender neutral (you/yours)

Everything was silent except for the TV playing a documentary quietly.

Frenchie was laying on the couch, facing the TV, seemingly watching it. Though you knew something was up as he wasn't making any comments about what he was learning.

You thought he was just zoned out so you said nothing and hung the laundry on the drying rack by the open window behind the couch. You often stopped to pay attention to the documentary before going back to your task after a few minutes.

Suddenly Frenchie spoke.

“Pourquoi tu m'aimes ?” He asked, sitting up and turning around so he could look at you.

“Quoi ?” You said, not sure you had heard correctly, waiting for him to repeat himself.

But he didn't, staring at you with sad eyes instead.

You put what you were holding back in the basket on the floor and walked around the couch to sit next to him.

“Why I love you ?”

“Oui.” He then looks at the TV. “I just- I wonder- You and Kimiko… Pourquoi ? Ça n'a pas de sens.” He said, looking back at you.

“Because you make me happy ?” You reply, unsure of how to answer.

“But why ?”

“You're funny, kind… you're French, that helps.” You chuckle at the last bit. “It really does. Just like how you have your own thing with Kimiko by being the only one who understands when she signs.”

“But I killed people. Families. I'm not a good person, you shouldn't love me.”

“I didn't say I love you because you're a good person. I vaguely know your history, what you allowed me to know. But I know you're trying to change, to be better.” You looked at him, nudging him. “I think that has to matter a bit, non ?”

He shrugged, looking down, unsure.

“You're not killing for Little Nina anymore.” You added.

“For le Charcutier, now. Same thing.” He said with a shrug feeling upset about it.

“No. You're trying to make something good out of it. Sometimes to do good you have to get your hands dirty.” You started, placing your hand on his back to gently rub it. “Look at Hughie. You see what I mean ? Not wanting to kill Translucent, then doing it, taking temp V to go after Soldier Boy and teleporting into those Russian soldiers, working for Neuman, then going back to us. I'm not saying what we're doing is good or the right way, but it's for a better future. You're not killing just because Burcher told you to.”

He said nothing, letting the words sink in as he thought about them. You must be right, no ? Like Hughie you always tried to find a better way.

“What you did with Kimiko, that's what a good man would've done, so I don't believe you're completely bad, or not anymore.” You stay silent for a moment, thinking. “Redemption exists, I can't say if you deserve it or not, maybe only Jesus or God could but it's up to you to balance out the bad you've done. I think ? Keep trying to do better.”

You looked at him, scanning his reaction.

“You believe so ?”

“I love you because there's good in you. Nothing is all black or white, it's all shades of grey, It's hard to remember that, I know, but it's true. You're just nuanced.”

He sighed, and leaned against you, resting his head on your shoulder, grabbing your hand.

“I wish I wasn't this nuanced.”

“I know. But that's what makes you you. You'd be different if you had a different past.” You squeezed his hand, your thumb gently caressing his skin. You kissed the top of his head before letting yours rest on top of his.

Silence fell, both thinking.

“Désolé, this was really out of the blue.” He said, now feeling bad and embarrassed for worrying you and for the serious conversation.

“You don't need to apologize. I love you. I understand that sometimes the past can be heavy to carry. But with it you can make a better future.”

“I still don't believe you should love me. J'ai causé trop de souffrances.” He said, looking at you.

“But not to me. Not to Kimiko. Not to the boys. Do you understand ? You're not all black and bad, you're not who you used to be.” You moved his hand, raising it to your lips to kiss it. “It's good to remember what you did, but don't let it stop you from doing better. Don't let the past freeze you or define you.”

“Je sais. But what we're doing… It's…” He frowned, not finding the words he wanted to use. Working with the boys is not good. There's pain and death following you all. But it's not completely bad as it's for a greater cause.

“I know. But as soon as we can, as soon as we find a way to stop Homelander, we put him down and leave. We will go to France with Kimiko. There will be no more violence or killing. Just peaceful life.”

He chuckled. Deep down, he felt like this moment would never come. They'll never find a weapon or poison to kill Homelander. Only their death awaits them.

“Be a little more patient, I promise you our dream will come true.”

“I hope you're right.” He said quietly, scooting a bit closer.

You stayed silent for a moment before speaking again.

“You can ask Kimiko too, why she loves you, she'll tell you the same thing as me. And she knows what killing for other people do. She knows she's not a good person because she has killed and still kills, but she's trying to do better and to heal as well.” You paused, looking at him. “But does it stop you from loving her ?”

“...Non.”

“Voilà.”

He said nothing for a second before squeezing your hand.

“Merci…”

“Of course.” You kissed the top of his head before letting go of his hand to wrap your arms around him, pulling him closer, letting him rest in your arms. “I love you.”

Though Frenchie struggled to agree with everything you said, he still felt a bit better knowing you loved him despite not knowing his past. He felt glad he had you and Kimiko to support him and help him be better.

“Je t'aime aussi, mon cœur.” He said quietly, closing his eyes, enjoying your warmth. “Did you know oysters can change genders multiple times ?”

You chuckled, holding him tighter.

“Yeah, they said it in an old French movie I saw recently.” You kissed his forehead as you both slowly focused back on the documentary playing.

You stayed like this, cuddling on the couch for the rest of the afternoon and slowly, Frenchie’s worries were washed away.

They didn't completely disappear, but he was happy again. Feeling loved and safe.

Traductions - Translations

Pourquoi tu m'aimes ? - Why do you love me ?

Pourquoi ? Ça n'a pas de sens. - Why ? It doesn't make any sense.

J'ai causé trop de souffrances. - I caused too much pain.

#the boys #the boys imagine #the boys x male reader #frenchie #frenchie imagine #frenchie the boys #frenchie x male reader #male reader #m!reader #gender neutral reader #gn!reader

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deliverusfromevillll · 1 year ago

Text

A Sticky Situation [Mammon/F!Reader]

❝ What fuckin' nonsense have ya' been telling y'reself this entire time? ❞

warnings ⨾ blood, descriptions of gore, guns, gunshot wound, choking, swearing, arachnophobia (the irony), established prior connection, soft mammon, sexual content, unresolved sexual tension, resolved angst

terms ⨾ ❝ Drakon ❞ the Latin word meaning "dragon." ❝ Bogan ❞ Australian slang meaning (in negative connotation) someone who's a bit of a nerd or geek, holds no dress sense and/or has poor social skills.

notes ⨾ I am very much not Australian so when I looked up slang and could not find ANY concrete definitions for anything: I was in major pain. Anyways quick thing because [F/n]'s lore might seem confusing. I created an entirely different race of "humanoid" dragons that acted as the knight/official guards for the Ars Goetia incase of extermination/assassination attempts. [F/n] retired from her position as knight for an unnamed Goetia. This entire chapter was originally 13K words but I felt as though the plot arc with the Goetia drifted way too far from the original point of this fic since it was so, so needlessly lore heavy for a reader insert and made this 100x more angsty like you have no idea. Especially since this is only meant to be two chapters. This chapter was cut down for your reading pleasure! If you would like to be part of the process in between me brainstorming and posting ( as I am currently looking for beta readers ) and/or generally would like to see WIPs feel free to join my discord ( NgT88bybyY ).

[02]

As always minors DNI.| 6.3K words

[F/n] and Mammon's relationship is unique.

He was her boss, and she was his secretary.

Running the errands, info graphing, and scheduling his business appointments when due. But it wasn't so simple.

With his artificially friendly attitude in public, behind the scenes he was nothing but cynical— snarky and demanding. Hardly surprising for the king of greed.

[F/n] was no fan, she made it clear.

Despite the lethal glares and threats she managed to shoot a quip or a snark in return each time. It initially prompted a warning hiss or a growl, an insult or a threat.

Then he resorted to shredding through his confined costume to intimidate her one time after they both seriously got into it. Neither party was satisfied in not having the last word.

Despite however many threats were hurled nothing ever came about them.

[F/n] desired the experience the job gave her and Mammon found her too entertaining to simply let go.

[F/n] and Mammon's relationship is undeniably unique.

But damn, there was no shying away from the fact [F/n] did her job exceptionally well. The best in all of Hell. And that's another one of the handful of reasons why he tolerated her.

"Y'er getting on my nerves lizard." Mammon seethes with a false smile.

He sulks leaning away, poisonous puff of green air seeping though his teeth.

[F/n] raises a brow at him, eye roll following. "I need you to work with me here, asshole." [F/n] adjusted herself, turning towards him.

"If you wanna reduce the immediate damage Asmodeus and his little lapdog made we need to start advertising the twins asap. What's bothering you right now?"

Mammon huffed. "The leftover Fizz merch— sales are declining incase ya' haven't seen mate. I'm losin' money."

[F/n] clicked her tongue.

"Whatever doesn't sell now we can resell in a few weeks as vintage or some other bullshit with a higher price tag. You have any idea how much these loser collectors will pay to get their hands on discontinued merchandise?"

That's all it took for Mammon to light up, snatching [F/n] with his top hands in excitement.

"Y'er a bloody GENIOUS!" He shakes her, dropping her instantaneously. "We could double —no— TRIPLE our profits thanks to these degenerates! Ahh I taught ya' so bloody well!"

Mammon splays his hands towards the imaginary dollar signs in the air, clapping eagerly.

"And that's why I love ya' doll!" He shouts with a hefty grin, giving her a final charmed glance as he turned to make way towards the awaiting camera crew. Robo-Fizzies chasing after him with lighting sticks and microphones.

[F/n] catches herself after his stare, the spines on her tail rattling flustered. Her posture eases before anyone else can see as she flicks her tail in response.

Damn did she hate whenever he said things like that.

It's almost as if he knew the effect he had on her, doing and saying things that would purposefully rile her up. [F/n] refused to acknowledge any part of it, counteractive to the very obvious blush on her completion.

Through the commotion, Mammon smiled charismatically in [F/n]'s direction as their eyes met again. This was going to be a long shoot.

"That went better than I expected." [F/n] mumbles. Mammon appearing in a green cloud next to her. Bells chiming happily.

"Why'dya say that? Doubted me?" He rung.

"Well for all the years I've known you— Accepting you got fucked is definitely not something you're known for... You're taking losing your star clown better than I thought."

Mammon chuckles in amusement.

"Star clown? I am the star clown. With or without him I'll still make a fuck ton o' money." He nudges her. "With y'er— uh, our ideas and my reinforcement I don't see any issue mate."

[F/n] looked very, very, unconvinced. Mammon thinks for a moment before shrugging.

"At the end of the day you are my most valuable asset after all."

"What a way to make a girl feel special Ammo." Her eyes roll.

Mammon only giggled for a moment, attention immediately stolen upon taking in a familiar scent.

The smell of coffee meets his nose as they walk before the café in his estate. It takes him no time to decide he's in the mood for another cup of coffee.

[F/n] could already tell by the expression on his face. However unconvinced about giving the bug even more caffeine after his last.

Mammon playfully puts on a puppy-eyed expression as he bends town to her level.

He shoves his face in front of hers, frowning, the green glow of his pupils becoming brighter. "C'mon doll, ya'd say no to my lil 'ol face?"

His smaller spider eyes make a show as he frowns with an exaggerated pointed lip.

She sighs, gently pushing his face away. "Enough with the eyes. I'll be right back... Not like you'd let me say no anyways asshole."

Like a cat that ate the canary, Mammon smiles triumphantly as he took a moment to get seated on one of the empty tables outside the shop.

He enjoys the smell of coffee beans while searching in her direction through the large glass windows. He watches her make some hand motions towards the menu.

Letting out a big yawn, he blinks blearily. He could use a nap after all this.

Exploiting his employees was hard work after all.

Mammon observes her pull out her wallet, swiping her card. His smile becomes gentler, enamored at the idea of her willingness to spend her own money on him.

He became increasingly aware the expression he wore, quickly clearing his throat to look more serious.

It takes the café worker a second to hand her the single cup of coffee alongside a paper bag. He waves her goodbye with a bold wink, [F/n] unable to hold her laugh.

Mammon gritted his teeth. He conditioned his employees not to unnecessarily pester him, or her, especially when they were out together. Seems like one of them hadn't learned this yet. He took a mental note.

He was about to get up from his seat until [F/n] audibly shut the door behind her with a small jingle. She takes a seat across from him as he leaned forward and snatched the drink from her hand.

"'Bout fuckin' time cunt." He grumbles.

Mammon takes a sip of the cold coffee, ignoring his irritation as the sweet contents hit his tongue.

Or at least he tried to, the sweetness of it tasting rather dull part in due to his thoughts.

"Was this made by that fuckin' bogan?" He wonders.

His hand tenses, squeezing the drink at his palm slightly.

"I got you this." [F/n] mumbled, scooting the bag towards him.

Mammon snaps his attention towards back towards her, pausing to glance between her then the baggie before fishing through it. He pulls out a small box, opening it to reveal a cream colored pastry.

It takes him a moment to collect his thought.

Confused, he asks, "Why the cake, doll? Ya' know all I wanted was my coffee."

"You were feeling like shit earlier." She puts it simply.

Mammon shifted from the cake to her in his peripheral vision.

She was worried about him. Had him in her mind. Considerate about how he felt, albeit she wouldn't admit it out loud.

He couldn't help but grow a fat smile, genuine smile, as he scoots closer towards her.

"I'm starting to think ya' actually care about me, love." [F/n]'s eyes widen for a second.

She looks away from him, scoffing.

"Don't overthink it. I don't want to deal with you when you're in a mood."

Mammon takes a small bite, savoring the even sweeter taste. Humming with delight, he takes another portion of it with the plastic spoon, leaning forward to bring it to her mouth.

[F/n] glances between the cake and Mammon, who's unashamedly eagerly watching her.

"I-I don't—"

"Ahh don't fuckin' be like that mate. It's good, try it!"

The dragon takes a bite, flushed, as she ate the piece in silent agreement. Her tail sticking to her leg somewhat embarrassed.

He was right, the pastry was fluffy and flavorful. Not that she expected any different, that was the reason why she bought it for him. She would've never anticipated this however.

Another spoonful reaches her lips, she accepts it without complaint this time. Expression easing. Her tail wags behind her in satisfaction.

Mammon carefully scoops more, bringing it to her face once again.

[F/n] quickly swallows the bit already in her mouth, shaking her head this time.

"I bought it for you, I'm eating more of it than you are. You're being a little bit too charitable."

"Yeah but who's to say I'm not getting anythin' out of feeding ya', love?" He dotes.

[F/n] felt the tips of her ears warm, tail flicking.

Mammon soaks in her flush, turning to take another sip of his coffee. His eyes follow the direction of his lips for a glance before returning at her image.

He freezes for a moment, brows furrowing. Mammon checks the cup again to ensure he saw it correctly. [F/n] immediately notices his expression drop and leans over to see the source.

A phone number was written just under her name with a heart.

"Aw how cute!"

Mammon gags. "Cute?!"

"Yeah, first time someone has done that for me. It's kinda sweet!" [F/n] reaches for the cup, Mammon hisses as he holds it further away.

"Doll, there's no bloody way you're actually interested in this cunt. He's some fuckin' nobody workin' below minimum wage!"

"Oh please, you sound jealous, he was really n—!"

Mammon immediately crushes the cup in his grip, indifferent feeling the coffee spill onto his glove and trickle to the table. He reaches over to grab [F/n]'s extended hand to move it away as he leans towards her features.

His face was centimeters away from hers, sharp breath tickling her features.

"I ain't the sharing type." Mammon growled.

The cup gets engulfed in a green cloud, vanishing as the smoke dissipated. [F/n] glared at the spider, brows furrowed in uncertainty.

He was acting like this again.

"Fucking hell, I didn't want any of your coffee. I just wanted to see the goddamn number."

Mammon blinks, head tilting. He mutters something under his breath as he stands, breaking eye contact.

She thought he was upset over sharing a drink? Far from it, but he wasn't going to clarify if that's the conclusion she came to.

Still holding onto her hand, he strings her up as he gets out of his seat.

"Better ya' don't. This cunt wouldn't even be able to take care of ya'." [F/n] rolls her eyes. Though it didn't go unnoticed, as Mammon grimaced.

"It's impossible to find anyone at all when you scare everyone off." She growls lowly.

"Don't fuckin' hiss at me doll. I'm savin' ya from the embarrassment."

"The embarrassment of what exactly?"

"Of goin' out with the lower class, hells y're considered a knight for the Goetia ain't ya'? Y're not gonna get anythin' worthwhile in some random mutt."

[F/n] swats her tail very irritably, yanking her wrist back forcefully.

A loud tear following in the process.

"I can be with whoever the fuck I want and feel like, I'm not some goddamn princess."

Mammon looks at his glove, seeing as the motion of her pull had tore through the material. It was a reminder of how sharp her scales were.

It wasn't deep enough to cut his actual skin. But the damage on his glove was done. A rush of anger at her defiance.

He sneers, looking between the café and her short figure. A cloud of green exits through his teeth as he grips her by the neck, lifting her effortlessly to his face.

[F/n] grabs his wrists, squeezing equally as hard, as her wings flutter behind her to give herself some leverage and room to breathe.

She looks genuinely shocked for a moment, though it only took a second for her to regain composure to glare at the sin with bared teeth. Scales began to form on her complexion.

Mammon stares deeply into her eyes with a menacing smile. His miniature eyes emitting a soft glow.

"REMEMBER Y'R PLACE BENEATH ME BEFORE I REMIND YA'."

He let's her go, watching as she wobbly lands on her feet.

I gust of wind hits his face as she flapped her wings to soften the fall. The scales that covered her face immediately erase as the tension breaks with a longer sharp inhale of air.

They had instantly gained the attention of everyone around them if they hadn't already, silence deafening.

[F/n] felt humiliated. Hurt. Used.

Defeated, for once.

"I don't fuckin' pay ya to run 'round with y'r bitch hormones. I hired ya' to serve me and me only."

[F/n] bites her lower lip, her claw reaching up to feel where his met her throat.

That was the first time he'd ever grabbed her like that. Sure he'd scream and threaten her before, even swung at her at times however each time he did so slow enough to miss.

He'd chuck random items in reach sometimes knowing she could just dodge or fly out of the way.

It never crossed further than that.

Now to be grabbed by the neck? That was new.

The trace of his hand lingered warningly as she tried to sooth over her bruised skin.

She looked up at him, tail tucked in between her legs.

He would only ever harm people he saw replaceable. His subordinates. The realization came crashing down on her incredibly hard.

He could've just as easily killed her in that moment, snapped her neck and that would've been it.

Did their history mean nothing to him?

What changed?

"Fuck you..." It came as a whisper.

Unsure of whether he heard that or not, he chose to ignore it either way in favor of her tail.

He pointed at it, releasing a laugh as if it was the most amusing thing he'd seen.

It felt nauseating. One moment he was warm: the next, cruel.

Despite all the time spent, she concluded he never saw her as anything further than another form of entertainment.

An animal he can poke and prod for a reaction. Even in her state of shock all he did was laugh. The sound echoed in her head.

A familiar tone rings, buzzing. And Mammon instantly snaps out of his laughter.

He fishes through his pocket to pick up his phone.

His alarm was going off.

"Ahh fuckin' bitch— meeting is about to start." He groans, recovering quickly.

"C'mere." He demands, forgiving the glare she shot at him as he pulled her arm so forcefully she knew she'd bruise.

Mammon teleports the two of them into his office.

The jiggles of coins chime as he lands into his web, [F/n] perched beside him.

Her eyes widen slightly, trying to adjust herself in a better position. She tugs on one of her wings stuck into the webbing with an irritated scowl. He quickly removed the damaged glove and snaps a new one in its place out of thin air.

Mammon, who's busy with a drumstick he seemingly pulled from nowhere, nonchalantly untangles her wing in a simple swipe.

He stops chewing for a second to give her a toothy smirk: [F/n] returning a huff.

"Oh come off it will ya', ya' bitch?"

"We need to talk."

Mammon, who doesn't give it any thought, takes another bite of his food.

"More bitchin'." He imagines.

"Some other time."

[F/n] looks away from him, curling her tail around her leg to try and provide some sort of self comfort. She felt disappointed.

Despite all the breakthroughs made in their partnership, he still treated her like an object. His object. Something he was free to do whatever he wanted to. Truth be told, it stung deeply.

It was the only thing she could think about lately.

There was no denying Mammon grew incredibly on her, she only wished he felt the same in return. Maybe then he wouldn't be so needlessly mean.

Was it something she did? Something she didn't do?

There was no point in even thinking about it, [F/n] didn't want to be embarrassed again. She refused.

Security open the doors of his office, and in come a small group of incubi.

The one leading the group takes a quick bow before the two, tipping his hat while smiling on his way up.

Both watch as they fill the room, trotting with some briefcases in hand. The thumps of their boots semi-absorbed into the carpet they walked on.

"What an honor to see Mammon and his little butterfly, even more so present our wonderful idea to." He starts, slowly pacing left and right.

"We all know about the massive, massive, slaughter that came of the drakon specie during the first war with heaven. Terrible thing really." He smirks.

[F/n] raises her brow, crossing her arms further.

"A bigger shame would be to allow the fun of them go." The incubus pulls out his phone to project a screen before them.

[F/n] and Mammon look less than impressed.

"I present to you the dragon dildo, made with real dragon scales! The synthetic crap can't compare to this." He chuckles, arms extended either way.

The incubi look impressed by their own work. "Dragon scales are the hardest material in all of hell. This thing would be fucking indestructible! It's every horny sinner's dream!"

Mammon yawns, waving a finger.

"And how exactly are ya' going to farm real scales? There's hardly a handful of drakons in all o' hell left mate n' the survivors are all considered royalty."

"Well my good sir, that's where we were hoping you would come in. Seeing as you already possess one of them. I'm sure the king of greed wouldn't mind parting with it in turn for a greater profit."

[F/n] leans out of her seat, seething at the disrespectful implication. "Are you stupid or suicidal?"

The incubus hands one of his partners the briefcase, who held it sideways.

"Oh but my dear, you are very valuable. Your title as knight is only a benefit you see. You can be a brand on its own with how infamous your status was."

He starts unclipping the handles of the case.

"My title was granted to me because of how efficient I was in fighting angels. You— I'd MOP the floor with you."

Mammon tugs her back onto his side. His expression doesn't say much, however, the hand planted around her thigh possessively said it all.

"Y're gonna die for wastin' my time." He snarls, grinning wildly.

Mammon snaps his fingers and in rushes his security of robot Fizzarollis.

[F/n] felt him squeeze her thigh as he presses her deeper into his side. Her initial anger melting as her heart beats faster in reaction. [F/n] stares up at him, his image burning into her mind.

Her hand rested on his chest— able to feel his warmth, his breathing, it felt too intimate.

She felt his heartbeat at her fingertips, beating a tad bit faster than usual.

Then, she remembered. She thought his claim over her was nothing more than superficial, for looks, all this to keep her obedient and lull her back into his claws until the next time she slightly agitated him.

She looks back at the group, frowning.

"Shame, really. I was hoping you'd cooperate for your sake." The incubi frowns.

He opens his briefcase, incubi's devilish smile doesn't go unnoticed.

[F/n], unable to say anything in time, connects two and two as a familiar glint reflects off the metal brandished.

Breaking out of Mammon's grasp, she straddles him and extends her wings— covering as much of him as she possibly could.

A glowing bullet hits [F/n] directly the bend of her wing, the jolt of pain sucking the wind out of her as she slips onto Mammon's stomach.

The incubi's angelic revolver smokes at the barrel.

Security tackles the gunman.

They struggle to get each of his henchmen into cuffs, but with increasing numbers it quickly becomes apparent the gunman along with his goons has no chance.

Mammon immediately moves to shield [F/n] with his body, placing her onto the web. They both look at wound, [F/n] hissing as she tries to stretch her injured wing.

"Fuck— A-Are ya' alright? I didn't think..."

"I'm fine Ammo, he just nailed my joint. That's it." She interrupted, groaning.

His face turns between her injury and her expression several times. He looked worried. His eyes glossed.

[F/n] frowns.

Electricity flies off of Mammon, turning to look at the commotion behind him. Panic quickly turns into rage as he bursts out of his confined costume with a deafening yell.

The room fills with green.

Sounds of screaming immediately follow.

Mammon smashes some of the incubi into the floor, completely crushed under his weight. He makes sure to smear them in, grinning like a Cheshire cat as he does so.

Those unfortunate enough not to cease on impact were left wailing in agony: taking a fistful of the carpet in a hopeless attempt to pull themselves away with a gaping hole going through their back to their stomach..

It was messy.

The blood from their bodies popped similarly to that of water-balloons. It was a gross, alleviating sight. [F/n] could take comfort knowing sinners like these wouldn't be able to come after her again.

After having his fun, Mammon darts his head towards the remaining incubus.

His mini spider eyes radiated a toxic green as he slinked over. The two robo-fizzies who had captured him meekly raised him towards Mammon: who instantly snatches the man and brings him towards his eye level.

"PLEASE N—"

"B̴͍͚̀E̴̯̘̊G̴͈͍͝ ̸̯̩̌F̸͖̗̈́Ò̸͉́Ṛ̶̪͆ ̶͓̑͒Y̷̥͌͂Ŏ̴̖̩̒U̷̲̳͆͌Ṙ̶̟̂ ̸̦͓͂L̶͍̺̈́Ḯ̸̬F̶̨͓͋̅E̵̩̦̋."

Before even giving him the chance, his please come strangled into whispers as Mammon squeezes him in his fist.

He exhales a large green cloud onto his pitiful expression as he attempts to gasp for air, coughing violently in response. A crack erupts.

Mammon drops him to the floor, watching as he contorted with a deafening scream. Observing him cry for a moment: he does the same as he dealt with the ones previously, popping him like an unwanted pimple.

His breathing labored, the high coming down upon realizing he was the last of the group.

Mammon raises one of his bloodied spider legs out of a fresh carcass, inspecting it, grumbling something under his breath.

The security group of robo-fizzies seem unsure on how to proceed, each of them timidly watching awaiting orders.

"The fuck are ya' looking at? Get this cleaned up NOW!" He roared.

The robots scrambled, tumbling over each other as they struggled to organize themselves.

Mammon slinks back towards [F/n], expression instantly softening.

She lets out a whine, yanking out the glowing particle as the pain of it courses through her back. "Gods fuck that hurt..." [F/n] bit her tongue, aimlessly tossing the bullet at the floor.

"Shit, let's go get ya' patched up beautiful." He mumbles, taking her carefully into his arms as if she'd shatter entirely at the slightest bump.

"Fucking— OW!"

"Ahh can ya' fuckin' hold still for a minute mate!?"

Mammon quickly wraps a thick webbing around her wing, using a splint to keep it straight in place.

[F/n] squirms, suppressing the acid-ball forming at her throat. Mammon makes his final wrap as he sticks the web onto itself, hands gently caressing her wing.

He sighs.

Neither of them say anything for a moment. The silence deafening as the reality of the situation sinks in.

He frowns, gently letting go of his work.

Moving to cup her cheek as he turns her expression towards him even gentler, afraid he would somehow shatter her.

"Why the face? What's the matter beautiful?"

There it was, again, the rapid beating of her heart over his artificial pet names.

"Nothing. Just... I can't fucking believe I got shot right in the elbow." She mumbles, sparing a glance at his handiwork on her wing.

"Normally my scales are able to tank angelic bullets... Maybe I'm becoming weak." [F/n] sighed.

"I, uh, well ya'know... That bullet would'a sent me to the bloody hospital. Cunt aimed for my head." Mammon swallows.

He drags a finger under the fabric of his neck, pulling on it momentarily.

"And honestly... I think y're the only bloody demon crazy enough who'd ever do anything like that for me."

He strokes the webbing gingerly, feeling the material brush against the rest of her scales. He paused.

Mammon tenses slightly as he rehearsed his next sentence in his mind dozens of times, feeling awkward as the very unfamiliar phrase leaves his tongue.

"So —uh— I appreciate ya' more than ya' think..."

It falls silent as her face hues.

Though it doesn't bother him remotely, continuing to massage around the bend of her wing.

If only he were consistently like this. Then it would make the signs so much more visible.

Visible he actually wanted her.

[F/n] swallows thickly, doing her best to calm the trot in her chest. She knew despite everything if she could go back in time she wouldn't change the outcome of it.

Even in the chaos of it all she cared too deeply about him to imagine him hurt. With that, the wave of knowing she completely lost to him finally came crashing down on her.

Their game of chess was finally concluded, he won, and that's why she needed to get out.

"Mammon we really need to talk."

Her wing pulls away from his petting, curling back into its usual space. He seemed disappointed as the warmth of her injured limb left his grasp.

"What about?"

Her lips quiver, the frown on her expression breaking through the poker face she tried to maintain. Her eyes water, tail curling.

She thinks of all of their mishaps together. To when she first agreed to work with him, their first banter, their first success together, how they progressively got more and more comfortable with each other.

She went from someone behind the scenes to being his only companion. He was a hothead, but so was she. But their differences felt too great: the hot and cold treatment was driving her crazy.

"We need to end our contract."

Mammon blinked. Frozen.

He slowly clenches his fists impossibly hard.

"Why? Was it because o' that fuckin' incubus? Y-Ya' watched me kill 'em. I promise next time I—"

"It's not that. None of that."

"Then what is it? Fuck changed?"

"Mammon as much as I love being here with you and working alongside you, I just can't be around you anymore."

It was obvious he didn't understand, his pause with unsure searching eyes sought to try and read the static expression she did her best to maintain.

"I'm sorry."

Mammon felt himself burn. He felt his insides ignite with such intense desperation with a feeling he didn't entirely recognize.

Even knowing her more basic tasks could be given to someone else to fill just as easily did nothing to reassure him.

Hells he didn't feel this lost when Fizz quit his position. He got over that so insanely fast. It was deeper than that.

This was the only person he remotely cared about in all of hell resigning.

The idea felt so unreal.

"I'm so sorry." [F/n] repeated.

The click of her boots echo as she walked towards the double doors of his bedroom. Like a whisper, she faded.

Mammon watches as her tail hovers just above the ground. Immediately noting how she didn't just drag it as she normally would. The low rattle it'd make was erased, as if she wanted to create the least bit of noise possible.

Why? Did he scare her?

Nonsense. She was the only one who wouldn't cave to his ridiculous disrespect despite his threats. And though it did get in his nerves initially, it grew on him and made everything in his life new again.

He enjoyed hearing her voice.

Hearing her talk about frivolous, nonsensical, shit. Enjoyed observing the smallest things about her.

Like the way she would hide the joy in her expression but unable to maintain the same façade in her eagerly wagging tail.

Or the way her wings would flutter for a second whenever she was blushing.

Or when she would get too excited her hair would pulse the color of her element. And how whenever she's extremely upset her clear complexion starts forming scales as if she were ready to morph.

Or how she sometimes has difficulty not tearing clothes due to the sharpness of her claws. She would always let out a loud groan and a few swears before deciding if it were salvageable.

He felt electricity course through his body. His eyelid twitching.

[F/n] hugged herself, shutting the door behind her as she power walked through his manor.

She used her sleeve to wipe away the tears before they could spill. Quietly whimpering to herself to alleviate the ache in her chest.

She doesn't get very far however, before snapping out of her emotions as a loud bang interrupts her.

[F/n] points her gaze backwards, watching the doors fly open while cracking at the force of his push.

"OUR CONVO AIN'T OVER!"

She backs up hesitantly as Mammon runs at her. The thumping of his soles grew louder, seemingly indifferent at the idea he may trample her.

Clouds of swamp green smoke exit through his teeth. He halts just before her, punching a hole through the wall next to them to release his rage. Chips of brick and dust recoil along with his fist.

"You— YA' THINK YA' CAN JUST JOG OFF?" He growled, leaning down as he stared at her.

"Whatever idea ya got in that pretty lil' head o' yours, toss it. I won't break our contract. You are MINE."

[F/n] sighed, eyebrows furrowed as she shook her head at him.

"You don't get it." Her disbelief erases as her head comes to point towards his.

She snaps her fingers and out manifests a golden sheet between them with both their signatures held within the bottom.

"It's written agreement in our contact that only requires the consent of one party to break it."

Mammon felt a drop of sweat come down his neck.

He froze. The pain grew.

And she was right, the section she was referring to glowed faintly among the rest of the text as she highlighted it. Demanifesting as she withdrew her hand.

"A rule you imposed since you were initially skeptical about my performance in your estate."

"I- I... Fuckin'..."

It goes silent.

The rush of anger evaporated from his body with the sparks. Feeling at a loss on what to say, Mammon swallows thickly as he blinks.

He reaches a hand to clutch the material over his chest, squeezing it.

His gaze eventually trails back to hers.

His mind returns to the thought of massive their height difference was. She was so small compared to him. It made his heart chirp. His hand comes up to erase the flustered look looming on his features.

Mammon recollects himself as best he can in a pathetic attempt. He brushes his hat shakily, the bells chiming as the material bounced back.

"So then tell me why—?"

[F/n] growls, pressing her claws into her palm.

"STOP!" She shouts at him, quickly wiping away at the corner of her eyes. "D-Don't make this needlessly complicated."

Again with the tears, only this time she couldn't prevent them.

Mammon frowned, reaching out to her. He wanted to console her, wipe away those tears. It pained him knowing he was the source.

The tip of his index finger brushed against her cheek unable to get far.

[F/n] swatted away his hand. And that hurt him.

"You fucking... g-goddamnit you fucking dumbass... Can't you see what's going on?" She hissed stomping a few steps away from him.

"I fell so hard for you, and it fucking blows because I can't just have you." She turned towards him.

[F/n] gestures to herself angrily through her cries. "Do you fucking get it now?! I'm in LOVE with you— that's why I need to get the hell away from you. I want to be something more to you but you'll only ever see me as your subordinate."

She shouted, adrenaline coursing through only heighted by her emotional outburst.

Mammon grabs her despite her struggling with his lower pair of hands, leaning over and forcing her to allow him to clean her face.

He absorbs her tears through the material of his upper pair of gloves with gentle strokes.

She grips his wrists with enough force that'd dislocate them if he were any other sinner. He felt her tremble against him.

How could he not notice her pain before?

How long ago did she start feeling this way?

There was a pool of regrets swimming in his chest and among them the biggest was not erasing her doubts sooner.

"What fuckin' nonsense have ya' been telling y'reself this entire time? I'm smitten with ya' dollface."

"You're a king sin— hell you outed Asmodeus for dating someone beneath him, how am I any different from that? People would think you're a hypocrite."

"Ya' think I give a remote fuck about what these cunts think? I'm the richest fucker in all o' hell, I didn't get here caring about what some bitch thinks o' me. I don't really give a flying shit about Asmodeus fuckin' some circus imp."

[F/n] immediately becomes less resistant to his advance. [E/c] eyes staring up at him in disbelief.

She searched desperately for any indication he was lying.

Mammon cups her jawline.

"I dunno how ya' haven't realized how obsessed I am with ya'... Thought it was reaaal obvious: I mean for fuck's sake I don't wanna be anywhere without ya'. Everything I do is with you." Mammon sighed nervously.

He lifted her in her arms, bringing down his face to gently set his forehead onto hers.

He didn't entirely recognize it before, but now that the cat was out of the bag it was so painfully apparent.

Everything he did was by her, to her, and for her. He found himself more temperamental and bored in the situations he had to exist without her. The cogs in his head finally spun, blushing for a mere moment as he finally admitted it out loud.

"I'm obsessed with ya princess. I'm fuckin' crazy over you."

If her heart pounded any faster she was sure she'd pass out.

Her eyes glued to the tiny white slits in the sea of bright green within his eyes.

They both glance down at each other's lips then back at their gaze.

Immediately realizing what the other was doing, they both smash into each other desperately. Mammon felt a firework go off in his head. She was putty in his hands. A little butterfly caught in his web.

He growled.

[F/n] caresses his features, brushing her thumbs over his cheeks and pulling him closer.

A surge of electricity runs through his expression and tickles hers affectionately. It courses her hands and down her arms eagerly.

Mammon drags his bicolored tongue across her lips, pushing himself in at the slightest gap.

Their tongues dance and with no protest Mammon explores his new territory. Their teeth clatter, Mammon doing his best not to pierce her.

The taste of coffee and pastries still lingered strongly on his saliva. Their tongues dance, aching. It's as if they couldn't get close enough to one another, both feverishly pushing into each other craving every bit of contact the other could provide.

Pleased with her submission, he makes way back into his room.

Massaging her ass with his upper pair of hands and grabbing onto her heels with the other. [F/n] releases a muffled moan.

Mammon breaks the kiss first, glancing at the spirit trail that still connected them. He licks the drool from his lips, savoring their long overdue tension-breaker.

He steals a few more pecks before taking a seat on his bed, holding onto her. He brushed a strand of her [h/c] hair out of her face.

Mammon chuckled softly, enamored with the bright hue on her complexion: gaze hungry.

Mammon stares at her. Unmoving. As his breathing very audibly becomes heavier.

It takes him a painful few seconds to snap out of his own trance.

"As much as I wanna fold ya' in my bed and have ya' take care of my stiffy— y're injured and need to rest princess."

"Oh come the fuck on Ammo, I'm fine!" [F/n] pouts, huffing while trying to feel him up through his clothes.

She slinks downwards to attempt and grind against the growing tent underneath his layers of clothes to entice him.

Mammon with every bit of self control in his body, has none of it, interwinding her hands into his instead with force as he pulls her back up to steal another peck.

"I love y're excitement but I will hurt you."

"You're no fun."

"You'll fuckin' get what you want later... Needy whore."

He scoots closer into bed.

Mammon snaps his fingers. A puff of green surround both of them, clearing quickly to reveal he had changed them into their sleepwear. He smiles softly.

His blanket flies over them as he adjusts more comfortably, plopping [F/n] on his chest.

[F/n] coils into a ball, purring happily while nuzzling herself into the crook of his neck. She quickly settles. His hand reaches to pet her hair lovingly, listening patiently as her purring gradually became more distant overtime until she drifted off entirely.

Mammon sighed with satisfaction, captivated, only then closing his eyes. "Y're gonna stay mine forever."

#hazbin hotel #helluva boss mammon #mammon x reader #helluva boss #Helluva boss mammon x reader #Helluva boss x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #x reader #reader insert #fem reader #mammon x you #mammon x y/n #mammon helluva boss #mammon apologist

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vilevenom · 10 months ago

Text

Hello @90svn!! Thank you for your request and sweet comment ❤️

I took this request as a personal challenge, because Trollex has a whole 5 minutes of screentime in World Tour, and only maybe eight voice lines. Very hard to get a good read on a character with such a short appearance, but I did my best!

Hope you enjoy!~

To say that Clay felt overwhelmed was putting it mildly. Reuniting with his brothers had been one thing. Heck, even reintegrating the putt putt trolls with pop village had been a drain on his mental and social batteries, but he'd muddled through. However, following Viva along to royal meet and greets and council meetings was just too much. He felt out of his depths in so many ways. Sure, he'd helped co-run the golf course, and a lot of the rules and regulations that kept the place stable had been his doing, but there was just so much more to all of the other kingdoms. Not to mention the fact that he didn't really feel like the other leaders necessarily took him and Viva seriously. He was an ex-boyband member with no political background, and Viva had been unintentionally usurped as queen by her younger sister. They didn't exactly fit the standard leader stereotypes.

This latest meeting, to discuss territory laws and transportation between kingdoms had initially intrigued Clay, and when Viva all but begged him to go with her so she wouldn't be bored, he'd happily agreed. Now he sort of wished he'd stayed home. As much as he had thoughts on what was going on, absolutely no one in the room paid he or Viva much, if any, mind. They were treated more like Poppy's entourage than leaders of a subdivision of Pop trolls. Even Branch was getting asked more questions than either of them.

He was about to suggest to Viva that they leave, since no one seemed to really care what they had to say, when the door to the meeting room burst open, and the king of the techno trolls floated in, grin on his face.

"Sorry I'm late," Trollex laughed as he moved across the room to take his seat, "Last nights rave went on a bit longer than I had anticipated."

Clay rolled his eyes, sinking down further into his seat. He'd seen the techno king from afar a few times before, but he never struck Clay as the type to take anything seriously. He was always talking about the parties the techno trolls threw, never seeming to have a serious thought in his head. He figured, from here, the meeting could only go further downhill.

He, of course, hadn't been paying attention to what was being said due to his miserable ruminating, so hadn't caught that he'd been directly addressed. Not until Viva elbowed him squarely in the rub cage, anyway. He grunted, sitting himself up with a quick frown shot to his best friend, who simply grinned back at him. "Sorry, what was that?"

"I said," Trollex waved his hand at Clay to get his attention, his previous grin and chipper attitude seemingly gone, "What do you think about the implication of having trolls of multiple genres potentially staying all in one place? Since regional customs and attitudes are so wildly different, it opens up a massive amount of safety concerns. Viva said you were the best troll to talk to, outside maybe Branch, about what sort of measures could be kept in place to make sure everyone stays happy and healthy."

Clay perked up as Trollex spoke, not having expected the king to ask such an insightful question, especially not to him. Perhaps his first impression of the king had been all wrong. "Well, there are a lot of different things we'd have to keep in mind for such an undertaking…"

Trollex, it turned out, was an incredibly insightful king. Throughout the entire meeting he lobbed questions to several of the kingdom rulers, and directed most, if not all, concerns in regards to safety to Clay. All in all, he felt pretty good when the meeting came to a close, as they had several rough documents drafted up for new inter-kingdom laws.

So, it threw Clay off a little when Trollex floated past him, wide grin on his face and headphones over his ears, flipping a glowstick between his fingers, like he hadn't just been discussing transgenre rights barely five minutes prior. He froze when the kings eyes landed on him, his shoulders unconsciously hiking up to his ears as he was approached.

"Hey, hey! Clay, my man," Trollex crowed, only lowering his volume once he pulled his headphones away from his ears, "Nice work today, yo. Usually Branch is the only one who can figure out all that nuance-y regulatory stuff."

"Yeah, well. Boring legal stuff is my jam," he said with a little laugh while throwing up a peace sign and sticking his tongue out without even realizing what he was doing. He quickly straightened up, a flush forming on his cheeks as a grin slowly spread across Trollex's face.

"Yeah, bro! Nice," Trollex laughed, reaching over to shake Clay's shoulder gently in a friendly gesture, "Live your best life, yo. Speaking of, you should come on by Techno Reef sometime soon! We've got some bangin' raves comin' up. Would love to see how you unwind."

"Haha, yeah," Clay forced a smile onto his face, giving the king a little nod.

"Sweet! I'll send word to Pop Village with dates for the next big one! It's gonna be LIT," Trollex called out, earning whoops from some of the trolls milling near the meeting hall. He laughed as he put his headphones back on, tossing Clay a glow stick as he began to bob his head in time with his music, shooting him finger guns before floating away.

Clay didn't even register when Viva appeared next to him. "Ooooh, does Mr.Clay have a date?"

"Cupcakes!" Clay dropped the glowstick in favor of slapping a hand to his chest, "Viva! Ugh…we seriously need to get you a bell, girl."

Viva simply cackled at him, poking him in the side until he couldn't hold back his laughter and swatted her away. "Well?" she prompted as she took a step back to let Clay catch his breath.

Clay sighed and bent to pick up the fallen glowstick, shrugging a bit. "Pretty sure it was a general party invitation, Viv. Not a date request."

"Well, you gotta start somewhere," Viva chirped, wrapping both of her arms around one of Clays. "What do you think about him, anyway? He totally seems right up your alley."

"What?! How?" Clay asked with a laugh, arching an eyebrow at Viva curiously.

"Oh, well, you know," Viva hummed, resting her head on Clay's shoulder, "He's a party guy, sure, but you saw him in the meeting. He seems like he really takes his responsibilities seriously. I figured you'd admire him for that."

Clay gingerly twirled the glowstick between his fingers. "Yeah. I guess that's true…"

"Hey! The party has arrived!"

Clay couldn't help but cringe at Trollex's shout, offering an awkward wave as the king swam over to greet the small group of pop trolls that had travelled down to Techno Reef. Clay had been the one to officially receive the invitation, surprisingly, but it had said that anyone from Pop village was welcome, so he'd asked Poppy to spread word that any troll who wanted to could go. In the end, Clay, Viva, Poppy, Branch, and a smattering of villagers had all decided to go.

"Welcome to Techno Reef! We've got glow sticks for days, and the party's always poppin'," Trollex called with a laugh, tossing a handful of glowsticks out, which gently floated down into the waiting pop trolls hands. "If ya'll would follow Leguna, she'll show you to the accommodations we've prepared for your stay."

A purple techno troll swam forward and gestured for everyone to follow her, which Clay was about to do when he was stopped by a hand on his wrist. He paused and turned in surprise to find Trollex with a large grin on his face.

"I'm really glad you accepted my invitation," the king hummed, releasing Clay's arm and floating backwards slightly.

"Uh," Clay said smartly, glancing around quickly to find Viva shooting his a thumbs up while giggling with her sister, "Thanks, man. Me too. I'm real curious about your culture and it's really cool to finally get to see some of the other kingdoms."

Trollex chuckled, nodding a little as he pulled a glow bracelet off from around his own wrist, swimming forward to secure it around Clay's. "Well, if you've got any questions, you know who to come find," he said with a little wink. Clay was endlessly glad for the darkness of the water around them as his cheeks flushed, just before Trollex swam away.

"I think he likes you."

"VIVA! A BELL! Damn."

Raves were, apparently, not Clay's cup of tea. Perhaps when he was younger, before, well, everything, he would've loved a good rave. But older, serious boy Clay was not having the best of times. Branch wasn't, either, but Poppy had dragged him and Viva off almost the moment they had reached the large area that the party was taking place in (He had a feeling the sisters were conspiring against him, somehow). Which left Clay, alone, at the edge of the dance floor, awkwardly watching and wishing he could covers his ears from the loud bass. Unfortunately, the helmets the visiting pop trolls had to wear in order to even be down in the reef impeded his ability to do so.

He was debating on heading back to the rooms the techno trolls had prepared for them, when Trollex appeared out of the crowd, swimming over once he spotted Clay.

"Heyyy, Live Wire!" Trollex shouted over the music with a grin, "There you are!"

"Live Wire?" Clay echoed, arching an eyebrow at Trollex, who grinned wider, his cheeks glowing slightly.

"Yeah, man! Your rave name! Everyone's gotta have a rave name, and you've got the best hair. So, Live Wire," the king explained, swimming forward to tap at the side of Clay's helmet, where his hair was bunched up against the glass.

"I assume you're making fun of me, 'cause my hair stands up like I got electrocuted?" Clay snarked, folding his arms over his chest, not looking the least amount amused.

"What? No? Why would I make fun of you?" Trollex tilted his head like a confused cuddle pup. This gave Clay pause, dropping his arms to his sides.

"I, uhm…I guess I don't know," Clay admitted, shrugging a little. He chewed on his lip a little as Trollex gave him a contemplative look.

"Let's get out of here," the king said, just loud enough for Clay to hear, before he reached out and grabbed both of Clay's hands. With a smile he began to swim backwards, pulling Clay up along through the water after him.

"Wait, wait, wait!" Clay yelped, kicking his feet to try and keep himself from dropping back down through the water and onto the dancefloor. This pulled a delighted laugh from Trollex, who shook his head.

"Just relax. I've got you," Trollex hummed, sliding his hands down Clay's arms until he had a hold on the green trolls elbows, while shifting his position so he was half swimming beneath Clay. "You'll be okay, Live Wire. I won't let you sink."

Trollex let Clay's feet hit solid ground again once they'd reached what Clay could only describe as a palace; a huge building near the center of the reef, standing prominently above all the other structures of the town, with twisting spires and glowing accents that lit up the surrounding area.

"Wow," Clay murmured, admiring the architecture, while also noting that they were far enough away from the rave that he could speak at a normal volume.

"Yeah. It's pretty lucky Barb only targeted the DJ booth when she attacked. I'm not sure how well we could've reconstructed this," Trollex said, floating next to Clay with an easy smile.

"Wait…she attacked you? Like, actually?" Clay turned his head sharply towards Trollex with a frown. He'd heard plenty about Barb's world tour, but the finer details hadn't really been openly shared. He supposed it would make sense that Barb would have to attack trolls to gain what she wanted, but knowing it was enough that the techno trolls had to reconstruct buildings was a lot. Barb had been at their meeting, and no one had treated her like she'd terrorized them.

"Yeah. But it's all good. Things worked out," Trollex said with a little shrug.

"But, what if they hadn't? You would've lost all this," Clay declared, gesturing widely at te palace and surrounding buildings.

"True. But we didn't," Trollex swam in front of Clay, taking his hands in his own with a light laugh, "You can't dwell on the 'maybes' in life, bro. You just gotta focus on the here, and now, and what you can do in the moment." Clay felt his anger dissipate at Trollex's words, though he still frowned.

"'Maybes' are what keep people safe," Clay insisted, unconsciously squeezing Trollex's hands.

"Future 'maybes', totally. But past 'maybes' can't be changed. You gotta go with the flow, bro," Trollex chuckled, tugging Clay forward a bit, "But enough of that. C'mon, I'll show you around."

Clay sighed heavily and followed after Trollex, taking note of the fact that the king had only let go of one of his hands.

"This is all really impressive," Clay praised with an easy smile while pulling his helmet off. The last stop on the tour of the palace was a series of rooms dedicated to visiting dignitaries from other kingdoms. Much like the rooms arranged for the visiting pop trolls, these rooms had been made air tight and drained of water to allow for other genres to visit without the need for helmets.

"Thanks, man," Trollex said, taking the helmet from the green troll to set aside on a table. "We've only had a few trolls come to visit so far, so it's nice to know our efforts aren't in vain."

"I thought the whole world tour thing was a while ago?"

"Oh, yeah, it was," Trollex shrugged, floating over to a couch and patting the spot net to him in invitation to Clay, "But, we're a bit harder to get to, being underwater, an' all. Plus, as much as I'd love to extend more open invitations to other kingdoms, we haven't finished hammering out all the necessary laws to make sure everyone stays safe."

"Man," Clay said with a little laugh, flopping himself onto the seat next to the king, "How do you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Just…so easily flip between being dead serious and being a party guy? How do you make sure people still take you seriously?"

Trollex watched Clay for a moment, before letting out a little breath and curling his fins beneath himself. "You're talking about the whole 'fun boy' thing, aren't you?"

Clay startled, leaning away from Trollex with wide eyes. "How'd you know about that?"

"Queen Poppy gave us a bunch of pop records when the kingdoms first started talking to each other again. There was a BroZone record in there. Which, by the way, makes for some killer mixes and spinbacks! But, uh…yeah. Not hard to put two and two together when Branch was talking about his brothers, meeting before last. Poppy also might have mentioned that I shouldn't call you 'fun' before we met," Trollex said with a light laugh.

Clay groaned, dropping his face into his hands. "Is that what this is, then?" he asked, slightly muffled, "Some sort of weird intervention to show me that I can be fun and serious, not just one or the other?"

"What? No. Man, you sure do jump to a lot of conclusions," Trollex chuckled, gently taking Clay's hands away from his face. "You just genuinely seemed like a cool troll. Is it so hard to believe I might wanna get to know you better, without any ulterior motives?"

"Yes."

That startled a burst of laughter out of Trollex, making the techno king reel back and wave his hands through the air. "Oh! Oh, man. Clay," he snorted, wiping at his eyes, "Bro. Trust me, it shouldn't be hard to believe. You really made an impression on the council with your ideas at the last meeting, and Viva told me about everything you did at the golf course. You're a really impressive troll, Live Wire."

"Oh. Well…thanks," Clay chuckled awkwardly, his cheeks flushing.

"It helps that you're real cute, too," Trollex added cheekily, shooting Clay a grin.

"I-What?!" It was Clay's turn to reel back, his back hitting the arm rest of the couch as his cheeks practically caught fire.

Trollex simply laughed, leaning his arm on the back of the couch so he was a bit more in Clay's space. "Okay, so maybe I had one ulterior motive," the king admitted, "I thought, maybe, you and Viva were a thing, but I overheard her teasing you about me."

"You had headphones on!" Clay squawked, shaking his head slightly.

"Yeah. I didn't have any music playing. Sometimes it's nice to be left alone because people think you can't hear them. Plus, I get to hear things that people might not want me to know," the king confessed with a little shrug. "But, y'know, if I'm reading you all wrong, just tell me to back off. I won't take offense."

"I…okay?"

"That was definitely a question, and not enthusiastic consent," Trollex chuckled, reaching out to gently take one of Clay's hands in his own. "You gotta say the magic word."

"Please?"

Trollex snorted. "I was looking for 'yes', or something to that effect, but I suppose that works, too." With that he leaned forward and cupped Clay's jaw in his hand, his smile turning soft. "You just do what you gotta do if this doesn't feel right, okay?"

Clay gave a little nod and let his eyes slip shut as Trollex pressed their lips together. He genuinely couldn't remember the last time he'd been kissed. Was it all the way back when he'd been in BroZone? Probably. He'd always been too busy at the golf course to ever entertain the idea of getting involved with anyone. And, as much as he and Viva were teased for being in each others back pockets all the time, there really wasn't anything more than close sibling feelings between the two of them. So, as the kiss broke and Trollex shifted back, he had no real idea if it felt right or not. He did, at least, know it didn't feel wrong. He opened his eyes to find Trollex watching him intently, a nervous little smile on his face.

"Well?"

"Repeat experiments must be run in order to ensure the results are valid and consistent," Clay muttered, pulling his hand free of Trollex's in order to take the kings face in both hands and draw him in again. He smiled into the kiss at Trollex's surprised little grunt, pleased as he felt the techno king all but melt into him.

When they pulled apart the second time, Clay took note of the dumbstruck expression on Trollex's face, feeling a little curl of satisfaction in the pit of his stomach for putting the look on the kings face.

"One more? To, uh, make sure the results are consistent?" Trollex asked, his cheeks glowing a faint pink as he leaned in again.

"Just to make sure," Clay easily agreed, tugging Trollex closer so the techno king was half in his lap as their lips met again.

Clay smirked as he fixed his hair and adjusted his romper as he glanced back at Trollex, who looked like a ragdoll on the couch, one arm over his face and one fin flopped onto the floor.

"Live Wire is a perfect nickname for you," Trollex sighed, sitting up as Clay picked up his helmet. Slowly he rose from his seat and floated over to the green troll, resting a hand on the top of the helmet. "I hope…I really hope this wasn't a one time thing?"

Clay blinked, a bit taken aback by the question. "It isn't?"

"I mean," Trollex floated backwards, twisting his fingers together in front of himself nervously, "If you wanted it to be, that…that's cool. I just…I know we don't know each other super well yet or anything, but I really like you, Clay. And I'd really like to get to know you better. I know you've got all your responsibility with the pop trolls and Viva and stuff, but…I'd like to see you again. I'd like to see you more."

"Oh," Clay breathed, oddly somewhat startled that anyone would want to see him again, let along a King. "You mean that?"

"I wouldn't say it if I didn't."

"Okay. Okay! Yeah," Clay nodded, shifting the helmet in his hands to rest on his hip so he could reach out and take Trollex's hand. "Next time, you come to ours. You can stay with me."

Trollex's face lit up in a giddy grin, his cheeks flushing bright pink at Clay's words. "Already looking forward to it."

#trolls #dreamworks trolls #trolls clay #trolls trollex #claylex #trolls world tour #trolls band together #things that i wrote #prompt fill #trolls fanfic

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