#i have been struggling with finishing this for a while. but then I took my newly acquired adhd meds and suddenly it was finished pdfjidjf | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

joelsgoldrush · 2 months ago

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“epiphany” | 21k

worst!logan howlett x f!reader

SUMMARY: Superheroes and mutants weren’t enough. No—the universe had to throw in soulmates who share scars. Fantastic, right? Except yours had vanished, only to mysteriously reappear with the arrival of a new face: the “Worst” Logan Howlett, fresh from another earth.

OR What happens when a hopeless romantic crosses paths with the ultimate soulmate skeptic?

WARNINGS/TAGS: mdni smut 18+ strangers to lovers. drinking. cursing. slow burn. angst. pining. mentions of alcohol. fluff. reflecting on the art of writing/poems/books. dual POV. takes place after the events of “deadpool & wolverine”. TW: multiple descriptions of scars. worst/variant!logan. implied age gap (reader’s in her late 20s). they’re both touch starved. wade’s everyone’s friend. miscommunication/misunderstandings. oral sex (f and m receiving). fingering, grinding. some slight hair pulling. unprotected p in v, creampie. sex with feelings.

A/N: HOPELESS ROMANTICS RISE! here we go again with another long ass fic. this is a soulmates AU in which you get your soulmate’s scars. if you feel triggered by this topic, please refrain from reading. i had a lot of fun writing this even though it took me a while to get it done. thanks to @lubdubology for being my beta and allowing me to share my work with you. and also thanks to @brushworth for giving me the chance to write this. having said this, enjoy the story! i’d love to know your thoughts on it <3

Love giveth and love taketh away.

To this day, it’s still hard for you to wrap your head around the fact that love is what humans both strive and die for.

If it weren’t for love, you wouldn’t be here. No one would, actually. Human beings are the result of billions of people who loved each other just enough—or at least long enough to bring life into the world.

But isn’t it in the name of love that people act in bad faith? Why would something so pure be used in vain?

You don’t get it, but as the years go by, you slowly come to terms with the idea that perhaps you never will. Not because there isn’t a reason, but because you’re in love with the idea of love.

How could you not be? It’s on the streets, on the bus, at work. Everywhere you go, every place you attempt to set foot in, there it is. Love is dressed up in an expensive silk robe, a ribbon tied neatly on top of it. You reach closer, trying to unravel it, though it's pointless. The moment love sees you—truly sees your longing for it—it flees, and you struggle to keep up.

Love runs faster than anyone, hiding within the bushes, counting the seconds until its next appearance.

It had always been a relentless race, your only worry being to catch it before time ran out. But with each day that passed, the finish line only stretched further and further away. Now, they all blur together, to the point where you live and breathe on autopilot.

In a Jane Austen novel, you’d be considered a lone woman. That character who’s nice, and kind, and loved by some, but not in the way she yearns for. Every time she’s mentioned, you go “Oh, the poor girl,” until the slow realization dawns.

In reality, she’s you, and it’s you who you feel sorry for, not a fictional character. You.

All in all, love giveth. And love also taketh away.

Love maketh you miserable.

Soulmates—a nine-letter word that holds so much meaning.

It’s one of those words that you learn early in your life, one you hear at home or on the TV. Your parents never fail to mention it if given the chance. The first time you’re introduced to the topic is at school when you're older, a bit more self-conscious, and no longer preoccupied with picking your nose.

“Everybody has a soulmate. And no,” your teacher had added after a pause, already anticipating the inevitable questions from any curious 10-year-old, “there isn’t such a thing as not having one. We all do. You just have to search for them.”

Back then, that had been your favorite game—always keeping an eye open, scanning the crowd more than once in new places. You knew for sure that more than one person probably thought you’d strained your neck from all the times you glanced over your shoulder.

It must be pretty obvious now, the fact that you’re—well, alone. Saying ‘without a companion’ sounds quite outdated. They can’t see through you, but something in the way you walk or speak must give it away.

Or is it the fact that you always ask for a table for one?

“Are you expecting someone else?” A waitress approaches you, her tone gentle as she makes sure you’re on your own. A small notebook dangles from her slender fingers, and your eyes catch the name stitched onto her apron: Emily.

The response you give her is on the verge of sounding automatic, robotic even, like one of those prerecorded messages busy people leave on their phones. “No. Just me.”

She nods, and you feel the sympathy in her gaze. You’ve mastered the art of recognizing that look—the one hovering between concern and pity.

Of course, people rarely voice it, but they’ll never know their eyes sometimes say more than they think.

As she jots down your order, you’re met with the ring on her left hand. Very pretty, very shiny. Very expensive as well. Your attention must linger on it a little too long, because she catches you staring, making you feel exposed.

Emily—you decide to call her that way from now on, because once you know her name, it feels odd to address her as the waitress—offers you a shy smile.

“I’m getting married next month,” she blurts out, happiness radiating from her pores. Her eyes glint like two lanterns in a starless night. She also looks younger than you, and the abrupt silence forces you to pinch your wrist, a reminder of the fact that this is a conversation, and not just something you're overhearing.

“Congratulations,” you manage to reply, returning the smile. If she saw how your expression faltered the second she walked away, you wonder if she’d still think you were so amiable.

Sometimes, your façade slips—you can’t help it. That’s what the ‘hopeless’ in ‘hopeless romantic’ stands for.

Some minutes later, she comes back with your coffee, and you catch another glimpse of the ring as it twinkles in front of you. Envy doesn’t suit you, so you shift your focus.

Taking out your laptop, you scroll through the latest headlines. This is your attempt at acting more like an adult and less like a girl in her mid-twenties who has no clue what she’s doing.

One article stands out from the rest: Hollywood Actress Divorces Loving Husband of 25 Years to Pursue Presumed Soulmate. “I saw his scars and knew he was the one.”

Interesting. You can’t help but feel sorry for the displaced husband, though.

“Good for you,” you mutter under your breath, clicking the link to read more. There’s a picture of the actress and her new boyfriend that makes you stop dead in your tracks: they’re smiling at each other, their faces close, noses almost touching, while they show off their matching scars—the unmistakable sign that they’re, in fact, soulmates.

Soulmates, superheroes, mutants. It all sounds like a whole lot, doesn’t it? Overwhelming, to say the least. One thing’s for sure—you’ll never get bored in this world.

But, hey! Don’t forget that there are multiple universes out there. Maybe in one of them, you’re not this pathetic.

Why are you being so hard on yourself? That’s not even the point. Shaking your head, you keep glancing at their scars—they’re identical, perfect mirrors of one another. The kind of scars that only two destined souls share.

Their happiness is evident, tangible. You can feel it by just eyeing the image. It’s a bitter sensation that metamorphoses into a warmth, which heavily spreads through your chest, filling up every empty space it finds.

To say you understand that feeling would be a downright lie. And you may be many things, but a pathological liar is not one of them.

As if on cue, you duck your head, rolling up the sleeves of your jacket. You do the same with your shirt, foolishly hoping to find something other than smooth, unmarked skin.

No scars. No marks. No sign of a soulmate, of a lover. In the world you inhabit—this universe full of the most inexplicable things—you’re alone.

Without a second thought, you pack your things, shoving them rapidly into your bag. The cafe feels too little and too large all at once, the walls closing on you.

The rest of the customers are looking at you. Fuck, they already noticed it—you can’t escape it.

Have they? Do you think they see you like you see yourself? The lone woman who writes poems for an addressee who will never read them?

In silence, you hand Emily the money for your coffee. You fear that if you open your mouth, a cry will come out, and that’s the last thing you need today. She gives you that look again—pity laced with sorrow, the one you despise. It burns.

At that moment, a man walks in, passing right by you. You see his face, his green eyes, and the way his lips curl into a grin as he greets Emily.

The scar on her forehead, which you'd missed before, mirrors the one on his.

They are soulmates.

It’s on the streets, on the bus, at work. Everywhere you go, every place you attempt to set foot in, there it is.

She wishes you a nice morning as you leave the cafe. Little does she know you’ll spend the rest of the day locked in your apartment, mourning someone you never even met.

Until the day you lost them, you wore your scars with pride.

They were scattered across your stomach, back, chest, and even your legs and arms. Some were shallow, others deep. It never occurred to you—the thought that they belonged in the shadows, hidden.

Everyone has them, you thought as you stood in front of the mirror, running your fingers along their jagged paths. I just seem to have more than most people.

Over the years, you might have changed your hairstyle or the way you dressed, but your scars never did—they’d always been there, and they were yours.

Partly yours, of course, since you knew they belonged to your soulmate as well.

The older you grew, the more you realized having a good memory was both a gift and a curse. You still remembered that moment so vividly—when you found out that somebody out there was meant for you and only you.

A point of no return, that’s what it’d been. From that day on, not a single one went by without you imagining the first encounter with your Prince Charming.

In the meantime, you dated. A few boyfriends came and went during and after high school, mostly as practice for the real thing, you’d told yourself.

God, you were determined to know everything. To be the best girlfriend ever, so that when you finally met him, he’d be over the moon.

At the age of seventeen, it sounded like a brilliant plan.

You never knew how, but your life became that meantime. All your friends began to find their soulmates: in the supermarket, while traveling, at the goddamn doctor’s office.

Everybody was fulfilling the purpose you’d been taught humans were made for—everyone but you.

The scars multiplied, yet he was nowhere to be seen, remaining out of reach. Your soulmate’s whereabouts were a mystery. What the hell does he do in his free time? was something you used to often ponder. Is he suffering? Does he need help?

“Be patient, give it some time. The less you seek, the more you’ll find,” your mother would say, trying to sound encouraging. Although she was trying to do her best, that phrase alone had the power to make you go nuts.

Be patient? Waiting was all you’d been doing. What was so wrong with you that he seemed to be hiding from you? You didn’t want to wait any longer, no—you wanted to find him. If it meant traveling to Italy like your cousin had to meet her husband, then so fucking be it.

Many nights, sleep eluded you. Lying wide awake, staring at the ceiling, you’d imagine what life with him would be like. What he would look like. You were certain that no matter his appearance, you’d think he was beautiful.

Wasn’t that the whole point of soulmates—that the bond you two shared transcended physical attraction?

Nevertheless, you secretly wished he’d have brown hair. He didn’t need to know, but you had a weakness for brunettes.

On the night of your twenty-second birthday, you were getting ready for the big event when every trace of your scars disappeared.

The bathroom mirror was fogged from the shower’s stream, and as you wiped it clean with the palm of your hand, the image you saw reflected on the glass made your stomach do a flip.

There were no scars. No marks. Nothing. At first, you thought your eyes were playing tricks on you—it couldn’t be. Scars didn’t just vanish. It was impossible.

But as you lowered your gaze, tracing your limbs again and again, the truth hit you. The marks you knew by heart, the ones that reminded you, He’s out there, somewhere, were gone.

You felt it deep in your chest, too. Every sound seemed louder and clearer: the blood rushing through your veins, each shaky breath you took. Where are they? Your fingers dug into your flesh, intending to ground yourself.

Is he… dead? It was the only reasonable explanation, the rule you’d known all along. You’d read it countless times, memorizing the principles about scars.

The scream that tore from your throat brought your mother running upstairs, and she entered the bathroom with a horrified expression on her face.

“What’s wrong? Are you hurt?” she asked, but your mind was already far away. Your whole body shuddered in her arms, a sob slipping past your lips as you crumbled to the floor, desperately hoping it was all a nightmare. “It must be a mistake, honey. I’m sure he’s okay.”

But he’s not, you wanted to tell her. The words, however, never formed—only a broken whimper escaped your lips. Isn’t that what we were taught? Our scars belong to our soulmates; they bind us to them in a way that simple words can’t explain.

It goes deeper than the skin. It delves into our bodies, our minds, reaching into the very essence of who we are. What was once his is also mine, but they’re gone.

He’s gone. He must be, because otherwise, how would you explain this void?

When one’s soulmate passes away, that person will notice the disappearance of their scars. The physical marks that once symbolized their connection fade, leaving no trace. This absence is accompanied by a distinct, unsettling sensation—an awareness of loss that goes beyond the physical, signaling the end of the bond.

A part of you died with him that day.

The first time you exchanged words with Wade Wilson, you thought he was a total dick.

It wasn’t as if you didn’t know him—not when he was so infamous for that mouth of his. Deadpool: the self-proclaimed superhero with a vocabulary that was 90% profanity, who made cracking jokes while fighting the bad guys look easy.

Super funny? Sure. But not exactly your cup of tea when all you wanted was to crawl into bed and forget the world existed.

He was apparently long retired from superheroing. No one had seen that red, sex-toy-looking suit in ages, which was why you were only mildly surprised as you spotted him hauling boxes into your building on a Tuesday afternoon.

It was late, and you weren’t in the mood for small talk. He’d been there barely a week, yet somehow, he’d already managed to fuck things up.

You let out a deep sigh, rubbing the crease between your brows. “Look, Wally—”

“It’s pronounced Wade,” he corrected you, trying to edge his face further into the gap between the door and its frame, though you didn’t let your guard down. “You’re pretty rude, you know that?”

“I’ve been up for twenty-four hours, and I need to sleep,” you groaned, trying to push him away with one hand. Technically, he wasn’t even asking for something that complicated—he wanted to use your microwave to heat his dinner, since his had decided to stop working out of the blue.

The thing was that you’d had the kind of week that felt like a one-way trip to hell, an important detail he wasn’t aware of. “Go ask someone else. I can’t do charity tonight.”

“You’re the only one who answered,” he said, pressing his palms together in a pleading gesture, his lips curling into a heartbreaking pout. “Please, my lovely neighbor, whose name I don’t know. You wouldn’t want me to starve to death, would you?

“I thought you couldn’t die.” You raised an eyebrow, half-interested.

Wade’s arms dropped to his sides, his eyes drifting downward. “And I thought kindness wasn’t extinct, but here we are.” He spun on his heel, acting defeated and dragging his feet like a scolded puppy. “Can’t believe this is what the world’s come to. I’m sure the Bible says something about treating others how you’d want to be treated.”

Why. Just… why? Some cosmic, divine force from beyond might have been testing you that night.

“Wait,” you croaked just as he was about to step into his apartment—which was literally three meters from yours. His face lit up, expecting you to continue, and you moved aside slightly, signaling him in. “Five minutes and you’re out, okay? I really need to get some rest.”

The rest was history. Wade was just standing there, mesmerized by your microwave as if he’d never seen one before.

You could only hear the faint buzzing sound of the gadget, punctuated by the rhythmic drumming of his fingers on the counter. He was humming a tune while shaking his head to the beat.

You tried to focus, replaying the guided meditation you sometimes followed to sleep in your mind.

Allow yourself to feel the stillness of this moment. Notice your breath slowing as your body begins to calm. Be the observer of your breath, flowing in and out naturally, as your lungs—

Yeah, it wasn’t working.

“Please, stop it,” you eventually told Wade, whose gaze shifted from the microwave to you, brows furrowed.

“And why’s that?”

“They say it’s bad for your eyes,” you explained, recalling a half-forgotten news report you’d heard on the TV. Whether it was a myth or not, you’d never know. “I believe it’s because of the radiation exposure.”

Leaning back on the counter, he crossed his arms over his chest. “At this point, I think I’m safe. You, on the other hand… maybe not so much,” he nearly whispered that last part, and your desire to strangle him grew stronger.

Save me, mindfulness, you thought to yourself.

He jerked his thumb toward the pile of papers and books you had on your kitchen table. “So, you’re a writer?”

“Editor, in reality,” you snapped, your eyelids twitching as you watched him leaf through your stuff. “Wade, don’t touch my things.”

“Sorry, can’t help myself. I’m very curious.” Flashing you a quick grin, he opened your notebook, squinting his eyes as he went through the pages. “But you write too, huh? I’m discovering plenty of material here.”

The bastard. “Give. It. Back,” you snarled, lunging at him and trying to snatch the notebook from his hands, but he was faster, raising it out of reach. “I hope your food explodes in that microwave, asshole.”

“Oh, right. I forgot about it,” he snorted, tossing the notebook onto the couch and retrieving his dinner instead. You stared at him in disbelief, opening your mouth to scold him, but nothing came out. Then, there he was, standing in front of you with his plate and a fork.

Wait. Was that your fork?

“It’s hot, I’ll give you that.” He blew on his food to cool it down, and as he glanced up, he was met with your murderous glare. “Whoa. Want some? You could’ve just asked me. No need to get so angry.”

Calling it a desire to kill him would’ve been an understatement. And the worst part? He couldn’t die. “You’ve got what you needed. Now, can you leave?”

“How long’s it been since you talked to another human being?”

You blinked, feeling the sudden urge to look around, half expecting a hidden camera. “Why do you always answer with another question?”

“All I’m saying is I’ve been meaning to talk to you for days now, but you’re practically living the hermit life,” he said between bites of chicken, excusing himself briefly to chew. “That robe you’re wearing? It’s had the same stain on it since I moved in. Also, your doormat’s buried under a mountain of newspapers, so either you really love trees, or you’ve been avoiding any sort of social interaction.”

If he had been wrong, you would’ve felt much better. But he… wasn’t, and it sucked.

“I feel like I should be scared,” you mumbled after a long stretch of silence, your eyes going round.

Wade did no more than laugh at your troubled expression. “Scared of me? That’s cute. I’m a nice guy, sweet pea. Persistent, sure, but I’ve got a knack for getting under people’s skin,” he said, grinning through a mouthful of food—which, for the sake of your sanity, you chose to ignore.

After he had finished eating, he let the fork fall into the sink, the metal striking against the surface with a piercing echo, making you jump. He stretched his arms with a satisfied yawn, and he seemed determined to leave you alone. “Well, I’ve done my good deed for the day.”

“What do you mean?” you asked, following his movements as he ambled toward the door. “Are you telling me your microwave does work?”

“Oh, you’re a smart one, aren’t you?” Wade patted your head, ruffling your hair like you were a puppy who had just learned a new trick. “Good night, peanut.”

From that moment on, the two of you became inseparable. Your personalities clicked in a way you’d never experienced before with any other friend. Wade was loyal to a fault, and he treated you like the little sister he had never had.

Most importantly, he didn’t pity you—he saw you for who you were, not just someone marked by a lost soulmate. You never told him how much that meant to you, but deep down, you were grateful.

Which brings you to the present day. You’ve been friends with him for over a year, and he’s taken every chance to introduce you to his “weird but lovable” (his words, not yours) group of friends.

“Check your social anxiety at the door, thank you,” he’d tell you every time he hosted a get-together and you were invited.

Somehow, you had managed to bond with them—especially Althea, his elderly roommate, who occasionally forgets who you are despite living next door.

“Remind me of your name again, sweetie? All this disco dust must be affecting my memory,” she’d ask, leaning in close so you’d practically have to shout it into her ear. Then she’d nod, smirking knowingly. “Ah, yes. I thought so. Just making sure.”

She’s quite the character. A real sweetheart if you leave aside the number of times she’s offered you more types of drugs than you knew existed.

Tonight, you’re throwing Wade a surprise birthday party. Among all the party tasks, you’ve handled the decorations and the cake. The room’s a riot of color, with balloons floating lazily from the ceiling and a cascade of streamers draping over the furniture.

Guests start arriving, greeting you warmly, a feeling you once thought impossible. They’re Wade’s friends, sure, but on some level, you like to think they’re your friends now too: Vanessa, Dopinder, Buck, Shatterstar, Colossus, Negasonic Teenage Warhead, and Yukio.

As you hear footsteps approaching the door, Wade’s voice filters through the hallway. Panicking, you whirl around to the group. “He’s here! Everyone shut up!” you whisper urgently, turning off the lights and pressing your back flat against the wall next to the door.

Seconds later, the sound of keys jingling fills the air as both Wade and Peter step into the apartment.

You flip the lights back on just as Dopinder pops his much-anticipated party popper. “Surprise!” you all scream in unison, and Wade’s face splits into a grin, unsure of whom to hug first.

“You guys are lucky I’m not armed,” he quips, slinging an arm around Dopinder’s shoulders. “Six years ago, you’d all be dead!”

And you giggle, because… well, what else are you supposed to do?

As you expected, the night unfolds smoothly. You’re having fun, engaging in conversations despite yesterday’s emotional meltdown at the cafe. It’ll be okay—it always is. The food is amazing, the company even better. You remind yourself that romantic love isn’t the only kind that matters—that’s what friends are for, after all, to teach you that lesson.

The low hum of chatter fills the air, punctuated by bursts of laughter and the clinking of glasses, creating a lively symphony that wraps around you like a warm blanket. Yukio calls your name, waving her head in front of your eyes, trying to snap you out of your thoughts. “Everything okay?” she wonders, concern flickering in her voice.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you reply, tightening your grip on your beer bottle. “Just thinking, that’s all.”

You all gather around the cake when Wade’s about to blow the candles. You know he’s preparing himself for a speech. “Another year of spinning around the moon, huh?”

“Sun, you dumbass,” Al corrects him, and you have to bite your lip to keep your laughter to yourself.

“Okay, flat-earther,” Wade shoots back, giving her a playful side-eye. “Anyway, where was I? Oh, right—I can’t thank you all enough for being here. These past few years have been... well, rough on me, to say the least,” he says, glancing down at the cake with a small, crooked smile. “But I’m happy now. We’ve got each other’s back, like a team!”

“Like The Avengers, you mean?” Dopinder pipes up, eyes sparkling with excitement. There’s a moment of silence in which you swear you’d be able to hear a hairpin drop.

It’s still a sensitive topic.

“Next time, give me a trigger warning before you mention them,” Wade mutters in a hushed tone, and Dopinder shrinks sheepishly. “I guess what I wanted to tell you was…” he trails off, his palm covering the place where his heart is, “that I'm glad you’re all here. Being surrounded by the people I love most is the best birthday gift ever.”

His words stir something inside you. Vanessa gently nudges his arm, smiling up at him. “Why don’t you make your wish?”

Wade dramatically drops to his knees in front of the cake, eyes fluttering shut before blowing out the candles, whistles and cheers erupting all around.

Just then, you hear the unmistakable sound of the doorbell ringing through the air. You exchange a curious glance with Wade, raising your eyebrows. “That’s weird. Want me to get it?”

“Nah, I got it,” he says, excusing himself to answer the door. He slips outside, shutting it behind him, and everything returns to normal. For a while, you assume he’s chatting with someone who dropped by to say hi—but that doesn’t really make sense.

“Don’t you think it’s weird that he’s been out there so long?” Vanessa inquires, her worry starting to creep in.

“I’ll go check on him,” you tell her, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze before heading to the door.

But when you open it, there’s no Wade in sight. Just… his toupee—or “hair system” as he insists on calling it, lying on the floor.

Kneeling down, you gingerly pick it up, a strange sensation settling in your chest.

Where the hell did he go?

After his existence went downhill, Logan turned to prayer.

Completely out of character, right? He thought so too. The number of times he'd stepped foot inside a church could be counted on one hand, so why would a man like him resort to religion?

In the past, he had been told he was part of God’s plan, but somewhere along the way, he felt like he had become God’s mistake.

After living a life plagued with loss and constantly in hiding, he wasn’t shocked that his self-worth was in the gutter.

Things only spiraled after letting everyone down, especially after that particular day when things took a turn for the worse. He had prayed, asking God to make him forget.

When that didn’t work, he just drank harder and smoked more. But not even drowning in alcohol and clouds of nicotine could put an end to his struggles—he was condemned to suffer.

In spite of everyone’s wishes, he’s still going strong, stuck with no defined purpose. It’s almost impossible not to fall into a routine that seeks to numb him, to put him under anesthesia—waking up after passing out who-knows-where, finding the nearest bar, sinking into whiskey and the haze of ashtrays.

Then he does it all over again, a never-ending cycle. His self-destructive habits don’t lead him to oblivion; instead, they intensify every sensation, making each memory and emotion painfully vivid.

Day after day, he convinces himself he’s got it under control. Logan may be tough as fuck, and he may heal faster than anyone else, but his pride is in pieces.

No amount of strength or supernatural abilities can stop the decay he feels inside, the slow rot creeping deeper within him the longer he remains trapped in this life.

He slams the empty glass onto the counter with a heavy thud, tapping two fingers against it. “Again,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough.

The bartender looks at him like he's the reincarnation of all things vile. “I told you—you’re not welcome here. You’re not welcome anywhere. Now get the fuck out of my bar.”

Oh, yes. Music to his ears. If he had a nickel for every time he heard that, he’d be rich. “Just give me one more drink and then I’ll leave.”

“That’s not how it works,” the bartender replies, and Logan knows he’s screwed. Another public establishment he’s been banned from—fucking perfect.

Will there ever be a day where he’s not treated like garbage?

“It does now,” an unknown voice joins the conversation, and Logan glances to his side, arching a brow. The masked man doesn’t let his stare falter. “Leave the bottle.”

“Do I know you, bub?”

“You don’t, but I know you.”

This serves as evidence of how pliant he’s become. Years ago, he would’ve already wiped the floor with this guy. They didn’t call him Logan “short fuse” Howlett for nothing. But now? He just can’t bring himself to do it.

“Everybody does. I’m the—”

Here it comes, the reminder of his personal calvary.

“—Wolverine.” Once he finishes the sentence, his words taste bitter. Perhaps it’s the venom on his tongue, or maybe it’s just the alcohol from yesterday kicking him again. Either way, both hit hard.

“Yes, you are,” the stranger says, continuing to stare at him, as if Logan’s worth the effort. “And I’m going to need you to come with me. Right now.”

Logan holds his breath. The worst part of it all is that his day’s just getting started. He has no clue who this guy is or why he’s claiming to need him.

But he’s got the wrong man—Logan doesn’t know him, and he sure as hell doesn’t have anything good to offer.

Or so he believed five minutes ago. Life seems to have its own way of surprising him.

Knowing he’ll regret it later, he closes his fingers around the whiskey bottle, chugging the liquor until darkness takes over his senses.

Nighty-night, Logan.

I'm aware that you're not mine, and nor will you ever be.

I’ve spent sleepless nights trying to figure out

where this need to call you mine stems from.

You're like an antique, a rare piece displayed

in a crowded bazaar, drawing curious glances.

I’m aware that you're not mine

because I haven't bought you yet;

I hold no claim over you,

nor can I control who touches you and who doesn't.

I want you to be mine,

but no amount of money would buy your soul.

You're beyond reach—someone has already marked you.

I’m aware that you’re not mine,

and I guess maybe that’s how life is meant to be.

“Bullshit,” you mutter softly into the quiet of your apartment, where the only sound is the echo of your own voice.

Chewing the end of your pen, your eyes narrow as they skim over the poem you’d written over a month ago.

Since then, you’ve been working on refining the details, but something is missing—that you can feel. The flow is awkward, the choice of words stiff. It’s like a puzzle that doesn’t quite fit together.

You take a long sip from your coffee, tucking both knees up onto the chair you're sitting in. 7:30 a.m., and already, your mind is spinning, diving headfirst into a poem when countless other things are demanding your attention—like, a hundred things, really.

Right now, cracking this piece feels more important than any other task on your list.

Who do you write to? That part is easy—your soulmate. That deceased, probably buried, long-gone soulmate of yours.

It shouldn’t be funny, but there’s an absurdity to it.

Without warning, a memory slips into your thoughts—one girl you used to work with once advising you to change the subject of your writing.

“You should go for some self-love crap. People usually eat that up,” she said, not even bothering to look up from her nails, red polish smeared over the edges.

Her fingers were a mess, coated in that fiery hue, but she didn’t seem to care as she tapped your notebook with her lacquered index finger. “This is repetitive. Keep writing about the same thing, and people will get bored of you.”

“I haven’t published them yet,” you answered, your voice coming out more high-pitched than usual, betraying the doubt you intended to suppress. Her blue eyes flicked up, studying your face as you slid the now red-stained notebook back into your bag, away from her careless, messy fingers. “I thought… I thought we were supposed to write about what we feel passionate about.”

That managed to catch her attention. Passionate. She let out a laugh—sharp and cold, like something straight out of a villain’s script in a children’s movie. It grated against your ears.

“Sweetie, you call that passionate?” She waved her hand dismissively, standing up from the table.

Taller, older, and more secure—just the fact that she gave you her time should’ve made you feel grateful. “Not to be a bitch, but what you showed me is kind of depressing.”

Kind of depressing. From that moment on, you kind of hated her. Small victories, though—the agency fired her a year later. You like to think you kind of won that battle.

Still, she might’ve been right about one thing: your writing does fall into patterns. It’s predictable, to say the least—the rhythm, the themes. Even the metaphors you include can be found in several of your poems.

Are you… lazy? Has someone revealed the way to break out of it? If there is, you figure you're fine without it.

You don’t want to write the kind of articles she’d churn out about the latest trends or the five best positions to get pregnant faster. Nor do you want to pick apart celebrities' lives for a flashy headline.

What you do want is to write about love. Real love. Even if you are not the most qualified person to do it. Even if nobody wants to read the words from someone who has never experienced it in the flesh.

And you’ll get there—how? You’re still figuring that out.

As long as you live and breathe, love will remain in your thoughts, haunting you—especially with your muse being the fleeting dream of a soulmate you never got to meet in the first place.

But it’s time to start your day—the real one. The one where you have to step outside the safety of your four walls and deal with reality.

The to-do list assembles in your mind: groceries, that book you’ve been meaning to pick up, emails you need to answer.

You let your mind take over, guiding you through the motions without a second thought. As you head back to your room, you get rid of the comfortable robe you love so much.

Next, your shirt comes off, tossed carelessly onto the bed. Just as you're about to step out of your pajama pants, you notice them.

The scars.

They’re not the same, not the faded lines etched into your skin that you could see every night behind your eyelids. New marks glow against your flesh, each one a map of something you don’t yet understand, standing out like new brushstrokes on an old canvas.

You can’t help but freeze, your breath faltering for a moment, and you nearly trip over yourself. Kicking your pants to the side, you stare down at your hips, thighs, the hollow of your ribcage.

Tentatively, you press your fingers into the lines, expecting them to fade, to disappear under your touch like some peculiar illusion.

But they don’t. They remain. You can feel the raised edges, the subtle roughness, the heat beneath your touch.

These scars are different from the ones you had before. Under no circumstances are they the faint memories you once carried. No—these are fresh and vibrant. Marks that shouldn’t exist, the stories they’ve witnessed unfamiliar to you.

Within seconds, you’re sobbing, and you blink through the wetness clouding your vision, wiping your tears of disbelief (and maybe hope?) away with the back of your hand.

Nothing changes. They’re still there.

You've never heard of scars returning like this. It goes against everything in the manual on your shelf. Scars vanish when a soulmate dies, but they don’t come back. Not like this. And they certainly don’t change.

Barely able to stand without stumbling, you scramble to your phone. The first person you call is your mom, your fingers shaking as you press the buttons. She screams into the phone, and all you can do is laugh through the tears.

What doesn’t sit right with her is the change in the scars. She mentions something about reaching out to a specialist, insisting that your case is rare—one in a million.

Almost immediately, you think of Wade, knowing he’d want to hear this. God, he’d be ecstatic. Before you even realize it, you’re standing in front of his door, finger hovering over the bell.

That’s when the realization hits you: he’s been gone for nearly three days, off doing whatever it is he does.

Ringing the bell, a smile tugs at your lips. News like these are meant to be shared.

“Althea, it’s me!” you call out, hoping she’ll hear you. You press your forehead against the door, fidgeting with your fingers. “I have something to tell you.”

Logan has had better days. Days that didn’t involve escaping The Void, fighting a hundred Wades, or saving an earth that wasn’t even his to begin with.

You know, normal days—of being sneered at while drinking to forget and, fuck, how many hours has he been sober? It feels like an eternity.

When the adrenaline wears off and the heroism fades, he’s back to being just Logan again. If he had a watch, he’d probably tap the glass and fake impatience to Wade, pretending he’s got somewhere else to be.

He should leave. That’s his first impulse: to escape before it’s too late, but a question arises in his mind: does he truly want to?

Wade watches as Logan rises to his feet, planning to walk away. Pretty stupid, Logan thinks, considering he knows no one else in this universe—apart from the scarred man he’s become friends with against his will.

“Logan!” Wade yells his name, his voice light but firm enough to halt him in his tracks. Logan turns to face him, greeted by Wade’s familiar, infuriating smile.

It's a silent invitation to a new beginning.

Nothing’s holding him back, so why not accept it? The odds of being the target of hateful glares are lower here, and that’s reason enough for Logan to give a small tilt of his head and return to the bench where Wade remains seated.

“We’re gonna be roommates!” the latter exclaims, a wide grin stretching across his face as they head toward the building. “Can you imagine all the fun we’ll have?”

Logan presses his lips into a thin line. “Looking forward to it,” he murmurs, a small glimmer of sarcasm slipping into his tone, although Wade takes his words at face value.

“Me too, roomie. Me too.”

“Let’s not use that word.”

Wade holds the door open for Logan with an exaggerated bow. “Why not? It’s the truth. We can even share my bed if that’s—”

The sound of Logan’s claws succeeds in silencing him. Wade recoils and covers his crotch, no doubt remembering past close calls.

“You know what? You can have the bed. I’ll take the couch. No problem.”

Was moving in with Wade the worst idea he’s had in a while? Absolutely. The reason? Althea, the elderly woman he lives with, isn’t answering the door, and he doesn’t have his keys.

Logan covers his eyes with a hand, silently questioning all of his life choices. And it’s only been ten minutes.

“This doesn’t happen often,” Wade reassures him, rubbing his neck.

“Hard to believe,” Logan mutters, some unknown muscle in his jaw beginning to ache from how hard he’s gritting his teeth. “You just leave the house without your fucking keys?”

Wade huffs, jutting out a hip in mock offense. “Those TVA guys didn’t exactly send a ‘We’re here to ruin your day’ memo. I was ambushed, okay?” he retorts, keeping a finger glued to the doorbell, its shrill ring gnawing at Logan’s already thin patience. “Al, I swear to God, I’m replacing your blood pressure pills with laxatives if you don’t wake up!”

“How old is she?” Logan asks, searching for anything to keep him from snapping the other man’s neck. Peaceful thoughts.

“Compared to you, she’s basically a newborn,” Wade replies, rocking back and forth on his heels. He’s having the time of his life—meanwhile, Logan’s self-control is reaching its limit.

His claws twitch in his knuckles. He’s had enough, and with a jerk of his left hand, they gleam as they slide out, ready to break the damn door.

But then Wade jumps in front of him.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Easy there, buddy! I’m not letting you turn my door into a strainer.”

“Move,” Logan barks, not an ounce of friendliness in his tone. His stare is flat, unfazed.

“I’d rather not. You can’t just go around breaking people’s doors, man. Not cool,” Wade blurts quickly, placing both hands on Logan’s chest, pushing him away. “How about I ask my neighbor, huh? I gave her a spare set of keys for situations like these.”

“I thought you said this didn’t happen often.”

“Well, life’s full of disappointments.”

Before Logan can answer back, Wade rushes to the door next to his, slamming his fist on it like a madman, his finger hammering the doorbell simultaneously.

The devil’s orchestra—a symphony straight from hell.

Logan grabs Wade’s wrist before he can knock again, hissing: “Have some manners, will you?”

Wade tries to shake his arm free from Logan’s tight grip. “She’s in there. I know it,” he replies in the same tone, but now he uses his other hand to ring the doorbell with greater feeling.

After a pause, he stamps his foot on the floor, throwing his head back. “Come on! Is this how you treat me after being away? Shame on you, Missy!”

This neighbor must be very patient, Logan thinks, to keep up with a guy like Wade without often seeing red.

As the door finally swings open, his grip on Wade loosens, and his hand falls limply to his side.

“What… the fuck?”

The sound of your voice—soft, slightly groggy from sleep—pulls his attention away from the door incident. His gaze is fixed entirely on you—you look as if you’ve just rolled out of bed, which makes sense since it’s still early.

Back in The Void, Wade had rambled on about all his friends, you included. Logan recalls how he had described you: a book editor who lived on her own and loved reading. You were younger—but then again, who wasn’t younger than him?

The picture Wade had shown him, with you standing in the background, hadn’t done you justice. He had found you attractive then, but seeing you in person?

You’re… far more than he expected.

More beautiful, for starters.

Fuck. Why is he even thinking about that? He must’ve been staring at you for quite a while—you glance at him like a startled lamb, clearly feeling self-conscious under his unwavering stare.

“May I know,” you start, tightening your robe, “why you were banging on my door like that? I thought I was getting robbed for a minute.” You direct your question at Wade, avoiding Logan’s presence, which makes something tighten in his chest.

He finds the way you stifle a yawn endearing, though.

Okay, that’s enough, he tells his mind. Let it go.

Wade steps in first, dropping his mask on the nearest surface. “Hello, my dear. Oh, yes, I’m fine. Just a few scratches. No, I wasn’t partying—I was kidnapped. Thanks for asking.”

You draw in a long breath, rubbing your eyes to wake up once and for all, and then you proceed to gesture for Logan to enter. Even now, you find it difficult to maintain eye contact with him. “Do you—would you like to come in?”

Not only are you pretty, but also polite. He nods, muttering a gruff: “Yeah, thank you.”

As he walks past you, your shoulders brush briefly, sending an unexpected jolt through him. A tingling sensation on the verge of being electrifying that has him knitting his brows.

His gaze finds yours, searching your expression to see if you felt it too. But you look away, closing the door to go after Wade.

Great. You must think he’s a weirdo.

“I’m always up for company, but why so early?” you ask your friend, rummaging through the kitchen cabinets. “And are you going to tell me what happened the other day? You left without saying anything.”

Wade hops onto a stool at the kitchen counter, swinging his legs like a child. “You know Al. When it comes to sleeping, she’s like a much older version of Sleeping Beauty,” he replies with a grin, snatching the mug you were about to use for your morning coffee. “Thanks, you’re such a doll.”

“That was—mine,” you sigh, hitting him in the thigh, and Wade winces with a fake whine. “I don’t think I’ve missed you that much. Go back to being missing in action,” you say, grabbing another mug and filling it before raising it toward Logan. “Coffee?”

Logan hesitates. You’re treating him like you’ve known him for years, not minutes. “I’m… good.”

“You sure? I made it fresh, just before you guys arrived.”

“Don’t worry, I’m—”

“I love the chemistry here,” Wade interrupts your conversation, drawing your attention back to him, “but you still got the keys I gave you, right?”

You roll your eyes, blowing on your steamy coffee before answering. “I do, but I want answers first. And I want them now.”

Twenty minutes and a rambling, half-coherent story later, your drink has gone cold, and Logan’s patience is wearing thin… again.

Will he survive sleeping under the same roof as Wade? Stay tuned for more.

“And then I told Paradox ‘He has risen, babygirl’—”

“I think you’re being too specific,” Logan interjects, noting how you’re staring into space with wide eyes. “She seems confused.”

“I am,” you admit, rubbing your temples. He doesn’t blame you: Wade’s a terrible storyteller. You offer him a weak smile as you turn to him. “So… you’re from another universe.”

“Last time I checked.” His back collapses against the couch, groaning softly. He sits beside you, and the way your eyes sweep over him, taking in his disheveled and sweaty appearance, doesn’t go unnoticed by him.

“And how is it? I mean, do you have—”

“I’m public enemy number one.”

Too harsh, idiot.

“Oh. That’s… good to know.”

Wade says your name, and you look to your right, lifting your brows. “Do you mind if I grab the keys myself? I need a shower. I’ve been marinating in sweat and blood for way too long.”

You grimace, pointing toward your room. “Top drawer of my nightstand.”

With that, he embarks on a quest to find them, leaving Logan alone with you. Silence stretches between you two.

He doesn’t know what to say, or if he should even say anything. Casual conversation isn’t his forte.

“You and Wade…?”

Letting out a giggle, you lean back on the couch. “God, no. We’re just friends,” you explain, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. For a fleeting moment, your eyes bore into his, and then you return to burning holes in the floor. “I’m single. Haven’t found my soulmate yet.”

It’s his turn to chuckle now—a dark, humorless sound rumbling in his chest. You chew on a cuticle, Logan’s gesture igniting a sense of curiosity in you.

“What?” you ask him, puzzled.

“Do you really believe in that? Soulmates who share scars?” If he were to think carefully, he’d watch his tone. It’s too late, anyway—you straighten your posture, your face contorting with each passing second. “I can tell you do.”

“And I can tell you don’t.”

“Why would I? Those are lies,” he retorts, the corners of his mouth turning upward.

His opinion is anything but objective, totally biased, given that every time he dove into love’s arms, he was met with the crude reality: not everyone’s meant to be loved, himself included.

The look you give him is enough to wipe the smirk off his face.

“Soulmates exist, Logan. We all have one.” There’s a certainty in your tone, marked by the subtle way in which you say his name, that he finds alluring. He shouldn’t, especially when you seem angry above all.

“And where is yours, then?”

He regrets it as soon as the words leave his mouth. Your expression becomes inscrutable. You could be either disappointed, frustrated, or even exasperated—sad, perhaps?

Logan feels as though a weight has settled on his shoulders just from staring into your eyes.

You strike back with silence. Plain, pure, dreadful silence that has him wondering if he’s breathing properly.

At long last, Wade comes back from his expedition, keys dangling from his fingers. “It was quite the treasure hunt, you know? You’ve got a lot of garbage in there.” He sticks his face between Logan’s and yours when you don't answer him. “Guys, is there something wrong? Are you doing a staring contest? If so, can I join?”

“I need to start getting ready for work,” you announce, standing up from the couch. Logan mimics you, and you open the door, your fingers curling around the knob. “You should get going. And Wade,” you pause, acknowledging only him, “I need to talk to you later. In private.”

Without Logan. That’s what you wanted to say but didn’t.

“Sure, my queen. I live to serve,” Wade says in rejoinder, and he kisses your forehead briefly, which forces Logan to avert his gaze the whole time his lips are on you, feeling uncomfortable watching. “Take care, alright?”

You give Wade a small nod, waiting until he’s outside your apartment to glance at Logan.

“Goodbye,” you croak, and he knows he should say something, that he—

The door almost closes on his nose.

Had he been an asshole? He was merely expressing his thoughts. The idea of soulmates didn’t sit well with him.

Once settled into Wade’s apartment, Logan steps into the shower, water rinsing off his body. Yet he finds himself unable to stop thinking about you.

The disappointment in your eyes when he asked about your soulmate.

The coldness in your tone at the end, so different from the warmth you initially offered.

He feels drawn to you, as if some sort of invisible string is tying the two of you. Were it possible, he would use his own claws to cut it, but he can’t discern where it begins or ends. Instead, he prefers to blame his touch-starved state for this reaction.

He’s already hating this earth. So much for a man whose skin refuses to scar.

And where is yours, then?

His words shouldn’t have stung the way they did. All the charm—the gruff exterior, the mysterious personality—had vanished.

The guy from another universe, with the claws, the healing abilities, and the raspy voice, is a moron.

A ridiculously good-looking moron? Yes, but a moron nonetheless.

There is something about him you can’t quite place. A chill creeps down your spine as you replay the instant your eyes first locked. Your body had reacted in ways it never had before, drawn to him like metal to a magnet.

Why? You’d seen handsome men before, even been with some. Yet, you’ve never felt this—this gravitational pull, this inexplicable pull to invade someone’s personal space.

How would your soulmate feel if he saw you like this, lusting after another man?

You shudder at the thought. This isn’t like you. You pride yourself on loyalty—perhaps a little too much. You don’t read two books at the same time, and you’ve been buying the same brand of shampoo for the past five years.

So why now? Why him? It feels like a betrayal of your own mind, your conscience turned against you.

Let things stay as they are—it’s safer that way. You don’t want to know the reason behind this forceful need.

After all, being his grumpy and ill-tempered self, he’ll stay holed up in Wade’s apartment, avoiding any interaction with the real world. And you? You’ll forget about him. Easy-peasy.

That afternoon, as you take a nap on the couch, he invades your dreams. It’s not even a wet dream, but he’s there, staking a claim on a part of you he has no right to.

You wake up with your hand clutching your chest, a frustrated punch landing on the nearest cushion.

The next day, you drop by Wade’s place for a quick visit, your eyes darting around the room every few seconds, half-expecting Logan to appear out of nowhere.

“I told you, he’s sleeping. That guy’s got a fucked up sleep schedule,” Wade says, urging you to take a seat beside him at the table. “Why don’t you wanna see him?”

Because he’s messing with your sanity. Your brain cells are practically disintegrating at the mere thought of breathing the same air as him.

“I just—I need to tell you something.”

“Are you pregnant?”

“What? Wade, no! You’ve been gone for three days—pregnancies take months.”

“I’d make an amazing uncle, though.” He grabs your hand between his, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Babies are so adorable at that—”

“My scars are back,” you cut him off, putting an end to his nonsense. Pulling the neck of your sweater to the side, you show him the thin lines etched into your collarbone. “But they are different this time.”

“Different? You mean they changed?” His disbelief is clear as he reaches for your arm, frowning while he inspects more of your scars. Wade’s jaw slackens, color draining out of his face. “Fuck. Fuck!”

“Fuck?”

“Yeah, fuck!” His strong arms envelop you, and you lean into the embrace, resting your cheek against his shoulder. “Is this good news? Are we happy? Does this mean I have a shot at becoming an uncle after all?”

You laugh a little at his eagerness, rubbing gentle circles into his back. “I am happy. I just—I don’t know what these changes mean yet.”

Althea steps out of the bathroom, her cane tapping the floor in rhythmic beats. “I already told you what they mean.”

Wade pulls away from you, glaring at her. “You meddler! Haven’t we talked about not eavesdropping? Hasn’t life taught you anything after all these decades?”

“Upside of being blind: I’ve never seen this motherfucker in Crocs,” she says, pointing her cane at you, though you know her aim is Wade. “Downside of being blind: I hear everything in this apartment. And you, kid, have a new soulmate.”

“I know what we talked about the other day, but... it doesn’t make sense, Al. You only get one soulmate,” you protest, feeling the tension grow as you pace around the table. “Why can’t it just be simple? My friends are getting engaged, years are flying by, and I’m still out here chasing this… this idiot who no one can even find!”

That’s when Logan appears, emerging from his room, holding several empty beer cans. He rolls his eyes and walks straight into the kitchen. “Great. Who else is coming tonight?”

Wade smirks, clapping a hand on Logan’s shoulder as he looks at you. “Sweetie, Logan’s going through his second puberty at the ripe old age of two hundred. The pediatrician said it’s just hormones, nothing to worry about. Excuse his shitty attitude.”

With a low groan, Logan shrugs off Wade’s hand, scowling. If anything, the younger man’s grin just grows bigger. “Wolvie, I gotta admit that whole ‘Don’t fall in love with me or I’ll break your heart’ personality shouldn’t turn me on, but here we are.”

You decide to take that as your cue to leave. You grab your bag, muttering a quick goodbye to Althea as you head for the door.

But Logan calls after you. “Can we talk?”

You freeze, your back to him. “How much did you hear?” you ask, not daring—not being able—to meet his gaze.

“All of it,” he admits after a beat, and you curse under your breath. “But it doesn’t—Hey!” He follows you into the hallway. “I’m talking to you!”

“No, you’re not.” You fumble for your keys, fingers shaking as you try to unlock your door. “Leave me alone.”

“I won’t,” he mumbles behind you, his voice softer now. “Come on. Don’t be so harsh.”

“I can’t believe you,” you whisper, finally finding the right key and jiggling it into the lock. The door swings open, and you step into the safety of your apartment. But when you try to close it, Logan’s foot wedges into the gap, blocking it. “Get out.”

He doesn’t budge. “No.”

“Logan, I’m not in the mood.”

“Well, me neither. But I owe you an apology.”

You wonder if he realizes the hold he has on you. No matter how hard you try to mask it, the unbearable pounding of your heart betrays you.

Scanning his features, you trace the rugged contours of his face with your eyes, lingering on the lines on his forehead—the aftermath of what it looks like a life lived through bitterness and pain.

“Can I come in?” he insists, his tone on the verge of sounding pleading.

You hesitate. The sensible part of you screams to send him away. Thinking that avoiding him would be as easy as stealing candy from a baby is a long-forgotten idea now: you’d been naïve to even consider it possible.

He’s going to find a way to sneak into your space, your home—and you’ll let him in. You’ll grant him a chance to cross a boundary that should’ve been already drawn.

It feels like you’re fifteen again, infatuated with the guy you know you shouldn’t get close to. Paul from high school wasn’t your soulmate back then—Logan isn’t now.

The smart thing would be to take a step back, accept his apology, and ask him to leave. That’s how you preserve what little remains of your sanity and protect your heart, which is already hanging by a thread.

But God, it feels so good to be near him.

You step aside. He walks in. Something tells you this won’t be the last time.

“I’m waiting.” You stay near the counter, pressing your back against it, and keeping your distance. Logan sits awkwardly on the edge of your couch, unsure of where to begin.

“Look, about what I said yesterday…I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry.” He sounds sincere, earnest. “I didn’t know you believed in soulmates.”

“It’s not a matter of believing in them or not, Logan. My soulmate is out there—yours too.”

Your words coax a grin from him, and he shakes his head. “I guess we’ll never see eye to eye on that.” In a fluid motion, he crosses the room, and you find his unexpected proximity a bit exasperating. “Do you forgive me?”

“I’ll think about it.”

“Give me a break, darlin’. I’m trying my best.”

“Well, you were an asshole.”

“Yes.”

“The first time we exchanged words.”

“Also yes.”

“And now you’re apologizing.”

“Positive. I just did.”

It’s not that you’re easy—it’s Logan’s persuasive allure that gets to you.

“What else can I do to win your forgiveness?” he wonders aloud, his syrupy voice making you tighten your grip on the counter.

An idea sparks in your mind. You move toward the pile of books next to the TV, eyeing the titles, until one catches your attention: your copy of Jane Eyre by Charlotte Brontë, one of the first novels you’d read when you were younger.

It’s adorned with colorful post-its, and the pages, sort of rough to the touch, are marked with handwritten notes in the margins.

“How do you feel about reading?”

“Not my strongest suit,” he answers, arching a brow as he takes in your enthusiasm. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

“You want me to believe you’re sorry for what you said? Then read this,” you say, wiggling the book in front of him, “and we can start over.”

“What is it about? Let me guess: love and soulmates. Did I get it right?” he asks, playfulness lacing his tone. His breath hitches as you press the book against his chest, silently urging him to take it. His pinky grazes your hand, feeling your skin and sending a jolt through you.

Logan watches you with half-lidded eyes, and it takes every ounce of willpower to tear yourself away from him and his maddening touch.

You clear your throat. “Open it to page one hundred fifty-three.”

“Do you—you remember specific pages?”

“And read what’s underlined in black,” you murmur, eyes fluttering closed for an instant. “Please.”

Logan must mutter something along the lines of ‘You’ve got to be kidding me’ before searching for it. It’s only then that he begins to recite the passage:

He is not to them what he is to me. He is not of their kind. I believe he is of mine; – I am sure he is – I feel akin to him – I understand the language of his countenance and movements; though rank and wealth sever us widely, I have something in my brain and heart, in my blood and nerves, that assimilates me mentally to him. Did I say, a few days since, that I had nothing to do with him but to receive my salary at his hands? Did I forbid myself to think of him in any other light than a paymaster? Blasphemy against nature! Every good, true, vigorous feeling I have gathers impulsively round him. I know I must conceal my sentiments: I must smother hope; I must remember that he cannot care much for me. For when I say that I am of his kind, I do not mean that I have his force to influence, and his spell to attract; I mean only that I have certain tastes and feelings in common with him. I must, then, repeat continually that we are for ever sundered: – and yet, while I breathe and think, I must love him.

You’ve chosen a damn good page.

Logan looks up from the book, his mouth slightly parted, as if he’s about to speak. You interject before he can find the words.

“You’ve got a week to read it.”

“How long is it again?”

“Four hundred pages.”

He surrenders, sighing in defeat. “You’re killing me here, y’know?”

“Write an opinion essay if possible.”

Right there, Logan offers you a mock laugh. “Haha. That’s so funny.”

“It is for me,” you talk back, unable to hide your smile from him, and soon he mirrors your expression.

As Logan steps toward the door, he hesitates and glances back. “We’re all good then?”

Leaning against the doorframe, you raise your chin defiantly. “We’ll be when you finish the book.”

What he says next has your stomach turning into knots. “You’re trouble.” His tone shifts—no longer teasing, but grounded in truth. Gone are the jokes; he seems to mean every word.

For the rest of the night, one line from the book doesn’t stop echoing in your mind—the line about soulmates: I have something in my brain and heart, in my blood and nerves, that assimilates me mentally to him.

You’re trouble for him, and he’s trouble for you. You hope he knows it too.

He thought that not seeing you for a week would snuff out his feelings. That by next Wednesday, every thought tied to your name, every urge to uncover the last of your secrets, would be extinguished.

That's what time usually did: it diminished dangerous desires that couldn't afford to be voiced, and buried those longings that had no place in the light of day.

Logan now figures he’s been underestimating the spell you cast on him with just a few glances and the intensity of your eyes. He’s seen you animated, angry—both defiant and vulnerable.

Each of your gestures feels like a memory he can’t quite place.

The way you laugh, the right corner of your mouth lifting just slightly higher than the left—he swears it isn’t the first time he's seen a smile brighter than the sun.

Still, he convinces himself it’s all in his head. He must be the one losing his mind, the years finally catching up to him. It’s the only reasonable explanation for the thoughts that consume his every waking moment.

He’s wrong—you’re right. He’s seeing things where there are none—you’re simply too kind.

Too kind. Too young. Too damn clever for your own good, with your books and that sharp mind of yours. He wonders how you see yourself.

Do you like the reflection in the mirror? Are you content with the way your life has turned out?

Do you, too, lie awake at night, the bed stretching endlessly, aching for a touch that never comes?

The walls in this place are paper-thin. When darkness falls, and the moon rises, the big, scary Wolverine can’t close his eyes.

Instead, he listens.

Some nights, you play the same movie on repeat—a romantic comedy that lasts exactly one hundred and twenty minutes. For two hours straight, he’s privy to your laughter, your commentary at the characters on the screen.

He hears you cry when the lead couple drifts apart after a terrible argument, but they always find their way back to each other, and you watch every second until the credits roll.

None of the other films you pick ever ends in heartbreak, he realizes. They all have happy endings—the kind you wish for yourself.

One way or another, there must be a way to get you out of his system. He knows, without a doubt, that you wouldn’t want him. He’s not your soulmate, and it’s clear that finding that person has become the center of your existence.

Logan can’t allow himself to be the moron who derails your purpose.

Sure, he’s done bad things, but he likes to believe that at least a part of him—some small fraction—hasn’t been lost yet. That there’s a piece of him that can be saved, which is the reason why he stayed here: to be a better man than the one he was in his universe.

But it’s hard. Harder still because it’s you who disrupts his quest for redemption. How is he supposed to go on with his life when every thought circles back to you? The idea of holding you, kissing you—sleeping beside you haunts him.

And so the images blur, new dreams twisting with his usual nightmares.

Which one is worse, he can no longer tell.

One afternoon, while deliberately steering clear of Jane Eyre, he reluctantly turns to Wade in search of answers. “Tell me more about her.”

Wade, lounging on the couch, stops scrolling on his phone and drops it onto his chest, drawing his eyebrows together.

“Her? Who do you mean?” His tone oozes with feigned innocence, barely containing a shit-eating grin when Logan grits out your name, his tone rough, almost pained. “Oh, Romeo. You’ve got it bad.”

Intending to maintain some semblance of control, Logan strides into the kitchen, grabbing a glass and the last bottle of whiskey. As he tips it, only a few drops fall into the glass.

“No, I don’t,” he says, extending his arm and holding the bottle up. “We’re out of whiskey.”

“You keep saying we, but you’re the only alcoholic in this apartment.” Wade kicks off his shoes, propping his feet on the coffee table. “So, why the sudden interest in the lady? She getting through that tough exterior of yours? I’ll give her points for that.”

“And you wonder why I don’t talk to you.”

“I saw the book,” the younger man replies, lacing his fingers behind his head, watching as Logan rummages through the fridge with increasing frustration. “You never told me you were into classics. If I’d known, I’d have gotten you a copy of Pride and Prejudice.”

“Shut your mouth.”

“I’m sorry, weren’t you the one who came to me, looking for the essential oil of truth?”

The silence that follows is thick and uncomfortable, mood-killing.

“See what I just did there?” he adds, and Logan feels forced to shake his head from side to side, appearing conflicted. Wade lets out a low huff. “That was Virginia Woolf. Add her to your reading list.”

“Has anyone ever told you how obnoxious you are?”

“More times than I can count. I’m just not everyone’s cup of coffee.”

“Tea, Wade. Not everyone’s cup of tea.”

“Whatever.” Wade simpers, as though Logan’s correction is the punchline to a joke only he gets. He sets his palms flat on the table, looming closer with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “So, what would you like to know about my dear friend?”

Logan hesitates, the weight of his question heavy on his tongue. “What’s the deal with her scars?”

The air shifts. Wade’s playful expression fades and he tilts his head, his tone turning serious. “I don’t think it’s my story to tell,” he begins, gaze dropping to the floor. “But she lost them years ago. She was living a normal life, and one day, they were just—gone, like they were never there. It broke her. We didn’t know each other back then, but you’ve seen her.”

Wade’s eyes flick back up, while Logan stands there, tongue-tied. “You even know the kind of books she reads—nothing can shake that belief in real love, in soulmates being destined. Imagine how she must’ve felt when she found out her presumed soulmate was dead… without a single warning.”

From what he had heard, that sense of loss was impossible to put into words. Those who’d gone through it described the experience as if half of you—your body, your soul, your very essence—was being ripped away.

The pain was excruciating, and the only way to survive it was by means of tolerating it—no remedy, just the endurance to outlast the agony.

It wasn’t just a momentary hurt. It was the kind of torment that lingered, making you question who you were and what little remained of you.

You and Logan had more in common than he’s willing to admit.

“She’s a good person,” he mutters absent-mindedly, his thumb grazing the cover of the book. He had carried it everywhere for a week now, without even cracking it open.

“Oh, you dirty pig…” Wade whispers, his eyes lighting up as if a lightbulb suddenly went off in his mind. “Now I get it. You wanna know her. Like, really know her!”

“I don’t—”

“Your sex life is none of my business. I’m all up for you putting your mutant dick to work, otherwise it’s just wasted potential. But it’s my friend we’re talking about.”

Logan’s jaw tightens, and he snaps. “Drop the speech, alright? I’m not trying to get into her pants. I just want to be nice. That’s all.”

“Nice, huh? What’s your version of nice? Starting a two-person book club?” Wade stifles a laugh, pressing a finger to Logan’s chest. “Look, if you want to sleep with her, and the feeling’s mutual, then go for it. Just tell me this—how long’s it been since you visited Pussy Village? Was it before or after the Big Bang?”

Things are never truly serious with Wade Wilson. “I’m not answering that.”

Wade raises both hands in surrender, still chuckling. “Fine, fine. But if you’re really interested, just be clear about it. She doesn’t need a half-assed situationship.”

By now, it’s like a mantra he repeats again and again, hoping that eventually both Wade and he will start to believe it. “I don’t want to have sex with her.”

As he heads back to his (now Wade’s old) room, Wade adds, “I’m sure she’d appreciate it if you underlined some quotes you like.”

Much to his dismay, that’s exactly what Logan does.

His handwriting isn’t the most legible, but he tries his best, leaving notes in the margins of some pages, such as:

I hate this John kid.

Her aunt is a cunt.

This is too cheesy.

Mr. Rochester’s married?

St. John—what a prick.

He finishes the book at 7 a.m. A long-ass book—just for you. While getting ready for work, Wade calls him an unemployed fucker, and Logan knows nothing better than to shoot back a similar insult, stretching his arms as the first rays of sunlight creep through the curtains.

Wade was right about something, even if Logan himself doesn’t wish to admit it: he’s behaving like a teenager—staying up until dawn, practically chained to the bed without daring to go out. Falling for a girl he didn’t know a week ago.

Learning to control his impulses has been a hard task, especially with his temperament. Over the years, Logan thought he’d mastered the art of self-restraint, long past the point where his body moved without his mind’s permission.

As his feet carry him down the hall toward your apartment, he recognizes how wrong he is.

This is a terrible idea, he thinks. And yet, his fist knocks on the wood. Three times.

Fuck.

The door opens just a crack. You peek out, your face barely visible, eyes puffy from sleep. “Logan?”

His name isn’t a fancy one. It’s pretty normal, pretty standard. There must be a thousand other guys named like him—yet it’s only when you say it, your voice turning it into something rare and unique, that it feels different, like it’s only his.

The tone you use with him isn’t the one he’s used to: Logan, you’re a disappointment. Logan, how dare you turn your back on your friends? Logan, they’re all dead. Logan, it’s your fault.

Yours is inviting, and warm, and new. He likes new.

“I just finished it,” he answers, holding up the book, mindful not to grip it too tight as not to crumple the pages.

You scratch the back of your head, blinking at him. “You just finished it… at 7 a.m.?

Yeah, it sounds stupid now that you say it out loud, but it’s true. Hoping his reaction is enough to explain what he can’t put into words, he gives you a slow nod.

This time, you don’t wait for him to say more. “Come in?”

Yes, this is what he’s been looking forward all week. This moment, this interaction.

This Come in. This Yes, thank you. You’re so kind.

His quiet acceptance of your invitation, the unpronounced thought of I don’t deserve this, but I can’t back off now, because how could I ever say no to you?

He follows you into the kitchen as you move to make tea. “Want some?” you ask, but he declines the offer. If he were to drink anything right now, it would be something much stronger, not tea, despite the early hour. “You’re here to talk about the book?”

“Well, you told me I could come back after reading it.”

“I did,” you say, a small smile tugging at your lips as you hide it behind your mug. “I just wasn’t expecting you to be so punctual.”

You don’t need to know that he’s been counting down the seconds, marking each minute in his mind since the last time he saw you. That’s a detail he’ll keep to himself. “It’s a good story.”

“Tell me about it.” You smile even wider, and he takes a moment to absorb the details of your face—the crinkles by your eyes, the way your nose scrunches when you’re amused. “I lent you my most precious book. Fell in love with it years ago.”

“I can see why you liked it,” he explains, flipping through the pages to find the one he marked. “All the romance and the yearning—”

“Hey, it’s also good for other reasons,” you try to defend yourself, but any other argument dies on your lips when he finds the passage he was looking for and begins to read aloud.

“I sometimes have a queer feeling with regard to you, especially when you are near me, as now,” he recites, his voice lower, almost reverent, as he looks up from the page to meet your gaze. “It is as if I had a string somewhere under my left ribs, tightly and inextricably knotted to a similar string situated in the corresponding quarter of your frame.”

You seem startled by the sharp sound of him closing the book. He’s sort of breathless, and from where he stands, he can tell you are too. “That’s one of my favorite passages.”

“I can’t blame you for believing in soulmates if this is the kind of thing you read growing up,” he teases, handing the book back to you.

Though a part of him almost wishes he didn’t have to—so that it would still be a reason, a tether, pulling him back to you again and again.

Grinning, you take it, your eyes remaining trained on his. “I happen to notice it hasn’t changed your perspective on soulmates.”

“It’ll take more than a book.”

“This is, in my opinion, one of the best love stories ever written. How else will I convince you?”

“Why do you feel like you need to convince me?” He takes a step forward—you take a step back. “Why can’t it be the other way around? I might end up being the one who convinces you.”

“You could never,” you respond, clasping your hands behind your back. “It would be like convincing me the sky is green instead of blue.”

Logan retreats slightly. “Don’t you get tired?”

“Of what?”

“Of waiting. Of always being on the lookout.”

You don’t react badly to his question. You’re not even shaken, not fazed in the slightest. “When I meet him, I’ll know all the waiting was worth it.”

“And in the meantime?” Logan inquires, pressing himself further into your intimacy, edging closer as if testing the boundaries you’re willing to cross. His words are a subtle request for more, for answers. “What will you do until you find him?”

If you ever do, he thinks, but it’s left unsaid, lingering in his thoughts. He’s getting better at not saying the things that sit heavy in his chest without thinking.

“I think you misunderstand, Logan.” You study him through your lashes, and he feels he’s become the keeper of your most sacred secrets. “It’s not about waiting as if my life’s on pause. I’ve been with other people. But in the end, I want to choose him.”

That casual admission strikes him like a wave of cold water. A flicker of jealousy burns at the edges of his composure, though he tries to smother it.

I’ve been with other people, you say, your tone so nonchalant, and yet the mental images that flood his mind are anything but comfortable.

He imagines someone else standing in your kitchen. Perhaps in five minutes, there will be another man knocking on your door, here to discuss a book, and it won’t be him.

Perhaps this isn’t rare for you—all this come in, grab something to drink, let’s talk when you’re done reading.

Perhaps he’s not as important as you make him feel.

His thoughts spiral until your voice pulls him back from the brink.

“Don’t you understand how beautiful it is?” There’s a dazzling glint in your expression, a light in your eyes that makes him ache. “Outside of these four walls, there’s a person who’s waiting to meet me, in the same way I expect to meet him. I can’t grant myself the choice not to believe in something like this.”

Far from easing the martyr in his mind, this conversation only deepens his internal struggle. The questions overlap each other: what happens if you never find him? Would you ever consider settling for somebody else?

He rephrases that last one—would you ever consider being with him?

“He’s a lucky guy,” Logan murmurs, and just like that, he feels himself slipping deeper, falling into the rabbit hole with you guiding him through the madness.

For a moment, he can pretend—pretend that matching scars and bonds that defy the rules of his principles make sense.

Maybe, just for you, he’ll allow himself to believe it.

Your eyes soften with sudden emotion, glistening with the beginnings of tears. He feels the primal urge to reach out, to cup your cheek, to be there when the first tear falls. “You think so?” you ask, your voice fragile.

I sometimes have a queer feeling with regard to you, especially when you are near me, as now.

“Of course I do,” he replies, his tone quiet but laden with a strange, undeniable truth.

It is as if I had a string somewhere under my left ribs, tightly and inextricably knotted to a similar string situated in the corresponding quarter of your frame.

Whatever this is between you—it’s messed up. He’s messed up. And you… you’re just as tangled in this chaos for indulging it, for looking at him in that way that calls out to him.

The more time he spends with you, the less he feels like himself. Everything he’s done lately—reading that damn book, standing in your apartment at 7 a.m.—none of it feels like something he’d do.

It’s not just his mind you’re messing with: it’s his very sense of self.

Logan’s smart mouth had always been a liability, getting him into trouble either by saying too much or by choosing the wrong words. Bad things had always followed in the wake of his tongue.

Somehow, when it comes to you, he’s the most careful he’s ever been. He doesn’t want to upset you, nor does he want to be the cause of any sorrow that might affect your heart.

When the two of you stand at the threshold once more, just as you have other times before, you softly say: “I feel like I’m experiencing a déjà vu.”

He laughs, because it sounds ridiculous. “Care to explain why?”

“You come, we talk, you leave.” You lean against the wall, your hand ghosting over the handle. “But you never stay that long.”

There’s no mistaking the layered meaning in your words. You, who work with language and its peculiarities for a living, never speak by chance—every phrase, every pause, carries an assigned weight. The double meaning in your statement doesn’t escape either of you.

You’re a natural at this madness, diving headfirst into it. You must be losing it, too, because your actions don’t match what you said before.

Slowly, his fingers brush a loose strand of hair behind your ear, the perfect excuse to feel your skin, to close the distance without saying what he actually wants.

They say food and shelter are the basic human needs, but Logan chooses to believe they forgot to include the longing to reach out and just feel you.

“I can’t stay,” he finally responds to your earlier comment, his hand still lingering against your skin.

His strength—the only thing saving him from completely giving in—helps him pull himself away.

Before the impulse to kiss you becomes too overwhelming to resist, Logan leaves.

Some time later, you’re making lunch, music playing softly in the background at the same time the city’s distinct noise finds a way to break through your tranquility.

You rely greatly on the knowledge that you’re good at multitasking—now more than ever, with a book in one hand and the other stirring the pasta on the stove.

The warmth from the pot rises around you, but you trust yourself not to be careless. Not to be stupid enough to burn yourself with the boiling water.

This time, you miscalculate. Not only do you dip the wooden spoon into the pot, but your fingertips too.

Though it only lasts a second, and the voice in your head instantly screams Hot! Hot! Hot!, the shock makes you drop the book to the floor. You yank your hand back, racing to the sink to run it under cold water.

“Fuck,” you grumble, watching the skin redden in protest. “Lesson learned: no more multitasking.”

The funny thing is, just a door away, Logan’s watching a movie with Wade when he feels a sting in the tips of his fingers.

It’s barely there, practically faint, but he looks down, inspecting his hand like it doesn’t belong to his own body. His skin briefly flushes with irritation before returning to its normal state.

Wade notices his distraction. “Hey, you okay?”

Logan pays no mind to it. “Sure. Just felt something strange.”

Is it still called avoiding if you’re both doing it? You’d like to think so.

For the sake of clarity, let’s say you’ve been actively avoiding Logan, but truth be told—he’s been avoiding you too. That last encounter in your apartment didn’t help matters at all.

If anything, it made everything worse.

You’ve been down this road before, knowing men like him too well: they’re everywhere, until they’re not.

One day, they vanish without a trace, leaving you staring at the empty space they used to occupy, asking yourself ‘What happened to my Prince Charming in disguise?’

They disappear as though they never existed, and not even the best detective can track them down.

So far, your avoidance strategy has worked wonders. Maybe it’s for the best. He’s a distraction—an undeniably attractive one, the kind anyone would want to trip over.

Yet you miss him, which is dumb: why are you missing someone you were never supposed to care about in the first place?

You return home after a long trip to the grocery store, arms laden with bags. It’s the kind of errand that exhausts you, though you keep telling yourself it’s better than thinking about him.

As you struggle to get through the building's exit, you resign yourself to the fact that it’ll take several trips to bring everything up to your apartment.

Then the elevator doors slide open, and you drop everything to the floor.

You should’ve known better than to assume victory so soon. After days of successfully avoiding him, there he is.

And of course, it’s when you look your worst—tired from running around, weighed down by groceries, barely holding it together.

“Hey,” he greets you, standing just outside the elevator, like he’s not sure if he should step inside or stay where he is. He’s dressed in a red-and-black flannel shirt, layered over a white vest, a leather jacket tossed over his shoulders, and a pair of jeans that seem made for him.

He looks... ridiculously good.

“Hi,” you manage to answer after a beat, scrambling to collect the bags you’d dropped. “Just—give me a second.”

“Let me help you,” Logan says, ducking down to gather the groceries, but you pull them away.

“I’ve got it. Are you going out? On a date, maybe?” You nod toward his clothes, trying to keep things light, teasing even.

Glancing down at himself, a crease appears between his brows, and in one swoop, he gathers all the bags with a single hand. “I’m supposed to meet Wade at a bar, but he’ll survive without me.”

“Logan, you don’t—”

But he’s already moving, one hand tugging you out of the elevator, the other gesturing toward your apartment.

“Not up for debate,” he mutters. Then, without waiting for permission, he holds out his hand. “Keys.”

Sighing, you dig into your pocket and drop them into his open palm. He unlocks the door with practiced ease, stepping inside and placing the bags on your kitchen counter.

As he starts to unpack them, you stop him. “You really don’t need to do that.”

That seems to catch his attention. He pauses, turning toward you with his arms crossed over his chest, leaning against the counter.

His unrelenting stare sizes you up, and he cocks his head to the side. “Haven’t seen you in a while.”

He thinks he’s so discreet, so smooth. “Well, I’ve been busy,” you explain, fiddling with the frayed edge of your sweater, tugging at it like it might unravel your nerves.

You hear him click his tongue. “Been busy too.” His words hang in the air, thickening the atmosphere. Your body tenses, and you stare at his shoes, until— “Sweetheart,” he calls you softly, and your eyes snap shut for a moment, your chin almost pressing against your chest. “My eyes are up here.”

A quick flutter of your lashes brings you back to him, and your chest tightens with the effort it takes to look into his eyes. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?” you ask, praying he’ll let this go.

You watch as his mouth twitches with something halfway between a smile and a smirk. “You already want me to leave?”

“If you have plans, then yeah.”

He huffs out a laugh, inhaling a shallow breath like you’ve missed something obvious. “Wade can wait. He’ll be fine.” His expression shifts, and the playful tone in his voice falls away, replaced by something more raw. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

You can’t help but snort. “Oh, please. Like you haven’t been doing the same.” You walk over to the couch, feeling your legs wobble beneath you. You collapse into one corner, hoping the distance will help you breathe.

Like a shadow, Logan follows after you, sitting far too close. His legs splay wide, so wide they’re almost grazing yours.

“At least I have a reason for it. What about you?” His hand reaches out, fingers closing around yours in a grip that’s both firm and gentle, enhancing your anxiety. Your throat tightens, the room shrinking around you. “I need you to tell me I’m not crazy,” he says, his voice rough and low. “I need you to tell me you feel it too.”

Panic flares in your chest, and you scramble for time. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you mutter, but your voice cracks, the uncertainty leaking through the cracks in your bravado.

He doesn’t buy your acting. “You do. We can’t keep playing dumb. You’re gonna make me lose my fuckin’ mind one of these days.”

It’s not just his words—it’s the way he stands so close, heat radiating from his body, the roughness of his hand gripping yours like he’s terrified you’ll slip away.

The intensity of it all weighs on you in ways you can’t even begin to describe, leaving you breathless, caught between denial and desire.

“Logan, this isn’t—”

“What? Okay?” There’s a glimpse of mirthlessness in his tone as he speaks, his forehead furrowing. “I can’t stay away from you, don’t you see it? It feels too good to be wrong,” he utters, inching forward. You know you should take a step back, tell him to stop. Nothing good can come from this. “It takes two to feel these things. It can’t be just me.”

“That doesn’t mean we have to give in.” Blood pounds in your ears, your pulse racing as your heart hammers unpleasantly. Little shivers of ice run through your spine, and yet, your stomach burns with desire.

More than ever, you feel yourself slipping, your sanity at risk.

Logan runs his eyes up and down your face, agitated, almost going cross-eyed. “Earlier you asked if I was going on a date. Would you like that? Me being with other people? Kissing another woman?” His hot breath caresses your cheek, and you avert your gaze momentarily. “Answer me.”

Don’t do it. For the love of God, don’t. “I can’t—I don’t—”

“Come on, baby.”

“I don’t want you to be with other people,” you mumble, your lips almost grazing his, and that’s all he needs to grip your chin and pull you into a kiss.

His mouth moves hungrily over yours, pushing you back until the armrest digs into your lower back. A choked whimper gets lost in your throat, and you bring him closer by grabbing onto the lapels of his jacket, your chest pressing against his.

Logan bites down on your lip, soothing the sting with his tongue, and the moan you let out reverberates in the apartment.

“This is what you were hiding from me?” he rasps, his forehead bumping against yours. “These sweet sounds you make?”

You end up perched in his lap, your thighs bracketing his hips. He’s hard beneath you, and as you shift, your center makes contact with his erection through the layers of fabric.

Both of you sigh into each other’s mouths, your hips moving on their own accord, rocking slightly against his clothed cock. He hooks one of his arms around your waist, guiding your movements.

Everything seems to fall into place. Outside your window, birds chirp. The world feels lighter, like a better place. The beast inside you quiets, and for once, your mind is blissfully blank.

Logic? Error 404—not found.

You tug at his hair, and Logan growls, breaking the kiss. “Do that again.” He jerks under your touch, bucking up into you. Encouraged, you pull his hair again, fingers wrapping around a strand at the nape of his neck, and you’re rewarded with a deep groan.

He’s dizzy for it, but you’re no better, not when he trails his kisses down your neck, his mouth latching onto your skin, tasting the sweat and salt.

“I can’t control myself around you,” he murmurs, groping your tits, and you wail, the ache between your legs becoming intolerable. His hands slip under your sweater, caressing the scars on your back.

That’s when recognition settles over you.

What are you doing? And why are you doing it?

He ceases sucking your flesh when you go rigid on top of him. Pecking your lips once again, Logan’s hands cradle your face, his thumbs rubbing circles on your cheeks. “What’s wrong?”

You don’t understand how he does it, how he can remain so calm. Doesn’t he realize the gravity of this? “We have to stop.”

“Why?”

“Don’t ask me something you already know the answer to.”

His arms drop to his sides, releasing you from his hold. You push yourself off him, away from the couch, putting as much distance between you as you can.

Pressing your palms to your eyes, you shake your head. “God, I’m stupid. This is stupid.”

Your reaction seems to get on his nerves, his frustration somehow increasing. Logan stands, towering over you. “Was it stupid when you were dry humping me?”

“Fuck you, Logan.”

“I’m not the bad guy here. You kissed me back.” He doesn’t let up, trailing behind you as you try to escape. “You want me as much as I want you.”

“Will you stop saying that?” you bark, throwing your arms in the air. Your chest rises and falls with rapid breaths. “Yeah, we like each other. So? Does that make it right? How can you just ignore how wrong this is?”

His expression hardens, anger flashing in his eyes. “Forget your idea of what's good and bad. You're just upset you can't control what you feel.”

“He’s closer than ever.”

Logan gawks at you, his voice bitter as he goes on with his rambling. “That fucker again? Don’t you ever get tired of talking about someone who you don’t even know? Because you’re certainly wearing me out.”

“You wish you were him, don’t you?” You jab your finger into his chest, feeling his heartbeat, a flutter you choose to ignore. “You want to be my soulmate.”

“Damn right I do,” he practically spits his words, narrowing his eyes at you. “But I’m not him.”

“No. You’re not.”

Everything seems to fall out of place. Outside your window, birds don’t chirp—they scream for mercy. The world doesn’t feel lighter, but heavier. The beast inside you roars back to life, restless and louder than ever, while your mind spins in chaos.

“We shouldn’t see each other anymore.” Your voice pierces through the thick silence in the room, and you swallow down the lump forming in your throat.

“If that’s what you want,” he replies, his jaw clenched tight, irritation radiating off him in waves.

“It’s what we both need.”

“Speak for yourself. I don’t have a soulmate.” His tone is biting, but you don’t miss the undercurrent of longing in his words. “But if in any other universe I do, I hope it’s you.”

Your hand turns the knob, and then he’s halfway out the door, sparing you one last glance before he turns his back to you.

No more visits. No more books. No more bruising kisses that leave you questioning your mere existence.

Let things stay as they are—it’s safer that way. You don’t want to know the reason behind this forceful need.

After all, being his grumpy and ill-tempered self, he’ll stay holed up in Wade’s apartment, avoiding any interaction with the real world. And you? You’ll forget about him. Easy-peasy.

It didn’t go well in the end.

You remember your first heartbreak—seventeen, fresh out of high school. One of your hands clutched a million dreams, and the other, a pillow soaked with your tears.

Your mother remained by your side, caressing your back, attempting to soothe the sobs that racked your body. She murmured that it’d pass, that you wouldn’t feel like this forever. You believed her then, and trusted that things would eventually be okay.

Almost ten years later, another heartbreak shouldn’t come as a surprise. By now, you thought you would’ve developed the tools to survive it. You should be able to piece yourself back together by instinct.

But life, as it turns out, has a peculiar way of catching you off guard.

Whether it’s pent-up horniness, touch-starvation, or genuine affection—it doesn't change the fact that your pseudo-relationship with Logan fell apart.

Though you’re not the one who’s suffering the most. Neither is Logan.

Wade, the third party in this tangled mess, has somehow taken it the hardest.

“I feel like a child of divorce,” he says, his head resting on your lap, eyes distant as they fixate on the peeling wallpaper. “You need to do something about that.”

“I’ll take care of it next month.”

He’s supposed to be the one supporting you, but it feels like the roles are reversed—you’re comforting him, letting him vent.

“My two favorite people now can’t even be in the same room. What are we gonna do for Christmas? New Year's Eve?” Straightening up, he grabs the nearest cushion and buries his face into it to muffle a defeated scream. “Damn it, Cupid! You had one job!”

All in all, Wade’s emotionally unavailable at the moment, grieving your separation from Logan as if it were his own loss, too caught up in his melodrama to be of any real help.

Meanwhile, you fill your days with work, books, anything to keep your mind occupied.

You go to bed too late, you wake up too early. Sleep too little, cry too much.

One thing stays constant—you and Logan don’t talk. Stolen glances in the hallway, awkward elevator rides—those are the only remnants of whatever you once were. Back to being strangers again.

Well, not really. Strangers don’t know the route to your mouth the way he does.

The ache lingers every day. Missing him when you’re awake is a common occurrence. At night, as you toss and turn beneath the sheets, he stars in your dreams. You can’t recall the last time he wasn’t lodged in your thoughts.

Where there used to be ideas, creativity, and plots worth scribbling down, there’s now only Logan—a man destined to problematize your stay on earth.

That fucker again? Don’t you ever get tired of talking about someone who you don’t even know? Because you’re certainly wearing me out.

And yet, despite all of it, you continue to prioritize someone else. Someone who isn’t even here. Clung to the idea of a soulmate, you chose him over Logan.

What did he expect? For you to abandon your principles, your belief in destiny? It’s who you are. Nearly thirty years of life guided by one belief can’t just be discarded like trash.

You liked to separate things into categories: good and bad, right and wrong. A simple method to structure everything, to make sense of your world, and it has worked most of the time.

But now? The limits of those sacred categories look blurred. Your judgment feels unreliable, and you wonder if the choices you’ve made lately have been the correct ones.

Each of your decisions seems to be leading you further down a path you can’t recognize.

What’s the goal? Finding your soulmate, the voice in your head mockingly answers for the hundredth time, rolling its imaginary eyes. And where is he?

You’ve shut Logan out, a man who’s made it clear he has feelings for you, for this elusive person. Isn’t it time he steps into the light at long last?

This is what you fear the most: loneliness.

You don’t want to be the lone woman who sits by herself in a cafe, drawing pity from waitresses who discuss her solitude. By no means do you wish to be that friend who dispenses wise dating advice, but goes home to an empty bed. You refuse to become the godmother whose hand no one holds when her time comes.

No, this can’t be all fate has to offer to you. There must be more. If your life were a book, you’d be flipping through the pages to the last chapter, desperate to see how it ends.

Or, better yet, you’d grab a pen and rewrite it yourself. What kind of ending you’ll have—you’re not so sure about that.

It’s Sunday, one of those endless weekends where the only way to survive is by rearranging your entire apartment. You could manage it alone, but help would be nice—Wade’s help, to be more precise, would be perfect for this kind of task, and you find yourself knocking on his door.

No answer. Deciding to dial his number to see if he’s fallen asleep, you try calling him, waiting through the rings until he finally picks up. “Hey.”

Except it’s not Wade’s voice that answers. “I’m sorry, who is this?”

The door swings open, and Logan appears right behind it, holding Wade’s phone to his ear.

He narrows his eyes, leaning against the frame, a single eyebrow lifted in curiosity. “How sad. You don’t remember what I sound like.”

You feel foolish for still being on the call, so you lock your phone, ending it. “Where’s Wade?” you ask, frowning as you hold your breath, your voice sharper than intended.

“Out and about. Didn’t tell me where he was going,” Logan replies, glaring at you as he raises the phone to your face. “He left without this.”

Abort mission! Nodding in agreement, you begin to step back. “Great, I’ll look for him later.”

You’re close to being locked up once again in the safety of your apartment when you hear him: “You need anything?”

It’s the most he’s said to you in weeks. You hesitate, keeping your back turned. “I’m moving some heavy stuff around. Thought I could use the help.”

“I could do it.”

No. Not really. He’s doing that thing again—offering help when you know you shouldn’t accept it. You shake your head.

“It’s not necessary,” you say, forcing a casual tone.

“Doesn’t have to mean anything,” he retorts, his footsteps heavy and deliberate as they draw closer. With each passing second, your options shrink, leaving you no room for retreat. “Don’t worry. I won’t try to kiss you again if that’s what’s got you all worked up.”

“I’m not worked up,” you hiss, and he sidesteps you easily, his arm nudging yours.

The electricity is still there, undeniable, but neither of you has the courage to acknowledge it, acting as though it’s an ordinary occurrence.

His eyes roam the room, like he’s forgotten what your apartment looked like. He pauses by the bookshelf, his fingers gliding over the spine of Jane Eyre, and a low whistle escapes him as he slips it back into place.

You, frozen at the threshold, feel your irritation simmering just beneath the surface, and the urge to hide in your bedroom only becomes stronger.

After this, you’ll have to burn your favorite book. What a pity.

“What do you want me to do?” he asks, hooking his fingers into the loops of his jeans, his posture both confident and annoyingly relaxed.

There’s a challenge in his tone, and he acts as if you’re the one who pulled him into this situation—like he didn’t worm his way in here.

You gesture toward the couch. “Can you put it by the window?”

He sets to work, moving the smaller pieces of furniture aside to make space for the couch. Under no circumstances are you going to just stand there and watch him sweat.

Instead, you busy yourself with the long-forgotten glasses and cups gathering dust in one of the kitchen cabinets, each one glinting with past disappointments.

Wetting a towel, you start by wiping the rims. The air feels heavily charged with uneasiness, but you're relieved that for once, you can breathe without feeling like you’re on the brink of a heart attack.

You can already imagine Wade’s face when you tell him—

“So,” Logan’s voice cuts through the silence, startling you, “how’s the search going? Got any luck?”

His words have the desired effect on you, and the glass slips from your grasp, shattering against the floor in a crash that mirrors the jump of your heart. You curse under your breath, stepping back from the mess, taking in the shards sprawled around your shoes.

“Be careful,” he says from the other side of the room, still dragging the furniture into place, and you scrutinize him over your shoulder, your brows knitted.

“I don’t need your advice,” you murmur through gritted teeth as you crouch to pick up the larger shards. His attention returns to the couch, but you guess he’s not technically thinking how nice of a person you are.

As you kneel, your hands tremble slightly, and you wonder when that started. You fumble for a larger shard of glass, bracing your hand against the floor for balance, unaware of the smaller piece lying dangerously close to your fingers.

The sting comes fast, slicing through the skin of your pinky. You flinch, raising your hand, and Logan, hearing the faint wince, abandons his task and crosses the room to you.

"I don’t need your advice," he echoes, mocking your tone as he squats beside you, his hand closing around yours to inspect the wound. "You’re bleeding."

“Brilliant observation, Sherlock. I hadn’t noticed—” The words die in your throat, your eyes widening as you take a closer look at his hand. “Wait, why are you bleeding?”

He snorts, diverting his attention to his own hand. “What do you mean I’m—” Whatever it is he intended to shoot back remains unsaid as both of you stare down at the small cut in his pinky.

Driven by instinct, you place your hands side by side, your finger grazing his. The cuts are identical: same place, same width, same depth. The only difference is his vanishes within seconds, leaving only a few droplets of crimson blood as evidence.

Logan couldn’t have cut himself. He was nowhere near the glass. “Are you…?” You swallow thickly, trying to string together a coherent thought, dizziness making its triumphant appearance. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“Yes.”

“And what is that—”

“I need a drink.”

“Can you stop acting like a dick for one second?” You peer into his glossy eyes, watching him try to avoid your gaze, though he can’t seem to resist. “Please, Logan. Look at me.”

When he does, his mouth parts as if to speak, then closes again. “I don’t understand. I thought I didn’t have a soulmate.” His gruff tone slows even further, like he's straining to push the words from his lungs. “I thought—I thought I was alone.”

It explains so much: how your scars had reappeared once he and Wade returned from The Void.

The instant attraction, the yearning to be near him.

The dread that washed over you each time he walked away.

The dreams that plagued your nights, and the tightness in your chest these past few weeks that made you wonder if you could ever coexist in the same space as him without breaking apart.

All those times you felt he was getting closer weren’t just a figment of your imagination—he was, in fact, right there.

But he wasn’t just anyone—it was him. Logan is your soulmate. You two are meant to be together. How long would it take for you to truly believe it? Until it no longer sounded like something too good to be true?

Without uttering a sound, Logan gazes at you, silently pleading to see them. To see your scars. You extend your arm, and with a gentle motion, he rolls up the sleeve of your shirt, revealing the marks etched into your skin.

He runs his fingers along the lines, trying to understand the bond you now share—both his and yours.

In a sense, you’re his. You carry his scars, the physical manifestation of the life he has lived. Even though he may not bear any of his own, you do, and that’s more than enough.

He belongs to you just as much as you belong to him.

“There are more,” you tell him. your voice barely above a whisper. He stands, offering you his hand, and you take it, rising to your feet. Logan inches closer, his mouth hovering just above yours, his large hand coming up to cup your cheek.

The look he gives you is one reserved for those he loves, a look filled with such warmth and affection that it almost feels dreamlike.

“Do you want me to see them?” he inquires, and all he needs is a nod from you to gently tug your shirt up your chest and over your head.

He lets out a dry chuckle when you attempt to tame your hair, the effort proving to be in vain. The clock on the wall seems to pause its ticking the moment his fingers begin to trail each of the scars that captures his gaze.

You can’t even begin to fathom what thoughts might be swirling in his mind, but if the flicker of lust and desire you catch in his expression is anything to go by, you’re not so worried.

Logan’s touch carries an unexpected softness, a tenderness you never imagined a man like him could possess.

Deep down, you wish he understood that these scars don’t hurt, that they never have. “I’m okay,” you reassure him, prompting him to explore more of your skin, to claim you as his.

“Do you… like them?” he asks without meeting your eyes.

Do you like my scars? is the real question hidden underneath.

Do you like me? is the one he can’t bring himself to pronounce.

“They’re yours. I could never not like them.”

Before you stands a man you once believed was meant to be your burden, your trial. Logan had been the earthquake sent to test your endurance, to see how much you could withstand before surrendering and waving the white flag.

The same fingers that once imprinted his mark on you now linger on the strap of your bra, waiting for you to decide whether to let him go further or stop.

Desire has a limit before it overwhelms. There’s only so much need a person can contain before it spills over, uncontrollable and raw.

This game, one you never learned how to play, feels as foreign to him as it does to you—neither of you knows the rules.

“Can I see more?” He’s still talking about the scars, still fumbling with the strap, and you nod, your eyelids growing droopier as you take his free hand and direct it to the front of your jeans.

He catches the hint, undoing the button with ease, allowing you to shed the last layers of restraint.

Bare, moments away from being completely naked, standing in stark contrast to Logan, who remains fully clothed, your stomach does a flip as he rubs his thumb along the sides of your underwear.

Leaning your forehead against his shoulder, you stifle a sigh when he splays his hand across your lower back, pulling you closer.

His rough grip tightens on your ass, testing the feel of you, while your breathing becomes shallow, erratic.

“What is it, honey?” He slides his fingers your stomach, just below your belly button, brushing a small scar in there. “Want me to touch you?”

“Yes,” you croak, the plea slipping out involuntarily, throwing your arms around his neck. He buries his face against your jaw, his lips parting against your skin, trailing open-mouthed kisses along the curve of your neck.

You tilt your head back, exposing more of your throat to him, breathless as you whisper: “I’ve waited so long.”

He moves toward the couch, and you follow, trying to anticipate what he’s got planned for you. “I know, baby. I know. You’ve waited long enough.” Guiding your body down, he has you lying horizontally on the sofa. He unhooks your bra, kneading your breasts with both hands, eliciting a ragged gasp from you. “But I’m here now. You don’t have to wait any longer,” he huffs by your ear, rolling your nipples between his fingers, his breath mingling with yours, each exhale warm and inviting. “Gonna let me make you feel good? Show you how much I’ve been thinkin’ about you?”

Instead of answering with real words, you surge forward, crashing your lips against with his, reveling in the way he cages you with his biceps, locking you up in a prison of desire from which you never wish to break free. He tries not to settle his full weight on top of you, attentive not to crush you.

As he nips at the column of your throat, you squirm beneath him, canting your hips up to seek the friction you crave.

He presses his knee against your center and you push back, grinding against him with an animalistic urgency.

You can’t recall ever feeling this desperate, this overwhelmed by a man. But then again, he’s unlike any other you’ve encountered in your array of momentary hookups.

His kisses grow even more insistent as breathy moans roll off to your tongue, merging with the occasional creak of the couch beneath your movements.

Logan spreads your thighs wider, sinking to his knees on the floor to tug your lower half forward until your ass is almost hanging in the air. He places your thighs on his shoulders, supporting you as he leans in to pepper your soft flesh with kisses.

One can be certain that he’s marking your inner thighs with a hickey or two, the scratch of his beard feeling magnificent against your sensitive skin, and you can hardly bring yourself to think about the potential burn he’ll leave behind. Logan inhales your scent, the tip of his nose dangerously close to your cunt, and you tangle a hand in his hair as he continues to test your patience.

“Eager?” he wonders aloud, looking at you through his lashes. While maintaining eye contact, he presses a kiss to your clit through the fabric of your panties.

He does it again, and you bite your lip hard enough to draw blood, his fingers deftly pulling your underwear down your legs.

The first drag of his tongue along your folds has you scrunching your eyebrows in pleasure, tightening your grip on his hair. Logan moans against you, the sound muffled as he dips the tip of his tongue into your entrance, lapping at your arousal with an insatiable hunger.

The way you purr his name—a soft caress, a pat on his back that says Yeah, you’re doing fine—only spurs him on, infusing every one of his ministrations with fervor.

His longing for you radiates in the intensity of his touch, sending shivers through you, making you writhe because of his hands alone.

Your core throbs. Your skin prickles with electricity. Your legs quake on either side of his face. He’s hungry and you’re his feast. He’s parched and you’re the last bottle of water in an arid world.

Logan eats you out like this will be the only time he’ll have the privilege—each movement calculated, pushing all the right buttons, pulling out every trick he knows to make you think No, it doesn’t get any better than this. This is as much as one can get.

Then his fingers join the symphony of pleasure, pumping in and out of you as he keeps flicking your clit with expert precision, and your back arches from the couch, following his pace with your hips. He pushes back, you push forward—he pushes forward, you push back.

Who is enjoying this more: him or you?

His pointed tongue teases your bud, matched with the persistent hammering of his fingers plunged into your wet heat. The combination has you coming on his mouth, falling over the precipice while you struggle to keep yourself together.

Your walls flutter around his digits, and your cries fuse with his groans, both overshadowed by his insatiable desire to savor until the last drop of your release.

Shockwaves ripple through your body and you prop your weight on your arms to capture his lips in a fervent kiss, your eyes rolling rolling back in ecstasy as you taste yourself, a mix of sour and sweet.

In a frenzy, he sheds his clothes, practically tearing them away, and you wrap your hand around his length, stroking him in time with your kisses. Logan pulls back, panting against you, and you steal a glance at him.

Your gaze travels down to his hard cock, the tip a furious red, and he seizes your wrist.

“Why don’t you kiss it better?” he rasps, his voice dropping an octave. In this moment, you’re taken aback by his beauty, and the urge to express it rises within you.

“You’re so beautiful,” you murmur against his thigh, showering his skin with heated kisses. You stare in disbelief at the trail of hair leading to his girth, mouth watering at the sight.

A kiss on the tip, followed by a broad lick along a prominent vein—Logan’s grip on the armrest tightens, his knuckles turning white. “So perfect.”

“Shut up,” he retorts breathlessly, but you revel in the strangled noise that escapes him as you take him deeper, his head disappearing between your lips. His palm rests on your nape, anchoring you in place. “Goddammit. The fuckin’—mouth you have on you.”

You try to take him in further once you’re feeling more confident, while Logan fights with all his might against the need to thrust his hips up into your warmth. He can’t stay still, grunting and smothering you with lavish praise that heightens your arousal, slick pouring out of you in waves.

“Pretty thing you are. Don’t even know how to function around you. You got me all—fuck, actin’ all stupid.”

At one point, he tells you to stop, because he doesn’t want to come just yet. You know what comes next as he rubs his cock along your folds, blending your wetness with his precum.

It’s sloppy, and dirty, and messy—and God, do you love it.

He sinks into you and the world collides in a way you never expected. Everything you thought you knew falls apart, leaving you stranded in unfamiliar territory.

You can’t comprehend how you’ve spent so many years without him. Without this.

Your lips find his, and he swallows every sound he punches out of your lungs. His thrusts grow harder and faster as you adjust to his size, how big he feels inside you.

He digs his fingers into the globes of your ass, yanking you towards his shaft every time he fucks into you. You feel the brush of his balls against your skin, the way his muscles flex beneath your touch.

To this day, it’s still hard for you to wrap your head around the fact that love is what humans both strive and die for.

You come to understand it fully as his eyes flicker to yours, checking for any signs of discomfort in your features.

You understand why people write books and songs about love when he breathes your name in the shell of your ear, chanting how good you’re taking him, how tight and wet you are for him.

You understand the place love occupies in your life as the sound of your bodies slapping together creates a melody which has never been played before.

You understand why you’ve searched for this your entire life, lifting every carpet in hopes of uncovering the love you’ve pined for.

In the past, it had always felt like a race—finding your soulmate before the clock struck twelve. Now that you have him, you wonder what the future holds for you, how this connection will evolve.

For now, you can allow yourself the possibility of relishing the drag of his cock in your interior. His pace doesn’t falter for a second—something about mutants and their non-stop stamina, no doubt. He shoves a hand between your sweaty bodies, rubbing circles on your already swollen bud.

Each time he fills you to the brim, you have to ground yourself, resisting the pull of an altered reality.

“So full,” you blurt out, mewling with a specially hard thrust, a chocked sob lodged in your throat. “Please, stay.”

It could mean many things: Please, keep fucking me. Please, don’t leave after this. Please, remain by my side form this moment onward, because I don’t know how to go on with my life now that I’ve experienced this closeness.

Whatever meaning he ascribes to your words is of little importance. He tightens his arms around you, kissing you deeply, tongue and teeth clashing as they compete to see who wins the battle. “Never. I’m never lettin’ you go, y’hear me?”

Heat pools in your lower back, a coiling tension radiating through your limbs. “You’re mine, princess. Can’t afford to lose you now that I found you. Gonna remind you every day.”

His rambling pushes you over the edge, your dripping cunt spasming around him as you reach your climax, moaning his name against his shoulder. You cling to him, convulsing beneath his body, and he grinds his hips into yours, his chest rumbling as he growls.

“Inside,” you mumble, extending your hand to press it to his waist. “Need you inside me. Please, I want it so bad.”

Logan stutters against you, his forehead falling against your collarbone as he finishes with one powerful thrust, his cock pulsing warm ropes of come within your cunt. You clench around him, whining as he prolongs both your pleasure and his, milking the last drop of his seed. His voice is a constant murmur, filling every space in the room until he slumps against you.

Night has fallen. The cut on your pinky no longer stings. Your scars, after all, are still there, nestled against Logan’s unmarked skin. You caress his back, sighing contentedly as a wave of peace washes over you.

You’ve never felt this relaxed.

Logan grasps your chin and tilts it up, a subtle smirk tugging at his lips. “Hey,” he mutters, his gaze roaming all over your face.

You cup his cheek, his rough stubble grazing your palm. “Hey, stranger. Long time no see.”

A genuine laugh pierces through the silence. the kind he rarely allows himself. Crinkles form at the corners of his eyes, his brow furrowing as he glances at you with love.

Love—hadn’t you pondered its existence for so long? Your fuel for living, the muse behind your best poems, a recurring motif in your fantasies.

Love now has Logan’s name written in ink, no longer a blank canvas awaiting its unknown owner. No—it’s all his now.

You’d do it all over again if it meant ending up like this, tangled and intertwined, with the promise of a future together. He has many stories to share—about his past universe, about himself. You have secrets to unveil, too. There’s so much you both have yet to discover about each other.

But time isn’t up. This isn’t a race, you remind yourself: things are just getting started.

Everywhere you go, every place you attempt to set foot in, there it is. Love is dressed up in an expensive silk robe, a ribbon tied neatly on top of it. You reach closer, trying to unravel it, though it's pointless. The moment love sees you—truly sees your longing for it—it flees, and you struggle to keep up. Love runs faster than anyone, hiding within the bushes, counting the seconds until its next appearance.

Finally, you’ve wrapped love around your finger.

dividers by: @cafekitsune thank you!!! <3

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your-internet-bf · 6 months ago

Text

We hadn't always gotten along. When our parents got married, we could barely stand each other. How could we get along with some brat we barely knew? Luckily, I had an idea. I bought a clicker - you know, the one they use to train dogs? - and got to work.

I started with "thank you". Every time you said it, maybe at dinner, in the car, at a restaurant, I pressed the clicker. You couldn't tell where the sound was coming from, and nobody else seemed to know what you were talking about. But soon, I started helping you with chores around the house and when we finished, *click*. And without really thinking about it, you'd say "thank you."

A few months passed, and you'd started to notice things about me. I took care of myself. I was clean, and I exercised regularly. You'd hang around when you knew I'd be back from the gym just to catch a whiff of the sweat and metal on me when I returned - our eyes caught once when you got a little too close, and for the first time you saw something primal, a little dark, in my gaze. But it passed in an instant.

We started getting along better, now. So one day, when you were lying on the couch with a snack bowl, I snatched it up and motioned to throw it into your mouth. Well, innocent enough, right? And it wasn't like I was eating much, so it's fine, right? Every time you open your mouth to catch, *click*, *click*, *click*.

Then, I invited you to come work out with me. Every time you did a squat, *click*. I told you it was a metronome to keep your intensity up, but you noticed the bulge in my sweatpants was bigger than usual. Wait, when did you start noticing my bulge, especially enough to know that...?

Finally, it was time. I'd been listening outside your bedroom door for weeks now, and I knew when you'd be asleep. I quietly opened your door and stepped into your room, locking it behind me. You stirred at the sound of the lock clicking, but I wasn't afraid.

I gingerly pulled down the covers and just... stared for a while. I'd never taken the time to really look at how beautiful you are, how gorgeous those curves were. I could hardly stand it. As you lay on your side, I took out the clicker, and *click* it once. Laying on your side, like you were on the couch with the snacks, you obediently open your mouth.

I pull down my pants, my long, thick cock swinging between my thighs. I brush the back of my hand over your cheek, then set it firmly against the back of your head, and push into your mouth.

You wake up almost immediately, but my hand stops you from pulling back as I force inch after throbbing inch down your throat. The more you struggle, the tighter you feel, the harder I push, until you felt your nose press into my hips. You push as hard as you can against me, but I'm so much bigger and stronger than you it doesn't do anything. I don't even budge.

I start to grind into your skull, making you swallow the thick, heavy head of my cock again and again, as I groan in pleasure. I start thrusting harder and harder, making your eyes water as I slam my hips into your face again and again, until finally, mercifully, I release inside you, deep inside your throat. You feel me pulse with your whole mouth, and you struggle to swallow each load of thick, hot, sticky cum while I'm still inside you.

With a shuddering breath, I pull out, letting you breathe properly for the first time in minutes. I watch while you cough and catch your breath, and then I ask, "what do you say?"

You breathe in intending to scream, but then you hear it, just one soft *click*, and all you can say is "thank you".

You stare at me, confused. I wipe my cum off your chin with my thumb, and *click* again. "Thank you", you say.

"I knew it. You're such a good girl, aren't you? Now," I push you onto your back, "spread for me."

*click*

You raise your legs to either side, exactly like you're doing a squat.

"I don't - I don't understand," you whimper, legs still in the air.

"You don't have to," I reply, reaching one hand between your legs to feel how wet you are.

"You're soaking, little girl," as I bring my hand up for you to see... Then make you taste it. I reach back down and slip in two of my thick, strong fingers, and cover your mouth with my other hand as you moan. I press up in just the right spot, rubbing in tight, quick circles so deliciously that you can't help but arch your back and grind into me. You feel the pleasure build and all thought leaves your mind; the only thing that matters is my fingers inside you, the scent of my hand over your mouth, and the lingering taste of me.

But before you can finish I pull my fingers out, pressing up and out, leaving you twitching and gasping. "Not yet," I mutter, and I move myself down between your legs. I line up my cock, slapping it down on your tummy first. It reaches your navel, and you feel a wave of fear that only makes you wetter. I pull back, then start pushing in.

It's thick, thick, thick, and heavy. I stretch you out wider than you thought possible, pressuring you in every direction, spreading your aching cunt and making you feel full inside for the first time in your life. Long, deep strokes, moving your whole body with every thrust, reaching inside you, my breath coming fast and hard.

And you hear it again.

*click*

"Thank you," you choke out between sobs.

*click*

"Thank you," you moan.

*click*

"Thank you," you plead, tears in your eyes.

My strokes come faster now, slamming inside you like an animal as you continue to thank me for raping you. Finally, finally, finally, you feel me tense up and slam deep, deep, deep inside you, pressing your whole body into the bed, as I cum again. Huge, hot, sticky white loads of my cum shoot inside you, filling you, as my breath comes in gasps, and as I do you feel it too, now, the wave of pleasure cresting, and you cum, your legs squeezing together, your face screwed tight, moaning with the release of months of tension. And as you cum, you hear a new sound, a familiar sound, but it's deeper than the others...

*click*

And you cum harder, knowing I'm training you like a bitch in heat.

I climb up next to you, and just gaze into your eyes for a moment. Then I smile. "Let's go again."

*click*

8K notes · View notes

starryhyuck · 28 days ago

Text

can’t get you out of my mind. (m)

pairing: alpha!jaehyun x afab!omega!reader

words: 16.2k+

summary: the ceremony to choose your alpha mate has arrived.

genre: fluff, angst, smut

warnings: outdated gender roles/stereotypes, some women hating women dynamics (that resolves in the end), mentions of war, mentions of loss during childbirth, disapproval of in-laws, possessive!jaehyun, pregnancy, breeding kink, tiny bit of face riding, bigdick!jaehyun, squirting, knotting, nonstop fucking between jaehyun and reader, public sex, mating

“You must be overjoyed. Your ceremony is soon approaching.”

Sookyung grins at you through the mirror, brushing out the tangles in your hair. She runs her fingers through your scalp soothingly, despite her verbal reminder cutting and exposing your skin like an open wound.

You display a rehearsed smile. “Yes, it will be a momentous occasion.”

“We wait in the thrill for our next alpha,” she says in a repeated line most of the household have been trained to squawk at you.

After dressing you for the night, she exits your bedroom, allowing you the reprieve to breathe by yourself. You lay in your bed, eyes shutting tightly in the hopes of driving away the clouding thoughts of your ceremony.

The ceremony was an ancient ritual upheld in your community to secure the success for future lines for centuries to come. It was developed after a war decades ago between humans and wolves that nearly wiped out both populations, resulting in a tepid agreement to separate both species for the greater good. The violence decimated hundreds of werewolf communities, including most of the ancestors of your own line. Since then, the elders of every succeeding generation have been strict in their ways of treating the new alphas and omegas born from the surviving families.

Every year on the evening of the harvest moon, alphas and omegas who have come of age gather in the town square to be shipped away until the end of winter to locate a suitable match. Born an only child, your pairing with a prosperous alpha was critical to the future success of your family. Your mother and the beta staff of your household raised you to be the picture perfect omega for the ideal alpha you would one day marry.

Months ago, your resolve had weakened towards rebelling against your parents before you succumbed to their wishes. Initially, you believed the ceremony to be a backwards ritual that practically enslaved you to a stranger. You couldn’t put up much of a fight, however, when the struggle of your family’s finances grew heavier with each passing day.

It’s why when Sookyung finally dresses you for your ceremony and walks with you to the town square, you don’t make a scene. You keep your head down as your mother taught you, hands folded on your stomach as you step in line with the other omegas. Sookyung smiles at you when she sets down your packed suitcase, filled with every item deemed necessary by the elders to prepare you for the ceremony.

You always envied your handmaiden for the ease she carried herself with as a beta. Sookyung would never have to worry about bringing her family honor by marrying a strong-willed alpha. All betas were employed as working staff for the communities, keeping the background alive while the alphas took care of the pressing matters in the forefront. Omegas, on the other hand, were seen as nothing but breeding ovens that needed to deliver. When you were younger, before you presented as an omega, you silently prayed that the universe would assign you as a beta instead.

Unfortunately, your prayers were never answered.

“I will see you in a few months,” Sookyung murmurs happily, tapping at your cheeks affectionately. “The staff waits patiently for the arrival of our new alpha.”

Once your ceremony is finished and you are granted permission to return home, your household merges with your alpha’s in accordance with the law. Every staff member under your father’s umbrella becomes a diligent worker for your new alpha. You know Sookyung and the others not only pray that a kind alpha chooses you, but that his fortune is large enough so they do not have to part with any of the current workforce.

She grants you a small kiss on the cheek for good luck before parting, and you watch her tiny figure disappear behind the tree line. You take a small glance at the other omegas surrounding you, also bidding their farewells to their beta handmaidens. Some look like they’re about to cry in fear while others possess a determined expression you know you could never tackle yourself.

The boisterous chatter of the alphas fill your ears, and you straighten your posture and dart your eyes back towards the floor. It’s been years since your mother has allowed you to interact with an alpha. She feared it would accidentally pair you to someone who wouldn’t become your future mate, tainting your reputation in the community as used goods. This will be the first time you encounter another alpha as an adult, and it has your body tingling from head to toe.

The scent of the alphas makes the situation all too real, throwing you in the sudden clarity that in a few months, you will be mated to another alpha and most likely be pregnant with his child. You try to focus on the black leather shoes Sookyung dressed you in that morning, a new pair the elders gifted to your family for the ceremony. You don’t dare look up even after the smell of the alphas grows stronger, indicating their close proximity.

An elder claps her hands to gain your attention. “Very well then, looks like we have everyone. I hope you are all prepared for the next few months of the harsh winter. This will be the time where we expect you to gather together, keeping each other warm as you discover the alpha or omega you will be bonded to for life. I am certain your parents have already stressed the importance of this ritual to you all, so I won’t dawdle on the basics.” The elder’s feet pass by your line of vision but you continue to stare down. “No one may speak with a wolf not mated to you unless supervised, no alphas may claim an omega outside of the moon ceremony, and every alpha and omega must emerge from the winter bonded to another. Any disobedience according to the law is punished by exile. Is that clear?”

A chorus of agreement erupts from every single person standing in the square. The elder offers a hum of satisfaction before instructing you all to follow her to the bus that will transport you to the ceremony lodgings. Alphas are quick to take the omegas’ belongings with them, showcasing their ability to care and provide. An alpha’s hand wraps around the handle of your suitcase and tugs it alongside his. You don’t utter a word, giving a simple nod of gratitude without looking at him.

The ride to the lodgings is filled with anticipation. The elders divide the front of the bus for the omegas and the back for the alphas. The omega seated next to you grins from ear to ear.

“I’ve been waiting for this day since my sixteenth namesake!” She giggles happily. You throw her a polite smile. “They say the lodgings are filled with decadent food and a luxury most of us couldn’t imagine. It might be the only time we get to experience something like this.”

Details of the ceremony are kept secret from the omegas who have yet experienced it. Your mother told you as much as the law allowed her, warning you how difficult the winter can be without a willing alpha to keep you warm and forming alliances with other omegas can be tricky unless you play your cards right.

This isn’t a teenage getaway — it’s a competition. An omega you befriend could be useful to you for a short period, but soon enough, they would become another pawn rivaling your claim on an alpha. It’s much safer to tread by yourself so no one could betray you.

As soon as you arrive at the lodgings, a vast area of land covered in wooden cabins and surrounded by trees, the elder chaperones designate the areas assigned to the alphas and omegas. You are separated into opposite ends of the land, with omegas seeking shelter in the larger homes and alphas pushed into the smaller living areas.

Each omega is granted their own room, which you are grateful for. A handful of years ago, omegas used to share until fights broke out over claims on alphas. The elders became more strategic after the exile of a few unruly omegas, now giving each their own privacy to avoid confrontations.

You had counted the number of omegas on the bus, a total of fourteen rivaling the alpha count of twenty. You knew it was a safety measure the elders took as sometimes two alphas claimed one omega or disobedience of stubborn alphas forced the elders to send them to exile. An omega was more difficult to come by, but alphas were a dime a dozen.

Still, the idea of two alphas claiming you sent a shudder down your spine. You’re not even sure if you would be okay with one, let alone two commanding your every move.

“Dinner is at six,” an elder tells you as she shows you your room. “All omegas are expected to be seated before the alphas.”

You nod, about to thank her before a rumbling of footsteps barrel down the hallway.

“Sorry, Elder Kim. Forgot to hand this omega her belongings.”

You’re too late to dart your gaze away from the incoming alpha, but your breath catches in your throat when you realize who it is. Jeong Jaehyun has his fingers wrapped around the handle of your suitcase, wheeling it inside your room.

Jaehyun is the son of the head alpha of your community. The Jeong family are respected by all across the nation, descending from the ancestors that fought for the wolves’ rights in the war against humans. Every alpha son from their line has ascended to greatness, and with Jaehyun being the current oldest son of the family, he is the most valuable pick of the ceremony season.

The elder’s voice is stern, scolding him. “Next time, you will alert another elder of this omega’s belongings instead of encroaching on her space like this. I won’t tolerate disobedience simply because of your last name, Jaehyun.”

“Yes, Elder Kim,” he replies obediently.

You briefly meet eyes before you avert your gaze, silently reprimanding yourself for indulging in a look. You hear his footsteps slowly fade away.

“That boy,” Elder Kim sighs, shaking her head. She throws you a stern expression. “Dinner at six. We will escort you to the main hall.”

“Thank you,” you say, bowing respectfully.

Elder Kim closes your door and you slacken your shoulders, wrapped in the comfort of being alone. You work at unpacking your suitcase, filled with sweaters and thick coats to protect you from the cold. You find one of the dresses Sookyung bought for you, a long smock ending at your ankles that properly concealed whatever the elders deemed too precious to be seen before the moon ceremony. You throw it on and clean yourself up before Elder Kim knocks on the door again for supper.

You inhale, taking a long look in the mirror.

You can do this.

—

Elder Choi sits you in between Jaehyun and Doyoung, and the other omegas snarl at you over the coveted spot.

Doyoung’s family is right hand to Jaehyun’s, holding nearly as much power as the head alpha. Either one of them would be considered a suitable match for any omega, but you set your sights on an easier catch like Doyoung.

Bonding with an alpha that possesses as much power as Jaehyun is almost impossible for an omega of your status, lowborn with a fortune running thin.

A group of betas begin to serve dinner as you tell Doyoung, “It’s an honor to meet you, Alpha Kim. My family is grateful for your ancestors’ sacrifice during the war.”

It is a sign of recognition to acknowledge an alpha’s successful lineage, a tactic your mother drilled into you from a young age. She taught you as much as she knew about the eligible bachelors of your season, so you know a few characteristics about Doyoung. He’s the youngest in his family but exhibits the traits of an eldest son — steel demeanor, unforgiving rulings, and no room for a silly thing such as love. He’s exactly what you’re searching for in this time of desperation.

“I thank you for the credit,” he replies, offering you a nod. “Are you familiar with the household duties assigned to an omega like yourself?”

Therein lies the unwavering stony demeanor of the infamous Kim Doyoung.

“Yes, I am,” you say meekly. You shyly take a bite of the steak in front of you. “Embroidery and reading are my favorite pastimes, Alpha Kim.”

He hums in approval. “Any books caught your eye recently?”

“The Omega’s Guide to Painting has been very entertaining,” you say, lying through your teeth. It’s considered reckless for omegas to consume any piece of media outside of their class, leaving you with nothing but novels surrounding the fascination of cleaning and cooking. Sometimes you sneak a book out of your father’s library containing details about the late war, but you wouldn’t dare speak that outloud. “I am also fond of The Handbook for Dressmaking.”

“A good read,” he murmurs. “And children? Is that something you’re contemplating?”

You keep your best smile painted on your face. “Yes, Alpha Kim. As many as the moon will grant me.”

The rest of the dinner passes smoothly, and you barely scrape the fork on your plate in fear of seeming too greedy. The other omegas at the table obtain the same values as you, their food nearly untouched. Your stomach growls in discontent when a member of the beta staff eventually takes your meal away from you to clean up.

Following traditional customs, you separate from the alphas when the table is cleared and retreat back to your room. You try your best to tuck yourself into bed and fall asleep, but your growing hunger screams at you. You tiptoe out of bed carefully, checking the hallway for any elders lurking before proceeding back to the main hall. The cabin is dark, all lights shut off as you quietly move into the kitchen. The betas have already cleared the countertops of any remaining food so you check the fridge, the halo illuminating your face.

“You silly omegas.”

You jump nearly three feet in the air, gasping and holding your hand to your chest. You swivel around to see Jaehyun standing behind you, arms crossed and eyebrows raised in amusement.

“A-Alpha Jeong,” you stutter, bowing your head. “I apologize, I wasn’t aware-“

“You omegas are always starving yourselves in front of us. When are you going to realize alphas are never settled when our omegas aren’t taken care of?” He questions, stepping beside you and taking out the leftover steak in the fridge.

You keep your eyes planted to the ground as he moves around you, heating up the meal on the stove.

“Alpha Jeong, you don’t have to-“

“Just call me Jaehyun,” he interrupts gruffly. “Alpha Jeong this, Alpha Kim that- all the rules get so tedious.”

You flush in embarrassment. “We shouldn’t be alone together without an elder present.”

“Another rule,” he sighs, using two fingers to lift your chin up. You meet his gaze head on. “I won’t tell if you won’t.”

You swallow, blinking slowly at him. Being this close to an alpha while unmated is against all commands of the elders and betrays every ounce of your omega training, but you nod and say, “Okay.”

“Besides, the elders sleep like they’re dead anyways,” he says with familiarity, which makes you realize that Jaehyun’s grown up around all the elders who have accompanied you to the ceremony because he’s next in line to become head alpha. He steps back from you and resumes cooking at the stove. “So,” he starts, humming. “The Handbook for Dressmaking is a riveting thriller, isn’t it?” He asks you with a smirk playing at the edge of his lips.

“Oh,” you mumble, wringing your hands nervously. “Yes, I believe it was the top book for the omegas in our district.”

He chuckles. “What’s your actual favorite book? Be honest.” He takes out a cutting board and slowly starts peeling the skin of one of the apples on the counter.

“Um- t-that is my favorite book, Alpha-“ you stop and clear your throat, correcting yourself. “Jaehyun.”

“You omegas,” he repeats with a shake of his head. “Always lying, trying to say what you think is the right thing. I don’t want to hear the dictation from your mother’s handbook. I want to hear your real opinion.”

Your heart beats rapidly in your chest. You’ve never told another being about straying away from the traditional omega values. Jaehyun looks at you with an impatient expression, however, and you can’t bring yourself to lie to the next head alpha.

“History retellings about the war are my favorite,” you confess in a gentle voice. His eyebrows raise in surprise. “They provide me with a picture of what we needed to do to succeed as the dominant species.”

It’s not ladylike in the slightest to assimilate oneself to such acts of violence, and you’re certain this would be the final nail in the coffin to ward Jaehyun far from you. Instead, he smiles.

“That’s a new one,” he laughs. “And the children? As many as the moon grants you?”

It’s no secret that after the war, many omegas don’t find it as easy to give birth as they used to. The lingering chemicals and difficult winters led to harsher environments for omegas to successfully carry a pup to term. Nowadays, omegas who strive for more than four children sign their own death sentence. Regardless of the staggering data, the elders teach all omegas that they must give birth to as many pups as the moon will grant them.

“Two,” you whisper, shifting your stare from him and towards the wall. “Just two would satisfy me.”

He hums again, but makes no effort to scold you for your admission. You expect the son of the head alpha to be more strict on the nation’s laws surrounding omega submission, but Jaehyun breaks out of the mold you initially assumed of him.

He slides a warm plate on the counter, filled with the delicious food you resisted eating hours ago.

“Eat well, omega. I thank you for your honesty.”

When he exits the kitchen, your mind reels over the thought that not all alphas are as bad as you believed them to be.

—

“Look at them out there!”

Omegas rush to crowd the window, gawking over the beefy alphas outside. A month has passed since you arrived for the ceremony, and yesterday, the first snowfall made an appearance. The alphas are currently gathering firewood outside in a clear demonstration of power play. Each wolf challenges the next as they collect stacks upon stacks of firewood in their arms, flexing their muscles for the omegas watching to squeal at.

“Jaehyun is so strong,” Doyeon sighs wistfully, nose glued to the glass. “He’s going to be a perfect match for you, Joohyun.”

You learned pretty quickly that the omegas arranged themselves into a pecking order after your first few weeks here. Joohyun was a beautiful girl from the rural village who was nearly guaranteed a good match because of her visuals, and most of the omegas echoed how perfect she would be for Jaehyun.

You, on the other hand, were at the bottom of the food chain. You hadn’t made companions out of any of the other omegas and you never told a soul about the night Jaehyun heated up your meal while unchaperoned. You kept to yourself, occupying your days with the activities the elders laid out for you, such as embroidery and dressmaking.

“It’s not certain yet,” Joohyun dismisses with a giggle. “He won’t even give me the time of day.”

“He’s just nervous!” Yerim insists, laughing with her. “It’s honestly really cute. You’re going to be the perfect omega queen for us.”

You keep your lips pursed, refusing to voice your displeasure at the constant chatter encircling Jaehyun and Joohyun. You hate to admit you think about that night with Jaehyun more often than you would like, sometimes imagining what your life could be if he chose you as his mate. You admonish yourself for feeding into your desires, knowing that they could never come true.

The front door bursts open and the alphas come piling in, throwing firewood down on the living room rug despite the protests of the elders. You carry on reading the novel seated in your lap, refusing to engage in the delighted cries of the omegas praising their alpha’s strength.

“It really wasn’t that hard,” Mingyu laughs, puffing out his chest for Chaeyeon, the omega he’s clearly courting. “Alphas like us are born to carry much heavier loads than that.”

Just as you’re turning the next page of your book, a voice above you asks, “What have you got there, omega?”

Your eyes flit upwards to catch Jaehyun’s, a familiar playful smirk dancing across his lips. You swallow nervously and dart your eyes away from his.

“Embroidery and Embellishments, Alpha Jeong.”

He clicks his tongue. “Fascinating read, I’m sure.”

You smile bashfully at the jest before Joohyun clears her throat, taking the lounge chair across from you.

“Alpha Jeong, I thank you graciously for providing the firewood we omegas need for the incoming frosty weather,” Joohyun says with batted eyelashes.

He brushes her off with a wave of his hand. “No thanks necessary. Alphas are always happy to provide for our omegas.” He takes another glance down at you but you keep your eyes trained on your book, afraid of angering Joohyun’s clear attempt to claim him. “I hope you enjoy your book, omega.”

“Thank you, Alpha Jeong.”

The alphas exit shortly after the elders light the fire, returning to their own cabins. The elders begin to assign you household tasks to keep the lodgings prepared in case of a severe storm. Elder Lee delegates you to shovel snow from the driveway in fear of another omega accidentally slipping on the ice. You bundle up as best as you can, wrapping yourself in a puffy coat and shoving your hands into a pair of warm gloves.

You don’t comment on the fact that some of the more desired omegas, such as Joohyun and Doyeon, were only given the tasks of watching the fire to ensure the light doesn’t flicker out. You suppose even the elders were convinced they would be married to good pairings and soon enough, they would be listening to Joohyun’s orders if she mated the head alpha.

You sigh as you work at shoveling the snow, testing your balance as you plant yourself upright and continue to dig.

“So we’re back to Alpha Jeong, hm?”

You almost scream, turning around to see the source of the sudden voice. Your frantic actions cause you to slip on the ice and you gasp as you feel yourself falling backwards. A pair of arms catch you, encircling your waist and pulling you tight against a warm frame.

Your eyes slowly wobble up to meet with Jaehyun’s.

“You need to be more careful with yourself, omega,” he chuckles, breath fanning over your face. “Can’t have you injuring yourself whilst on duty.”

You scramble to balance on your own two feet as Jaehyun watches you, thoroughly entertained. He gently takes the shovel from your hands and begins to dig.

“Alpha Jeong, you don’t have to-“

He clicks his tongue in disapproval. “The elders shouldn’t have an omega out here, shoveling snow without supervision. If I wasn’t around and you fell, you could be seriously injured.”

You chew on your lower lip, afraid to tell him that the elders will definitely scold you for letting an alpha complete your work. You observe as the muscles ripple down his back and through his arms, showcasing them properly as he dons a sleeveless shirt.

Alphas’ bodies were designed to withstand temperatures like this, even as the wind nips at your face and sends shivers down your spine. Their figures were meant to be warm enough to protect their families during winter, and your heart aches to be clung to his chest again and feel the heat pressed against your skin.

“We used to play together as pups, you know.”

The statement has you reeling, your mind searching for glimpses of a tiny Jaehyun running circles around you. He laughs at your bewildered expression.

“It was before your mother took you away to become a proper omega,” he elaborates, lips curled in distaste towards the end of his sentence. “You used to shove me down and tell me I kept arranging my mudcastles all wrong.”

You briefly recall a rebellious younger version of yourself, ruling the rest of the children on the playground with an iron fist. It was before all of you understood the differences between omegas and alphas, and before your family was sequestered into the lowborn category. Your life as a child was filled with merriment and fun, and it would make sense that you didn’t think twice about pushing around the future head alpha.

“I apologize for my behavior,” you say shyly.

He frowns. “Why would you need to apologize? We were young — that’s what we’re meant to do.”

“Still,” you reply, swallowing your nerves. “An omega of my status should not have been acting in such an unruly manner, Alpha Jeong.”

“Jaehyun,” he corrects. “And stop apologizing. I don’t want to hear you ever say sorry again for behaving in a completely acceptable manner, okay?”

You blink at him, taken aback by his command. “Y-Yes, Jaehyun.”

He gives you a long look before returning to shoveling the snow, the driveway now almost clear from his efforts. The front door to the cabin creaks open and Elder Kim hobbles outside, gasping when she sees the sight of the alpha.

You open your mouth to explain, but she’s reprimanding you before you can get a word out.

“What do you think you’re doing? Allowing an alpha to complete your task whilst unsupervised?”

This is it, you think. This is the moment that she sentences you to exile, forcing you to leave the ceremony lodgings and fend for yourself in the woods alone. You think of your mother and Sookyung, who tried so hard to mold you into a perfect omega who would bring back an alpha they could be proud of. How would they take care of themselves with you gone?

Before you can spiral into the endless possibilities of your demise, the alpha beside you speaks up in your defense.

“And what do you think you’re doing, Elder Kim?” Jaehyun bites back with a scathing tone. “Letting an omega shovel snow on her own knowing she could fall and injure herself. Omegas are sacred in our district, I’m sure you’re well aware. Leaving one unsupervised by any of the elders could bring lasting damage to our community.”

Elder Kim’s face flushes red with anger from being challenged and humiliated by an alpha younger than her. She glances behind her, ensuring the door is closed for no other ears to eavesdrop on your conversation.

“Jeong Jaehyun, you will go back to your cabin and speak of this no further. I will reassign the omega’s duties accordingly.”

“I’m not leaving until this omega is warm by the fire and fed properly,” he says sternly, eyes narrowed.

You squirm, attempting to make yourself smaller to avoid the heated stare of Elder Kim. She barks at you, “Get inside and stay by the fire.”

You shuffle quickly into the cabin, throwing one last look at Jaehyun before you go. He smiles at you before shifting back to his grim countenance at Elder Kim. When you shut the door, the elder’s voice rises.

“If you know what’s best for you, you’ll stay far away from that omega. You know that’s not the one your father approved of you mating with.”

“I didn’t think you amused yourself with such idle gossip, Elder Kim,” he replies mockingly.

“Jaehyun,” Elder Kim scolds. “That omega is not fit for an alpha of your status. She will not be able to lead the omegas who come next in line.”

“You don’t know what she can do,” he hisses, and your heart beats rapidly in your chest. Is he implying that he’s considering you as a potential mate? “All of the elders focus only on themselves instead of the good nature of omegas like her. Isn’t the point of the ceremony to nurture and bond them to an alpha? I don’t see how that’s being accomplished when you have one of them at the risk of catching hypothermia.”

Elder Kim sighs loudly. “Just go back to your lodgings, Jaehyun. And think about if the decisions you’re making are that of a leader.”

“I want her to be looked after more carefully.”

“That is for us elders to determine. You’re not the head alpha yet, don’t start acting like one.”

You saunter off to the living room before you can hear any more, taking a seat on one of the recliners and wrapping yourself in a blanket. Joohyun and Doyeon are painting their nails on the couch adjacent to you, eyebrows raised at the sight of your presence.

“Shouldn’t you be finishing your chore outside?”

You grab your book from the table and prop it open.

“Alpha Jeong did it for me.”

And you finish your book with a smile, ignoring their blatant shock when Elder Choi sets down a warm plate of food next to you.

—

As the wind grows stronger, the elders begin to initiate more intimate activities between you and the alphas.

One of them is a form of speed dating, where an alpha visits you in your room for a few minutes unsupervised while the elders lurk outside the door. You make your best attempt at pushing your discomfort away at a stranger invading your space, especially so close to your nest. Most of the alphas are polite towards you and ask you a few questions before departing to the next room. It’s clear they’ve made their initial claims towards other omegas, as they display no interest in your life beyond childbirth.

“This is a beautiful pillow,” Doyoung says when it’s his turn, picking up one of the cushions you’ve laid in your nest. Your eye twitches slightly at the action. Any courteous alpha should know it’s disrespectful to touch an omega’s nest without permission.

Despite this, you offer him a small smile. “Thank you, Alpha Kim. I made it myself.”

He hums in approval. “Your room is more bare than the other omegas,” he notes, drinking in your empty walls.

“I don’t have much,” you confess. The other omegas were given various presents to celebrate their ceremony by their parents or beta handmaidens, but you were only handed enough sheets and blankets to cover the bed.

He nods again. “I hope you understand I’m searching for an omega who can lead my household without instruction. I’ll be occupied during the hours in the day working for my father and brother, so I need my pack to be organized without the requirement of my presence.”

“Yes, Alpha Kim,” you say meekly. “I am very efficient in handling my own tasks and duties. My mother raised me in accordance with the laws of the ancestors.”

A knock on the door interrupts you, and Elder Lee steps in. “Time’s up,” she says, balancing herself on her cane. “The last alpha is here.”

Doyoung bows in courtesy to you and you return the gesture.

“It was lovely speaking with you. Thank you for your time, omega.”

“I appreciate your attention to detail, Alpha Kim.”

Elder Lee escorts Doyoung into the next room before Jaehyun pokes his head in.

“May I come in, omega?”

Your heartbeat thumps in your ears. “Of course, Jaehyun.”

He grins at the familiar calling of his name before walking in and shutting the door. You blink softly at him, butterflies swarming your stomach at the sight of him in your room. He looks so big compared to your tiny cabin lodge, and the omega inside of you screams to invite him into your nest and make him comfortable.

“Beautiful nest, omega,” he compliments, gazing at the circle of blankets and pillows you’ve built on the mattress.

You smile bashfully. None of the other alphas even bothered to comment on it.

“Thank you.” You suddenly think back to the night in the driveway, and Elder Kim’s words throttle inside of your head. “Have any omegas caught your eye?”

He frowns at the shift in the conversation. “Why would you ask me that?”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you-“

“Don’t apologize,” he sighs, suddenly exasperated. “I told you that you don’t need to apologize for silly things like this. Just-“ he swallows, crossing his arms over his chest. “Have the elders been talking to you?”

Since that night, you noticed the elders have been treating you slightly differently. You are no longer assigned the more grueling tasks fit for an omega and your portions at mealtime have grown larger. Joohyun has been staring at you with envy, and you know the other omegas have been whispering about you behind your back.

“N-No,” you deny, shaking your head. “I just thought- um, I thought Joohyun was starting to show an interest in you.”

He shakes his head dismissively. “I don’t care about her. She’s not the right omega for me.” He glances at the clock hanging above the door, and you realize you only have a few seconds left together. “Meet me in the main hall tonight. I want to speak longer with you.”

“But-“

“Time to go,” Elder Choi says, opening the door and throwing Jaehyun a stern look. He follows her obediently, not wanting to stir up any more trouble, leaving you all by yourself again.

You thought you would be relieved by the time the speed dating session was over, but instead, you find yourself coveting more minutes with Jaehyun without having to sneak around. You keep yourself occupied until the late night rolls over the sky. The elders decided to separate you from the alphas for meal time tonight considering there was already sufficient interaction between you today. You eat dinner by yourself in your room instead of joining the omegas at the table, counting down the minutes until everyone is tucked away in bed.

You have enough time to mull over the consequences of your decisions — getting caught with Jaehyun after hours is one thing, but if the elders discover that it was pre-planned and intentional, it would evolve into an entire mess. Nothing would probably happen to Jaehyun, he would most likely get a slap on the wrist and a scolding from his father. You, on the other hand, would be sent to exile and your family would be disgraced by the community for their omega daughter seducing the future head alpha.

Still, you can’t help but disregard all of the red flags waving in front of you. The omega inside of you demands to be near Jaehyun, to talk to him, to let him hold you until the storm passes. It’s a carnal feeling you’re not sure you’ve ever felt before.

You’re light on your feet as you make your way to the main cabin, the wind outside nipping at your cheeks forcefully. You slip into the kitchen without making a sound, afraid of waking any of the beta staff sleeping upstairs.

“There you are,” Jaehyun whispers when you enter, and you squeak. “Oh fuck,” he curses when he sees you shivering. As if on instinct, he crosses the room and pulls you into his arms. “I forgot about the snow outside, I’m so sorry, omega.”

You smile at him. “You said not to apologize for silly things.”

The concern in his eyes is replaced with something softer, and the corners of his lips lift upwards. “I did, didn’t I? Thanks for reminding me.” He doesn’t move an inch, rubbing his hands up and down your arms to seek warmth. “And thank you for meeting me so late. I hope you’re still getting enough sleep.”

Your chest blooms at his constant fretting over you. “I’m doing well, thank you, Jaehyun.”

“I-I wanted to speak with you about what you said earlier,” he mumbles, hand stroking your hair gently. You lean into his touch, almost mewling at how perfect he feels against you. “I hate that you’re thinking about me with other omegas. Truthfully, I don’t want any of them. My alpha’s been calling me to you.”

You freeze in his hold. You take a step back from him and he frowns at you. “Is this some kind of rebellious act?” You question. “I should be your last pick as an omega, Jaehyun. Elder Kim said so herself.”

“So you have been listening to them,” he says under his breath, shaking his head. He pinches the bridge of his nose in exasperation. “I don’t care what everyone thinks they know about me. I-I like you. I’ve liked you since we were pups and I can’t imagine myself being mated to anyone else.”

His words cut through you sharply and you struggle to catch your breath. You’re convinced that Jaehyun doesn’t quite understand the weight behind his words and how much this could alter both of your lives permanently. He’s an alpha destined for greatness and you’re an omega fallen from grace. You can’t possibly work out in the long run.

“I don’t think-“

The sound of light footsteps interrupts you, and both of your eyes widen before he’s pulling you into the corner of the room, concealing your bodies behind the tall refrigerator. You keep your lips sealed shut, body pressed against his warmly. A beta worker steps into the kitchen, frowning when she sees no presence of another wolf before flicking the lights off. After thoroughly checking the living room as well, she treads back up to her bed.

You exhale when she finally disappears before you feel a hand ghost over your cheek. Your eyes lock with Jaehyun’s, who looks at you like no one’s ever looked at you before. There’s an affection in gaze that draws you in, tugging at your heartstrings and begging for you to make room for him. He cages you against the wall, molding his frame against yours. His breath hits your skin before you’re suddenly reminded of where you are.

“Jaehyun, the staff-“

“Please let me kiss you.”

You swallow before you nod, and his lips descend on yours desperately. A burst of light explodes throughout your body, desire swelling deep inside of you. He feels so soft against you and it makes you want to kiss him all day. Your hand reaches to pull at the hairs on the nape of his neck, causing him to groan into your mouth.

You’re not sure if it’s from your incoming heat for the moon ceremony, but you’ve never been this wet before. Slick runs down your thighs and you shamefully whimper, rubbing them together to seek friction. It’s clear Jaehyun can smell your arousal, his moans shifting into growls as his fingers dig into your hips. His lips trace your jaw and he starts to lift up your dress, running against the flesh of your thighs.

“Jaehyun,” you gasp, pushing him away. “We can’t.”

He pants, clearly frustrated. You try to ignore the swell of his hard member straining in his trousers. “It’s not fair. I’m the next head alpha — I should get to choose the queen who will sit beside me.”

You shake your head. “I-I’m sorry, but I think you know it’s best for you to mate with Joohyun and I with Doyoung.”

“Doyoung,” he scoffs, tangling his fingers through his hair. “Doyoung would ignore you at a moment’s notice in favor of chasing the tail of his father. He’s a good soldier, I’ll admit, but he’ll be half the husband I could be for you.”

“He’s safe,” you argue. “He’s a perfectly safe choice for an omega like me. He won’t stir up any trouble and he’ll provide for our pups as needed.”

A snarl erupts from him. “You will never have any wolf’s pups except mine.”

His vocal abhorrence is what stirs another beta worker from their bed, and you pause when you hear the creaking of the wood upstairs. You shuffle away from Jaehyun and he looks at you solemnly.

“I can’t do this with you, alpha. It’s dangerous and I-I just can’t. Please find it in your heart to choose Joohyun instead.”

You slip out of the kitchen and trudge back to your cabin with Jaehyun’s heart crushed between your fingers.

—

“There is a prediction that tomorrow’s weather will be the coldest night of the year, with temperatures dropping below freezing,” Elder Choi says, staring at the handful of omegas before her. They have gathered you in the common space, hands folded on your stomachs obediently. “We are allowing the alphas to choose an omega to keep warm throughout the night. They will enter your rooms after supper tomorrow, and we all gently remind you that no claims are allowed to be made outside of the moon ceremony.”

You glance down bashfully at her words. The omegas surrounding you rejoice happily, squealing to one another at the thought of an alpha’s body wrapped around theirs while the wind cries. You, on the other hand, picture an icy night with Doyoung, who would likely rather curl up on his side of the bed than touch you.

Doyeon raises her hand before Elder Kim calls on her. “And how will you determine the order of the alphas? What if multiple alphas are vying after one omega?”

“We have discussed this with the alphas to ensure they speak to one another before making a decision,” Elder Lee replies. “And the order will go according to status of house, with Jeong being first.”

Every omega turns to Joohyun and giggles except you. You haven’t spoken to Jaehyun in weeks despite his attempts to sit near you during meals or help you with your assigned chores. He has been talking more to Joohyun like you requested, and you hate how your gut stirs with jealousy every time you see them together.

The following night, during supper, you sit in between Doyoung and Chaeyeon. You smile at the alpha sitting beside you. “The weather is taking a turn for the worst. I hope you are able to keep yourself warm, Alpha Kim.” You hand him a basket of bread as he nods.

“Yes, we alphas are not affected by a simple dip in the weather like omegas are. My wish is for you to shield yourself from harm’s way.”

You smile politely at him and bob your head in thanks. Your eyes lift to catch Jaehyun’s across the table, where he is seated in between Joohyun and Doyeon. His fingers are tightened steadfastly around his fork, glaring at you and Doyoung. You swallow and realign your gaze to your meal.

“And what order have you been assigned for tonight’s activity?” You ask Doyoung, ignoring Jaehyun’s blatant stare.

“Second,” he replies. “Your omega will not have to wait long.”

“I appreciate your concern, Alpha Kim.”

You burrow yourself underneath a handful of blankets that night, although it does little to protect you from the howling wind. Your teeth chatter as you curl yourself into a ball, praying for the storm to pass. Your door creaks open and you furrow your eyebrows.

It’s too early for Doyoung to be here. The sun has only just fallen over the horizon, so it couldn’t possibly be him unless-

“May I come into your nest, omega?”

Your head pokes out from underneath the covers to see Jaehyun hovering over you, smiling softly at your shivering form. Your eyes dart between him and the door frantically.

“Jaehyun, you shouldn’t be here-“

“Why? My omega is cold and I’m here to keep her warm,” he murmurs. “Now may I come into your nest?”

You have half a mind to tell him to leave this room and find Joohyun’s, but instead, you lift up the covers so he can climb in. His hands immediately wrap around your waist and he pulls your backside against his front. Your body relaxes in his hold, protected by the heat of his frame.

“Did Doyoung-“

“Don’t say his name,” he growls in your ear. He presses closer against you. “I put him in his place. He knows now not to come near you.”

“Jaehyun,” you hiss angrily. “That was not your decision to make.”

“I can’t stand the thought of him in this room, invading your nest and keeping you warm,” he says through gritted teeth. His hand moves to tangle with yours and your heartbeat picks up its pace. “I’m the only alpha who can keep you safe.”

You sigh, tears threatening to spill over your eye line. “I can’t be the omega they want me to be,” you confess in a small voice.

He kisses your neck softly. “You already are the strongest omega I’ve ever seen. That power, that confidence — it’s hidden underneath the foolish rules your mother taught you to be a ‘good’ omega. You just need to be yourself.”

You bury your face into the pillow, allowing the tears to fall. “I don’t remember who that is.”

He turns you over, wiping your tears away gently. “Let me show you then.” He kisses down your neck, lifting the hem of your sweater to nudge his nose against your stomach.

Your eyes flit over to the door again, fear settling in. “We shouldn't-“

“It’s okay,” he soothes you, tugging your sweatpants down your legs. You gasp at the chill hitting your thighs, goosebumps spreading across your skin. “You just have to be quiet for me, omega.”

“The moon will know of our sin,” you exhale, reciting the words of the elders.

He rolls his eyes, nose nudging against your core. “The moon doesn’t know shit.” You squeak when he sucks lewdly through your underwear, slick coating his tongue. “What I know is my omega’s pussy needs attention and I’m happy to provide.”

He rolls down the fabric until your bare folds hit the freezing air. Jaehyun is quick to lap at the slick dripping down your thighs, coating the bed as your head tilts in embarrassment. His fingers reach to cup your cheeks, shifting your focus on him.

“Don’t look away from me, omega,” he commands in a gruff voice. “Let me see that confidence as I eat this pretty cunt.”

You keep your eyes locked on him as he laps at your core, tongue tracing your pulsing folds. You chew on your bottom lip, fearful of allowing any stray whimpers to fall and risk one of the elders overhearing you. He flicks his tongue over your clit, teasing the nub. Your fingers tangle through his hair, gripping the strands to pull him closer to you. He smiles at your display of dominance, allowing you to use his face as your personal toy.

All etiquette training flies out the window as your hips roll against his tongue, slick continuing to spill from you and into Jaehyun’s waiting mouth. You chase your impending orgasm, riding his face until the band in your stomach snaps. He quickly shoves three fingers into your mouth to muffle your moans. You whine against his digits as he laps at your cunt, grinning vulgarly.

“Such a good omega,” he praises, your legs still shaking from the intense orgasm. He kisses his way back up to your face, removing his hand from your mouth so he can swirl his tongue with yours. You whimper when you taste the remnants of your orgasm on him. “Have the elders been making you take your suppressants?”

Since your first night at the cabins, the elders required all alphas and omegas to take suppressant pills to ward off their incoming ruts and heats. The goal was to ensure you were all ripe and ready for the moon ceremony, which was now fast approaching. They would begin to wean you off of the suppressants in the coming weeks to correctly sync all of you to the ceremony. It was the best way to guarantee pregnancy for the omegas on the first night.

At your nod, Jaehyun sighs. “It’s ridiculous. I should be able to breed my omega whenever I please.” You moan at the thought. He flips you over so that you’re on top, straddling his torso. “Go ahead and claim what’s yours, omega. Show me the omega queen you’re going to be.”

You shakily fumble with his briefs, pulling them down until his cock slaps up against his stomach. Your eyes widen at the length of him, long and thick. You heard rumors that a head alpha’s cock was bigger than most, but you genuinely weren’t expecting this.

“I-Is that supposed to fit inside me?” You squeal, frightened by the idea.

He chuckles, rubbing his thumb against your hip soothingly. “It’ll fit, omega. Why don’t you play with it a little? I promise you it’s not that scary.”

You hesitantly wrap your hand around his base, squeezing gently while he groans. You move your palm up to the tip, catching the falling beads of precum leaking from him and using it as a lubricant. You continue to stroke him, marveling at how his cock throbs and manages to keep expanding at your touch. How is it possible for him to grow any bigger?

“Come on, omega,” he encourages you through bated breaths. He lifts your hips up until your core is hovering over his member. “Take your time, okay? It’ll fit, trust me, your pussy was made for me.”

“Okay,” you whisper, balancing one hand on his abdomen as you slowly sink down. You throw your head back, whining at the stretch until his fingers slip into your mouth again to silence you. You’re not even halfway there yet you feel so full, stuffed to the brim with his cock.

You’re not certain you can go any further until Jaehyun shushes you calmly, brushing off the stray tears you don’t realize have fallen. “Take your time,” he reiterates. “It’s not a race, omega. I’ll be here all night, waiting for you.”

You nod, fluttering your eyes shut before you exhale. You gradually press down until he’s seated all the way inside of you, balls snug against your ass. Slick races down your core to coat both you and him, making the glide easier for you when you start to move.

“That’s it,” he encourages. “What else do you need, omega? Don’t be shy about it, an omega queen never is.”

You duck down to seal your lips together, effectively connecting you to him as your hips swivel around his cock. He grunts into your mouth, spanking you lightly with his fingers that are still smeared with your saliva.

“I need your knot, alpha,” you mutter against his lips. You’ve never taken an alpha’s knot before and you want nothing more than to feel Jaehyun’s cock swell inside of you, stretching you open until ropes of his cum cover your walls.

“Let me feel you first, omega,” he hums, using his hands to guide your movements as you bounce on him.

You rock back on him as the euphoric sensation spreads throughout your body, driving your pleasure to new heights. His cock is big enough to rub against all of the right spots, nudging you closer to your climax. You rut frantically on him until fireworks explode behind your eyelids.

You don’t realize you’ve squirted everywhere until you float back down, blinking to clear the haze in your vision. Jaehyun has one hand covering your mouth and you give him a confused expression.

“You were screaming,” he explains in a fond voice, stroking your hair back. His eyes are sparkling and you glance down, shocked by the amount of slick covering his stomach and the bedsheets. “Messy omega.”

He gently rolls you over so your head hits the pillows, switching positions with you as he slowly slides back into your cunt.

“Want your knot, Jaehyun,” you pant, the last orgasm driving you to exhaustion.

“I’m going to give it to you, omega,” he says, pumping into you desperately. Your wetness is causing a slight smacking sound to fill the room every time his thighs hit yours, which he tries to quiet as much as possible. “My knot’s only for you, my omega. It’ll only ever be for you.”

He buries his head between your collarbones when his knot begins to swell. His teeth sink into your neck, forcing a gasp from your throat. He doesn’t claim your mating gland yet, favoring the spot next to it. You feel like you’re being split open as the base of his cock inflates and tears fall down your cheeks at the mix of pain and pleasure.

And when Jaehyun cums, he cums a lot. So much that it spills out of your pussy and onto the mattress. His knot plugs his cum deep inside, ensuring most of it fills your womb.

He kisses you once more, cupping your cheeks softly. “My omega,” he whispers again, nose brushing against yours. “You’re going to be a wonderful queen. The community will thrive under our rule.”

“You promise?” You question shyly, intertwining your fingers together.

“I promise. It’s just you and me, omega.”

—

“You’re a lucky girl.”

Elder Kim brushes the hair away from your face, applying moisturizing cream to your cheeks gently. She sprinkles flecks of gold across your eyes and sprays hints of jasmine around your neck, and you don’t comment on how Jaehyun would hate it if he couldn’t smell your natural scent under the perfume.

It’s the night of the moon ceremony and you’re more nervous than you’ve ever been.

The last few weeks have been indescribable with Jaehyun, save for the haughty nature from the rest of the omegas. Ever since he publicly displayed his affection by choosing you on the coldest night, the others have declared you the enemy. Joohyun apparently cried the entire evening, sleeping next to a rigid Doyoung who showed no interest in helping her stay warm. She singled you out as a traitor for seducing her alpha and the rest of her army followed suit in the accusations against you.

“It’s not everyday the head alpha chooses an omega of your liking,” Elder Kim says with a sigh. “Jaehyun’s a stubborn one, always has been since he was a pup.”

You smile thinking about your alpha. The time together before your moon ceremony has only made the two of you more insatiable, occupying any unsupervised time with your hands all over each other. You’ve nearly gotten caught a couple of times, but as the suppressants wear off and your heat starts to itch at your skin, you fail to stave off your desire.

“He’ll be a strong head alpha,” you say as Elder Kim pulls your ceremony dress over your head. “Our district is lucky to have him.”

She regards you carefully. “I admit, I initially mistook your subservience for weakness. But I can see now why Jaehyun is so enamored by you. There’s a strength inside of you that I haven’t seen with the other omegas. It rings cause for a great leader, and I’m happy to see it reveal itself more these past few weeks.”

“Thank you, Elder Kim,” you say, offering her a thankful bow.

“Don’t thank me yet,” she murmurs jokingly. “It is said that a head alpha’s children are just as stubborn as the alpha, making them the most difficult pups to raise. Jaehyun was an unruly little boy, and I have no doubt his pups will take after their father.”

You briefly glance down at your stomach. Unbeknownst to her, your belly is already blossoming with Jaehyun’s child after many nights of sneaking around together. When you eventually appear back home, you know a few eyebrows will raise at the timeline of your pregnancy. You hold no care for idle gossip now, however, simply happy by your current state of life.

A warmth burns in your chest and you clear your throat. “Elder Kim, does it always feel this-“

“Strong?” She finishes for you, smiling when you nod. She turns you to face the mirror in the corner of the room and you finally take a look at yourself. Your skin is flushed and your eyes are dilated, making you appear more feral than you’ve ever seen yourself. “You haven’t experienced your heat in months. Tonight you will feel the after effects of the suppressants wearing off.”

A frantic knocking comes at your door and Elder Kim frowns, shouting for the person to enter. Elder Choi comes in, eyes wide in alarm.

“We have an issue.”

“What-“

“I want to see my omega now! Fuck your moronic ceremony!” Jaehyun’s booming voice shakes the entire cabin and you gasp, the sound of him being enough to send a river of slick down your core.

Elder Kim sighs, guiding you by the shoulders until you’re sitting at the edge of your bed. “Stay here while I handle your rowdy alpha.”

You clench your thighs together and lay back on the mattress, the ache of your heat spreading throughout your body. It dawns on you that if your heat was affecting you this much, Jaehyun must be loathing the intensity of his rut hitting him all at once.

The scent of your alpha wraps around you, growing stronger when you faintly hear Elder Kim shouting, “Jeong Jaehyun! That omega is not yours to claim until the moon has risen!”

Then you feel a pair of rough hands flipping you over, pulling your ass into the air and mounting you properly. It takes the strength of all the elders and the swatting of their canes to rip Jaehyun away from you, his teeth bared as he snarls in their hold. You’ve succumbed to the instincts of your heat, whining for your alpha and begging to be stuffed full of his knot.

“Get the other omegas out in the field now,” Elder Choi commands, pulling at Jaehyun’s arms as hard as she can.

“But the moon-“

“If we don’t let this alpha claim his omega in the next few minutes, he’ll kill us all.”

Elder Kim finds a way to convince your alpha to wait while Elder Lee rushes to gather the rest of the omegas outside. You feel the hands of Elder Choi lift you up gently and help you on your feet, readjusting your dress as she walks you out of your room and down the stairs.

You’re still completely out of it, murmuring Jaehyun’s name until Elder Choi soothes you, “We’re almost there, omega.” She leads you to the open field outside, where the snow is just starting to melt on the grass.

All the omegas have huddled around in a half-circle, glaring at you once they catch a whiff of Jaehyun’s scent. Soon after, the alphas filter out of their cabin one-by-one, looking just as jaded as your alpha. It’s clear all of you are reaching your limit in terms of the length of this ceremony. Elder Lee instructs them to stand on the opposite ends of the omegas, effectively completing the circle. Elder Kim is still holding Jaehyun back by his arms as he thrashes and growls from the restraint. You know he could easily break both of Elder Kim’s arms if he wanted, but he prevents himself from taking it too far. Your omega preens at the self-control of your alpha.

“Alright, status of house will decide the order,” Elder Lee says exhaustedly from the middle of the formation, her body weary from fighting Jaehyun off. “We will begin with the blood sharing ritual, and I request for Jeong Jaehyun to demonstrate it for us accordingly.”

Jaehyun easily slips out of Elder Kim’s hold and trots up to Elder Lee, taking the dagger out of her hand. He comes up to you without hesitation and Elder Choi, who is still holding you, prods you forward carefully. Jaehyun takes you into his arms, pressing kisses down the side of your face to ease the unsettled nature of your omega.

“Jaehyun,” Elder Lee reminds him in a stern voice. “The blood ritual.”

Although the omegas have been kept in the dark concerning the ins and outs of the moon ceremony, the alphas were taught at a very young age what would be expected of them when called forward. It’s why you glance warily at the dagger in Jaehyun’s hand while he shushes you softly.

“Not going to hurt you, omega,” he assures.

He takes the blade to his skin, slicing his palm open. You whine at the injury, but become perplexed when he raises his hand to your mouth. He gives you a small nod, urging you to press your lips to the skin. You hesitantly run your tongue over the wound as droplets of his blood cascade down your throat.

“The alpha and omega have become one through the blood ritual,” Elder Lee announces and the rest of the alphas and omegas clap begrudgingly.

Jaehyun cups his hand over your cheek, pulling you away from his cut and molding his lips over yours. Elder Lee clicks her tongue in disapproval but you’re lost in the world of your alpha, fists tangling in the fabric of his thin shirt to pull him closer to you. He ruts against you, his cock already fully hard.

“Jaehyun,” Elder Lee warns. Your alpha ignores her, favoring bunching up your dress in his hands instead. “Jaehyun!”

Elder Kim pushes against his back. “In the circle. You can claim your omega, but you know you must do it in the circle.”

With permission from the elders, Jaehyun leads you into the overarching trees while you stumble through the discarded branches. “Where are we going?” You question, your fingers aching to be wrapped around his cock.

“Where the moon is supposed to bless us, omega.”

You uncover a field in the middle of the woods, looking like the season has suddenly shifted into spring. The grass is clear of any evidence of snow and the birds chirp above you, highlighting the blooming flowers rupturing from the ground. Jaehyun lays you in the middle, and you bring your hand over to shield your eyes from the sudden burst of sunlight.

“W-Where are we?” You ask shakily, taken aback by the change in your surroundings.

“The moon’s circle,” he answers quietly, pulling your dress over your head to see you. His lips immediately latch onto your left nipple, grazing the peak with his teeth while you squeal. “The moon is meant to rise over us and bless us with a child.”

“Oh,” you say, furrowing your eyebrows. “But I’m pregnant with your pup already.”

“That you are, my pretty omega,” he hums, kissing down your stomach. “We didn’t need the silly moon, did we? Just you and me.”

When his tongue laps at your folds, you whine. “Jaehyun, want your knot,” you say, tugging at the strands of his hair.

“Let me get a taste of you first, greedy little thing.”

He cleans up the slick coating your thighs, lapping at your wetness even as you continue to drip into his mouth. Mewls spill out of you as you beg for Jaehyun to grant you some mercy. His tongue and his fingers won’t be able to satisfy you when you’re this deep into your heat, you need his knot, and you need it now.

“Jaehyun,” you whine again. “Please, alpha. I can’t wait any longer.”

“My poor omega,” he coos when he parts from your cunt, making his way back up to your lips. “Need your alpha’s knot? Need to be stuffed full until my cum is leaking out of you, hm?”

You whimper and nod. “Please, please, alpha. Want it so bad.”

He flips you onto your stomach, adjusting you into the same position he had you in when you were in your room. He mounts you like before, taking his cock out and slapping it against your pussy. When he pushes the tip in, your head collapses against the grass as the heat in your belly finally begins to subside.

He’s bigger than he’s ever been, and you’re not certain if it’s from his rut or being able to claim you properly or a combination of both. You scream when he stretches you out regardless, your cunt weeping from his cock splitting you in half. He doesn’t show any mercy on your shaking form, jackhammering into you roughly.

You hear a scoff above you, and your eyes lift to search for the source of the noise. You’re surprised to see Joohyun five feet away from you, arms crossed against her chest as she sneers down at you. Doyoung stands right beside her, averting his gaze from your whining form.

Jaehyun’s hand pushes roughly against your scalp. He leans down to whisper in your ear, “They’re here to watch the head alpha claim his queen, my omega.”

You assume it’s another twisted part of this morbid ceremony — for the alphas and omegas of age to watch their leader degrade his prized mate. You moan louder, putting on a show for them as you grind your hips back onto his cock. Since Jaehyun already knows what it takes to push you over the edge, he wraps his fingers around your throat, pulling your back to his front as he thrusts in deeper.

He exposes your neck for all to see, his fingers hovering over your thrumming mating gland. “Please, alpha,” you whimper. “Please, want to be your omega.”

“Say it,” Jaehyun hisses in your ear. “Say it for all of them to hear.”

“Want you to stuff me full, want to be bred with your pups,” you say without hesitation. Your eyes lock with each of the omegas surrounding you and you smile with pride. “Want you to show them how you’re mine.”

Then his teeth sink into your neck, displaying his claim for your audience to watch. Each alpha growls, their patience running thin to stake a claim on their own omegas. Jaehyun raises his head to snarl at them, effectively silencing their complaints. You shudder as you spasm around him, squeezing onto him for dear life.

“Gonna breed you,” he grunts into your ear, landing a few swats against your ass. “My pretty omega, full of my pups and begging to be stuffed full. I love you, omega, and I’m going to show you just how much.”

The first spurt of cum lurches you forward as his knot expands inside of you. He holds your body steady against his, moaning loudly as he plugs his cum into you. Like the first time, it seems as if he has endless amounts of cum to give you, most of it spilling out of your core.

“Love you, love you, love you,” he whispers into your ear the entire time before turning your head to plant his lips against yours.

A few minutes pass in silence with Jaehyun still cumming into you before Elder Lee clears her throat.

“…Well then, let us leave the future head alpha and the omega queen to their own. Now that the demonstration is over, we will complete the blood rituals and finish the ceremony for the rest of you.”

They slowly filter out of the moon’s circle while Jaehyun’s mouth continues to press against yours, gently lowering the both of you onto the grass. You barely register that they’ve all left, your focus drawn to the fact that your alpha is still rutting into you despite his swollen knot sitting at your entrance making it difficult for him to move very far.

All it takes is a few spankings to your clit for you to clench tightly around him again, gushing over his cock.

“They’re going to have to tear me away to make me stop,” he sighs, biting down on your mating gland once more. “I can’t get enough of you, omega.”

“Don’t stop, alpha, please.”

You don’t separate from Jaehyun that night until Elder Choi comes to collect you, insisting you both wash up and have something to eat in your room. Your alpha slowly fucks you in the shower before feeding you a few apple slices Elder Kim lays at your door. He then takes you again on your bed, against the wall, and on the floor.

Your heat doesn’t subside for a few days, and the elders have to force you and Jaehyun to eat and drink to stay alive. Apparently, you were the only wolves left who weren’t satisfied enough, with everyone else’s heats or ruts wearing off after a day or two.

It’s in the middle of day five when Elder Lee bursts through your door while Jaehyun is eating you out, two fingers deep into your cunt. She clears her throat but is drowned out by your moans.

“Excuse me… Jaehyun… Jeong Jaehyun!”

Jaehyun parts himself from your folds, mouth sticky and dripping from your juices.

He blinks twice before glaring at Elder Lee. “What?”

“Why I’ve never,” she mutters under her breath before tapping her cane on the wooden floors. “The ceremony has been over for days now. Your father has instructed us to return to the district.”

“Okay, have fun.”

He wraps his lips around your clit, sucking at the nub roughly until you’re shaking and squirting for him.

“Jaehyun! You and the omega queen must come with us. You will be crowned head alpha as soon as we return.”

“Then my first order as head alpha is for you to leave me alone with my omega,” he says, rising to his knees and pressing his cock against your entrance. Your eyes are fluttered shut, face down in the pillows while your alpha claims you again.

“We leave tonight. If you are not on that bus, trust me, we will leave you to face the wrath of your father alone.”

The door slams shut as Jaehyun knots you for what feels like the millionth time. As his cum drifts down your thighs, he lays on top of you, being mindful of his weight against your back.

“W-What did Elder Lee say?” You ask, floating on cloud nine.

“She wants us to leave tonight,” he replies while pressing kisses against your shoulder.

“I don’t want to leave,” you whine.

You admit that you despised the ceremony when you first arrived and longed for nothing more than to be back home. Now, however, you have an alpha bonded to you and his pup growing inside of your stomach. You feel like your life has finally fallen into place, and you loathe the idea of someone bursting the happy bubble you’ve created with Jaehyun.

“I don’t either, omega,” he sighs into your skin. “But we have to go home sometime.”

A smile tugs at the corner of your lips. “We have a home together, alpha,” you say, giggling and kicking your feet.

He grins, biting your ear playfully. “Yes we do, my sweet omega. A home for you and me.”

—

The first step off the bus is painful.

The wind whips at your face, causing your eyes to water. Jaehyun pulls you closer to his side, rubbing his arms over your exposed skin for warmth. You first catch sight of Sookyung, her bright smile shining through the crowd of people. Then you notice the rest of the community, some of them greeting their children and welcoming the new additions to their home. The others stare blatantly at you and Jaehyun, whispering to one another with wary expressions.

Your insecurity grows tenfold before you see your mother running to you, enveloping you into her arms as she cries gently.

“You did so well,” she mumbles into your ear. “You’ve made us so proud.”

When you offer your father and Sookyung your greetings, they part to make room for Jaehyun’s family to step forward. Jaehyun’s father looks like an identical copy of him, the only difference being the gray streaks in his hair and the wrinkles near his eyes. His mother is the type of omega the elders desired for you to mold yourself after, her gaze averted to the floor and her hands folded neatly across her stomach. His brother, Sungchan, is only a few years younger but it’s clear he’s a Jeong from the way he stands tall and confidently looks at you.

“Father,” Jaehyun gruffly greets him, intertwining his hand with yours. “This is my omega.”

“Alpha Jeong,” you say courteously, offering a polite bow.

Jaehyun’s father gives you a hurried look before narrowing his eyes. “The elders informed me they had to make verbal threats in order to get you two out of bed.”

You glance down bashfully as Jaehyun smirks. “A ceremony for a head alpha is more intense than any other wolf, I’m sure you remember.”

“You’re not head alpha yet,” his father bites back in a stern tone. He scans the area to ensure no one else heard his outburst. “We will return home and discuss this matter privately.”

You give Jaehyun a worried look but he simply smiles, leaning over to kiss you reassuringly. He holds your hand the entire walk back to his house, a grand estate gifted to the head alpha’s family that stretched for acres and acres of unoccupied land. Sookyung’s eyes nearly pop out of her head when you arrive.

Numerous beta staff greet you at the entrance, taking the bags from your arms and rushing to the kitchen to prepare dinner.

“My office,” Jaehyun’s father barks at your alpha.

Jaehyun presses another kiss to your forehead. “I’ll be fine, omega. You go ahead and wait in our room for me.”

Jaehyun’s mother smiles at you when Jaehyun disappears upstairs, offering to show your family to your new living quarters. She leads you into a master bedroom on the top floor, the interior covered wall to wall in artwork that looked like it was taken out of a museum. A king sized bed sits in the middle of the floor, clothed with luxurious silk sheets and more pillows than you’ve ever seen in your life.

“We had it remodeled in preparation for your arrival,” Jaehyun’s mother shares, her obedient smile never wavering.

“I am honored by your hospitality, my queen,” you thank her, mesmerized by the state of your new room.

Jaehyun’s mother nods politely before she and your parents slip away to find their own rooms. Sookyung squeals in excitement at the size of the closet, chatting about all of the new dresses she plans on purchasing for you with your newly acquired wealth.

“I’m going to use the bathroom,” you say to Sookyung, who is wrapped up in the various perfumes spread out on your vanity mirror.

She waves you off and you sneak down the hallway, searching for the office belonging to Jaehyun’s father. You come across a small room near the staircase, and your heart jumps when you hear yelling from the other side of the closed door.

“-Shame to our family! Can you imagine what your mother and I thought when Elder Kim reported back that you chose some lowborn omega as the future matriarch of this household?”

Glass smashes against the wall and you almost gasp in surprise. “Talk about my omega like that one more time and I will rip you in half,” Jaehyun snarls.

“You are a child,” his father’s voice seethes. “We have spoiled you for far too long and I will not tolerate it any further. I was already hesitant when you began this schoolyard crush on her but I should’ve known well enough that you would see it the whole way through. I have half a mind to name Sungchan as head alpha instead.”

“Go ahead,” Jaehyun scoffs. Your hand trembles at the firmness in his tone. “Your threats mean nothing to me. It won’t change the fact that I love the omega I’ve bonded with, and I will love our child more than you ever loved me.”

“…You’ve already impregnated her?”

“Yes, father,” Jaehyun replies, and you can hear the smirk in his voice. “We didn’t leave the bed for days, remember?”

Guilt sinks deep into your bones and you unsteadily hobble back to your room. Sookyung’s admiring the silk sheets laid over your new bed, but she frowns when she sees you. She rushes to your side, helping you sit down on the edge of the mattress.

“Are you alright?” She questions, raising the back of her hand to your forehead to check for a fever.

“I-I’m just a little nauseous.”

“Oh, that’s a wonderful sign!” She giggles, clapping her hands together excitedly. “Nausea is one of the first signs of pregnancy. Allow me a moment, I will request for the cooks to make a recipe one of the elders taught me to soothe your stomach.”

She rushes out the door and you sigh, resting your hands over the top of your stomach. Tears well in your eyes, fear sinking in that your presence has only made Jaehyun’s life worse. You knew this would happen from the moment he pursued you yet you allowed it to continue regardless of the consequences.

Hands rest on your thighs and soft kisses press against your face while you sob. “My pretty omega,” Jaehyun says, voice strained. “What’s wrong? Do you not like the room? Do you need to make a new nest?”

“Your family hates me,” you reply, shaking your head. “I’m a burden to you.”

“Stop that,” he growls, wiping the tears falling down your cheeks. “I never want to hear you say that again.”

“It’s true. You shouldn’t have chosen me as your omega. I knew it well enough but I disobeyed the elders and now your father threatens to take away your leadership as head alpha.”

He rests his forehead against yours. “Please, omega. You and our pup mean everything to me. I never want you to think you’re not good enough. I thought we left all of that nonsense behind at the ceremony?”

“Jaehyun,” you say, still sobbing furiously. “What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to shower my omega with the love she deserves until she realizes she’s more than enough for me.”

He envelops you into his arms and lays the both of you against the pillows, licking your tears away. His hand rests protectively over your stomach. Your cries turn into giggles when he continues to pepper kisses all over your face.

“My sweet omega,” he coos. “Never want to see you cry again. It breaks my heart.”

You sniffle and nod. “I just don’t want to crush your dreams.”

“My dream was always you, omega. Being head alpha means nothing to me if I don’t have you. And you mustn’t worry about my father, his words have always been empty threats.”

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

He’s proven right when Jaehyun is crowned head alpha the next day. From dusk until dawn, the community celebrates the rise of their new leader, accompanied by mountains of food and the elders dancing happily in a circle until their feet have blisters. Jaehyun keeps you by his side as each member comes up to you, congratulating Jaehyun as the new head alpha and you as the new omega queen. Your alpha is particularly chuffed when one certain couple approaches you.

“My queen,” Joohyun says with a polite bow, curling her hands into fists. “We pray to the moon to grant you and the head alpha a happy coupling.”

“May the moon bless you with many pups,” Doyoung echoes next to her, keeping his stare far away from you.

Jaehyun narrows his eyes at him and smirks. “Yes, we do hope for another pup to add to the household,” he says before his hand curls softly around your stomach. “They would make a great sibling to this one.”

“Y-You’re already pregnant?” Joohyun gapes, jaw dropping open.

You smile and rest your hand on top of Jaehyun’s. “Yes, we have been expecting for quite a while now.”

You watch her mind run through the timeline before she smiles tightly.

“May the moon bless this pup and more to come, my queen.”

The night ends with Jaehyun claiming you in your new bed, hips snapping roughly as he molds his lips over yours. “My omega,” he whispers into your mouth. “All mine, right? No one else?”

“Just you,” you pant, whimpering when his thrusts pick up speed. “Only want you, Jaehyun.”

“And you’ll only ever have me, omega.”

As he fucks you until the sun rises over the horizon, you wonder if this is what heaven feels like.

—

You’re six months into your pregnancy and your hormones are running wild.

Sookyung dotes on you hand and foot when Jaehyun isn’t around. As head alpha, he’s normally gone during the day to train new wolves and ensure the community is stable. He doesn’t float back into your shared bed until after the moon rises. You don’t complain much since you understand his duties are crucial to the heart of your district, but you still long for him when he’s away.

Before he leaves every morning, he checks your nest to secure all of the blankets holding the walls up and offers you his shirt from the night before to ease your omega with his scent. You spend the majority of the morning curled up in your nest with his shirt tucked under your chin, breathing in his scent and quelling your nerves.

One particular day, however, has your emotions darting all over the place.

Sookyung tells you later that you were inconsolable, crying for your alpha and refusing to speak with anyone who wasn’t him. You turned down all of the meals the staff offered you and growled at them when they drew anywhere near your nest. Your feral behavior forced Sookyung to fetch Jaehyun from the training grounds, bringing him back to your whimpering form as you curled into a ball in the middle of the bed.

“My poor omega,” he murmurs as he climbs into your nest, pulling your back to his chest. “What’s wrong?”

“You’re always gone,” you say in a small voice, and Jaehyun swears his heart shatters into two. “You’re always leaving me and you don’t love me anymore.”

The reasonable part of your brain echoes that your over dramatics is a result of the next head alpha growing inside of you. Elder Kim warned you when she visited you a week prior, taking a glance at your struggling figure as you shakily rose from the couch to greet her.

“That pup inside of you will be a strong one, my queen,” she said to you with a stern tapping of her cane. “I was with Jaehyun’s mother when she first got pregnant with him. That pup nearly drove her from a graceful queen into a feral mutt.”

You think back on her words now, as you thrash against Jaehyun’s hold in an attempt to get him far away from you.

His voice sounds utterly heartbroken. “My omega, how could you ever think that? You’re my whole world, all I want to do is occupy every minute of every day with you. I love you more than anything else.”

“Then why are you always spending every waking second away from me?” You hiss back at him.

He growls at your bratty behavior. “Omega, you know I have responsibilities to the community. I would much rather be with you than be out there training those unruly pups, you know that.”

You huff, telling him he’s making excuses as you continue to face away from him. You feel one hand grip the inside of your thigh roughly before he’s propping it against his hip. His cock grinds into your clothed puffy folds until you whine.

“I know what you need,” he says into your ear, your wetness spilling out of your underwear and coating his tip. “My baby omega needs her alpha to give her his knot, hm? Show her how much he loves her with his seed?”

You bite down on your hand to prevent a moan from spilling from your lips. Jaehyun has learned that your sudden bouts of arousal was another side effect from your pregnancy, with you sometimes interrupting his council meetings just so he could mount you against the dirt floor outside. Often when you get needy like this, he knows it’s because you want his cock to stuff you full.

He rips your underwear off before pressing his tip against your entrance. “Tell me you know how much your alpha loves you, omega, or you won’t get my knot today.”

“I-I know,” you blubber, pushing back on him. “I know, alpha. You love me so much.”

“Yes, I do,” he hums as his cock stretches you open. “I love you and our pup in your belly more than any of these other fucking wolves. It pisses me off, knowing that I spend more time with them than you.”

The reminder springs tears in your eyes again. In the span of a few minutes, you shift from rage to lust to sorrow.

“I wish you were here all the time.”

He gently flips you on your back, hovering over your frame and leaning down to kiss you. You know your words cut through him like a knife. You’ve learned after months of being mated to Jaehyun that he didn’t care much for other people’s opinions except for you. When his father screamed at him for impregnating a lowborn omega, Jaehyun sent him off to live at the furthest end of the estate so that you wouldn’t have to hear his insults. When the elders complained about you not stepping up to your duties as omega queen by teaching the younger omegas how to clean and cook, Jaehyun threatened to exile them from the community for speaking down at you. But when you confronted your alpha about the beta staff in your household not being paid their correct dues, he signed off on raises for every working member without question.

It scares you sometimes how much power you hold over him.

It’s why you know your accusations of him abandoning you cut deep, but the words fall from your mouth without a filter.

“I’m going to figure out a way to be here more often, my omega,” he whispers into your skin. “I promise I’m not going to let you feel this way again.”

Minutes pass before you’re clenching down on him and he’s spilling inside of you, the base of his knot swelling as he pumps his seed deep inside your womb. He holds you in his arms when he’s finished, stroking your hair gently.

“I’m sorry I said all of that,” you say shyly. “I didn’t mean it. I understand you have to handle the future of our district.”

“Omega, don’t apologize for silly things. I’m the one who’s sorry for ever making you feel this way. I will speak to the elders tomorrow about carving out more time in my day for you and our pup.”

“You don’t have to-“

“I want to, omega.”

“I hope this pup isn’t as stubborn as you are,” you grumble, glancing down at your bulging stomach.

He smiles, dimples peeking out. “I hope they’re just like their pretty mama.”

—

“Be careful, Seojeong. You don’t want to injure Hyojung permanently, do you?”

The younger girl frowns and pouts, apologizing to her comrade and laying down her sword. You smile gently and offer her a nod of appreciation, your hands resting over your protruding bump.

“Please take a seat, my queen. I’m certain your feet are tired from standing all day.”

You shake your head at Elder Choi. “I’m doing perfectly fine. I want to be here when they learn this.”

Shortly after your hormonal blubbering to Jaehyun, he passed a new rule within the community wherein the younger omegas would be taught by the omega queen in the same training grounds as the younger alphas. It was initially met with pushback, as the elders deemed it unseemly for omegas to be practicing sparring in any format and with the alphas in proximity, of all people. Jaehyun, however, understood how important it was for omegas to learn combat if they ever faced any real danger.

You also know he developed the law so he could get to spend more time with you.

You look across the yard to watch him presiding over the alphas, eyes surveying them as they spar one another. His gaze lifts up and locks on you, and a smile stretches over his face. Eventually, he’s jogging over to your form, one hand cupped over your stomach while he kisses your lips. The other omegas coo at the sight of their head alpha and omega queen displaying such affection.

“How are you?” He mumbles softly. “Are you feeling okay?”

Last week, the community unfortunately lost an omega during childbirth, the pup being her third son. The newborn baby made it out safely but the mother passed away due to complications from the delivery. Since then, everyone has been on their toes around you, worried about the birth of the next head alpha as you near your nine-month mark. Jaehyun especially indulged you, never drawing his attention away from you for too long.

“I’m doing just fine, alpha,” you giggle, stroking his cheek fondly.

“The omega queen is teaching the others very well,” Elder Kim says to Jaehyun from her spot in her chair. She pauses knitting the scarf in her lap. “They have made good progress, alpha.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” he says, scanning the vicinity to see a myriad of wolves improving their battle skills. It filled his alpha with pride to watch the community flourish under his rule. He nudges his nose against your cheek. “Maybe we should retire for the day, my omega.”

“Jaehyun, I’m fine-”

A sharp pain in your abdomen causes you to gasp and double over. The yard falls into complete silence before the elders are scrambling, multiple hands grabbing your arms and propping you against them. Yelling ensues, the majority of it coming from your alpha barking orders.

“Fetch the midwives now!”

“If I see one bead of sweat fall from her perfect face, I’ll break your fucking limbs.”

“Everyone clear the fucking area! Go home and pray to the moon you worship so much!”

“Jaehyun,” you manage to choke out while Elder Lee is throwing your arm over her shoulder. The alpha turns back to you, a terrified look in his eyes. You smile and brush his hair back with your fingers. “Please shut up.”

Jaehyun keeps his lips sealed shut while the elders and nearby omegas help you into the nearest home. They bang the door open, and you hear a few surprised screams fill the air.

“W-What’s the meaning of this?”

You look up to see Joohyun and her beta handmaiden on the couch of her living room.

“Clear the room,” Elder Choi instructs in a stern tone. “The queen has gone into labor.”

There’s a mix of shuffling before you’re gently being laid down on the floor, surrounded by piles and piles of blankets as more omegas emerge through the door to bring their offerings. It was custom for all omegas to be present during the birth of the next head alpha, bearing gifts of pillows and comforters to ensure the omega queen’s relief during birth.

Jaehyun holds your hand tightly next to you, propping up your head on one of the pillows and staring down at you with concern. You smile and squeeze his hand to relieve his stress. You look to the other side of you to see Joohyun hovering warily, startled by the unanticipated presence of nearly every omega in the community filling her home.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur quietly to her through the chaos. The midwives have finally arrived and are instructing the rest of the group how to position themselves. “I didn’t mean to burden you like this.”

“You didn’t burden me, my queen,” Joohyun replies obediently. “It is an honor to be able to accept the birth of the next head alpha into my home.”

“Don’t lie,” you say, patting her hand softly. “It’s unbecoming of you.”

The corner of her lips quirk up in amusement.

One of the midwives lays a damp cloth over your forehead. She checks your pulse before preparing your lower half for the delivery. You keep your eyes on Jaehyun the entire time, who frantically darts his gaze back and forth between the multiple midwives discussing the best practices.

“My alpha,” you murmur, tucking loose strands of his hair behind his ear. He offers you a wide eyed look and you laugh. “I’d like to hear your voice now.”

“You’re doing so good for me, my omega,” he says, pressing his forehead against yours. “Going to give birth to such a beautiful pup.”

“Alpha Jeong, you must leave us. It is custom for the head alpha to wait outside while the pup is born.”

A whine escapes your throat at the same time Jaehyun’s head snaps to Elder Kim, baring his teeth and growling. The room grows quiet at their head alpha’s displeasure.

“I am not leaving my omega here alone, is that understood?”

You witness a crowd of tentative nods before the most excruciating pain of your life rips through you. Your back bends off the floor as you scream in agony, and another hand grasps onto you for dear life. You blink twice before Sookyung’s blurry figure comes into vision. She nods happily at you, tears streaming down her cheeks. You know she’s waited longer than you for this day to finally arrive.

You give birth to a healthy pup after hours of intense contractions and moans of discomfort. Jaehyun stays by your side through all of it, gripping your hand and kissing your face lovingly.

As you complete your last push and your baby’s cries fill the air, you’re shocked when the midwife shakily says, “It’s a girl.”

The omegas in the room gasp. Every single one of them thought you were due to have an alpha male from how strong your pregnancy had been. The midwife hands Jaehyun your pup and he looks down at her with warmth filling his gaze.

He says with tears spilling over his eye line, “Praise for the next head alpha.”

—

“Mama, mama!”

You grunt as your youngest daughter rams into the back of your leg. You turn to pick her up, ceasing your watch from the omegas on the training yard. The sun beats down on all of your figures and you wipe the sweat from your brow.

“What is it, my little troublemaker?”

Then, your oldest daughter also collides into your stomach, pointing at your youngest accusingly.

“She’s lying!”

“No, I’m not!”

“Yes, you are!”

“I haven’t even said anything!”

“Girls,” you say, giving them both a cross look. “One at a time.”

Your youngest pipes up first. “She threw mud into Jihoon’s face!”

“She’s lying!”

“Am not!”

“Am too!”

“Alright,” Jaehyun sighs, approaching you after watching you struggle to hold in your laugh. “What’s going on here?”

“Your daughter threw mud into Doyoung’s son’s face,” you summarize, one eyebrow raised at him. He snickers into his palm and you elbow him. “Jaehyun.”

He fixes his expression, staring at your oldest with a stern look. “Is that the proper behavior of the next head alpha?”

Your oldest daughter hangs her head sullenly. “No,” she grumbles.

He crouches down and plays with the ten-year-old’s pigtails. “You can throw all the mud you want when you’re the next head alpha, sweetheart, but only to people who deserve it,” he says with a fond smile.

“Jaehyun,” you hiss as you kick him lightly.

“But he did deserve it, daddy! He was telling me how cute I am. I am not cute!”

Your alpha’s face shifts into one of a protective father. “And where is this boy?”

“Jaehyun,” you sigh one last time. You place your youngest on the ground and stare at your oldest in disapproval. “I won’t have any more reports of disobedience from you. You’re going to be a good little wolf and apologize to that boy.”

“Yes, mama.”

The two children take off running down the yard, holding hands like they never fought in the first place. You stare at your alpha, arms crossed over your chest. He’s still looking after your girls with a frown on his face.

“I don’t want you finding that boy and scolding him, Jaehyun.”

“She’s too young for suitors,” your alpha exhales, running his fingers through his hair.

“I remember a much younger version of myself pushing around the man who would become my bonded mate too,” you say, stepping forward and kissing him softly.

He huffs. “That’s not going to happen for her any time soon.”

“You have to let them grow up, alpha,” you say affectionately, nuzzling your head into his neck. “Maybe I can help you take your mind off it.”

Your hand slithers down his chest and he growls when you get dangerously close to his stiffened cock. He leans over to nip at your ear.

“And how did I get stuck with such a little minx for an omega?”

this fic was posted for early access to the $5 tier on my patreon, which you can access here!

#nct smut #jaehyun #jaehyun smut #nct x reader

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just-some-random-blogger · 8 months ago

Text

Losing Dogs

Neither you or Aegon wanted to get married. Neither you or Aegon wanted to marry each other. But at some point, you figured you should make the most of what you had, and so you offer your husband a deal he cannot refuse.

Aegon Targaryen x Reader | 6k+ | cw: fem!reader, wife!reader, arranged marriage/loveless marriage, smut (piv, virginity loss, rough/loveless sex) DD:DNE, alcoholism, violence, suicide/suicidal thoughts & ideation, mentions of domestic/child abuse, death, pregnancy/miscarriage, aegon's mommy issues, insecurities, angst, typos, etc.

A/N: ... i had something to say about this fic but i forgot... maybe ill remember later???? edit: i did not remember. i thought of mitski while entitling this so go play i bet on losing dogs ig?

Tagging: @pinksirensong @aralezinspace @deniixlovezelda @azperja @sloanexx @risefallrise

You don't know what you have until it's gone.

Aegon only truly understood what this meant the day he was married and he was forbidden to drink a drop of alcohol.

As if it wasn't painful enough that he was going to be married to a complete stranger from some house he's never fucking heard of, he was erratic and uneasy the whole day because of the withdrawal. He loathes the preparation, the ceremony, the fucking pageantry of it all.

He thinks it was worse that you seemed to be so chipper the entire time. You smiled with a halo, skin shining with the light. You also seemingly did no wrong, judging by the praises you received from his mother and grandfather. But, who was he kidding, of course they fucking loved you, they chose you to be his prison keeper.

You did not press him once, not when you were preparing for the ceremony, not when you were at the feast, not even after the Queen encouraged you to dance.

Anyone with eyes could see from how he slumped on his chair during dinner that Aegon would rather die than circle around the room to this grating noise echoing in the chamber.

The band begins to play another song and another round of dancing ensues.

He stares at the food on the table. Oh, to be a suckling pig.

The relief that coursed through him when he could finally leave was enough to knock him out. Except, he really wanted, no, needed a drink.

He crashes on his bed, belly down, and reaches for the cabinet door on his bedside table. He feels for his bottle, hand knocking into the corners of the compartment, but he sits up when he finds nothing.

He growls in frustration upon realizing this was definitely his mother's doing. Thief!

"I managed a cup."

Aegon struggles to look over his shoulder from his position. He rolls on his back as you walk to the side of the bed.

He stares at you. You offer a glass holding burgundy liquid. Your voice is soft and kind as you explain, "your mother would suspect me if I took a whole bottle."

Aegon pushes himself up and sits on the edge of the bed, facing you. He gulps at the wine you were offering.

Sure, he may not be the brightest, but anyone could tell this scene was the epitome of ulterior motives. Aegon leans on his thighs, "why are you doing this?"

You stare a moment. You clutch the cup in both hands and examine it. Again, your voice is gentle, "you are clearly in torment. It hurts my heart."

His eye twitches.

I see. It seems you were a fucking saint.

Aegon rips the glass out of your hands, some of the wine spills over. He downs the contents in one go, then chucks the glass across the room once he finished.

He looks back at you, glaring with watery eyes. He was exhausted, he was angry, and he wanted you to know it. But you don't flinch at the sound of the glass breaking. You didn't flinch at all when he showed aggression. Why didn't you flinch?

You press your lips and sigh. You step towards him and reach out.

He nervously straightens up and tilts his head back as you approach. His breath hitches when your warm hand touches his cheek. He blinks rapidly.

"It's been a long day. Would you like me to help you change?"

Again, his eye twitches.

And then he realizes what you mean.

Ah. So, this is what you wanted?

He releases a breath, eyes lowering. Your face falls into a slight frown.

He thinks about it for a moment. I mean, sex was sex and he was game. It didn't matter how he performed, his completion was all that mattered, really. And you were pretty enough, albeit irritatingly good.

When you stroke his hair, Aegon pulls at your skirts, causing you to squeak and topple, hands flying to his shoulders for support. Your faces are inches apart. He pulls you down until you have no other choice than to sit on his lap.

You can smell the remnants of the wine he just drank on his breath. Aegon brings his face closer to yours, and you let out a soft 'hmp'. You mutter, "I gather you don't want to change, but want to get out of your clothes."

He narrows his eyes as you shift on his lap and undo the buttons by his chest. He mutters dumbly, "this is what you wanted."

With knit brows, you retort, "I've not yet told you what I wanted." You shift on his lap again as you peel his top off. Amidst it, he asks, "what do you want?"

You grunt after ridding him of his top. You fold it in your arms then set it aside on the bed. You turn back to him. Aegon's breath hitches when you fondle with strings of his undershirt. He watches your lips as you mumble, "I want you to give me a ride on your dragon."

He furrows his brows. But that's what he just said.

You stand, only to lift your skirt and take your place back on his lap. This time, you straddle him.

Aegon gulps, hands coming to your hips like a magnet. He feels you grind on him; shaky breaths leave his lips in response. His hands scratch up your back and a moan escapes him when your nails trace his collarbones.

"Allow me one trip on Sunfyre, and in return, I'll be your magic lamp," you whisper, taking one of his hands, bringing it to the side of your ribs, "you may rub me where you like-"

His heart skips when you kiss his cheek.

"-and I will grant you all your wishes."

Aegon ticks.

The next moment, he pushes you down on the bed. He doesn't bother getting either of you naked, nor does he prepare you at all in fact. Thankfully, you were already wet.

You don't have the opportunity to ask him to be gentle, to explain you were a bride after all, and it was your wedding night.

Aegon grips your skirts as he fucks you like he means to prove a point. He snaps his hips roughly into you to assert dominance, to exemplify control. Sure, you offered yourself to him, but he was the one doing the work, and you were the one beneath him.

In truth, the pace he set gave you more pain rather than pleasure. And with how pent up he was, the rough tempo he set burnt him out way too quickly before it could make any of you feel good. And when he begins to lag, you start to feel good.

You notice this change and rub your nose against his. He recoils, unused to affection when fucking. It snaps him back into an aggressive trance.

You yelp. Aegon convinced himself it was a sound of bliss.

You kiss his jaw and work your way to his ear, hoping to calm him down. He tenses at the feel of your tongue on his lobe. It stokes flames in his belly and makes him involuntarily roll his hips slower to focus on the attention you're giving. In return, his pace is just enough for him to hit that spot that makes you throw your head back.

Aegon is startled by the scratchy groan that leaves your throat. He finds himself lifting his head to spectate, but you pull him into you by the nape and groan, "like that. Please- gods - that feels good."

His brows tense and he rolls his hips again, finding the same reaction.

You wrap your arms and legs around him, uncaring of how hot and sweaty you were getting. In the heat of the moment, you reach for his lips, needing them, needing something to wrap your own on.

Aegon kisses you. He kisses you with a strange twinge in his chest. He kisses you until he has to pull away and reposition himself to catch his building climax.

In a second, he's back to his fuck-loving self, only self-serving and lustful. As he gazes upon your writhing body, catching the beads of sweat on your skin, the concentration on your face, and the way you chant his name as you part your legs for him, he's overcome by another spirit. To watch you break, to watch you coil and collapse around him felt just as urgent as his need to come.

And so Aegon rubs your clit and forces you to peak first; you do it so well he curses loudly and comes after.

He lays on top of you for a moment, the overwhelming need to be held ripples through his body. He recalls how his whores shoo him away after he's done fucking them though. Before you can cradle him in your arms, he rolls off you.

You close your legs and and watch him strip himself and sequentially change. You watch him get back in bed and bring himself underneath the covers. He goes to sleep.

He fucking goes to sleep.

You feel hollow after this, but tell yourself it's nothing personal. You repeat this as you, yourself, get up and change, sequentially sleeping too. Or at least you try. You have fight the urge to cry for hours before you do.

The next morning, you bring up dragon riding to Aegon, and disappointed as you are, you are unsurprised to find that he was unwilling to give you such a thing.

It was a plain thing you were asking for, you explain. And it's exactly why he doesn't want to do it. It's clearly some trick, something to trap him, something he's going to regret. It was probably some ploy orchestrated by his mother.

Oh gods, he thinks, it's worse. It's a bonding experience so you can make him into your puppet. Fuck. No.

So, he does what he does best, and makes an excuse, "I don't feel like riding today. I'm still exhausted from the festivities."

You purse your lips and nod, "that's understandable. Would you like for me to get you something?"

Wait. You weren't going to argue about him not keeping his end of the deal?

You seem to catch this, considering your response and the way you take his hand. You place his palm on your chest. He can feel your pulse quicken as you mutter, "I am your magic lamp, husband. I wish to please you. I will prove this until you trust me enough to grant me a ride on dragonback."

He narrows his eyes, "you would grant me wishes, all in return for a ride on Sunfyre?"

You smile softly at him, "in return for respite, yes."

He doesn't trust your smile.

"I want to visit the Grey Cliffs. I have for a years now. I went there once as a child and long to go again."

"Why?" he knits his brows at your explanation, "what's there?"

You lower his hand and rub his skin, "respite, my prince."

Aegon pulls his hand away.

Very well. If that is what you want, then he will wear your wishes dry until you find it no longer worth the trouble.

Aegon wishes on his lamp everyday, and his wife sequentially plays entertainer, jester, servant, and slave.

He makes you bring a bottle of wine with you everywhere, and pour him a cup when he wishes. He loathes how you seem unbothered by it. He loathes how you don't even correct a visiting Lord who mistakes you for a cupbearer and simply serve him some wine. The Lord is mortified when he realizes you are his wife, a fucking princess. Aegon hates how you tell the man you were unbothered because you spent your whole life being a cupbearer to your father anyway.

He makes you do trivial tasks as well, sometimes tasks meant for more than one person at a time, and yet you still manage to do them, annoyingly better than the maids. When he demanded you cook him a full course meal, you did so all by yourself, and had the servants looking at you like you were some goddess.

He ripped a hole in his clothes then made you mend it. You covered the hole so seamlessly that he poked a bigger one right in front of you. And even then you don't give him the satisfaction of getting angry. You tell him you will embroider something on top of the hole and he storms off. He overhears you telling the servants, who applaud your level-headedness, that you were used to angry men, because your father was just the same.

You use each of these moments to somehow tell him you were the perfect wife and he had to oblige your stupid request at some point.

But then he found your flaw.

Aegon asked you to play the harpsichord for him, and you told him you did not know how. The woman who knew all did not know something? He would then proceed to hang this over your head. When he asked you for food, he'd tell you how much better it'd taste if he had entertainment. If he asked you to do something physically taxing for him, he's say that he wouldn't have asked you to do it, had you known how to play his 'favorite' instrument. He would use this as the reason why he could never bring you to Grey Cliffs.

It was all fun and games, but then you had to snitch, hadn't you?

"What are you doing to that poor girl!" Queen Alicent barked, making his ears ring.

Aegon groans from where he lies in bed. His mother rips the blankets off him, making him wake in a sour mood.

"She is your wife!" Alicent yells, "not your slave! Fine, you wish her to do tasks for you, tasks for your betterment. But to insult her standing by treating her like a maid is beneath a prince, Aegon!"

Aegon feels his throat tighten at the sight of his angry mother's face, "she is my wife," he growls, "I do with her as I please."

She strikes his cheek.

Aegon's head whips to the side. He doesn't have the energy to look back at her.

"You will no longer parade her as a cupbearer. I will have it decreed you are not ever served a drop of wine if you don't."

Alicent leaves after this. Aegon's anger explodes when the door closes.

He screams and rips at his hair. He kicks furniture around and eventually drops to the floor, exhausted, furious, and hurt. This was all your fault.

He screams again and claws the tears on his face. He slowly exhales through tight lips. His cheek is hot with saltwater. Who was he joking, this was all him.

This was all Aegon's doing.

His breathing is impeded by snot. He walks over to his window and stares at the ground below. If he jumps head first, not even the best maester in Westeros could fix him.

Before he can lean on the ledge, he is paralyzed in his spot by the sound of the door opening.

"I did not know she would be angry with you," you say.

Aegon looks back.

You see his red eyes and wet skin. He is a mirror to your younger self. You feel sick to your stomach. You try to explain, "I only asked if she could find a harpsichord teacher. I did not realize she would take offense in wanting to learn to play for you."

Aegon's heart aches at your naïve response. You were a stupid, perfect wife, and he, a stupid, petulant husband.

"I'm better off dead," he mumbles, looking back out the window. The call of the fall felt inviting, "want to push me, wife?"

You don't respond.

Aegon looks back at you, and suddenly you're only inches away. He tries to evade you, but you manage to catch his hand.

"We could jump together."

"What?"

Your face is blank. You part your lips, and for a moment, your eyes seem desperate, but then it's gone. You sigh, "dying is quite lonely," looking down, "I could keep you company."

Aegon stares at you. Tears stream down his face. "You're mad," he sniffles, yanking his hand away.

He walks over to his bed and collapses on it. He wraps himself in a blanket and feels sorry for himself, and angry at you for suggesting such a thing. Even now you want to be perfect by dying with him?

"I am," you mutter.

Aegon watches as you walk over to him. You sit on the floor beside his bed and look at your hands as you rub them.

"I cannot play the harpsichord, because my father does not like noise," you explain, "I was not allowed to make a sound or else I would be punished."

Aegon covers his head with a blanket but keeps his face visible, "he beat you, didn't he?"

You look at him, eyes melancholy, but still, he is the only one crying, "he beat everyone."

Aegon does not respond.

"I can sing though."

His brow raises, "how can you sing?"

"I would practice whenever he was gone, and sing for my mother in secret. It made her happy... happy enough."

He knew there was more to this confession, but he was too tired to ask about it, too tired to shed more tears.

"Would you like me to sing for you?"

"No."

"..."

"Would you like me to hold you?"

"..."

You stand from where you sat and get on the edge of the bed. Aegon watches as you slowly lie beside him. You bring an arm over him and pull him close. Aegon closes his eyes as you bring him into your chest.

You hold him until he falls asleep. Later that night, he asks you to hold him again. He also asks you to sing to him.

Aegon nestles his face in the crook of your neck. He wraps his arms around your torso, digging his fingers between your flesh and the bed. Your hushed voice reverberates in the bedroom, the song you sing is haunting and soothing. The vibrations from your chest lull him to sleep. You feel wetness pool by your clavicle but you make no note of it.

Aegon asks you to hold him the next morning after breaking fast. He asks you to stay with him in bed and to sing to him some more. When you have to leave his side, he asks to join you and waits until he can have you in his arms again.

Aegon becomes your shadow, and follows you around, under the promise of getting to share in your embrace. As you read and review letters or ledgers, your seat becomes Aegon's lap. He sleeps against you while you work without a fuss, cheek pressed against your back, arms fastened around your waist.

Sometimes, he notices the line that forms between your brows while you read and at some point, asks about it. You explain what causes it, and he is unmoved, as he is uninterested in politics that stress you. But when you read out to him, he finds comfort in your voice and asks you to read some. He falls asleep to your calm droning of circumstances he could not care less about. He groans and groggily awakens when you stop. He mumbles against your skin that you continue, pleadingly so.

When you had to leave the Keep for business, Aegon insisted that he joined you. When you brushed his cheek and explained to him why he could not go and that you would not be long, Aegon pushed you away and stormed off. You left without him anyway, and the treachery he felt was so great, he realized then how he could no longer go day to day without you. What was there to do, if you were not there?

And so Aegon desperately rubs his magic lamp and wishes upon you.

He wishes that you never leave without him again once you return.

He wishes that you promise to no longer make plans without him.

He traps you beneath him on your shared bed and wishes to be inside you. He kisses you and wishes to see you completely bared to him.

Aegon's mind is dizzy as he gazes upon the glory of your skin. He kisses your thighs, your hips, your breast, your lips.

Aegon wishes to surrender to you. He wishes that you undress him. He wishes to pull you on his body like a blanket. He wishes to see you take control. He wishes to see you cast your eyes upon him and lay your weight on his body.

He wishes to see you use him, to take what you need from him, to pleasure yourself, and to make him yours. He squeezes your thighs desperately when you moan out his name. This was much more maddening that what he imagined it would be.

He wishes to feel you come undone around him. He wishes he could forever feel the pleasure he did when he comes right after you do.

He wishes to hold you after. And when he holds you, when you lay on his chest and kiss him there, he wishes to never leave this moment ever again. He wishes to sing to you like you've sung to him.

"What are your plans tomorrow," Aegon asks as he draws nothings on your back.

You lift your head from his chest. He looks at you. You smile, "whatever you wish them to be."

He rubs your back and smiles, "I wish to take you to the Grey Cliffs."

Your expression drops, "what?"

He raises a brow at your reaction. You shift on your place. You straddle him again.

He looks up at you, noticing the line between your brows. He rubs your thighs, "you've granted me all my wishes. It's time I grant you yours." He shifts on his elbows and sits himself up, "it's time you meet my mount and-"

"We don't have to," you cut him off, placing your hands on his shoulders.

Aegon examines your expression. He listens to you sigh.

"I'd like to keep you-- wish to keep you..." you correct yourself, pushing him back down.

He looks up at you, feeling your hands rake up his body.

"...just like this," you finish, eyes solemn, lips curving into a soft smile, "I've not felt a thing like this in my entire life."

Aegon takes one of your hands and places it on his cheek. He whispers it like a secret, "neither have I."

You lean down to kiss him, "I wish to keep like this."

He kisses you back.

He is blindsided by how his wishes came to bite him in the arse. It's all crashing down on him. Suddenly, he wishes he didn't actually do any of those things with you.

He most of all wishes he heard you wrong. He wishes you didn't repeat yourself when he stupidly said, "what?"

"I'm with child," you speak slower, less excited yet excited still.

Aegon wishes you didn't look so excited. He wishes he fucking pulled out, but gods, you felt so good-- you feel so good around him, he felt so good inside you.

He realized the next moment, it couldn't be helped. You were going to have to bear his spawn at one point or another. He wishes you didn't have to. He wishes his seed wouldn't take completely. He wishes you don't take it to term. He wishes he won't have to be a father. Fuck.

He realizes he's been too quiet and you were waiting for a response from him. Your face began to twist. Your smile fades.

"Congratulations," Aegon musters. He feels like he swallowed a metal ball. His eyes wander to your belly. He mumbles mindlessly, "I suppose."

Your face falls.

Aegon looks back at you. Your face is devoid of any semblance of the glow it normally holds. You look sick. You feel sick.

"I see," you say, unintentionally allowing him to hear your voice break. Aegon's brows furrow at it.

He shakes his head, "you will be a great mother," he chuckles dryly, "you mother me so well."

You offer him a smile, but Aegon can see how disconnected it was from your eyes. You say, "thank you."

When you leave him after this, he wishes he hadn't said a word. He wishes he just left it at congratulations. He wishes he just pretended like the idea of having a child didn't mortify him and make him sick to his stomach. He wishes he wasn't so ill-suited to be a father.

Ageon no longer wishes for anything after this.

He no longer wishes to hold you, though he so badly wanted to. He no longer wishes to hear you sing, nor does he wish to hear you read to him. He no longer wishes to be around you, though his body urged him to follow you around like the lost soul he was.

He wishes he didn't wonder what you were doing at every moment of the day. He so desperately wishes to rid you from his mind completely that he drowns himself in his first and only true love, alcohol.

Fuck. He wishes he hadn't taken this route to his room. He wishes you hadn't taken this route to wherever it was you were going. He wishes he just turned around and fled like the coward he was, because then, you wouldn't have spoken to him.

"Husband," you curtsey.

Aegon stiffens and uncomfortably avoids your eyes.

You catch it, feeling your chest tighten painfully. You clear your throat and take a deep breath to steel yourself, "I thought you should know that I will be travelling."

Aegon looks at you.

"I have a ship ready and I'll be visiting the Grey Cliffs. Do not wait up for me."

His face falls. He opens his mouth, but doesn't have an opportunity to speak.

"I thought you should also know that I am no longer carrying."

His eyes widen.

"It's not an uncommon occurrence the first few months," you say simply, "I suppose the gods do not wish me to be a mother."

Aegon feels like a murderer. He wants to say something, to apologize, to comfort you, but he can't. He's too taken aback to do a single thing.

He turns into stone when you take his hand. You step forward and place his palm on your chest. Your heart is slow as you speak, "you won't have to worry about anything anymore, Aegon. Today is the end of our shared torment."

Aegon's stomach drops when you kiss him.

His eyes are glassy. You pull away before he can kiss you back. He wants to hold you, but the sadness in your eyes reminds him he is undeserving. You kiss his wrist, "goodbye, my love. I love you."

His heart thumps as you walk away.

Aegon is manic. He basks in the mess he's made and feels crushed by it all.

He finally acts after wasting so much time feeling sorry for himself. You were long out of his sight by the time he started running. This is why he headed to the dragonpit and got on Sunfyre.

"WAIT!" he screams, just as your boat leaves the dock.

Aegon watches as you run to the edge of the boat. He lands Sunfyre and runs as far to the edge of the docks as he could.

"Aegon-"

"Take me with you!" he pleads, "let me be the one to take you to where you must go!"

You look back. The ship stops. The crew brings down a boat and on it, you are rowed back to the dock.

He crushes you in his arms once he reaches you.

"Aegon," you mutter.

"Forgive me," he shudders, "I... I wish you let me do this for you."

"Aegon," your voice croaks. You push him away, "go home."

His heart drops. He breaks away to look at you. Your words feel like a stab at his thorax. It was presumptuous of him to assume you'd want him back, but it doesn't kill him inside any less.

"I've come to realize this is a trip I must go on myself," you mutter.

He shakes his head, "no. Please." He motions an arm out to his mount, "one wish. That I grant you one wish before you throw me away forever is... is--"

Your throat constricts at his words. Tears rush down your eyes, "I'm not throwing you away--"

"Please," he squeezes both your hands in his, "please, let me do this for you."

The flight to the Grey Cliffs is quiet, save for the whoosh of winds and the roars of the golden dragon you both rode. You always imagined it would be freeing, but only now did you know how it freeing it truly felt to fly. You knew now you'd forever chase the euphoric crush of air against your skin.

Aegon, who sat behind you, looks at your form as you outstretch your arms and close your eyes. Your body presses against him, and in this moment, he is unable to hold back from wrapping an arm around you and sparing a kiss on your shoulder. You are snapped out of your trance because of this.

The Grey Cliffs are dark and gloomy when you get there. Aegon realizes when you land that it got its name from the weather conditions.

He helps you down and surveys the area, trying to make out which part of this drear land was so special to you that you wished to go here.

You catch his expression and squeeze his hand.

Aegon turns to you.

You give a solemn look, "the view is better on the edge."

Aegon strokes Sunfyre's cheek, commanding him to stay before you lead him by the hand to the edge of the cliff. Once you get there, he feels queasy looking down at the crashing waves far beneath him. In contrast, you seem comforted by the view. His brows furrow at the deep breath you give out.

When you look at him, his stomach feels it, the comfort you felt upon witnessing the violent waves. Whatever it was that compelled you to this place was the same force that compelled him to kiss you.

He reaches out for your cheek, his other hand coming to you back. He pulls you close. His heart twinges when you stop him from kissing you.

"Aegon-"

"Forgive me," he cuts, "I beg."

You gawk at him. He brushes your hair which was wildly flinging with the breeze.

"You must know by now that I am craven. I lack the spine and the wit to be of any use to you."

Your eyes water. Your lips quiver.

"I would be a hopeless father, worse than my own, no doubt."

"Aegon," you babble as sobs overtake you.

Aegon, himself, succumbs to tears. He wipes the ones streaming down your face before taking a breath, "but you made me feel a love I do not deserve."

You swallow a heavy lump in your throat.

"I love you," he confesses.

"No," you pierce his heart. You shake your head in disagreement, "Aegon, this is a mistake. Bringing you here was a mistake."

"No!" he blurts louder than needed, "this was a choice," he looks down, "I choose to rip my insides out for you to devour. I am miserable, much more in the heat of your hate, but most of all without you."

His downturned eyes land on your face when you grab his wrists. You croak, "I do not hate you."

Aegon is not relieved by the admission, but he chooses to believe you mean it. He smiles softly, "good."

"But I do hate this life I live."

He clenches his jaw. Of course you do.

"You saved me," you press a hand on his cheek, taking your turn to wipe his tears, "even if for a moment."

"I made you miserable."

You chuckle. The sound makes his heart skip.

"You filled my life with purpose," you smile softly, "even when you did not mean to."

Aegon knits his brows deeply and takes your hands. He brings them to his lips and kisses them.

"But accidents happen. You must remember that accidents happen all the time."

Aegon shakes his head, "this is not an accident. Believe me when I say I chose to do this, I- ... I choose to love you."

You sob and turn to your feet.

"Please... believe me."

You sniffle and nod, slowly looking up at him, "I believe you."

You lunge into his arms and seal him into a tight hug. He hugs you back like it's his only way of surviving.

A crack of thunder startles Sunfyre. He becomes restless and steals away Aegon's attention, panicked that he might flee and leave them here.

He pulls away and takes a step towards her. He holds your hand, urging you to follow, "we should go before it rains."

You hug him from behind and press your face into his back, "thank you for taking me on Sunfyre."

"It was a long time coming."

"I've always wondered what it would be like to fly. And now that I know how peaceful it is, I'm ready to fly one last time."

He turns to you as you slowly come to his side. You hold his hand. He looks at you as you turn to Sunfyre. He promises, "I will take you on dragonback as many times as you wish."

You smile, but your eyes are fixed on his dragon. You release his hand and wrap your arms around yourself, "he is beautiful. You must never tire looking at him."

Aegon gazes upon Sunfyre. He takes in his golden scales and has newfound appreciation.

You take a step back.

"He is. To be honest, it's been long since I, myself, took him out of the pit. He must enjoy this day as much as you do."

"Aegon, you must understand that what I have to say has nothing to do with you, and everything to do with me."

Aegon turns to you. He watches you tighten your arms around yourself. You must be cold. He rubs your shoulders.

You shake your head and turn him back to his dragon, "look at Sunfyre."

He knits his brows, "I'm looking."

"For so long," you release him, "I've wanted to fly free, to find my peace here in the cliffs. This was before I even met you." You point at the golden dragon, "I choose to love you too, but accidents happen, like if Sunfyre were to fly away, and you were to be left here alone."

Aegon stares at his ride for a moment as you lower your hand. He tries to makes sense of your words, but he cannot for the life of him understand.

He sighs, "what accident? Why do you keep-"

Aegon is flooded by confusion when he turns and finds you nowhere behind him. A split second later, he lets a horrified scream and the fear that claws into him makes his knees buckle. He crumbles to the ground and crawls to the edge of the cliff. He screams so loud that Sunfyre roars back and comes towards him.

Aegon watches as the red seafoam bubbles at the foot of the cliff. He watches as the crimson waves slowly slosh back into its original tint.

Rain begins to pour, and his tears taste no longer salty.

Was this the flying you ached for? Was this the relief you sought?

When he returns to King's Landing, dripping wet, he breaks down in front of his mother, weeping as he clutched his skirts.

Queen Alicent is obviously disturbed. She instructs her servants to get his son a change of clothes and some towels. She looks down at him, "what's happened? What's wrong, Aegon?"

"An accident-" he barely manages to say, "there's been an accident."

"An accident?!"

Aegon's mind goes blank. A bitter taste

You don't know what you have until it's gone.

#aegon fanfic #aegon targaryen fanfic #aegon targaryen #aegon smut #aegon angst #aegon targaryen angst #house of the dragon angst #house of the dragon fanfic #house of the dragon #aegon x reader #aegon x you #aegon ii targaryen #aegon ii targaryen fanfic #aegon targaryen x you #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon ii targaryen x reader #aegon ii targaryen x you #aegon ii fanfic

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harknessxo · 2 months ago

Note

Prompt to a request (if it is okay) 🫶

Agatha and innocent fem reader+ corruption kink

Reader hasn't even had her first kiss and Agatha teaches her how to tongue kiss and so much more(fingering and magic strap)

Breeding kink as well plsss

Neighborly Desires

Paring: Dark!Agatha Harkness x reader

Summary: You had recently moved into Westview. Your mother had passed away and you wanted a new start in a small town. Agatha was your neighbor there and she didn’t waste any time welcoming you into town. She thought you were so adorable and so innocent…she wanted to be the one to corrupt you. She needed to be patient, careful, and precise.

Warnings; dubcon, corruption kink, enchanted strap, fingering, mommy kink, cunnilingus (r receiving), breeding kink, dummification.

Word Count: 3.7k

A/n: This request has been sitting in my inbox since DECEMBER of 2023…I am extremely sorry but I hope this makes up for it. 😅

You had recently moved into Westview. Your mother had passed away and you wanted a new start in a small town. Agatha was your neighbor there and she didn’t waste any time welcoming you into town. She watched you struggle to carry the boxes back and forth from your car to your living room and grinned. You were wearing a cute little pink dress and she couldn’t help herself.

“Hiya hon! Do you need some help with that?” You heard a friendly voice from behind you. You swiftly turned around to look at the woman, almost dropping the boxes.

“Careful, there, sweetheart. We don’t want you hurting yourself,” Agatha chuckled, taking a box from you.

“T-thank you,” you blushed, slightly embarrassed at your clumsiness. She helped you put the boxes inside your house before turning towards you.

“I’m Agatha, your neighbor to the right,” she smiled at you kindly, stretching her hand out for you to shake.

“I’m Y/n,” you shook her hand, longer than intended, “And thank you so much for helping me with those boxes. Would you like something to drink?” You offered not knowing what else to say, fidgeting with your hands.

“Y/n...” she tasted your name on her tongue, “What a beautiful name for a beautiful girl. Tea would be wonderful.”

“Alright, just give me a second until I find my cups,” you chuckled nervously and disappeared into your kitchen. Agatha walked to your living room and sat down. She thought you were so adorable and so innocent…she wanted to be the one to corrupt you. She waited patiently for you to finish up, thinking of all the things she had planned for you.

“I’m so sorry! I completely forgot where I packed everything. I would forget my head if it wasn’t attached to my body,” you joked as you handed Agatha her tea.

“Thank you, hon,” she took a sip, “So, what brings you here?” She asked, curious on how a girl like you ended up in this shitty town.

“Well this was my mother’s home and she passed away a few weeks ago so decided to move in.”

“I’m so sorry for your loss,” she held your hand, gently running her thumb over your knuckles.

“No, it’s okay. We weren’t really close and I wanted a new start.”

“Well if you ever need anything don’t hesitate to knock on my door, alright sweetheart?”

“Y-yeah,” you blushed at the nickname and she grinned. You two talked for a little while longer before you bid her goodbye and continued unpacking your things. Agatha walked home with a smirk on her face. You were too cute for your own good and she knew she was going to have fun with you. The fact that you were alone in this town was a bonus.

Days passed, and her visits became more frequent, her presence becoming very comforting. Somehow many things started to break inside your home and Agatha always seemed to be there to help. She was slowly gaining your trust and finding how truly innocent you were. You hadn’t even had a boyfriend before, how adorable could you possibly get? Yet beneath her warmth and sweet reassurances, a cunning plan took shape. She needed to be patient, careful, and precise.

Agatha now stood next to you in your kitchen. She had offered to help you cook dinner with the excuse she didn’t want you to eat all alone. She made sure to put her hands on your waist and press her front against your ass every time she walked past you. You, of course, didn’t think anything of this, too oblivious to think badly of Agatha’s touchy behavior. She couldn’t help but tease you a little more. She leaned in close to your ear and whispered.

“You’re doing great, sweetheart.”

“T-thank you…” you tried to hide your flushed face and she chuckled.

“Why don’t you go clean up while I make the table?” Agatha said as you were finishing up.

“Okay!” You obediently took your apron off and started walking to your bathroom to clean up.

“Good girl~,” she said under her breath but just loud enough for you to hear, making you flush once again.

You quickly went in, washed your hands, and fixed your hair. While you were in the bathroom, Agatha debated whether or not she should put a spell on you so she could take you right then and there but she wanted to take her time with you. By the time you walked out, Agatha had the table set up beautifully. There were candles and rose petals on the table. It was almost like a romantic dinner. How did she do this so quickly?

“Agatha, this looks beautiful.”

“Just like you,” she complimented you, booping your nose.

“Thank you, Aggie.” You recently started calling her that. Agatha didn’t seem to mind the newfound nickname, in fact, she loved it.

“Of course, darling.” She pulled out your chair and gestured for you to sit down. She was such a gentleman. You were completely oblivious to her true intentions.

You both sat down and ate dinner. Agatha asked you all kinds of questions, she wanted to know every little detail about you. What made you blush, what made you upset, what made you cry, what made you break. You answered all the questions, not thinking anything of it, and asked some yourself. You liked Agatha, more than you actually thought. God, you were so naive.

Eventually, you both finished eating dinner and she helped you clean the dishes. She always found a way to touch you even if it was just touching your hand when you passed her a plate or spoon to dry off. She saw the slight tint on your cheeks when she did.

"We should do this more often, don’t you think?” Agatha asked, her voice carrying a hint of something you couldn't quite place.

“I would love that!” You said happily. Agatha smiled, her eyes seemed to glint in the candlelight. After you were done doing the dishes Agatha started gathering her things to go home but you stopped her.

“Can you stay and watch a movie with me?” You asked, not wanting for her to leave yet.

“I think it’s a bit late, sweetheart,” she said, wanting to hear you beg for her to stay.

“Pretty please?” You grabbed her hands in your, caressing her knuckles with your thumbs, giving her your best puppy eyes. Agatha pretended to think about it, a sly smirk on her face. You were just so cute, how could she possibly say no to you?

“…fine, I’ll stay, but not too late. You need to go to bed soon, deal?”

“Deal!” you said, excitedly, pulling her towards your couch. She sat back while you picked the movie, settling for Tangled, it was your favorite comfort movie. After you started playing the movie, you sat next to Agatha, subconsciously snuggling to her side. She smiled as you snuggled against her. Her arm wrapped around your shoulders, pulling you closer to her.

“Is this your favorite movie, sweetheart?”

“Mhm!”

“Who’s your favorite character?” Agatha asked, combing through your hair.

“Mother Gothel,” you mumbled.

“Mother Gothel, huh?” she raised an eyebrow, “Why her? She’s the villain of the story.”

“I don’t know…” you frowned slightly, “I just like her character I guess…”

“Hmm. If I were Mother Gothel and I kidnapped you into my tower, what would you do?” she half joked.

“I would never leave.” You smiled at her. Agatha was very pleased with your answer and pulled you closer.

The movie went on and by the time it was over, you were fast asleep on Agatha’s shoulder. You looked so peaceful, so vulnerable, Agatha wanted to take you right then and there but no, she had to hold herself back. She picked you up and carried you to your bedroom, gently placing you on your bed. She tucked you in before leaning into your ear.

“You will be mine.” Was all she said before leaving to go back home.

—

Over the passing weeks you had gotten attached to Agatha, almost obsessively. Maybe it was her caring nature or your mommy issues coming to bite you in the ass. You were sitting on your couch with Agatha once again. She had picked the movie this time, telling you it was a surprise. She started playing the movie and you soon found out it was titled Carol. You had never seen it before but curled into Agatha’s side, wanting to feel her warmth.

The movie was good and all until the motel scene. Watching as Carol and Therese started kissing and touching each other made your core feel warm. Agatha noticed the way you were trying to hide your flushed face and how your thighs clenched together and smirked. She had you exactly where she wanted you.

“What’s wrong, baby? Are you cold?” she asked, pulling you closer, placing her hand on your thigh.

“I’m f-fine,” you stuttered out, unconvincing. She chuckled and gently started rubbing your thigh. Her touch was so warm and comforting, it made you want to melt against her. She moved even closer, cupping your face to make you look at her.

“You’re trembling, sweetheart. Are you sure you’re fine?”

“I-” you realized how close your faces were, noses almost touching, “Aggie-” she finally crashed her lips against yours. You closed your eyes, savoring how soft her lips were until you pulled away, looking away from her. She smirked at your reaction, enjoying how flustered you were. She gently turned your face to look at her again.

“Sweetheart? Did you not like it?”

“No! I loved it, it's just that…I don’t know how to…” you trailed off, embarrassed.

“Aw, such a dumb baby,” she cupped your face, “You’re so naive and innocent you don’t even know how to kiss. How cute.”

“Wha-” She pressed her finger against your lips, shutting you up and brushed a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Just follow my lead. I promise you will love it,” you hesitantly nodded and she kissed you again, this time moving her lips against yours and you did the same. She poked her tongue between your lips and you opened your mouth to let her in. You did your best, following her lead and moving your lips and tongue like her. Agatha moved her hand to squeeze your thighs, sliding them closer to your soaked core making you squeal and pull away.

“Agatha I don’t think-”

“Shh,” she pulled you into her lap, your thighs on either side of her legs, “Let mommy do the thinking.” You frowned slightly at her comment but then she pressed her fingers against the wet patch on your panties, making you lose any train of thought you had.

“You’re so wet baby,” she started rubbing her fingers over your clothed clit, “Is that all for me?” she asked, her other hand gripping onto your hip.

“Hmph…” You unconsciously moved your hips against her hand.

“Use your words, sweetheart,” she commanded, pressing harder against your clit, the pressure sending a wave of pleasure through your body.

“Yes…”

“That’s a good girl.” She growled, moving your panties aside to touch your bare core directly, her fingers sliding between your folds. You gasped at the new feeling. You had never felt like this before. You’ve never touched yourself let alone have sex.

“So innocent…” She said before shoving two fingers inside of you. You were so tight, so warm, so wet for her. She pumped her fingers in and out of you, rubbing your clit with her thumb.

“Such a good girl for mommy.” She praised you.

“Aggie-” you clung to her, wrapping your arms around her neck while she worked on fucking your with her fingers. Her other hand started to sneak under the thin dress you were wearing, finding that you weren’t wearing a bra at all.

“Not wearing a bra?” she pinched your nipple, “What a naughty girl…” You whimpered in response, making her chuckle. She pinched your nipple again, she started biting your neck leaving a trail of marks on your skin. She added a third finger, her thumb circling your clit faster than before and then suddenly stopped.

“Why’d you stop?” You whined desperately.

“Such a needy girl,” she picked you up like you weighed nothing and carried you upstairs like she had done before. She took you to your bedroom and sat you on your bed.

She took your dress off, throwing it elsewhere and started undressing as well. She took off her pants to reveal the enchanted strap she had been wearing. She smirked as she looked at your surprised expression.

“Like what you see, darling?” She pushed you back against the bed and climbed on top of you, your legs wrapped around her waist.

“W-wait-” You started to hesitate.

“Shh, it’s okay baby.” She gently caressed your cheek, looking into your eyes with a soft expression. Her strap was pressing against your core and she started rubbing it against you.

“It’s going to feel so good,” she pressed the tip of the strap into your entrance, “I’ll be gentle, okay?” You swallowed the lump in your throat and nodded your head.

She slowly pushed the strap further inside your warm wall, watching as your mouth made an ‘o’ shape and your brows frowned in pleasure. She let out a low groan as the strap went further inside, your pussy greedily clenching around it. Her eyes roaming over your body, watching every little expression you made.

“That’s it, baby… you’re doing so good. You’re taking me so well,” she said most out of breath.

“M-mommy-” She almost lost the little control she had left when you finally called her mommy, feeling a rush of pleasure run through her body. God she was going to finally make you hers. Agatha’s grip on your hips tightened as she began to thrust into you, slowly at first, making sure you were comfortable and enjoying it.

“Oh, you like calling me that don’t you, darling?” She grunted.

“Mhm!” You nodded your head. She smirked and began to pick up the pace, thrusting faster and harder into you. She leaned down and began kissing your neck, leaving more marks as she went. Her hands roamed over your body, squeezing and pinching every inch of your skin.

“Such a good girl, taking mommy’s strap so well…you’re mine.” Agatha finally said out loud. She continued to ramble on, as she thrusted into you. She grabbed your hands and pinned them above your head, making you completely helpless beneath her.

“No one else gets to see you like this. You’re all mine. Fuck- I’m never letting you go.” Your brain had turned to mush and all you could do was chant a bunch of yeses as she snapped her hips at a brutal pace. Agatha loved how incoherent you were becoming. She loved how easily she could reduce you to a moaning mess. She began to talk to you in a soft voice, praising and mocking you at the same time.

“Look at you. Such a babbling mess. Mommy’s little dumb slut. Isn’t that right? All mine?”

“Yes! All yours!” Your voice trembled as you got closer to the edge, your orgasm building up.

“That’s right,” she moved one of her hands from your wrists to your clit, rubbing it in fast circles, “You’re all mine, and you’re going to cum for me, aren’t you?”

You tried to reply but instead let out a loud sob, tears running down your rosy cheeks from the pleasure you felt. Agatha leaned down and kissed your tears away, her movements becoming more frantic as she chased your release.

“Come on, baby. Cum for me. Be a good little slut and cum for mommy.”

Your eyes rolled back and your mouth opened in a silent scream as you fell apart. Agatha moaned as she felt your walls clench around her, sloppily helping you ride out your orgasm as best as she could as she held onto your trembling legs.

“Fuck- I’m going to fill you up nice and full of my cum, baby, you’re going to be all mine.” She came, moaning loudly as she spilled her hot seed deep inside you. She gave you a few more thrust before pulling out, making you whine in protest at how empty you felt. Her hand on your wrists loosened and she looked down at you with a satisfied smirk on her face.

“There we go…Good girl. You did so well for me, baby. So perfect,” she started kissing down your body, “Now mommy’s gonna clean you up…” She finally let go of your wrist, putting your legs together and bending them against your chest, your pussy now completely exposed to her. She used her fingers to spread your pussy lips apart. She watched as her cum leaked out of you and almost moaned at the sight.

“God look at how messy you are…” she leaned down and ran her tongue over your entrance, licking up her own cum. She lapped at your sensitive core, moaning at the taste of the two of you combined, “You taste so good, baby.”

You squirmed against her mouth, your pussy already too sensitive. Agatha chuckled and wrapped her arms around your thighs, holding you in place as she continued to eat you out. She was going to make sure you were completely clean.

“Stay still, honey. Mommy’s not done with you yet.”

“But it h-hurts-” She looked up at you with a mocking expression.

“I know it hurts, baby. That’s why you’re going to be a good girl and take it, isn’t that right?”

She nipped at your inner thigh before diving back down between your legs. You reluctantly nodded, letting her lap over your puffy folds and sucking on your clit. She moaned against your clit, enjoying the taste of your juices. She swirled her tongue around it before sucking on it again, pulling it into her mouth and teasing it with her teeth.

“Mmmm…there we go,” she kissed your clit before letting go of your legs, “All done.” She pulled you into a kiss, shoving her tongue in your mouth, making you taste yourself. You whined against her lips, finding it hard to keep up. She just chuckled and pulled away.

“Come on, baby. Let’s give you a bath.” She started picking and you absolutely melted into her. She set you on the bathroom counter while she filled the bath. You simply watched her as she put bubbles in the bath and made sure the water was at a good temperature.

Once the bath was ready, she gently picked you up and lowered you into the warm water. She sat behind you, letting you lean against her chest. She began washing your body with a soft washcloth, making sure to be extra gentle with you. When she got close to your core, you stiffened slightly, still sensitive from your orgasm and her tongue. She chuckled softly, noticing your reaction.

“Aww, is my baby still sensitive?” She pressed her fingers against your clit. You tried to swat her hand away and clench your thighs together but she took your wrist and held them against your chest while using her own legs to keep yours open.

“Just give mommy one more orgasm and we’ll be all done, okay?” She said, already playing with your clit, rubbing it in small circles.

“It hurts mommy…” you mumbled, hiding your face in the crook of her neck.

“I know it hurts, baby. But you can do it,” she continued to tease your clit, rubbing it faster and harder, “Don’t you want to make mommy proud?”

“Y-yes-” she smiled and rewarded you by letting go of your wrist and wrapping her free hand around your throat, gently squeezing it.

“That’s my good girl. Keep being good for mommy and I’ll make you feel so good, okay?” The pain finally turned into pleasure and your body pathetically melted to Agatha’s once again. Her grip on your throat tightened slightly making you light headed.

“You’re so cute when you’re like this, darling. All weak and pathetic. You’re mine to use however I want, aren’t you?” She slipped two fingers inside you, making you mewl like a dog in heat.

“I’m close!” You moaned as she nibbled on your earlobe before whispering in your ear.

“Good. Come for me, baby. Come for mommy one more time and I’ll let you rest.” Your hands clung to the hand that was still tightly wrapped around your neck for dear life as you came again. Agatha grinned, loving the way you clung to her like she was the only thing keeping you alive. How pathetic and adorable.

She kept her hand around your neck, slowly applying pressure as you came. Once you came down from your high, she loosened her grip and rubbed your neck softly, admiring the redness she left behind.

“That’s my girl. I’m so proud of you,” she soothed you, combing through your wet hair until the water in the bath became cold. She got out first, getting a towel for you before helping you out.

She gently wrapped you the towel, setting you down on the counter once again to brush the knots out of your hair. Once she was done, she wrapped the towel around you tighter and lifted you, cradling you in her arms like a small child.

“It’s time to go to sleep, my sweet girl. You must be so tired huh?” she sat you down in the bed while she went to get you some pj. She made sure to be quick noticing how droopy your eyes looked. She came back a moment later with some soft, silk pajamas for you. She gently dressed you in them before tucking you into bed, pulling the blankets up to your chin.

“Comfortable, Angel?”

“Aren’t you going to stay, Aggie?” Agatha smiled softly, brushing a strand of hair out of your face.

“Of course, I am, darling. I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

“You promise?” She leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“I promise, sweetheart. You’re mine, I’m not going anywhere. Now get some sleep.”

#fanfic #smut #x reader #agatha harkness x reader #agatha harkness #agatha x reader #agatha all along #dark!agatha

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fernsnailz · 9 months ago

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my comic from the @neverturnbackzine! truly one of my favorite zines i've been a part of :]

some extra insight/fun facts about the process of this piece below the cut 💥💥💥

posting pieces from collaborative zines is always something i struggle with because i look back and think of how i would do things differently now, but i learned a lot working on this comic and even developed some style techniques that i still use!

Fun Fact 1: the panel where shadow Fucking Disintegrates That Guy is technically traditionally drawn! i couldn't get it right in clip studio so i just started frantically scribbling in a notebook and got it eventually lol

highly highly recommend scribbling stuff out in a notebook, scanning it on your phone, and then dropping it into a canvas to edit later if you ever have trouble sketching something.

Fun Fact 2: a lot of the overlay/background effects were made in Kid Pix Deluxe 3D. i created a whole collection of various textures/abstract effects for this comic that i've been using in my art since last year. you can even find them scattered through my team dark zine lol. here's a few of them:

similarly, the background at the bottom of page 2 is actually a warped photo i took of a bunch of headphone wires. this is the original:

Fun Fact 3: i made this comic during a very busy and wild period of time last year so this is what the final panel looked like for a while before i fully finished it LMAO

ok yay thanks for reading bye

#ah yes the comic that i kept showing to my friends for notes and asking “hey guys is this even REMOTELY comprehensible”#very fun to work on! learned a lot :] for context i finished this in july of last year #fern's sketchbook #eyestrain #sth #shadow the hedgehog

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okaylikeschaewon · 3 months ago

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Thirsty

~7k words, Roommates series, Eunbi, smut

“Yo, far side of the bar, they’re still here.”

“I told you, tonight I’m chilling,” you replied, sipping your drink casually. “Take Mint with you.”

“Come on, there’s three of them and I know the one in the middle is your type.”

“Let it go, Jae,” Mint laughed, coming to your defense. “It was hard enough to convince him to come out tonight. There’ll be other girls.”

“Yeah, but I want that girl,” Jae complained. “And this handsome fucker knows the success rate of a three versus three is way higher than a two versus three.”

“I can’t lie, the friend in that little black dress is pretty fucking hot,” Mint added. “But you’d probably fumble this one anyway, you’ve been struggling tonight.”

“Man, I didn’t give a shit about that last girl, she wasn’t even my type,” Jae waved his hand in front of his face. “This girl, though? No chance of fumbling this one. I need to talk to her.”

“What, we’re not good enough for you anymore?” Mint picked up his own drink and took a sip. “You know, you’re allowed to go out and just chill with the boys from time to time.”

“That’s what I’m saying,” you agreed with your friend. “We rarely go out and don’t talk to girls.”

“Yeah it’s rare because your ass hates fun now,” Jae retaliated. “Gotta get you to a knitting club or some shit with all that ‘I refuse to find a girl in a club’ shit you’ve been spewing lately.”

“It’s true, I know I’m not finding the one in a club, especially not one like this,” you laughed while waving Yujin, one of the bartenders, over to get you another drink.

“He has a point,” Mint agreed. “It literally hasn’t worked out for any of us, and Jae you definitely have the most experience in that regard.”

“Also look, your three-man just turned into a two-man,” you commented while accepting your drink from Yujin and handing her a tip. “My girl just ditched them.”

“Perfect, come on MInty, let’s go,” Jae laughed. “You said you liked that little dress.”

“Great,” Mint sighed. “Let’s go add another failed two-man to the history books.”

The three of you laughed together before all of you picked up your drinks.

“Cheers boys,” you held your glass up, laughing as the three of you hit your glasses together. You took a hefty sip of your own while your friends finished theirs. “If the third girl comes back, I’ll step in. Good luck.”

“We don’t need luck where we’re going,” Jae puffed his chest out in confidence.

The two of them walked over to the girls while you watched, leaning against the bar. They actually seemed quite receptive, both of them were laughing at something Jae said. Within minutes, Mint had his arm around the girl he was interested in, and she could not stop staring at him. Jae’s girl was a bit more reserved, but she wouldn’t stop laughing at whatever he was saying.

“I feel like I should warn you,” Yujin leaned over towards you. “That girl your buddy is talking to is roommates with the girl he was talking to last weekend.”

“Oh shit, for real?” you burst out laughing. “Well, I guess he’s in for a surprise if it works out. What about the girl in the dress?”

“Never seen her before, but she seems incredibly sweet,” she answered. “What about you, couldn’t find a girl tonight?”

“What do you mean, I’m talking to one right now.”

“That doesn’t count, it’s my job to talk to customers.”

“Is it also your job to give your number to customers?” you smirked.

“You might as well delete it with how often you text me,” Yujin replied without missing a beat. “And if you say that any louder I will get security to carry you out of here.”

“Don’t worry, I was about to get going anyway. Could you close my tab?”

“Wow, calling it early tonight?” Yujin asked while tapping away at the screen.

“Yeah, I’m exhausted,” you answered. “Plus, it looks like those two are going to be pretty busy,” you motioned towards your friends. Jae had his tongue down his girl and Mint looked like he was absolutely in love with his.

“I guess you’ll have to get a drink with me another night,” Yujin held your card out for you.

“I still gotta finish this one,” you motioned towards your half emptied drink. “You could join me.”

“We agreed that when we eventually get a drink together I’d have to be on that side of the bar,” Yujin replied.

“You’re right, in that case,” you picked your drink up and downed it. “I’ll see you soon.”

“Have a good night,” Yujin leaned over the bar to give you a quick hug and kissed you on the cheek.

Before leaving, you quickly stopped by the bathroom. As soon as you walked in, a pair of girls left one of the stalls together, their clothes making the most feeble attempt at covering their bodies. The first girl was about to walk right past you, but she stopped when her friend paused.

“Why are you in the girl’s bathroom?” she asked you, clearly a little bit tipsy, or perhaps a lot tipsy.

“This is not the girl’s bathroom.”

“It’s not?” she gasped, eyes wide, looking around.

“No, it’s not,” you chuckled, carefully with two fingers adjusting her strap so that it was on her shoulder properly. “So, I guess I should be asking you, why are you in the men’s bathroom?”

“I was just letting my friend eat my ass,” the girl hiccuped.

“Wony, what the fuck,” her friend came back and grabbed her arm.

“Let go of me!” she squealed, yanking her arm away. “I found the love of my life.”

“Well, the love of your life needs to go piss,” you chuckled, turning to walk away from her.

The girl, Wony, stuck her arm out to stop you. Her friend looked so defeated, standing there and watching the events unfold.

“Let me hold it for you,” Wony mumbled as she fell forward.

“Whoa there,” you caught her in your arms, holding her up and stopping her from hitting her head against the wall. “How about we take a seat for a second.”

“I want to sit… on your cock…”

“Alright! That’s enough!” her friend came and grabbed Wony, dragging her away from you. “It’s time to leave.”

“Do you need help?” you asked her friend as she started dragging Wony away.

“It’s- fine-” she gasped as Wony broke free of her grip again and ran into you.

“You’re so fucking pretty,” she moaned as she latched onto you again. “Please eat my ass.”

If only this girl wasn’t borderline blacked out right now, because she was fucking gorgeous. It was a shame, but you weren’t going to even consider accepting her advances in this state, that wasn’t your cup of tea. You very carefully, while watching your hand placement, tried to get her off you, but it was futile - you decided just to carry her out of the bathroom while her friend watched.

“Here, sit down for a second,” you placed her gently onto one of the empty couches where her friend sat down next to her. “I’ll be right back.”

“Don’t leave me,” she whined, reaching out for you with both hands.

“I’m coming right back,” you grabbed both of her hands in yours and shook them playfully. “I promise.”

You couldn’t deny it, the way she nodded was quite endearing. She was still incredibly pretty, but now she was also absurdly cute. Once you felt confident that the girl, Wony, wouldn't fall over, you walked over to the bar.

“She’s cute,” Yujin teased, handing you the glass of water she already knew you came to get.

“She’s drunk,” you shook your head before thanking Yujin and heading back to the girls. Once you arrived back at the table, you handed Wony’s friend the glass of water since Wony was barely conscious at this point and holding a glass would not be in her best interest.

“I appreciate the help,” the friend said, accepting the glass and placing it on the table before reaching her hand out to you. “My name’s Gaeul, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you,” you replied after giving her your name and shaking her hand. “And don’t worry about it, just make sure she drinks some water.”

“Also, what she said about me earlier, that was just a joke,” Gaeul added sheepishly.

“Even if it wasn’t, I’m not judging. That’s your business, not mine,” you replied casually. “Are you guys going to be alright getting home?”

“Yeah, we should be fine, some of our friends are by the bar, we came together,” Gaeul answered kindly. “Thank you again!”

“No problem, have a lovely night, and make sure she drinks that at some point,” you replied warmly before getting up.

Just as you were about to go back to the bathroom, a girl standing by the bar caught your attention. There were pretty girls everywhere, but this one stood out well above the rest. She was perfect - absolutely flawless. Everything from her posture to her expression, the way her outfit accentuated her beautifully fit body, showcasing her phenomenal rack, you just knew you had to talk to this one. You saw her separate from the group briefly as she was putting her empty drink back on the bar and decided that you needed to take the opportunity.

“I’m sorry to bother you, but you look like someone who I need to buy a drink,” you opened with as you leaned against the bar next to the girl.

“Oh do I?” she smirked, turning to face you properly.

It was incredibly difficult to keep your eyes up; She probably had the best tits you had seen in your entire life. Luckily for you, her face was also unbelievably pretty - this girl was unreal - so it wasn’t much of a punishment to keep eye contact with her. This girl really had it all.

“Yes, you absolutely do,” you waved Yujin over and held up two fingers, pointing to the glass the girl had placed on the bar and mouthing ‘please’.

Yujin nodded with a smile and began making the drinks.

“I appreciate the gesture,” the girl smiled while reaching into her purse. “But I think I’m the one who owes you the drink. I saw you taking care of Wonyoung over there.”

“Oh, you know her?”

“We go to school together,” she explained. “She’s actually my roommate.”

“You guys go to-” you began while gesturing towards the direction of your school when Eunbi interrupted you.

“Yup, we heard all the students love this club. It’s our first time here.”

“Wait, you’re not a freshman are you?”

“We’re both juniors, but neither of us lived in dorms before,” she laughed. “You?”

“Senior, been in dorms since the start,” you answered.

“I guess that means you come here often?”

“You could say that. Also, I didn’t help your roommate to get a free drink out of it,” you reached forward and blocked her from taking her card out of her purse. “How about you let me get these since I’m the one who offered, and you can thank me by telling me your name.”

The girl smiled at you, slumping her shoulders in defeat, accepting that you weren’t going to allow her to buy. She took the glass from your hand with a little nod of thanks while you began reaching for your card.

“Don’t worry about it, this one’s on the house,” Yujin winked at you before walking off.

“Would you look at that, now you don’t have to feel guilty,” you smiled, holding your glass up for her.

“So, I guess that confirms you’re a regular,” the girl chuckled while tapping her glass against yours and taking a sip with you. “My name is Eunbi.”

“Alright Eunbi, explain something to me,” you put your glass down.

“What’s up?”

“How is it that I’ve never seen you before?”

“Maybe you have.”

“Trust me, I wouldn’t forget it if I had,” you smiled at her.

“Well, it’s a big school,” she giggled, looking away for a second in embarrassment. “I was mostly a go-home-after-school type of girl.”

“Then I guess I should just be grateful that I ran into you tonight.”

“You definitely should, I’m not really one to go out like this.”

“Could have fooled me,” you looked her outfit up and down. “You definitely know how to dress the part.”

“That’s very sweet of you,” she smiled again, once again slightly embarrassed by the compliment. “Unfortunately, I think my friends are trying to leave.”

“I don’t see why that has to stop us from talking.”

“What are you implying, you want to stay here?”

“Here, somewhere else,” you answered. “Wherever I can talk to you some more.”

“Well, it is kinda loud here,” Eunbi looked around the club.

“My place is pretty quiet right now,” you commented while looking over at Mint who had his tongue down his girl’s throat now. “And it doesn’t look like my roommate is going to be bothering me tonight.”

“You’re going to invite me over after just meeting me?” Eunbi asked. “That’s a bit quick, no?”

“I’ve been enjoying your company so far and I’d love to get to know you better,” you replied with a smile before pulling out your phone and texting the group chat to let them know you were leaving. “But if you’re not comfortable with that, wanna at least put your number in my phone before we forget?”

“Depends, are you texting your girlfriend right now?”

“Girlfriend?”

“I don’t know, gut feeling,” Eunbi explained.

“Here,” you held your phone out to her. “I got nothing to hide, I was texting my friends to let them know I was leaving.”

Eunbi took one look at your phone and immediately bent over laughing.

“Condom broke, we awoke?”

“Blame my friend Jae for that one,” you smiled at her reaction.

“That has to be one of the best group chat names I’ve ever seen,” Eunbi giggled before looking at your phone again. “Alright, you can have my-” she stopped speaking abruptly and her cheeks turned bright pink. “Prettiest girl you’ve ever seen?” she mumbled, looking up from the phone.

“What, I tell my boys how it is,” you replied casually. “I never lie to them.”

Eunbi gave you back your phone and turned around to run over to her group of friends who were still standing there watching her from a few feet away. She began telling them something that earned you some peeks from a few of them. Wonyoung was asleep on Gaeul’s shoulder at this point, the latter flashed a smile at you while Eunbi talked. After about a minute or so, she quickly scurried back towards you.

“You’re not going to murder me, right?”

“Probably not,” you answered.

“Good enough for me,” Eunbi giggled. “Alright, I accept your offer.”

“Are you sure your friends are cool with this?” you asked, staring at Eunbi’s gorgeous eyes while in your periphery you could see her friends all staring at you. “I feel like I’m the one who should be worried about getting murdered.”

“You’ll be fine if you kiss me.”

“If I kiss you?”

“Yeah, they’ll probably trust you then,” Eunbi stared back into your eyes - she was serious.

“Only one way to find out,” you replied, slowly leaning forward.

The skill of Eunbi’s lips was not something you were prepared for. You closed your eyes, cupping her face in your hands, relishing in the sweet taste of her strawberry lip gloss, enjoying the enthralling nature of her soft lips. You couldn’t even hear the music anymore, in your mind the only thing left in this world was the girl you were making out with. As you felt her hand on the back of your neck, you moved one of your hands to her back, holding her warmly.

Once the kiss finally ended and you two separated, Eunbi held her face in front of yours, staring deeply into your eyes. She was adorable, absolutely the prettiest girl you had seen in your entire life. Her round eyes, expressionless face, the way she held herself right in front of you.

“Did it work,” she asked, never breaking eye contact.

“I don’t know.”

“Are you going to check?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I can’t stop looking at you.”

She kept staring back, but now she was smiling and her cheeks were turning pink again.

“Whatever, it was just an excuse to kiss you anyway.”

“You don’t need an excuse to do that.”

“Do you ever stop flirting?” she asked.

“How about we start walking and you can find out for yourself,” you suggested, holding your hand out for her to take.

“We gotta finish our drinks first though,” Eunbi picked your glass back up and placed it in your outstretched hand.

“Let's do it properly then.” you suggested, holding your arm up slightly.

Eunbi wrapped her arm around yours, interlocking your arms at the elbows. She smiled brightly at you before bringing her drink up to her mouth. The two of you started drinking together. You finished your drink a few seconds before her and watched as she scrunched up her face trying to catch up. With your arm locked with hers still, all you could do was watch patiently as the adorable girl chugged her drink until she successfully finished it.

“Definitely not your first time,” you chuckled, taking her glass from her.

After placing her glass on the bar you grabbed a couple of napkins which you held out for her so that she could wipe her lips. She, however, had a different idea, and instead of accepting the napkins stuck her face out and pouted her lips at you. You smiled again, using the napkins to wipe her lips for her - this earned an eruption of little screams and squeals from her friends which you ignored. Eunbi grabbed your hand with a smile and pulled you out of the club without looking back at her friends a single time.

“Finally, I can hear my own thoughts,” you sighed as the brisk night air hit your skin.

“And what are those thoughts telling you?” Eunbi asked while letting go of your hand and spinning in a circle playfully.

“The same thing my eyes are,” you responded while looking over at Eunbi. “That you look even more stunning under the moonlight than I could have ever imagined.”

“I guess that answers my question,” Eunbi laughed, stumbling slightly before balancing herself.

“You’re not also drunk, are you?”

“Oh please, I can handle my liquor way better than Wonyoung,” Eunbi giggled, swaying slightly as she stood there with her hands on her hips. “I’m barely tipsy.”

“How many did you drink tonight?” you asked while walking up next to her and grabbing her hands.

“We were taking shots earlier…” she squinted her eyes as she was trying to remember. “Three? Four? I don’t know.”

“Plus at least two drinks.”

“That’s your fault,” she whined, pouting again. “I was fine until that last one.”

“It was your idea to chug it.”

“Oh yeah,” she giggled before latching onto your arm. “I’ll be honest, I think I’m feeling that last one hit me…”

“Have you been drinking water? Want me to get you some?”

“No it’s fine, I’ll drink some at your place. You have water right?”

“Of course I have water,” you chuckled.

“Then let’s go!” Eunbi giggled again, hopping cutely. “I’m getting cold.”

“We could grab a cab if you wanted,” you suggested as you started walking.

“It’s like a five minute walk to dorms, we’re not getting a cab,” Eunbi dismissed the idea, shivering slightly as she held onto your arm.

“Here,” you lifted your arm up and pulled her closer to your body, wrapping your arm around her shoulder. “Sorry I don’t have a jacket tonight, no drama-esque scene for us.”

“It’s alright,” Eunbi smiled as she held onto your body. “This’ll do. You smell really nice, by the way.”

“Just give me a warning if you’re about to throw up, I like this shirt.”

“Real funny,” Eunbi rolled her eyes at you. “I told you, I’m just tipsy.”

“So what’s the occasion tonight that led to you getting ‘just tipsy’, Friday night?”

“Wony passed some stupid quiz or something and wanted to go out,” Eunbi answered, the little girl shivering slightly. “Friday night is not enough to get me to go out, I told you I don’t do this often.”

“Celebrating a quiz? Wow, you guys sure are good friends.”

“I kinda owed her for something, otherwise I meant it when I said I really don’t go out like this very often.”

“With how quick you were to take any excuse to get out of there, I almost believe you,” you chuckled, giving her just a little bit of a squeeze to let her know you weren’t being serious. “Or maybe you just didn’t want to deal with your drunk roommate.”

“She’s a bit of a brat at times,” Eunbi giggled. “Don’t get me wrong, I love my roommate.”

“I wasn’t questioning it.”

“Good, with how much we do for her, you better not question it.”

“How much you do?”

“Look,” Eunbi giggled. “That girl is as bi as they come, I never know if she’s going to bring a guy or a girl back to the dorm. Thank God we have separate bedrooms.”

“Ah, so that’s what you meant by you owed her.”

“It’s not like that.”

“Hey look, it’s fine if you’re in a relationship with your roommate,” you teased.

“Me? No,” Eunbi laughed. “Our friend Gaeul on the other hand, she’s been coming over almost every night lately.”

“Oh yeah?” you replied, hoping she would elaborate.

“Wonyoung is fucking shameless, I swear,” Eunbi giggled while shaking her head. “She had Gaeul… this might be tmi…”

“No such thing as tmi in my eyes.”

“Look, we’re touchy and all that, I even kissed her tonight as a dare,” Eunbi continued. “But Gaeul… Wonyoung has her do everything to her.”

“Should I even ask?”

“All I’m saying is that the mess they left in the room tonight before we came out is part of the reason why I’d rather go back to your place,” Eunbi giggled.

“I hope you’re not expecting my place to be pristine, I wasn’t expecting company tonight.”

“As long as there aren’t plugs and beads all over the room, it’ll be better than ours.”

“Who said there wouldn’t be?”

“I… guess I didn’t account for that,” Eunbi giggled again. “Which floor are you on?” she asked as your building came into view.

“Third.”

“Oh! Same as us!”

“Wait, you’re also in this building?”

“Yeah,” Eunbi answered enthusiastically. “In the girl’s wing, of course.”

“Thanks for confirming, I was totally questioning that part,” you replied while scanning your ID to open the door. “Now I’m even more upset that I haven’t run into you before.”

“Well, now you know I’m only one hallway away from you, no more excuses,” Eunbi walked through the door you held for her.

After a short elevator ride and walk, you found yourself at your door. You opened it up, holding it for Eunbi to enter before following her into the room.

“Oh wow, this is my first time in a guys’ room,” Eunbi commented while looking around. “It looks just like ours.”

“Were you expecting something different?” you chuckled while walking past Eunbi towards the kitchen. “Here, drink this,” you poured her a glass of water which she accepted graciously.

“Thanks, that walk honestly sobered me up quite a bit.”

“Good, unless you wanted to stay tipsy,” you replied. “All we have right now is some shitty rum or some shitty vodka.”

“I’m alright, thank you though,” Eunbi smiled before putting the empty water glass down. “Can I see your room?”

“Yeah, of course,” you walked over to your bedroom door and entered your room. “Wanna sit?”

“Sure.”

“Go ahead,” you motioned towards your bed. “Mind giving me a second, I still really need to run to the bathroom.”

“No worries,” Eunbi smiled at you before looking around your room, admiring the various vanity items.

In the bathroom, you took a quick piss and then quickly reapplied some cologne. You checked your hair in the mirror, made sure everything looked good before heading to the kitchen where you grabbed yourself a glass of water, chugging it before heading back to your room.

“Did you want anything by the way, a drink-” you froze when you entered the room and saw Eunbi had taken off her top, leaving her in just a blue bra. “Oh.”

“Come sit,” Eunbi patted the bed next to her where you walked over and sat down. “You deserve some credit.”

“What for?” you asked, sitting down on the bed next to Eunbi, your eyes no longer able to avoid her tits.

“Not once have I caught you looking at my chest tonight,” Eunbi giggled. “Come on, I’m not stupid.”

“I gotta admit, you haven’t been paying enough attention,” you chuckled. “They’re too fucking beautiful, I couldn’t help myself.”

“At least you’re honest,” Eunbi smiled, leaning closer towards you. “You know, you’re allowed to touch them.”

“Quick to the point, are we?”

“I can put my top back on if you want,” Eunbi commented with an expression of fake concern.

“That won’t be necessary.”

The way her gorgeous smile began shining as soon as you grabbed her tits in your hands couldn’t be compared to anything. Nothing was hotter than a girl with self-confidence, and Eunbi absolutely knew what she was packing. Her tits were so fucking perfect, and they felt as amazing as they looked. So soft, molding into your fingers and you squeezed and squished them in every direction.

“Kiss me again and I’ll take the bra off, too,” she whispered, replacing her smile with the most seductive gaze humanly possible and opening her mouth slightly.

There wasn’t even a second of hesitation before you pressed forward with your mouth. You kept one hand squeezing her tits while the other lowered down towards her hip. Once again that delightful taste of strawberry blessed your mouth as Eunbi wrapped her arms around you, feeling up and down your toned back.

She was so fucking irresistable, you couldn’t detach from her body. You had to keep kissing her, you had to keep feeling her, you had to have her. She was too beautiful for this world - for all you knew, this was just a dream. Who fucking cared, you’d never wake up from this if it was, and that would be alright.

Without even stopping the kiss, Eunbi began reaching behind her back to unstrap her bra. You quickly reached around her body to help her, unstrapping it immediately and tossing it to the side. It didn’t even matter that her tits were completely out now, you didn’t want to stop kissing her yet to take a proper look. Slowly, you pushed forward until Eunbi was laying on her back, both of her hands now cupping your face while both of your hands were groping her chest.

This continued for a few more minutes, both of you were addicted to the other. Eunbi now had her leg bent and wrapped around your hips, you had one hand on the back of her thigh holding it up. Your other hand was still pressing into her soft tits, rubbing her nipples from time to time. Your hand slid up the back of her thigh, and for a bit you ended up palming her soft ass.

“You’re so fucking good at this,” Eunbi moaned from beneath you. “And you’re really fucking hot.”

“Right back at ya,” you smirked before shoving your mouth into her neck, kissing her clavicle.

“I don’t usually do it on the first night,” Eunbi moaned, grabbing your hair and pushing your head lower so that you were squished between her tits.

“That’s fine,” you gasped for air before taking her nipple into your mouth, sucking the nub until it was covered in your saliva. “No pressure.”

“I can make an exception tonight.”

“Should I grab a condom?” you asked excitedly before moving your mouth to her other tit and showing it the same love.

“No need, I’m on the pill,” Eunbi let go of your head and started pulling her skirt down.

“Leave it,” you insisted, sliding down your bed and reaching your hands up her skirt. “May I?”

She nodded with a giggle, loving your little act of chivalry, bending both of her legs so that her knees were up and bringing her hands to her tits, playing with them aggressively. As soon as her panties came off, you shoved your face between her legs. Just like that, within minutes of getting her in your room, you had your face in front of this dime piece of a girl’s pussy. A sharp inhale filled the room as you planted a kiss on her pussy - pure ecstasy to your ears.

Instead of sucking on her beautifully shaved pussy, you decided to slow it down, tease her a bit. You pressed your lips against her soft inner thigh, holding against her skin for a few seconds before kissing. Then, the same on the other leg, alternating with each kiss, moving closer and closer to her pussy. Once you couldn’t get any closer without actually placing your mouth on her folds, you started licking circles around her.

“Stop fucking teasing me,” Eunbi whined, squirming her lower body incessantly.

The corners of your lips curled upwards. You were going to have her begging soon, but you also needed a proper taste of Eunbi’s sweet pussy. With all the enthusiasm in the world, you gave her a singular lick from the bottom of her pussy all the way up to her clit where you sealed her clit with your lips. With the slight tang of her pussy now on your taste buds, you started jabbing your tongue against her clit.

“Oh yeah,” she began moaning before her moans swapped to screams as you shoved, without warning, two fingers up her pussy. “Oh fuck!”

Her entire lower body lifted off the bed briefly as you pushed two knuckles deep into her pussy, but the real surprise came when you felt her pussy squirt right onto your chin. You sat up on your knees, pulling your dripping fingers out of her snatch.

“Sorry,” Eunbi gasped, her chest heaving. “I should have… warned you…”

“Don’t apologize,” you wiped your chin with the back of your hand before ripping your shirt off and tossing it to the side. “That was really fucking hot.”

Eunbi didn’t have any time to feel embarrassed because as soon as your shirt came off you had shoved two fingers up her vagina again, this time thrusting them back and forth aggressively while your other hand started rubbing circles against her clit. It was sensory overload, you could tell by the way her face scrunched up in raw, unfiltered pleasure, and also by the droplets that began flinging out of her.

“Come on,” you grunted, speeding up your thrusting even more.

Suddenly, you got what you were looking for. Eunbi began gushing, spraying all over your arm, your chest, and your bed. She still had her eyes closed, but as her body once again lifted off the bed, she kept squirting all over anything that dared exist in front of her pussy. Once she stopped, you pulled your fingers out, and that led to a gush of liquid spilling out of her. Without missing a beat, you shoved your face between her legs and began lapping up her mess.

“Oh my fucking God,” Eunbi sobbed, her pussy literally trembling against your tongue. “Please.”

It was so fucking addicting. You couldn’t stop, you needed to suck every drop out of her pussy. You wanted to drown in her, your brain wasn’t working anymore. Eunbi’s wet pussy was your salvation. There was no way to know it now, but you’d be thinking about sucking Eunbi’s pussy for the next week.

“Stop,” she cried out, grabbing your hair with her hands. “I can’t…”

With her hands threatening to pull your hair out, you finally obeyed her wishes and held your face still. Other than the occasional lick of your tongue, you simply enjoyed the pulsatile squirts coming out of Eunbi’s pussy directly onto your chin. Once she finally stopped, her squirts being reduced to the occasional dribbles of fluid, you pulled back and sat up on your knees.

“You’re really fucking hot,” you said nonchalantly, wiping your chin again with the back of your hand.

“Come here,” she moaned, reaching her arms out for you.

As soon as you moved forward, she began kissing you again. Her hands found your buckle, undoing it swiftly and unbuttoning your pants. She fumbled around your crotch some more until her hand made it down your underwear, pulling your cock out.

“Want me to suck it first,” she whispered into your mouth between kisses, stroking your cock gently.

“Fuck that,” you spread her legs wide for you to get closer.

“Hold up,” Eunbi got up and turned you around so that now you were laying on your back with her on top of you. “Let me.”

Eunbi, her body right above yours, began rubbing her pussy with her palm before grabbing your cock and spreading her fluids along your shaft. She held your cock with one hand, lining it up with her pussy, and slowly started to lower herself onto your cock. You grabbed her skirt, lifting it up just in time to see her drenched pussy lips spread to accept your cock. She lowered herself lower and lower, pausing once she was all the way down, scrunching her face in delectation as her pussy adjusted to your size.

The girl knew how to move her hips, clearly showing off as she started moving up and down your shaft slowly. Her soaked pussy moved effortlessly as she started bouncing up and down your cock. Your hands found their way to her ass, gripping it tightly while she did all the work, working your cock like an expert.

“You’re so fucking hot,” you grunted, starting to push your hips into hers.

Eunbi started leaning forward, her massive tits hanging in front of you, shaking and jiggling each time she bounced on your cock. They were beautiful, shining as her efforts began leaving a thin layer of sweat all over her soft skin. She was beautiful. The way her face scrunched up as she felt each inch of your cock, she was irresistible. How could a girl be this perfect?

It was overwhelming. You didn’t have it in you to lay there, you knew you had to properly fuck this girl soon or else she was going to make you erupt with how good she was at moving her hips. Your hands left her ass and slid up her back, pulling her tits closer to your face until your nose was pressed between them. With your arms hugging her tightly, you stopped holding back.

“Oh fuck yes!” Eunbi screamed at the top of her lungs as soon as you started slamming your hips towards the roof. “Uh!”

It was such a blessing knowing most of your hallway would be out tonight, sparing you from dealing with the repercussions of a noise complaint, because Eunbi was loud. Equally as loud as her screams was the sound of your body slapping against her sweat-coated skin. At this point you had no idea if it was her sweat coating your legs or the absurd amount of fluid this goddess of a woman had squirted on you tonight.

Everything became a blur of wetness, tits, and Eunbi’s screams. The profanities Eunbi were shouting into your room would surely get you expelled if your school could hear them. If it wasn’t a moan or a cry, it was a mixture of the most lust-driven mumbles of salaciousness. Even with how loud Eunbi’s voice was, she could barely be heard over the wet slapping of her pussy getting fucked.

As much as you wanted to switch up the position, you couldn’t. You physically could not detach your face from Eunbi’s tits - it was not possible. Not that it really mattered, Eunbi was making it very clear that she was enjoying this. In fact, she could not have made it any more clear than she already was, especially with how her body had started squirting all over your cock now. The only disappointment was that as you felt Eunbi’s wetness coating your crotch, you knew you were quickly approaching your limit.

“I’m close,” you huffed into Eunbi’s tits.

There was no way to be sure if Eunbi heard you, not until at least she started bouncing her hips up and down with every bit of enthusiasm in her little frame. She didn’t just want you to cum in her, she wanted to make you cum in her - It was out of your control now. There was no stopping it now, you felt the pressure, the sensation, the pleasure all building up in your cock.

With your hands now squeezing onto Eunbi’s ass for dear life, your face pressed as far into her tits as it could go, you held on for dear life as your cock blew its load into her pussy. She kept moaning, kept moving her hips, despite it being impossible for her to know you were adding to the mess of fluids in her pussy. The only indication would have been the strained moan you let escape your lips as your cock pumped again and again, emptying itself into her.

With one final pump, your entire body went limp. Your hands fell to your sides, and all you could do now was breathe deeply against the softness of Eunbi’s tits. She lay on top of you for a bit longer in silence, moving her hips just enough to feel your cock still inside her as it also began to relax.

“Holy fuck Eunbi,” you broke the silence, trying and failing to sit up.

She didn’t even reply, she simply giggled as she lifted herself up. Slowly, she moved up and let your cock fall over, completely coated in a mess of cum and all of Eunbi’s bodily fluids. Eunbi reached past your body, once again giving you a beautiful view of her massive tits hanging down towards your face, and grabbed a few tissues. She wiped between her legs, not that it mattered with how much of a mess everything was now, before standing up, leaving you on your bed gasping for air.

“Do you mind if I borrow a shirt?”

“Yeah go ahead,” you panted, your chest heaving up and down with your eyes closed.

“Can I take this one?” Eunbi asked.

She looked so embarrassed when you opened your eyes to see her holding the shirt you were wearing earlier.

“Sure,” you shrugged, sitting up in your bed, finally catching your breath. “Bring it back whenever, you know where I live.”

“I promise I will,” Eunbi smiled, slipping the shirt on. It was too big for her, and she looked adorable in it. She quickly checked her phone before giving you a disappointed look “I’m really sorry to rush off like this. I would have loved to spend more time, but I need to check up on Wony.”

“Don’t worry about it at all, go take care of your roommate. I’ll see you soon?”

“Abso’ fucking ‘lutely you will, especially after that.”

---

A/N:

Um, Eunbi is really hot. I just HAD to write her at some point. Initially I planned to make this like a 15-20k word fic, but after talking to some other writers I decided to break it up for the sake of readability (yes, that means I have already planned out the plot for the next two parts, and yes I have already started working on them). I could have written it all out and edited it properly, but that dopamine rush of posting a fic is too strong.

Hopefully you guys enjoy, this is a little different from my typical style in the sense that it's an alternate universe fic! I just had this idea and felt like writing it out, I might end up doing more of these style of fics if I get some more ideas that I feel like writing, especially for idols/groups who I don't follow as closely. Let me know what you guys think, as always, appreciate the support!

#kpop smut #smut #kpop fanfic #male reader #fanfiction #eunbi smut

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etheries1015 · 11 months ago

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The Twisted Wonderland orange peel theory

The orange peel theory: A theory in which one requests their significant other to peel an orange for them. If they say yes, then it means they are willing to do small tasks for their lover. If they say no, it may suggest they are less willing to offer support, the theory says.

featuring: Lilia, Malleus, Trey, Rook, Vil, Leona, Ruggie, Ace, Deuce, Riddle, Jade, Floyd

Sitting around in the presence of your beloved whilst holding an orange, you glance at him contemplating something. You decided to put him to the test! Will he pass?

General warnings: Gender-neutral reader. Also if you don't like oranges/are allergic to them, just imagine something else! <3

TW: None! Just fluff <3

Lilia

Your fae lover sat at his computer playing away at his video game while you lay upon his bed fiddling with an orange in hand. You glanced over at him, turning around to lay on your stomach and holding out the orange.

"Lilia, love?" You asked.

"Yes, darling?" He replied, eyes glued to his screen

"Will you peel this orange for me please?" He paused his movements and turned his head to look at you with a carefree smile upon his face. Without hesitation, he grabbed the orange out of your hand and began peeling away at the skin and discard it in the garbage that sat next to his gaming desk. You giggled slightly and thanked him with a kiss against his cheek, Lilia removing himself from his computer and engulfing you in a hug tackling you to the bed.

"If you wanted my attention, surely you could have found something more creative than peeling an orange, my little bat~"

verdict: Pass! He had the wrong idea of your intentions, but he still won.

Malleus

"Malleus," You asked the tall male, interrupting his focus in crafting the gargoyle he had been paying attention to, holding out the orange in your hand.

"Yes?" He asked, averting his attention from his craft to attentively look at you. He glanced at the orange and flicked his eyes back to yours, tilting his head in confusion.

"Will you peel this for me, please?" Malleus had furrowed his eyebrows ever so slightly- a frown upon his lips as he studied the fruit.

"Are you struggling with peeling it by yourself?" He asked in genuine concern, grasping your hands to study them, "Are you experiencing any pain that is hindering your skills?" You giggled at his strangely focused pout while analyzing your hands, it wasn't even a moment later before he used his magic to lift the orange, peel it, and even take apart each of the slices before grabbing it with his hands and holding one to your mouth.

"Here, I shall feed you. No need to further strain your hands, dearest."

Verdict: Pass...? he has the spirit!!

Trey

The moment you were studying the orange dubiously with an interesting look of focus immediately caught his attention. You didn't even have to ask Trey before he was asking for you!

"Would you like me to peel that for you? You've been staring at it for a while," He chuckled. You smiled up at him and held out the orange with enthusiasm and a nod. He took it gracefully and peeled it perfectly, handing it back and throwing away the peels for you.

"You're the sweetest," You smiled whilst popping a slice into your mouth, Trey responding with a bashful smile and rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

"There's no need for that...you just seemed deep in thought, so it was more or less an excuse to bring that up. Is something on your mind? You can talk to me about anything."

Verdict: Pass with flying colors!

Rook

"Rooook!" You called out holding an orange to the sky, "Can you peel this orange for me, please!? I don't want my hands to smell like oranges!" You seemed to be calling out into the woods at nothing, but in reality you were sitting against a tree waiting for Rook to finish hunting. You decided to put his loyalty to the test. You heard rustling around before an arrow zoomed past the top of your head, piercing the orange out of your hand and hitting the tree.

Your jaw slacked open, mortified.

You trusted Rook with your life, yes, but he likes to test this sometimes.

"If that is what your heart desires, of course I shall peel this orange for you, my beloved!" He skipped over and took the orange off of the tip of the arrow and began to peel away at it. You stared at him in horror.

"...Rook."

"oui?" An innocent smile as he worked away at the...now miss-shapen fruit.

"Go get me a new orange."

Verdict: ...Questionable pass..? He went and got you a new orange, and peeled it properly for you.

Vil

"Can you peel this for me?" Vil glanced over with furrowed eyebrows and a frown upon his perfect features.

"Why do you require my assistance in peeling an orange? Are you unable to do it yourself?" The question was valid and innocent enough, but you were determined to go through with this challenge.

"Just do it, please?" You gave him puppy eyes, "I don't want to get the peeling under my nails." An excuse you felt he would be able to understand, surely!

"And you believe I do?" He retorted.

Touché...

You flashed him a pout, and he caved. Vil sighed and held out his hand for you to place the orange, slowly and with care removing it's peel. You gave him a bright smile and a little giggle, for you knew he always caves eventually when it comes to you. He loves that part of you though, how you seem to always brighten up at the smallest of things. It's a part of your charm.

"What are you giggling about? It's just an orange, silly potato. You get excited over the most random of things..."

Verdict: Pass with some push

Leona

"No." He was pretty immediate to reject your question. You began to whine and pester him.

"Leona! Please? Will you do just this little thing for me?" You gave him puppy eyes, to which he sighed exasperatedly and rolled his eyes.

"Why can't you do it yourself?"

"Because I want you to do it."

"That's not an answer."

"Why do I need to have a reason?"

"You woke me up from my nap to peel an orange."

"And?"

He turned around to fall back asleep, you responded with shaking his body and complaining to your lover. Leona turned his body and used his strong arms to pull you into his chest.

"Stop your whining and take a nap with me, herbivore. The orange can wait."

Verdict: Fail...? but in a weird way. You get it?

Ruggie

"Eh?" Ruggie looked up at you with wide eyes, "Peel an orange? Why?" You pouted at the brown haired heyena and placed your free hand upon your hips.

"Because you're my boyfriend, and i'm asking you oh-so-nicely..." He shrugged and took the orange, peeling it.

And then, when you thought he was being extra nice to you and peeling away the slices for you to eat, he took half of the orange and popped it into his mouth. Much to your dismay.

"My orange!!" You complained. Ruggie handed you the other half and laughed.

"What? There's always a price for labor, even if it's just an orange! Besides, you're my s/o, and I wanted it oh-so-bad...sharing is caring, right?"

Verdict: Pass...and you made him go get you another orange. In which he also ate half of before it got to you.

Ace

"Peel this for me," You said in the middle of watching a movie, holding out the orange. Ace eyed it dubiously before looking back up at you.

"Eh? Why can't you do it yourself?" He whined, "I don't wanna smell like oranges."

"Ace, please? for me?" He gave you a deadpan stare and you spent a solid minute just looking at each other in a silent battle. He then sighed loudly and obviously theatrically, snatching the orange away from you and peeling it (not without some attitude.)

"I don't get it...I've seen you peel oranges so many times. I don't think you actually care about smelling like oranges, somethin' else is definitely going on here!"

Verdict: Lowkey failed, but that's okay. Eventually, it worked!

Deuce

"Deuce, can you peel this for me, please?" You asked the blue eyed male, offering up the orange.

Deuce was pretty fast to jump to the opportunity to peel it for you. He likes when you can depend on him on such tasks that are seemingly mundane, it makes him feel important, that you trust him. Even though it isn't that deep. Grabbing the orange and peeling it with eagerness, you smiled fondly at him.

"Here you go!" He said proudly, handing you a...messily peeled orange. It wasn't very pretty, you could see parts of the orange where he managed to either miss some of the peel or scraped some of the main part with his nail by mistake. But that didn't matter to you.

"Sorry it isn't the best...I should practice peeling oranges so it's perfect next time. Huh? You were just testing me? Don't worry, i'll do anything you ask of me! It's important to work as a team, so you won't have to worry about doing tasks by yourself!"

Verdict: Pass, he's a little angel

Riddle

"Riddle," You said taking him away from his studies, "Will you peel this orange for me?" The red head set down his pen and looked over at you and then the orange, holding out his hand for you to give to him right away.

"Of course. Hand it here." You gladly gave him the orange and he peeled it perfectly, cleanly, and discarding the peels right away and standing up to wash his hands.

"I don't mind doing such things upon your request. It's a healthy snack too, much better than the chips and other things I see Ace and Deuce sneak around...hm? No, I don't mind if you eat your orange while we study. Now... where were we?."

Verdict: passed with flying colors (Already knew about this theory beforehand, but wouldn't let you in on that!)

Jade

It was pretty simple, you handed the orange while he was reading something, and he peeled it without you even asking. He peeled it while reading, handed it back to you, although handing you the peels to throw away yourself. You smiled and gave him a kiss on his cheek, Jade chuckling in response.

"Were you testing me with the orange peel theory? What, are you surprised I know of it's existence? I actually anticipated you would attempt it at some point. I see some of the things you like to look up. How do I know what you search online? ...hehe. That's a secret."

Verdict: Pass! ...with a few extra questionable things!

Floyd

"Haahhh?" He looked at you with his signature look of annoyance and dismay. "What'dya mean you can't peel an orange? I don't wanna either," He whined, going back to...whatever weird thing he gets up to in his free time.

"Floydddd," You pouted, "Please? for me?" He looked at you, then the orange. Then you, then the orange. This went on for a minute.

"Fine. I'll go ask Jade." You fled the scene before you could reap the consequences of your statement, hearing his loud protests from afar and the sound of scrambling to catch up to you...

Verdict: Fail. Big big fail. Sorry Floyd lovers.

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dinogoofymutated · 3 months ago

Note

You asked for some smut suggestions for Logan, and I got one:

So like…I mean…Logan might be on the short side, but he’s still big! I mean, like,,,those hands 🫣 It would be nice to see a fic to do with Logan and a little manhandling. but not like in a BDSM way, more like a “I am very strong, and here’s a little reminder” type way. Might seem kinda silly but I’d enjoy a fic like that lol.

NSFW!Wolverine/AFAB!Reader Ask and you shall receive!! I've spent like the last four days working on this and atp I can't looks at it anymore lol. I'm not super happy with how the beginning is written, but I still think it's alright enough to post lol. It's a lot more tell than show compared to most of my other fics, and I was halfway tempted to reformat it into headcannons, but I didn't feel like it. Anyway, hope you like the way I included the manhandling lol! Hope it turned out okay :) Also, might or might not be tall logan. I'll leave it up to yall to assume, I'm just short af so there's not a single person in marvel who wouldn't have to look down at me lmao.

Edit:FUCK I FORGOT THE READ MORE! TWs: MDNI!!!!!! Seriously, you will be blocked. Masterbation, lil bit of a scent kink. Sexual frustration. Manhandling. Jealous Logan. Creampie. Logan calls you "sunshine" and pretty and shit. I'll add more if I can think of any.

You had a problem. You’ve had a problem. And it really didn’t seem like it was getting any better. It didn’t help the fact that it was incredibly embarrassing, either.

You couldn’t get off. It’s not like you ever struggled with it before, but lately, it felt like you were fighting a losing battle. At first, you didn’t realize why. Maybe it was because you moved into the X-Mansion. Nerves because you’re living somewhere new, right? So you change it up a little. You got comfortable, had a glass of wine or two, and picked up a raunchy book. Yet every time you slipped your hand between your thighs… Running circles around your own clit, trying your best to finger yourself to your finish, you just could never quite hit that peak. It was safe to say you were beyond frustrated.

Lucky for you, most people didn’t notice. You try your best not to be too uptight or mean, but there are just some things that you can’t quite hide from certain people.

Logan’s noticed that something is up with you. You can tell he has, seeing the looks on his face, nose scrunched up in a way he’s catching into something that he just can't quite place. You’re assuming it’s your own pheromones, but hey, as long as he doesn’t realize what it is you’ll be fine, right?

Maybe not.

Eventually, you finally realized why you were having so much trouble getting off. All it took was one training session with Wolverine, and you knew immediately. You weren’t sparring or anything like that, hell, you knew before you even hit the danger room floor. Logan was in a bit of a mood today, although not as grumpy as he can be- and he’s trying to be patient with you. You can tell. But you’re having trouble focusing today- and you have been for a while. He can tell you’re not at 100% just by the way you hold yourself, and spends about 5 minutes watching as you struggle to reset the Danger room panel before he’s finally fed up with it.

“Jesus fuck. Here, let me do it.” Logan grabs you by the waist, pulling you to his chest with one arm as the other reaches around you to reset the panel. It’s not like you didn’t find him attractive before, but the close contact? The smell of his aftershave and the sound of his voice growling in your ear?

oh.

Oh.

You were having trouble getting off because you had a thing for Logan.

You’re practically stunned when he pulls away, standing there with a flushed face and something rather embarrassing pooling in your underwear for the first time in a while. You had to quickly excuse yourself before you ran the risk of him catching onto anything coming from you. He’s a little confused for a second, but you can hear the sound of his low chuckle as you scramble away.

First thing you do? Go to the store.

It's not a random errand. At least, not entirely. You had meant to go out with Storm to grocery shop later this afternoon, but you told her you could really use some time out of the house by yourself, which she completely understood. You had the list and everything, it was only a coincidence that you passed by the cologne section on your way to pick up some toothpaste. The sight made you stop for a minute, the gears grinding in your skull. You spent just a few minutes curiously sampling the bottles until you found one that smelled a bit familiar… Should you? No, that's a bit strange. But really, what was the harm, right? I mean, who would know?

So you bought it. You felt a bit embarrassed afterward, knowing what you bought it for, and ended up letting it sit in the drawer of your side table for a good while. Until another desperate attempt at fucking your own brains out, that is.

You were sweaty and uncomfortable in your bed, sleep shirt sticking to your skin as you struggled to pump your fingers in and out of your tight cunt. It’s been a while, and it shows. You couldn’t even get your favorite dildo to fit inside of you, only adding to your frustration. Touching your clit hardly helped much, leaving you as unsatisfied as ever. Eventually, you give up, lying there as you sigh to yourself. You turn over in your bed in a huff, halfway temped scream your lungs out into the pillow you bury your face in. Instead, you let out something that sounds more like a whisper than a yell, letting the air in your lungs deflate as you let your feelings out. You roll over onto your side when you’re done, halfway tempted to be done with it entirely and go back to bed when you catch sight of the nightstand drawer, slightly ajar. The amber bottle of liquid stares right at you.

You open the drawer some more, picking up the bottle and looking at it as you wonder if you’re actually going to do this. But you’re ridiculously horny, and tired, and you know you’re gonna have trouble falling asleep in the state you’re in- so you end up spraying the smallest amount on your pillow.

It’s…nice. The pillow is warm from where you had been laying on it, and despite how strong men’s cologne could be, this one isn’t quite so striking. At least, not in the amount that you used. You relax back into your bed, pressing your face into the pillow and laying there for a moment. You start thinking about Logan… His calloused hands running across your skin. How his lips and tongue would feel against your own, trailing down your body to your breast. Your hand trails down to your clit as you imagine it as his own. You imagine him behind you, pressing you to the bed as he growls into your ear. You think about what his happy trail would feel like against you. What his cock would look like, feel like, pressing into you. Your legs twitch and shake as you see stars underneath your eyelids, the scent of Logan hitting all the right parts in your head and going straight to your cunt.

Holy shit.

Your orgasm lasts what feels like forever. Your legs are still shaking as you whimper from oversensitivity and pull your hand away, panting as you try to catch your breath. You haven’t cum that hard since… ever. Maybe the cologne was worth it, after all.

You felt really good the morning after. You found yourself humming in the shower, more energized at breakfast and morning drills. No one had said anything, but you knew there were a few who were relieved to see you back to your usual self. If anything, the only person you noticed acting very differently around you was Logan. He was more tense than normal. He scowled a lot, spending less time in your presence. You’d strike up a conversation that would only last a few minutes before he would make an excuse and leave. It made you a little disappointed. But you knew him and knew he had good and bad days, so you brushed it off at first. But a week, two weeks- almost a month went by, and still no change. You felt scorned almost, silently rejected by the guy you had finally realized you were practically in love with, and to be honest, the only man who could get you off just by thinking about him- and boy, did you get off while thinking about him.

You’ve almost resigned yourself to the fact that Logan wasn’t interested when he corners you one morning. He’s leaning up against the wall of the hallway, waiting for you when you step out of your room. It makes you jump a little, closing your door quickly behind you, knowing damn well you hadn’t washed your sheets after fucking yourself to the moon and back last night and fully not wanting the smell to hit his nose. All Logan does is narrow his eyes. Shit.

“Who is he.” He asks you. The question completely derails your train of thought. And you furrow your brow, confused. What was that about?

“Who is he? Your guy?” He asks again, but it does little to clear up your confusion. You’re halfway wondering if he’s being serious at this point, stepping away from your door as you cross your arms.

“What?” You ask. Logan huffs when you respond to him, cocking his head at you in a way that's more sarcastic than curious. The way he’s looking at you is doing some things that you don’t think you’d like to admit, eyes narrow and scrutinizing as you struggle to keep eye contact with him.

“What do you mean? What guy?” You repeat back to him, starting to get a little frustrated. He snorts, rolling his eyes as his scowl lingers. He steps closer, looking down at you from less than a foot away with that angry stare.

“Don’t play stupid with me, sunshine. I can smell him on you.” You ignore the way the nickname makes you shiver a little bit, too busy shrinking into yourself when you process the extent of his words. Smell. He could smell someone on you. Something. Oh god, this was embarrassing.

“Oh! That- It’s not what you're thinking!” You say, face flushed red. You’re flustered beyond belief, doing your best to convince him to leave it be, and it’s not going so well for you.

“Sure it’s not.” Logan huffs. He starts to take steps forward, closing in on your personal space.

“It’s not. I can promise you that.” You’re anxiously fiddling with your fingers now, taking a step back for every step he takes. He looked predatory, unlike any time you’ve seen him before. You haven’t even seen him like this in the danger room, even less so on the battlefield.

“Just tell me who he is.” Logan is adamant about it, his scowl beginning to turn into a frown. Your back hits your door, kickstarting your heart in surprise. You hadn’t realized he had backed you up so far.

“I can’t!” You say, in the beginning stages of becoming absolutely exasperated, and already incredibly embarrassed.

“Why not!?” Logan Snaps, stopping just inches away from you. You cover your heated face, pressing your palms into your eyes until you see shapes, wanting nothing more than to curl up and die right then and there.

“Would you just leave it!” You shout, but Logan’s having none of it.

“No, I won't!” Logan grabs your wrists and moves them away from your face, holding them in front of your chest with a grip lighter than you might have thought. You groan in utter frustration and mortification, looking him dead in the eyes as your angry mouth starts speaking before your reasonable brain can fully catch up.

“Jesus Christ Logan! Do you expect me to just whip out the silicone and show you?!” Your eyes widen as soon as you say it, slamming your mouth shut as you finally catch up with yourself. Logan is staring at you in absolute shock, jaw almost slack at the confession.

“...What?” He asks, slowly. You wince, looking off to the side before deciding it's a bit too late to get the cat back into the bag.

“Its… Cologne. What you’re smelling. I use it to uh, help me…” You make a sort of gesture with your head, praying that you won’t actually have to spell it out for him. He’s still in shock as he looks at you, hands frozen with his fingers wrapped around your wrists. He clears his throat when he comes to, an unreadable expression on his face as he slowly steps forward again, close enough to press his forehead against your own as he presses you against your door.

“You’re that pent up, you need cologne to help you get off?” He asks, and you don’t know what to say, cat catching your tongue as he leans forward. The side of his face brushes against your cheek as he leans down a little, the action making your skin prickle. One of his hands releases a wrist to slide up and across the back of your neck, tilting your head to the side as he takes a big sniff of your skin. He’s practically nuzzling you, angling his head so that he can smell the scent on the back of your head where you rest against your pillow at night.

He’d noticed it before, at night when most of his anger had worn off, sometime after he started to pick up the scent on you. The undertones, the top notes. But now with you this close, he can tell that it wasn’t another man he was smelling. No. It was just you. Your scent being drowned out by the smell of something that he could finally tell smelled rather suspiciously like his very own aftershave.

“...Don’t tell me that you wanted it to smell like me.” He asks after a moment. You almost flinch at the sound of his deep rumble, turning your red face away from him. You swallow, feeling like you are absolutely burning up as you nod- right as Logan catches the unmistakable scent of arousal.

“Fuck”

You’re sure the sound was more animal than man as he cups your cheek rather aggressively, pressing his lips against your own in a rather desperate kiss. It takes you a second to return it, eyes wide as you process just what was happening. It didn't take long for you to melt into his desperate kisses though, every nip and brush of his teeth just like you imagined it would be. He presses his knee in between your thighs, finally releasing your other wrist to grab ahold of your hip instead. You accidentally let out a whine when he grinds your hips against him, your heart beating so fast you were sure it was going to explode. He curses again at the sound, both hands sliding around you to lift you against the door.

You practically squeak in surprise, the noise caught by Logan’s mouth on your own one more time before he trails down to your neck, nipping and sucking at your skin. You gasp as he presses against you, his hips beginning to grind against your own. You’re having a hard time thinking, biting your lip as you do your best to stifle your sounds.

“Logan-ah, can we… head inside, please?” He only grunts in response, shifting your weight as you both begin to fumble for the doorknob. He gets it before you do, hardly stumbling as the door behind you swings open. He’s kissing you again before the door is even closed, kicking it behind him. As preoccupied as you are, you at least have the common sense to reach over and try to lock the door before he carries you over to the bed.

He plops you down onto the mattress before he crawls over you, eyes half-lidded and just as lustful as your own. He pushes you down as you try to sit up. His breathing a little hard, pupils dilated to a size you had never seen.

“Now I know why you closed the door so fast,” Logan smirks, having picked up the lingering scent of your sex on the sheets right away. You open your mouth to reply, but he cuts you off. His tongue snakes into your mouth, and you find that you can’t really remember what you were going to say anyway. He kisses you again and again, distracting you as he reaches above your head. He pulls away when he has the pillow in hand, and you know just by the look on his face that he knows exactly what he is holding.

“Hate to break it to you, but this doesn’t exactly compare to the real thing.” He snarks. It makes you laugh, and for the first time in a while, you see a genuine smile spread across his face.

“Yeah.” You respond, taking the pillow from his hands and tossing it to a far-off corner. “I know.” You could revel in his smile for as long as he’d let you. Logan’s kisses start off sweeter this time, at least for a moment they did. They begin to become more and more rough as hands start to wander and clothes start to come off. His shirt is first to go, your hands running up and down the hair that spans his torso. Logan is quick to remove your shirt and bra in one go, one very small step away from cutting off your clothes entirely. He gives himself a minute to appreciate your breasts, pinching and teasing you by sliding a hand up the middle of your sternum, the back of his hand brushing the side of a tit as he watches you squirm underneath him, arching your back to push your chest out, practically begging him to finally touch you.

“Patience is a virtue, Sunshine.” Logan says, causing you to scoff. You glare at him a little and all it does is make him chuckle a bit.

“Don’t be mean.” You whine. He laughs a bit harder as he finally lowers himself to your chest. He keeps his eyes locked on your own as he brushes the blunt ends of his teeth across the soft skin, but he’s never been the most patient man. It doesn't take him long to give in to you, sucking on each breast individually, massaging the soft skin of the opposite as he does so.

“Careful.” He growls when your own hands begin to wander, touching him over the fabric of his jeans. He releases your nipple with a pop, bearing his teeth as he presses his face back into your neck. You don't pay much mind to that, rather enjoying the grunts and sounds he makes as you slowly stroke his covered hardness from base to tip. You can't imagine how restrained he must be feeling. You can’t help but smirk a little as your hands drift up and down, before oh So slowly unbuckling his belt. Logan is agitated, practically bucking his hips into your hands to get you to just get over with it.

“Patience is a virtue.” You quote, only earning a restraining hold on your hands once again.

“Fuck that.” Logan growls. He holds you by your wrists, pushing them above your head as he uses his free hand to remove his belt and frantically unbuckle his pants. You'd be complaining if it weren't for the view of his straining cock, slapping against his abdomen as he pulls his pants down.

You don't get to stare for too long before he flips you on your stomach like you weigh nothing. He lets your wrists go to pull down your shorts and underwear, a sticky string of your slick thinning as he pulls the items down.

“Fuck. You're this wet from just that?” Logan asks you, taking two fingers and sliding them through your lips from behind, spreading his fingers to let himself see the mess you've made of yourself already.

“...shut up.” You mumble, more focused on the feeling of those very same fingers sliding back and forth across your cunt, the tips just barely brushing against your clit every time. Logan chuckles, sliding one hand under your lower stomach to lift your hips with ease. Your hips buck as he slides a thick finger inside of you without warning, slowly sinking down to his knuckle with ease.

“Might not even need foreplay at this rate.” Logan rumbles behind you, eyes set squarely on the sight of your pretty pussy spread wide open for him. You can only moan in response as he pulls it back out again, plunging a second finger into you this time. Your hands clutch the sheets as Logan begins to finger fuck you to his content, curling those thick digits to hit that one spot juuust right. You try not to buck or squirm too bad, halfway wondering if this is all just some wet dream.

“Logan-” You call out for him through your moans. He only hums in reply, preoccupied at the moment.

“I- god- I need your cock, please.” You're not sure if it was the phrase or the begging, but it makes Logan groan. You feel embarrassingly empty as he pulls his fingers out. You hear the sound of him stroking his hard cock with your slick, groaning and humming to himself before he picks you up. He leans over you, adjusting to you your hands and knees as you finally feel that thick, thick cock grinding against you. You gasp at the way it feels, feeling Logan smirk against your back.

“Having second thoughts?” The tone of his voice is teasing, but you know there's more than that behind the words. You vehemently shake your head, grinding back against him a little as you protest. Logan swears under his breath, holding onto your hips to keep them still as he sits up.

Both of you groan each time the head of his cock catches on your clit, Logan thrusting through your lips again and again as he lubes himself with the wetness you provide for him. You gasp when his head catches on your slot, notching just right.

Logan pushes into you so slowly, and you feel like he's thicker than you ever imagined he would be. You're impatient, desperate. You push back onto him in an attempt to take him in more, but his hands on your hips stop you.

“Believe me sweetheart, you don't want that yet.” Logan tells you, straining himself with how tight you feel around him. He soothingly rubs his thumbs against your skin, pressing into you until you have him completely, balls deep inside you.

“Please, please. Logan, Please, I need you to move.” Your begging starts to sound like nonsense to your own ears, but it makes Logan gasp all the same, his cock twitching from where it's buried inside of you. You practically cry in relief when he finally begins to thrust Inside of you.

His hip smack against your ass with every thrust, the sound of the slap mixed with the sounds of your love and the headboard hitting the wall a lewd and filthy symphony. Even better than your own moans were Logan's himself. Each and every groan and growl above you gave you a whole new array of things to imagine while fucking yourself- if you ever had to do so again.

You whine and whimper with every strong thrust, Logan slow and forceful with every movement. It felt like he wanted your insides to memorize exactly how his cock feels inside of you, and you doubt you'd ever mind it. He filled you perfectly, hitting every sweet spot inside of you.

Your arms are shaking. Struggling to hold yourself up with each and every rock of the bed. You barely start to buckle when He catches hold of you, an arm snacking under your chest and pulling you towards him. His hand spans your collarbone as he holds your back against his chest, holding you up as he continues to fuck you like no one before. You're closing in on that sweet release when his hips stutter a moment. His teeth dig into your shoulder with a sharp bite, holding you there close to him without breaking the skin.

“Are… are you -ah- close?” You ask. Logan only responds with a short and simple - “Fuck!” - before he pulls out of you.

You don't have time to whine about the emptiness before he's flipping you around, kissing you again as he pushes your back to the bed rather aggressively. He's quick to sling your legs over his arms, folding you in half as he sides fully into you in a single thrust. He's hitting you so much deeper in this position, chest pressed against your own as his thrusts continue to stutter.

Logan kisses you again, a bit differently than the last ones have been. These kisses are tender, sweet. A stark difference between his needy, frantic thrusts. There's a line of spit between you two as he pulls away, half-lidded eyes meeting your own. You’re closing in on your peak, and you can tell he is too. The pleasure is too much for you to handle at once, and you can't help but squeeze your eyes shut.

“Look at me.” Logan grabs a hold of your chin, your eyes flying open as he thumbs at your lip and holds your head still. “Don't look away.” His hips stutter some more, the both of you groaning as you clench around him, desperately trying to keep your eyes open as you finally cum around his cock. The fluttering of your walls are more than enough to send Logan over the edge, his cum warming your insides in thick spurts. Logan buries his face into your neck, groaning as you ride out both of your orgasms.

The two of you lay there for a moment, trying to catch your breath. Logan lets go of your sore legs, massaging your thighs as he presses sweet, comforting kisses to your cheek and temple. His hands wander up and down your sides, doing his best to soothe your aches without you even having to ask. -not that he would ever admit to having a soft side. Who would believe you if you told them that The Wolverine was a cuddler after sex anyway?

“Why didn't you just tell me?” You ask after a long moment. Logan hums, his Face tucked into the crook of your neck.

“Tell you what?”

“That you were jealous.” Logan only snorts at that, playfully pinching your side.

“Jealous of what? Your cologne?” He returns. You slap him on the shoulder as he chuckles at you, unable to stop the playful smile on your face.

“You mean the cologne that you thought was a whole-ass guy?” Logan stops at that, instead choosing to cover your mouth with his palm as he tucks his head closer.

“You're a lot prettier when you're quiet. You know that?”

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