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stusbunker · 1 year

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Tattered: Growing Pains

A SPN ABO Fan-fiction Series

Featuring: Alpha!Sam x Omega!Reader, Alpha!Dean x Omega!Reader, Alpha!Sam x Omega!Reader x Alpha!Dean

Word Count: ~3250

Warnings, etc: Dean has discovered he’s into her being pregnant. Sam and Dean tag-team smut. Oral, knotting, there’s lots of bodily fluids, but also a bath tub. Breeding kink, possessive and jealous Alphas. Nesting, pregnancy problems.

Series Masterlist

Special shout out to @lastactiontricia for putting up this series the entire time.

Six months later

Dean

The thing about hearing other people’s thoughts—- or even just having their emotions running through your head, well, it makes it really fucking easy to see their point of view. Especially after sensing the way she felt about me and Sam both. So— yeah, I decided to be the bigger man. But; really, it came down to Sam accepting that, truemate or not— I was just as much her Alpha as he was.

It hasn’t been the easiest, but it sure beats the alternative.

It's almost time to start moving into the Barn when I smell the change on her skin. Bobby and me have been busting ass all winter to get the place up to code and habitable. I didn't realize we were working on a deadline, but life’s always had a way of biting me in the ass.

I gather her up against me, rubbing my belt against her middle as she leans back to squint at my face. "What?"

I shake my head and go all glassy eyed on her, because she is actually glowing a little. And if she doesn't realize it yet, I'm not gonna be the one to say anything. I admit I'm slightly tickled to have this kind of secret to keep for a while.

Maybe even a little smug, too.

Sam's been working with Garth and some folks on the inside at Roman Enterprises to figure out the how's and why's to zapping the fucking face-munchers back to where they came from. So far it's been all surveillance and research, but everybody knows the time to act is rapidly approaching.

Now, we have another reason to get back home in one piece. Hell, maybe even reasons.

"Nothing, just looking at ya."

She rolls her eyes and swats my chest, reprimanding me. She kisses me quick, but deep and goes back to hauling in the rest of the groceries. I can't wait to see Bobby's face when he finds out he's gonna be a grandpa.

God, might even make him cry.

I drive to the Barn because though the weather is finally turning for the better, it's a cakey, mucky mess out there and I don't really want to spend five minutes cleaning my boots before I get to do the final walk through.

The plan was once the chompers were dealt with, we’d let her loose to nest. But I think it's time. Circumstances have changed. And we probably should keep her as busy as possible while she's still willing and able to put in the manual labor.

Fuck, I wonder if Sam knows. It's not like I can hear a heartbeat yet, it's just a chemical thing. Or maybe Alpha's intuition. Who knows and I don't really care how—- I just know what I know.

The entryway is wide and empty for now. We kept stone as the primary material for the floors, maintaining the rustic feel. But I talked Bobby into wisely installing a heating system beneath the decorative tiles. Warm and cozy like.

The staircase is wide and angular, nothing ornate, but sturdy. The kitchen and first floor bath branch out to the right, making for a southern exposure for a lot of natural light. The den and the office/library take up the left side, which once held the farm equipment and animal stalls.

Bobby ensured the built-in bookshelves would make Sam pop a nerd boner.

I take the stairs two at a time, rushing to see if I can parcel out the upstairs living quarters with some pocket doors or just keep it predominantly one large room with only single smaller rooms on each side, backed by the ensuite bathroom on one side and the walk-in closet on the other.

I don't think we were ever gonna need this much closet space so I start measuring it out, thinking nurseries don't last forever and that eventually we'd need space for toys and then privacy after that.

Maybe we hadn't thought this through after all. I think about calling Bobby out here, but it's probably too early to be making such adjustments.

Should wait 'til she's been to a doctor or something.

Still, makes me worry that the house isn't really ready. Or that could just be me.

Two weeks later

I get back from the hardware store just after sundown and all she's sending out is colors and WANT. Sam's easier to read, he's between her legs, the only dessert he really allows himself.

I leave my keys on the hook by the door and unlace my boots. She's excited that I'm home. Sam's happy she's happy. He's also damn pleased with himself and I can almost smell her once I start climbing the stairs.

I start shrugging out of my shirts as I enter our room. She's face down, ass up and Sam's on his knees, holding her open as he drags his tongue up and down her seam.

He groans when she sees me, and I can smell how her slick is already changing.

"Taste good, Sammy?"

"Better than ever," he agrees, before dipping down and sucking on her clit. She squeals and fists the comforter.

She's got a steady chant of 'mate mate mate' going in her mind. I sidle up to the edge of the bed, let her nuzzle my junk— just to hear her purr, before I back away and undo my belt.

She's the only one naked so far, but I'm not letting that last. I need to feel her. Fucking breed her all over again. God, she's gonna be so hot in a couple months. I can't wait to taste every inch of her, feel her thicken and plump fuller.

She whimpers, either Sam's doing his job or she's hearing me. She likes it when our mouths are on her, especially if it's to get her open for our knots— or to clean her up afterwards.

With her—with us it's been a little bit of everything. She wants both— she gets it.

Sometimes she makes us watch the other, eye fucks us as she rides the other brother. She's fucking vindictive. But she knows her power, can't be angry about a confident Omega.

And now that she won't be needy and in heat so often—- fuck she's going to have both our balls in a vice grip. She gasps and comes all over Sam's chin. He growls and keeps going, making her squirm until she comes again, loud and screaming his title.

I'm stroking myself nice and lazy now, going to stretch this out. Make her a pile of sagging joints and sticky skin before calling it a night.

"Can you smell it? What a good Omega we've got?" I ask without asking.

"Can fucking feel ‘em in there," Sam agrees.

I lean over the bed to where she's limp and warm. Kiss her hair and brush it back so I can get to her ear and breathe out, "you feel it, honey? Us growing inside you?"

She whines and then asks, all sleepy, "Pups?"

Sam and I share a look and a shit eating grin.

"Yeah, baby, you're fucking glowing with them," Sam confirms, hands soothing up and down her haunches.

"No wonder you've both been so damn happy lately. And handsy," she taunts, slipping away from Sam's touch and rolling up to her pillows in the middle of the bed.

She aint wrong. But, damn, didn’t think I was all caveman about her having kids until it actually happened. Now it’s all I can think about. I crawl after her up the bed, drag myself up her body, feeling the way she shivers from my body heat. I cage her in, box her in with my forearms and settle against the cradle of her thighs, hard and in no hurry.

She plays with my hair as I look down at her dazed expression, gather her up so I can slip my arms underneath to hold her head in both my hands. Nudge into the hair at her nape, getting her eyes to droop further closed.

“How’s my girl, huh?” I breathe against her lips as she smiles, just a hint of one really and she's reaching for a kiss. I hum against the familiar give of her mouth and drag her bottom lip in for a little nibble.

Sam’s off in the bathroom. I can hear him rummaging around, smell the salt she likes to use as he fills up the tub. He gives me this, just holding her, feeling her soft and supple in our bed. I kiss her, smirking as she tries to make it dirtier than it needs to be.

She’s fucking perfect.

I peck my way down her chin, drag my nose up her jaw, just to lap at that spot behind her ear. She’s itching to move, I can feel the tension build as I take my time, hold her tight, pinned by my hips and elbows.

She whines as I suck on her pulse, and sighs as I kiss it better.

Love this shit, love riling her up.

But she's sneaky, and just as I start to lick over to the other ear, she's got me in hand, clammy fingers squeezing and stroking. I gasp more than growl, of course she clocks it and fucking purrs.

"We gonna get dirty or what?" she teases.

"Don't want Sam's hardwork to go to waste," I agree, pulling her knee out and rolling my hips to really get at her. She drags up her other leg and lets me slick myself up. I tune everything else out, it’s just us right now. Just heat and wet and home. And me sinking inside her, her opening up to keep me close, and fuck it, I’m getting sappy here.

“Dean,” she moans my name, not my title, not some random endearment. My name and I just let go. I fuck her into the bed, hard and desperate, needy. All the while looking down at her, seeing her face and those eyes I can never hide from, just wrecked from it all.

Pride surges through me and I thrust deeper, letting my knot kiss her entrance, without letting it all go. I wanna keep drawing this out and if I focus on her, I won’t let her take me over the edge. I hover over completion— seeing her blissed out and mine.

So mine.

I snarl and clamp my jaw shut. Close my eyes and breathe. Force myself to use my upstairs brain and keep her throat out of my mouth. She’s mine, ours, I don’t need to reclaim her. She’s already got the best part of me anyway—- growing and safe.

My eyes snap open cuz she’s squirming to change positions, sitting us up so she’s in my lap, bouncing and kissing me all over. God, it’s perfect.

Every thrust she falls harder on my knot and I’m seeing spots, cross-eyed from the pleasure. “The water’s gonna be cold if we—,” I warn as she adds a swirl to the movement of her hips.

“Carry me,” she husks out, voice thin, but firm.

I lose it, slamming her down as my knot pummels inside her. She clutches to me with everything she has. When I can think straight, I feel myself leaking out of her, down my sapped nuts and onto the sheets and still she pulses around me, milking me for more.

I laugh and sigh, forehead on her shoulder as she wraps her arms around me and squeezes. I never want to move.

She murmurs in agreement, kissing my neck and just being that sweet side of her, the tender Omega that she kept hidden and protected for so long. I flex my toes behind her and start scooting us to the edge of the bed.

Sammmy’s been patiently waiting in the ensuite and I really should thank him. Maybe even ask for a spotter, but I manage to stand with her locked around me, her arms like snakes wrapping around my head. With every step I tug against her internal grip and we’re both whining at the strain by the time we reach the tub.

Sam’s shaking his hair out from a shower, and I make a point of not noticing his unsatisfied knot while I try to set her on the edge of the tub. Sam does a good job of suppressing his jealousy around me, but I always know. And it’s not personal, we’re beyond that. It still happens.

“Don’t look at me like that, it was her idea,” I gripe, trying not to rip out of her as I bend at the knees.

Sam huffs, probably giving her a bitch face, but she just shrugs and gasps as I step carefully into the tub.

“Easy,” Sam warns, like I’m not fucking going slow and steady.

She hugs me tighter, and I feel more of our juices slide down my thigh. Sam’s at her back now, holding her shoulders as I lift my other leg and twist us into the steaming water. We go down with a huge splash, but no one’s bleeding. So there’s that.

She sags against my chest, just letting herself relax with the warmth.

“Thanks, Alpha,” she says and we all know she means Sam.

Sam hums and pulls her hair out of the knot she had on top of her head, rubbing gently at her scalp. I never figured out how he does it without hurting her, but maybe it’s a trick having stupidly long hair taught him. Maybe he’s just got a better angle from space.

She sighs into his touch and smiles up at him with closed eyes. He bends down and kisses her. And I’m just a chair at this point.

Okay, maybe Sam’s not the only one who gets jealous.

I rub her thighs and use my fingertips to scrub our efforts off her skin. When my knot starts to soften, she leans back and gets her hair wet. That’s when Sam gives in and joins us in the tub. More water gushes over the sides, but I installed the walk-in shower at a pitch, the drain’ll do its job.

We take turns cleaning her off, and she takes turns kissing us stupid. We whisper sweet nothings about her body, our pups, the way she smells. I’ve never been so damn happy in my whole life.

Of course, it can’t last.

READER

What no one tells you about morning sickness is that morning has NOTHING to do with it. It’s like nausea for being hungry, your body is YELLING for nutrients in a more drastic way. Or at least that’s what I’ve been dealing with for the past six weeks since we figured out what we got ourselves into.

It’s been fine, really. I mean, I knew it was inevitable. The chance of birth control standing up against two claims and ALL that sex was pretty much wishful thinking at this point.

It’s just, we’re still on high alert with the Leviathans.

Dean’s letting me decorate the nursery, which is really just a branched off nook to the master bedroom. I still can’t believe all the work he and Bobby did to make this place so gorgeous. It makes me a little weepy just thinking about it too long, honestly. But don’t tell either of them, because they get all smug and start primping about their skills.

Yes, both of them.

Then there’s Sam. Who has, by far, been the worst. He checks my vitals, scents me constantly and has read more about the birthing process than probably half of the medical field. He’s relentless about my diet, my hydration, even my generally chaotic sleep schedule. If his protectiveness wasn’t so hot— I’d have stabbed him by now.

I still come pretty close when he raises his eyebrows when I sneak a sweet or two.

Dean’s on my side though, so tough titties for Sam.

I’m walking barefoot between our room and the babies’, relishing in the feel of the transition from reclaimed wooden floorboards to the cushy give of the soft gray carpeting.

I’m measuring the windows for curtains when the first pain shoots down my side, as quick and centralized as a ripped off bandage. I gasp and pull my arms down, rubbing the area through my shirt. It ebbs before I really think about it, moving on to the next wall where it’s a double window looking out towards the long forgotten cornfields.

It’s warm on the second floor this time of year, and we’re not around enough to leave the air conditioning on yet. So I huff a little and write down the width and height before stepping back and surveying the space. Blinds and curtains or just curtains?

I’ve never had my own space like this— never been able to choose how it takes shape. Another gift this house gives me. And I’ve found so many already: stability and hope, space and privacy, freedom, but mostly it gives us roots.

A true homebase.

A sense of safety and rightness has begun to creep into the everyday. My reflexes are slowing, even though I’m still on my feet and ready to assist on a hunt at a moment’s notice. Not that they’d let me in the field, now. Assholes. But I feel the ways I’m changing— we’re changing and I can’t really complain about the softer edges to us all.

I get another spasm just before dinner, nothing quite as alarming, but this one holds out longer. I’m rubbing my side again when Sam comes in with the bag of Chinese. Dean’s right behind him with a case of gatorade and a six pack.

Both of them gawk at me and I roll my eyes, take a deep breath and let them settle themselves down. One tiny bit of pain is not the crisis they’re thinking it is.

I take the bag out of Sam’s massive hand and start setting the white cartons out on the table. Worrywarts.

Bobby

The doctors can’t figure out what’s wrong. Something about weird body chemistry or mixed results from all the damn tests they’ve put her through the last week and a half. They’ve got her in a room, hooked up to monitors and saline drips. And still she’s struggling to keep a steady heartbeat. And the pups— well, they’re monitoring them too.

She won’t let me tell the boys. Not until we know something. But every instinct in me is screaming that those idjits need to be here for her, should be the ones holding her hand and getting the doctors to listen right.

I’m not her dad, but I’m the pack Alpha. I gotta do something.

They better just finish the Leviathans once and for all, because I’m not sitting on the bench for my health here. She’s been quiet today, pensive. Almost like when she was a kid.

Or younger. I didn’t know her like that until she was already hunting, damnit, in a way that these kids were never kids.

We’re not letting that happen again. Not if we can help it. I tell her I’m grabbing a coffee, promise to bring her something from the cafeteria. Just need to stretch my legs and get out of my head.

Make some calls.

Because we know a thing or two about things that these white coats don’t. And I’ll be damned if I let my girl go down without checking out every stop along the way.

Tell me what you think?

Tagging: @idreamofdeanie @stoneyggirl2 @delightfullykrispypeach @dolphincliffs @flamencodiva @crashdevlin @dontshootmespence @thoughtslikeaminefield @rockhoochie @dawnie1988 @mrswhozeewhatsis @cosicas-cuquis @foxyjwls007 @tumbler-tidbits @defenderrosetyler @ericaprice2008 @wingedcatninja @akshi8278 @itmighthavebeenintentional @smi727 @princessmisery666 @impalaslytherin

Read On: Chapter 9: The Prodigal’s Redemption

#tattered: growing pains #spn abo #alpha!dean x omega!reader x alpha!sam #alpha!dean #a/b/o dynamics #dean winchester smut #sam winchester smut #brothers share

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14dayswithyou · 2 years

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If the cast were to be in an Omegaverse AU how do you headcanon their dynamics to be? :3

Personally I’ve been headcanoning ren and elanor to be betas, leon and violet to be alphas, and teo to be an omega :D

✦゜ANSWERED: AINE NO SKF KJFSKFNJKSNSKNKS

Alpha: Violet and Teo (In theory. His pride is on the line ok) Beta: Ren/[REDACTED], Leon, and Moth Omega: Elanor and Teo (because it's hehe funny)

I also hate how the Teo/Violet dynamic would work so well if she was an alpha and he was an omega ^^; Leon, Moth, and Elanor on the other hand are just vibing while Ren is in your walls and trying to sync his rut/heat with yours somehow

#ren is one bad wattpad fic away from making a nest out of all your clothes jdsgsgsgkjs #mon knows how physically painful this is for me to write considering how i've always complained to her about horrible ABO smut kdskgsdg #💌 — answered.#mobile hours #queued post #to be tagged later

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dcminions · 2 years

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🌇 IN THE SOURCE , you will find one thousand , three hundred & twenty gifs of MEAGAN GOOD in seaon one of the show ‘ harlem ’ ( 2021 ) . please don’t claim these gifs as your own . like & reblog if you plan on using them or just enjoy them !

tw : food , alcohol , kissing , implied sexual activity featuring the cast of harlem !

if you'd like to donate to my ko - fi , click here !

#meagan good #meagan good gifs #meagan good gif pack #gifpacknetwork #gif pack #gifsociety #*mygifpacks*#IM DONE IM FINISHED I AM FREE #OH HOLY DAY #the coloring almost killed me like forty times #i suffered making these so if yall heffas don't use her i will personally start rioting #ill tear this whole website down #jfc #what a beautiful woman but when season 2 come out im fully relying on one of yall to do it #bc i simply Will Not #one thousand gifs my lord aboe #*above see now i can't even write words #im in PAIN

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sabraeal · 1 year

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Come to Heel, Chapter 1

[Read on AO3]

Written for @obiyuki-beebs! When I asked just what she would want for her birthday choice this year, Hayley deliberated mightily between an Izananyuki ABO fic or another chapter of The Lone Wolf Survives, and ultimately decided...that she was very afraid of the potentially knotting in TLWS, and could I write the Izanayuki fic from my rare pair poll last year 🤣

On the training grounds his captains stand tall amongst their men, barking out orders with all the confidence of an alpha in their den. But when they stand in his-- a study is what they call it now, in these more civil times-- those proud shoulders droop, heads bowed and necks bared; a show of deference, the way base instinct demands. It is an enlightened age they live in, yes, one of carriages and etiquette and mobility between both station and inclination, and yet--

Yet, the animal is always there, lurking beneath the surface. The same play of dominance and submission acted out over a hundred thousand years, simply lacquered with the veneer of politeness. These men might play alpha amongst their petty kingdoms, might even be inclined to be so, but in here...

Well, all men are betas beneath their king.

At least, that’s how it is supposed to be. Things never quite go as planned with Shidnote. “Are you serious?”

His father might have taught him that a king says more by his silence than by his speeches, but it was his mother who educated him on the precise pitch of brow required for regal skepticism. “Do you think me a man given toward making such a jest, Sir Zakura?”

“No.” Most of his captains stand in his presence, no matter if Izana offers them a seat or not, but Shidnote hardly needs an invitation, sprawling in the chair as if it were his own. “But you would if you thought it’d get your brother’s dander up. Which this will, by the way.”

Long limbs creep across the carpet, boots settling just shy of his desk, and-- ah, the man might be beta by inclination, but he spent far too long as the leader of his merry band to fit easily back in that box. Even buried beneath the balsam and clove, the musk lingers in his scent, faded but never forgotten.

It might threaten another alpha, a weaker one, more prone to paranoia and less apt at inspiring submission. But under a king’s hand--

Well, there are few banes that cannot become boons in time. Even if this one takes particular joy in making himself a nuisance. “That’s hardly my concern.”

“Of course.” His aide’s scent is made all the sweeter by submission, but there’s not a drop of sincerity in it. “That Prince Zen will froth at the mouth at this whole business is simply a bonus.”

A defense would be tantamount to a confession; one Izana does not deign to give. “I prefer to think of it as character building.”

“Frothing at the mouth?” Shidnote shifts in his seat, too big for the chair to comfortably contain. One of the two in his employ that have such an issue, though Lowen bears it with infinitely more grace. “Or--?”

“My brother lacks the decisiveness required of his position,” he drawls, ignoring the grin that greets him across the carpet. “And the ambition. This will give him and opportunity to develop both.”

Shidnote’s brows do not so much lift as saunter up his forehead. “And here I thought that’s what you liked about him.”

“A second prince must know his place.” Which history has shown that his brother did not, at least when it came to certain young women working under their auspice. “But the left hand must be able to act independently of the right. I must know I can trust him even when he is not under my watchful eye.”

Zakura snorts, indelicate as ever. “I don’t know who’s going to make an alpha out of him first, you or that little beta he keeps chasing around.”

To frown would only inspire his aide to new heights of aggravation. Izana offers him his most beatific smile instead; a saint given form and seated behind a desk.

There is a certain satisfaction in earning Shidnote’s scowl, even if it hardly survives longer than a breath. “You know, this is going have her shitting in all your dinners too.”

His smile stretches to a grin, quite unbidden. “Will it?” he wonders airily. “I hadn’t even considered.”

A beta’s shift in scents is subtle, muted, but Zakura’s annoyance rolls over him likes a wave, alpha in strength if not in smell. “Just when do you plan to tell her? I’d like to be in a different country, if I can manage it.”

“Oh...” He makes a show of glancing at the clock at the wall. “An hour ago.”

“An...?” Zakura’s broad hand scrubs over his scar, a groan scraping out from beneath it. “She’s going to strangle you with the curtains before you even get through the door.”

“I must admit,” he drawls, rising from his seat. “I might like to see her try.”

When the door to the parlor swings open, his brother’s beta is right where she ought to be: perched upon the plush cushions of the sofa, ankles crossed and fingers knotted so tightly she might well be a gift. A what a present she makes with that scowl, the sweet fruit of her scent already gone sour, frustration fermenting it to bitterness long ago. He breathes it in the way his father used to drink wine, savoring the first coating across his tongue before downing the rest of the glass.

“Mistress Shirayuki.” Her brows draw tighter over that button nose, spiking her scent with only the finest annoyance. “I see you’ve arrived.”

“I did,” she says with the sort of restraint his brother has never learned to show. “Punctually.”

Butter would hardly melt in his mouth as he circles her, enjoying the way she stiffens. She does not turn her head the way an omega would, nervous and eager to please, but her gaze does track him, sharp as any hunter. “How kind of you not to keep me waiting.”

Her anger blooms between them, as sweet as citrus; it is a struggle not to savor the fruits of his labor. A beta may not be alert to the subtleties of her own scent, but an ill-timed sniff on his part would give up the game far too soon.

“You must be hungry.” There would have been no reason to arrange this meeting over the dinner hour other than to assure such a state. “Let me call for a light--”

“Was there something you needed from me?”

Izana’s steps stuttering beneath her steady stare. “Excuse me?”

“I assume you called me here for a reason.” The infuriating thing puts her back to him, both feet flat on the floor as she rises with all the authority she does not possess. “If not, then I won’t waste your time--”

His fingers close over the delicate cap of her shoulder, gently-- firmly guiding her back down to the cushion. His brother’s little beta has never shown the deference a girl in her position should, either for his title or his inclination, but truly, this was beyond the pale. “I didn’t ask that you look after my schedule, Mistress Shirayuki. I asked if you were hungry.”

She huffs, cheeks rounded like prey. “I appreciate your concern, but if there really is nothing, then--”

“I could go for something,” her shadow pipes from his corner, doing a poor job of playing invisible, as always. “If you’re offering, alpha.”

His musk might be drowned beneath that citrus and sugar, more dessert than omega, but it’s still a feat how that man has them all fooled. Even if the pitch and smoke didn’t wear through at the same as the evening hours, his irreverence gives him away, those cold, coin-quick eyes meeting his with all the challenge that lanky frame can summon.

But the man can keep his secrets for now. If only for the way it makes his mistress cave, the stern line of her shoulders softening even as her slender little fingers claw into the cloth at her knees.

“All right,” she relents, her sigh as good as her submission. “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to have a little something.

It would be nothing for him to call for a full dinner with all its courses, the dishes catered to the particular tastes of the two meant to partake, but Izana knows better than to flaunt excess before his brother’s little beta. It might be a feast that’s laid before them, but a humble one, made of sliced means and creamy cheeses and bread still warm from the ovens. And a half dozen other things besides, simple dishes that hardly required cutlery, the sort of delicacies one might be at ease holding between their fingers even before a king.

Not that such an idea would ever slow Shirayuki down. Oh no, by the time it’s all laid before them, she’s already reaching out, fingers brushing at the serving ware before he can get a word in edgewise. As if they were in some public commissary, rather than his own private parlor.

His hand snaps out, seizing that small wrist before she can wreak anymore havoc. “I haven’t taken from that yet.”

A protest clearly perches upon those pouted lips, but she subsides, albeit poorly. Not waiting for him to release her as she should, she slips her wrist from his grip, letting her offending hand flop down onto her lap. She keeps it there, fingers knitted tight while he reaches to fill his own plate.

It’s amusing to watch her play at civility, to pretend she does not devour the meal with her hungry eyes first. Courtesy’s shiny veneer wears as he picks at the platters on the table, careful to avoid the one she’d reached for first. For all her professions of humble origin, the girl has expensive tastes; the wafer-thin slices of beef would be a luxury in any household, especially in the craggy northern hinterlands.

“You’re going to ask me to do something, aren’t you?” she asks, ever impatient. “Something I won’t like. You might as well--”

“Pleasure first,” he informs her, heaping her plate high with the table’s bounty. “Business later.”

That sweet mouth of hers flattens, conveying just how much pleasure she takes in this little parley. But she picks up her knife all the same, dipping it in the dollop of cheese upon her plate and spreading it thick across a slice of bread. He waits until it just brushes her mouth to say, “Alphas eat first, Mistress Shirayuki.”

Her eyes widen, outrage shining clear. “But you...?”

Izana smiles, good humor and sharp teeth in equal measure. His brother’s beta might play the innocent, but she does not miss either meaning, setting her silverware back down on the table, knuckle blanched to bone where she grips them. Where his ears not as sharp as his nose, he would not have heard the soft growl hidden in her throat as he takes his first bite, a challenge made soft.

It is a struggle to keep his mouth from widening. A girl like that would make a good alpha if his brother had it in him to make her one. Not that Izana would allow it, even if he could. Alpha or no, a pharmacist would hardly make an acceptable princess. A diplomat, perhaps, but for what he will need her for...

Well, maybe one day that shadow of hers will oblige and do the job for him. The way the scent of smoke suffuses the room when his mistress does as little as brush his hand, it won’t be much of a hardship. Or a wait.

Izana smothers a smirk. Might as well help things along on that front. “Ah, but if you have forgotten your manners, you must be starving. Here.”

Pinched between the seam of his fingers, a ribbon of beef unfurls, glistening in the lamplight. The little beta does the same at the sight of it, her mouth half opened when he urges, “Eat up.”

Ah, now that brings her up short. “Excuse me?”

“Go on.” It’s only natural, his posture implies, a beta eating from the hand of her alpha. “You have my permission.”

Her spine stiffens, like prey backed into a corner. But there is no sting of fear from her, only the profound odor of offense, a little anger giving spice to her mild scent.

“That’s quite all right,” she manages, hardly any of the words grit between her teeth. “I’ll wait for you to finish.”

His own tease at that slender ribbon, nibbling at the thin filaments until slivers shear off against his tongue. It’s amusing how she watches him, jaw working in sympathy as his chews, the scent anger and hunger linger in the air in equal measure. How simple it would be if only she would give way, if she would only give him the obedience he was due as her alpha.

But, he must admit, it is more fun this way.

“There is no need.” His smile does not bare teeth, but her hackles raise as if it does. “You’ve been so patient, Mistress Shirayuki. Let us eat together.”

It is a compliment, a magnanimous show of generosity that his father would have died before giving, even to his own son, let alone a beta whose only claim is a disgraced bloodline and a questionable friendship with Tanbarun’s most useless prince.

And yet still she wrinkles her nose, fork chasing potatoes about her plate with about as much attention as his brother affords his paperwork.

“Obi.” Her shadow straightens, attuned to the barest change in her tone. Obedient and attentive, the way an omega should be for his alpha. A pity neither of them are. “You must be hungry too.” Her slender little fingers pluck up that roast, ribbons overflowing her grip. “Have some.”

It’s with caution that her shadow edges out from his corner, detaching from the wall with all the deference of a hound at the table. He even darts a glance at Izana, the perfect approximation of a humble omega, if only it weren’t so clear there was no question there, no plea for permission-- oh no, the man’s coiled for confrontation as he approaches, ready to reach for those knives if there’s even a flinch from his position.

Izana simply sits stock still, pretending as if he’s allowing it to happen, that her defiance depends on his indulgence. But when the alpha dips his head, taking the offerings straight from her fingers, dining straight from this beta’s plate as if she were--

Well, it seems as if there’s more work to be done. He had left it to his brother to tame his little pharmacist, but it’s clear that a beta cannot be depended upon to do an alpha’s job.

“I had a chat with your acquaintance,” he says, pitched just too loud for the space between them, startling her attention away from the alpha at her shoulder. “It was quite...enlightening.”

“Kageya?” Her fork drops to the table, forgotten, all her attention hanging on his words. A heady sensation, for its rarity. “You mean she was helpful?”

Hope burns bright in the forest of her eyes, a spark that so easily sets others ablaze, but he knows better than to feed it. Sweet as this little beta is, her wishes always come at too high a cost. “That remains to be seen.”

Her mouth rumples like parchment, his word a draft she would like to relegate to the bin. “What do you mean by that?”

“Lady Kageya informed us of a pharmacy run out of Hyatess. It is apparently where Toka Bergatt sourced many of her supplies. At least, the ones she couldn’t readily come by.” He glances at her, wary, as he adds, “If this information is true, then--”

Ah, when her eyes flare like that, it’s terrible how tempted he is to catch fire himself. “Then you’ll let her go?”

“No.” Her brow furrows tight over the freckled expanse of her nose, mouth opening with all the intent to argue, but Izana holds up a hand, quelling her quarrels. “With her willingness to help us, Elys has bought her life, but her freedom...there is much that woman knows, and in the wrong hands she could once again threaten the safety of Clarines’ people. But if this pharmacy has indeed thrown in with a traitor, and their connection leads us to him, perhaps I could consider...”

He allows her heart to fill in what his words cannot promise.

“Then can’t you just investigate that?” Ah, it is easy to see why his brother is so enamored with this little beta; she is just as impatient as he. “You’d know she was telling the truth if you only just--”

“Should we go up the Hyatess and simply ask if they have been committing treason?” She flushes beneath the weight of his raised brows. “An investigation will take time. And trusted agents. Ones that can blend in among the pharmacist there. Ones that are adept at earning trust quickly.”

“Ah...” If there is one thing the pharmacist is that his brother is not, it’s clever. “So this is what you wanted me for. But wouldn’t they not want to...er...with a...um...?”

“Trust a pharmacist so closely associated with the crown?” His mouth quirks at a corner. “Perhaps if I sent Garak, or even her assistant, that might be the case. But it seems, Mistress Shirayuki, that you have done quite well at establishing yourself as a person of note in the North.”

She blinks. “Me?”

“You.” It’s impossible to keep his grin from curling at the corners. “You might carry the distinction of royal pharmacist, but it seems that your reputation as a scholar of Lilias precedes you. And in the North, your closest known tie to the throne is...”

He glances pointedly to the alpha at her shoulder. She has the grace to flush. “That’s quite flattering, but still, I’m sure there’s someone who would be better...”

“There is no one better than you, Shirayuki.” He doesn’t mean to say the words, not with the earnesty he does, but the roundness of her eyes demands that he own it now that he has. “Your background is the best fit for this mission. Besides, it’s not as if you will be alone.”

Her brows raise. “I won’t? Who else could you send? Suzu? Ryu?”

Izana dismisses the names with a wave of his hand. “Hardly. They are both on projects Clarines considers high priority. No--” his mouth twitches, a warning he does not mean to give-- “I thought you might prefer an assistant instead of a partner.”

It is worth the wait for the words to catch up with her, for when they do-- “No.”

“No? Come now, Mistress Shirayuki.” Izana is not one to cajole, but it is worth it to see her scowl; if they were beasts in truth, her ears would lay flat along her head. “Wouldn’t you enjoy having me at your beck and call again?”

“Beck...?” She blinks at him owlishly. “You hardly listen to a thing I said!”

“I had other concerns at the time.” Trying to secure an alliance with Arleon’s younger sister, for one. “But this time, I promise...”

His lips unfurl into a lazy grin. “...You will have my full attention.”

#izanayuki #akagami no shirayukihime #snow white with the red hair #my fic #ABO au #Come to Heel #ans #it was a pain figuring where to cut this first chapter #but I think this ended up being as good a place as any #far enough into the conversation that it's clear Pharmacist Lowen is about to make an appearance #but not far enough for shirayuki to have put up a whole ass fuss #because lemme tell you. she IS

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grimalkinmessor · 1 year

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Genuinely surprised that no one's written an Omega Light fic where he uses Alpha Matsuda as a sort-of beard because he's the only one Light trusts completely and who he believes would never betray him. He asks Matsuda to claim him because he's sick and tired of everyone bothering him about getting mated and it's very much a claiming of convenience and he tells Matsuda as much.... At least at first :)

#matsulight #death note #abo au #light: i keep getting harassed on the train matsuda i don't feel safe won't you help me? 🥺#matsuda who has been pining for light for a long time: .....*pained wheeze* okay #light genuinely trusts matsuda not to fuck him up while also not really believing that he has good intentions #then matsuda seats with him through a heat and makes sure he's comfortable and fed and not touching him in any way inappropriately #and light just goes '....oh no'#matsuda touta #yagami light #lmao plz imagine matsuda internally monologuing about how everything's fine and he can pine forever if light needs him to #all while light is mentally chanting 'I won't fuck him I won't fuck him I won't fuck him I WON'T'

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icantswim-03 · 1 year

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Oh pain. There’s only like 6 pages worth of Wayne/Darryl (LetterKenny) fics on Ao3. That’s such a bummer 😭

#I’m in pain #letterkenny #wayne letterkenny #Darryl Letterkenny #I’m just so bummed out bro #I want an abo Wayne and Darry fic #plz

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bwoahtastic · 2 years

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I like to think, once things have settled. Michael and Dan get a family photo to mark the moment in their life of the happiness after going through hardships. Cute papas with their little bubbas that are their little warriors.

PLLSSS LOOK AT THEM IMMA CRY😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 them just so lovingly looking at the kids and Dan's hand on Michael's arm akxkkskd dyinggg. The bubbas look so cozy snuggled into them too AHHHHH this is so so cute I can't!!!

You are a legend!!!!!!

#asks #abo pain #art #m1lkteaboi

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explainslowly · 1 year

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part of the appeal of abo seems to be the ability to give your fave male character Nightmare Period from Hell, with optional side serving of Fuck or Die

#I never had a truly painful period and I think I took painkillers maybe twice in my life so Im reading this mostly like “damn thats crazy”#omegaverse studies #what if you could end your period instantly by having mindblowing sex and other provocative questions asked by abo fics

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garlic-sauc3 · 6 months

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FUCK me. whatever.

#ugh the chiropractor was actually really helpful and wad aboe to mostly identify the problem #but now im going on a fucking spiral #because i dont fucking want to be fixed #i hate being in pain and my stupid fucking spine has caused me more trouble than good #but i dont want to be able bodied #i dont want to be “fixed”#whatever. i don't want to be in pain all the time. i dont #anyway whatever who fucking cares #yippee ive mostly figured out whats wrong. fuck me

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shinkai-kaiju · 10 months

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travel is pain

#luggage...is also pain #losing one of your bluetooth earbuds n not being aboe to find it before travel....is also pain

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sabraeal · 9 months

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The Strong Pack Thrives, Part 1

[Read on AO3]

Sequel to The Lone Wolf Survives

Hardly two steps into the breakfast room and the scent assaults her: pork sausage with fennel and garlic, some root vegetable-- potato perhaps-- fried crisp and spritzed with lemon, charred tomatoes with spring onions, a milky sauce of indeterminate spice but what is there is certainly a lot. There’s more besides; an entire basket full of muffins calls to her, as well as small danishes laid out on a tray and topped with generous helpings of jam and custard. But none of those pastries cling to her nose, overwhelming her with choice. Eisetsu’s table had never been sparse, but this morning--

Well, no one would ever guess that they had all spent almost an hour trying to scrub char and pitch and dirt from their skin last night, or that what remained of her clothes had been resigned to the furnace, not the laundry. Thank goodness they’d thought to change before riding out after Ryuu; Eisetsu was no alpha to begrudge her a ruined gift, especially if the ruination was in his service, but still-- she would have spent all breakfast, wondering if she should bare her neck.

“Good morning, Shirayuki,” he calls out, his usual sunny smile sedate. It’s habit to ask if there’s something the matter-- or, more pressing, if there’s anything she can do about it-- but she remembers the woman locked in the suite upstairs, still wrangling with the after effects of Touka Bergatt’s long-term attentions, and bites it back. Obi hadn’t had time to delve into the details of just what happened at the masque, but it didn’t take much to gather that it hadn’t been the joyous reunion Eisetsu had hoped.

“Ah, yes.” She bustles over to breakfast, attempting to be chipper enough for the both of them. “Good morn--”

“Shirayuki!” The chair legs screech across the parquet before Zen catches himself, half risen from his seat. “Ah, I mean. Mistress Shirayuki. It’s pleasure to see you.”

A lord does not rise for a commoners. An alpha does not rise for a beta. And a prince, well...there is a reason why Zen coughs, awkward, before shuffling his chair beneath him. Eisetsu, for his part, only tilts his head, sending a curious glance her way.

“Good morning, Your Highness,” she replies with as formal a bow as she can make with a plate in her hands. “Lady Kiki. Sir Mitsuhide. It’s an honor to dine with you this morning.”

A raised eyebrow from Rugilia’s lord warns her that she has perhaps laid it all on too thick. Obi is a knight of the Royal Circle, an aide to the prince of Clarines; as high as the rest of them ranked, both by blood and inclination, they were his close colleagues. And if she were his, er...

I think I mentioned-- even now she fells the rumble at her back, the hot breath washing over her ear --that alphas like to take care of their mates, Miss.

...Ah, whatever she might be, she would know them. Not well, but enough that she wouldn’t need to bow and scrape. Ugh, this one little lie had seemed so simple when it was just between her and Obi, but now with Zen here, and Kiki, and Mitsuhide-- it’s unwieldy. Every action must be calculated, joy rationed in every smile, and--

And she’s saved from much more of it by a shuffle in the hall. Or several shuffles, perhaps even a scuffle, each one far more awkward than her own, until somehow all the jostling ejects both offenders through the door.

“Lord Tsuruba!” Eisetsu calls out, a hair too loud for the room. “And, er...Lord Tariga...? What a pleasure for you two to join us.”

Side by side, the differences between them are stark; not simply because of Tariga’s braid and Tsuruba’s scar, but because of the way they hold their faces. Similar features mold to distinct persons now that she can see that Tsuruba wields a bland politeness like a shield, making each twitch of his nose or lift of his lips a full expression in itself; or that Tariga’s brows naturally settle at a quizzical angle, like a constant question caught is between his teeth, ready to fall with every breath.

And yet, despite their expression, their scent shifts to a similar shade of skeptical, dubious that their presence at this table could be anything but tolerated, that their duty to attend might be anything but a burden to those already seated.

Ah. Shirayuki rubs at her nose. Strange. She’s not use to so much from a simple sniff. Perhaps she’s simply overstimulated; Eisetsu’s spread is far more pungent this morning, most likely to impress the alphas in the royal party-- or at least, who he assumes are alphas. Still, it pales to the banquets at the palace; there may be a glut of scents, a veritable feast for the nose, but it lacks the complexity of what the castle kitchens put out.

Or maybe, a traitorous part of her whispers in her ear, it has something to do with last night.

It’s-- it’s impossible. It’s not as if she hadn’t-- if she had never--

Well, a beta may not fly into heat or fall into a rut, but Shirayuki had certainly put a hand between her legs before. A few times, even, when the nights ran late and her mind still paced the lab’s floors, composing notes that wouldn’t make it to the page until morning. Something to...to ease the way to sleep. To shut off.

Ah, but in that carriage, shutting off had been the furthest thing from her mind. His hands had skimmed up her thighs, and she had wanted to-- to--

Do something. She hardly knew what, but seeing Obi there across from her after, unfinished and undone--

Her hands had itched, her lips stung. We can do more later, he had rumbled, too low, and--

Clink.

“Shirayuki!” Eisetsu springs to his feet, blinking owlishly at where she stands. “Are you quite all right.”

She glances down, and, ah...the plate rests in one palm, and in another, a piece of it, broken in the shape of her grip. “Oh, goodness! I’m, ah...”

When she dressed this morning, grimacing at the marks she could only hope a high collar would cover, the choice had not felt convenient let alone fortunate. But now, with heat flaring over her chest, threatening to spill up the column of her neck, she feels...armored, if not precisely comfortable. Protected, from scrutiny, at least.

“Please, don’t worry yourself.” With a wave of his hand, a footman appears to take it from her, scurrying it away into the kitchens. “I’m sure it was just...badly thrown. Flawed before it even came to the table!”

“Right.” Considering the expense for gilded dishware she would hope not, but there’s hardly a better explanation. “I just...is Obi coming down to breakfast?”

Zen blinks at her. “I was about to ask you the same thing.”

“My thought exactly, Your Highness.” Eisetsu’s mouth curves impishly as he tucks in behind his meal. “You are the one with the best opportunity to inquire as to his, mm, morning plans, aren’t you?”

As if the insinuation wasn’t enough, Eisetsu glances around the table, expectant. He’s anticipates their knowing looks, that the royal party will gleefully seize the opportunity to tease Lilias’s most famous lovebirds--

But it is only met with a quizzical silence. Zen’s narrowed gaze darts between them before he ventures, “What's that supposed to mean?”

“If you’re looking for Obi,” comes a soft voice from the hall, “I think I might be able to provide some assistance.”

They’d arrived here last night, all squeezed in on one carriage bench, pressed shoulder-to-shoulder like sardines in can-- him, Miss, and their little pup. No reason for it either; Master had hopped in with Eisetsu without a whisper of warning, Miss Kiki and Sir keeping pace on either of side of them in case of trouble. So they might have taken up the whole cab, letting Obi stretch out his cramped legs and letting the air carry away Miss’s troublesome scent. It’s just--

It felt right. Charred and dirt-stained and foul-smelling as they were, the moment he’d thrown himself to the cushions and Ryuu had followed, burying his nose in the rent beneath his shoulder, Obi felt...

Home. It was home. And Miss piling in on the other side, the sweet scent of her still there, strong beneath the smoke and soil--

His cock twitches, the mattress rising to cradle it, to give it far more attention than its due. He shifts, just enough that his groan is lost in the labyrinth of the pillow’s down, but it doesn’t help, doesn’t do anything but make him wish her soft skin was beneath his neck. Reminds him that he could sink his cock as deep as his teeth into something warm, into something that sighed at Miss’s pitch--

“Obi?”

It’s an effort to lift his head, to even turn enough so that he can see who shuffles at his bedside. His senses are addled by her scent, searching for it, yearning, but-- but the one in his room isn’t hers. Isn’t one he knows, not at first, not until his eyes finally focus and he’s met with blue in a moon-pale face, dark hair no longer long enough to tumble over his forehead. No, it’s cut to look just like his. In the market, a woman asked whether they were brothers, and he--

He needs to focus. “Ryuu...” Haah, his mouth is parched. “What...what are you doing here?”

Big eyes blink at him in a face he can’t quite reconcile to the shaggy mop of a kid he caught under Miss’s desk all those years ago. The one who hadn’t climbed a tree or caught fireflies or had a growth spurt that made his legs ache. The one who used to smell like the stockroom, herby and indistinct, like he caught a whiff of it through an open door, and now--

Now there’s a musk to it, a hint of something deeper. He’s changing; no, Ryuu’s growing up, and Obi’s not sure into who. Someone better than him, that’s for sure. “Breakfast.”

The smell might be different, less herbal tea and more...forest floor, but it’s soothing. Like a cool compress to a fever, the first stirrings of his rut eases. “Where at?”

If it’s one of those informal grab-and-go businesses, he might be able to make it. Just throw his loosest tunic over this whole situation and stuff his pockets full of food. In and out and no one the wiser. “The usual room.”

Which means the informal dining room. Same as the formal one, but no dressing up required. Grabbing encouraged, but not the going. “Right.”

Intimate, is what Eisetsu liked to call his breakfasts. Table right up close to the spread so everyone can comment on what is and isn’t going on a plate. Best seats in the house to witness his ever-growing situation while he got his bacon and eggs.

Damn. He’d really been hoping for a handful of that sausage. Betas keep their table bland-- they don’t know better, really-- but it was recipe from the old count’s time. Man might have been a bastard, but he sure knew how to spice a--

“Obi.” Ryuu stares at him-- no, through him, brows angled like arrows over his nose. “Last night you ate quickly and left.”

It was that or break his hand to keep from feeding Miss from his plate. Kiki had offered her half a scone and he nearly jumped the table.

“You don’t smell right either.” Those wide eyes squint, suspicion caught up in their corners. A knowing he’d rather the kid not have. Not about this. “Are you feeling unwell?”

There’s a stress on it, unwell. Like the way Sir said indisposed when Kiki spent three days locked in her room after Sereg, or Miss said unavailable when Yuzuri made the whole wing smell like butter and citrus.

“Me, pup? I’m in top form.” He gives his chest a rap, just to prove it. “That perfume rattled me a bit, I’m not too proud to admit it, but everything’s right as rain now. Problem is--” he leans in, conspiratorial “--it’s getting crowded around here.”

His mouth fouls up into a frown. “Do you need more suppressants? I made another batch before we left. I can get them now.”

“Ahh. No, no.” There’s nothing those can do for him now, not with a rut so close even his bones feel heavy, begging him to find someone to hold his weight. “I just. Need a bit. Just a day or two to clear out my nose before I play the good omega again.”

“Uh-huh.” Ryuu hasn’t gotten as far as he has at Lilias without knowing a lie when he hears it. But he’s also got experience in keeping secrets, and Obi knows: he’ll keep this one too, so long as it’s safe. “You’ll let me know if you need something. Or Shirayuki?”

“I’ll tell you.” That’s the last thing he needs right now, having her in here. But her scent... “Hey, Little Ryuu, do you think you could do me a favor?”

“Which is why he’s still in his room.” There’s a tightness around Ryuu’s mouth as he speaks, a grimace concealed through movement. He’s keeping something from them, holding something back, and by the way he can’t quite meet her eye, Shirayuki knows it’s not about the crowd.

“He’s not coming, then?” He nods, tight and quick, before turning to the buffet, plate already in hand. “Maybe he’s finally able to relax.”

The muffin drops from between his tongs, rolling across the table before he stiffly picks it up. “Maybe. He definitely slept.”

Guilt stings her nose, sharp and strong as vinegar. She wants to press, to ask just how he might know that for a fact, but Zen’s snort interrupts her. “That one? I bet. He’s practically nocturnal.”

“I don’t think sleep is the issue here,” Kiki hums, her smirk tipping into a wry slant.

“You know how he leans against a wall with his arms crossed sometimes?” Zen leans toward Ryuu, a grin stretched across his lips. “He’s actually sleeping.”

This time when heat gathers at her collar, it’s not pleasant. No, this time her stomach roils, and the flush spreads like steam, right up to the tips of her ears. “That’s--”

That’s because his work keeps him up at night, she manages to snap her teeth around just in time, and then by morning you expect him to sit at your heels.

It takes a breath-- several, all of them under the table’s intense scrutiny-- for her to catch herself, for her to calm enough to say, “I mean that he’s able to relax now that all of you are here. With you around, he doesn’t have to worry...”

About keeping me safe. She glances up at Eisetsu, his curiosity politely perked. “He’s had a long few days, I mean.”

“Oh, I bet. He’ll emerge sooner or later.” Zen smiles at her over the rim of his teacup. “He’ll sneak out of his room, prowling and hungry for lunch.”

“Oh.” Ryuu blinks from his position at the buffet. “He told me to bring him some kind of sandwich.”

Kiki’s brows lift. “A brazen request for an absentee.”

“He put in his appearances last night,” Mitsuhide reminds them, slicing into a thick piece of ham. For one, bright moment, she believes he might be on her side, that he might defend Obi as well, but then he adds, disgruntled, “Maybe he thought that would earn him brownie points.”

“Clever.” Kiki hums, unimpressed. “Give up time now for a little time to himself later.”

Zen glances down the table, smile brimming with his usual charm. “I do apologize, Lord Eisetsu. He’s usually better behaved.”

“Oh, it’s, ah, no trouble at all.” He spares her a startled look, a question she can’t possibly answer brewing in his eyes. “Last night the man told me himself that he planned to spend half the day in his chambers. Well deserved too, if I say so myself.”

It’s with a theatrical sigh that Zen settles back in his chair, the barest hint of a smirk lingering at the corners of his mouth. “Well, what do we think? Should we forgive him? He did inform the master of the house.”

Kiki sips, too delicate, at her tea. “He certainly laid the groundwork.”

“Agreed. However--”

“I don’t think Obi needs your forgiveness.”

It’s not until every eye at the table swivels her way, aristocratic eyebrows all raised to their loftiest arches, that Shirayuki realizes that she’s spoken. That it was her foot that has come down on the neck of this conversation. But now that she has, it’s too late to stop, to keep the words from spilling out like a tea kettle boiled too hot.

“He has spent the last week getting to the bottom of a conspiracy that none of you knew anything about until after we--” Shirayuki hauls herself short of, we told you. Eisetsu has proven himself a trustworthy ally, maybe even friend; she would hate to ruin it by informing him that the prince of Clarines had been a guest in his house without his knowledge. “Last night he not only delivered the culprits to you, but a key witness, and on top of that, saved...”

It’s impossible to put into words what Ryuu is to her. To them. How frantically her heart had raced when they found that bookmark in the forest, the terrible tearing in her gut as she traced the bloody patterns of their secret knock.

“Shira--” There’s the smallest scrape of a chair as Zen makes to rise, his hand lifting off the table to reach out to her, but--

But one curious glance from Eisetsu keeps him in his seat. Because, of course, to him Zen is merely her lover’s lord, an acquaintance that only reflects the favor he must shower on Obi.

“Ah...” There’s an apology in Zen’s eyes, but it’s only for her. “Of course, Miss Shirayuki. We were only teasing. Force of habit. For an omega, Obi always gives as good as he gets.”

Right. Because that’s what they know him as: an omega, an easy and eager target. Not the alpha who bows his head to earn his place. Not the man who--

“If you would excuse me.” Her chair screeches back as she stands, the room suddenly too small, too hot. She glances at Eisetsu. “My lord?”

He blinks back at her. “O-of course, Shirayuki. Was the food not to your liking? You’ve barely eaten--?”

“No.” She can’t bear to look at any of them as she says, “I’ve lost my appetite.”

“Shira--” Zen catches himself. “Miss Shirayuki, do you need someone to--?”

“No, I’m fine. Just...” She shakes her head. “I need space.”

Shirayuki’s hardly more than a few steps from the hall before she collapses against the wall, tearing at the neck of her dress. She’s sweating, cold and hot at the same time.

“What,” she gasps, pressing her head into her hands, “is wrong with me?”

#obiyukibingo23 #obiyuki #akagami no shirayukihime #snow white with the red hair #my fic #a/b/o au #ans #yes it is BACK because the bingo gods LAUGH in the face of my PAIN #and also because there is a handful of ladies who would not let me rest #this chapter is mainly set up for what is going to come after #more of it than i initially planned!#BUT HERE WE ARE #because if i'm gonna write abo i'm gonna make people suffer PLOT

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loganlermanstanaccount · 11 months

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Show me where it hurts (part 2)

Miguel O'Hara x spiderwoman!reader

GIF by aenhanse

(AO3 Mirror), Part 1, Main Masterlist

summary: You confront Miguel.

warnings: breeding kink, cum play, animalistic behaviour (not quite ABO), mutual masturbation, dirty talk, praise and degradation, Miguel eats ass like a fucking champ, general filth etc etc. very very 18+, minors dni (and i will b blocking!)

a/n: thank you for all the support for part 1! I will say, all the comments about relationship building and stuff do make me laugh a little bc this part is literally just p0rn with a teensy tiny bit of feelings.. but if you follow me this should be pretty standard by now.

wc: 4k ish

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You let yourself in again, but not until after pounding on the door.

You think he's home, the scent of something in the air. At first glance, his place is empty, but a mess : cushions ripped off the couch, kitchen ransacked of its contents, floor covered in blankets and clothes. It makes you worry: Miguel is so clean it's scary . He would never leave his place like this. You hear something from his bedroom and rush towards it.

He's there, back turned on the bed. But something's wrong. In sweats and a tank top, he's breathing heavily, clutching at the sheets.

"You shouldn't be here." He strains.

Eyes wide, you step closer. Is he in pain? Is he hurt? "Miguel. I just want to help. Did something happen?"

All he does is shake his head, unable to make eye contact with you. "I c-can't let you… please, bichita. It's not safe for you."

Your heart breaks at his helplessness, you get closer, and perch on the bed next to him. He jumps at the hand you place in his shoulder. Fuck. He's drenched in sweat.

"Miguel, please. Let me in… I'd do anything. Just let me help."

He groans with his head in his hands. "I know, bichita. That's the problem. I can't let you…"

You look at him properly now. He's writhing on the sheets, tense and unable to sit still. Guiltily, all you can think is how good he looks; pretty even when his hair sticks to the nape of his neck, when he groans lowly at your presence. Your eyes rake down his body, looking for a secret wound, or something he's hiding. When you spot it, you gasp.

Miguel is rock hard under his sweats. And he is massive.

It clicks. Ashamed, he makes hesitant eye contact with you. "It's not usually this bad. And it gets worse if I'm near someone I'm…" He breathes. "Someone I'm attracted to."

You can't help but laugh at the absurdity of the statement; of the situation. "I think that's just what erections do, Miggy."

He rolls his eyes, too annoyed to be as uneasy for a moment. " No , God, I meant my DNA. There's something wrong with me, something animalistic , that makes it ten times worse. I'm going crazy. Smell, taste, touch… and it doesn't just go away. "

You hum. "And what's your hypothesis?"

He looks at you, a little crazed, but he gets it. If you talk to him like it's one of your status reports, like it's another mission, maybe he can stop thinking about pounding you into the sheets and filling you up with his cum.

He clears his throat. " You . Gets worse when I t-think about you, or you're near."

You've got a hand on his thigh, rubbing circles that go straight to his head.

"What makes it feel better?"

Deep breath. "Touching myself. But I haven't… and I won't-"

"Why?" You smile like a Cheshire cat. Are you… enjoying this?

"I can't. You're a friend and it's a violation of your trust."

"It hurts. You're in pain. I give you full permission to give yourself some relief. You can touch yourself, for me. I want you to feel good."

His hips buck up involuntarily. Just thinking about it is driving him crazy. " Mierda. Stop talking like that-"

"Like what?" You bat your eyelashes.

"Like that ." He hisses. "Like you want to get fucked."

He squeezes his eyes shut, even more guilty. "I'm sorry. That's not appropriate at all. I shouldn't have… snapped like that."

You rub your legs together: you're fucking soaked. Like this, with his senses going crazy, you don't know if he can smell it, taste it in the air. The thought makes you even wetter.

You mumble. "Meant it, Miguel. I just want to watch."

Agonisingly slow, you sink to your knees in front of him. He watches, eyes wide, trying not to lean into it.

"Do you want me to beg? Because I will, if it makes you feel better."

He grabs his crotch, rocking into his palm. You're breaking him down, bit by bit.

"I think you like punishing yourself, Miggy. You think you deserve it. How long have you been like this? Weeks, I bet. When all you needed to do was ask me. I would've helped you over the phone if you wanted it. Told you how to stroke your cock, where to put pressure, asked you if it felt good. Think about how good it would feel. The relief. "

You rock on your heel and it doesn't go unnoticed. You light him on fire, and the thought of you getting off only pushes him closer to the edge. "Can I tell you a secret?" You whisper. He nods fervently. "I've always wanted you in my mouth. Just wanted to know what it would feel like; how pretty you'd look when you cum."

It's too much. His back arches, and he groans, spilling into his sweats. Astounded, you look up. So. Much. Cum. You didn't think a person could physically produce so much, but here he is, coating the inside of his boxers with it. Miguel, however, looks embarrassed: his first orgasm in a week and it's spilling into his trousers in front of a pretty girl like a teenager. He groans, covering his flushed face.

"Can I…?" Your eyes are wide in amazement. Shakily, he nods.

Is it bad for you to say he looks just like you imagined? Tan, long and with a bit of girth, and under all the cum he seems well-groomed. He's still half hard, which is impressive considering the sheer amount of cum splattered everywhere. Probably, he has the prettiest cock you've ever seen. As you pull down his boxers, your very obvious glee makes him pause.

"...you like this?" He seems genuinely confused, and it makes you giggle. You've flustered him, yet again.

Resting a head on his thigh, you look up at him through innocent lashes. Your other hand swipes cum off his tip, making his cock jump. "Could ask you the same. You're still hard."

"I can't believe…" He mutters. "You're gonna kill me."

"What do you want, Miguel?" You put a hand on his length, rubbing up and down ever so slightly. "You want to get off?"

"I want…" It makes him grunt all the same. He goes from wayward glances to looking you straight in the eyes. " You . I want you."

"How do you want me?" Deceptively innocent, you coax his length back to full mast with your hand.

How do you want me? There are a thousand thoughts flying through his head, and his brows tense with the weight of them. Head back, he leans into your touch. He doesn't want to scare you, with the way he's been thinking about that question long before you asked: weeks, months, years before now. You see him hesitate, and bite his lip.

Your hands still and he cries out, cursing the loss of warmth. "M'not asking again." A little softer now. "No judgement, Miggy. I just want to help."

Deep breath. "Anyway I can. Wanna fill you up with my cum. On top. U-Underneath. Mierda. I want your mouth. I want your sweet cunt. I-"

You silence him with a moan when you envelope his cock with your mouth. You close your eyes in bliss as you bob up and down. Just the tip, teasing , and he's already addicted. With a pop, you separate, pressing sticky kisses and kitten-licks to his shaft and torso. He can't take his eyes off of you: peeking up at him through wispy lashes, licking up his cum.

Pretty, plump lips smack at his tip obscenely. He can't help but think about how well it suits you; mouth around his cock like something holy. Precum pours from his slit and you lap it up, chasing his moans. Your own moans vibrate deliciously around him and he wraps a hand in your hair. Finally. You want him to enjoy this, to lean into your head-bobbing, and force your head down onto his dick. You want to feel him in the back of your throat, bullying into the warmth of your mouth and moulding you into the shape of him.

It starts with a little pressure at the back of your neck, deceptively subtle as he rocks his hips into your face. Making eye contact, you look up and feel your pussy clench around nothing. His eyes are lidded, gorgeous, mouth slightly parted and tongue darting out to wet rosy lips.

"You want it, hermosa ?" His voice has a different texture to it: deep and wanting and needy.

As best you can, you nod, humming affirmations around his cock. Oh God, of course you do. You want him; anyway you can, anyway he'll let you, more than he'll ever know.

He pushes you down, hard, cock hitting the back of your throat like a piston. You gurgle and choke around him, throat tightening in a way that makes him melt. You force yourself deeper, hot tears welling up at the corners of your eyes. Your hands claw at his thighs, nails digging so tight into the fabric you think he might bleed. Winding a hand down to your heat, you press your palm into that sweet spot at your clit and Miguel watches, hungry.

"Oh fuck , you feel so good. I'm gonna– m-mierda – m'gonna cum."

With a final tug, he pushes you down so your nose brushes at the curly hairs leading down to his cock, spilling into you with vigour. It pours down your throat and you drink it up with pleasure.

"All gone?" He asks, panting with exertion. In response, you open up your mouth, sticking out your pink tongue so he can inspect it. He stirs when he realises just how cock drunk you are: nary a trace of him left on your tongue.

Slowly, he brings a thumb to your mouth, and watches intently as you swirl it around, and suck on it keenly. The pressure makes him light headed, other hand reaching for your waist to pull you up. And pull you up he does, turning you around so he can take off your suit and have you seated on his lap, where you belong.

You let him, shrugging off the top half of the suit as he pulls down your zipper. Surprisingly gentle, he traces the slope of your shoulders, and down to your bare ass. He groans. No underwear, because of course , you want to kill him. You want him to die, pussy-whipped and half-hard. He pushes you towards the wall, back pressed flush against him. He drags his fangs across your neck and whispers into the shell of your ear, making your whole body shiver.

"Once I start," He kneads your ass, grinding his cock against you. You gasp. He's still hard. "M'not gonna be able to stop. And it's not going to be sweet, bichita . You leave now and I won't be angry . I–I'll give you space, whatever you want."

" Miguel," Head back, you moan into his touch, dragging his hand towards your slit, hoping he’ll relieve the pressure at your pussy. "I want it to hurt. I want to feel it tomorrow– fuck– f-feel it when I walk and know it was you . Need it. Need you , please-"

He bites into your shoulder, and you moan wantonly, back arching into his length. He places your hand on the wall, palms flat. Like the chaser after a burning shot, he soothes haphazard squeezes down your back with his mouth. Hot, messy kisses, as he sinks to his knees. He forces you to hinge at the hip. Breasts pushed against the cool wall, you gasp when you feel him spread the globes of your ass as he presses his tongue to your hole. He licks the length of your slit, and like a slut, you lean into it.

"Prettiest cunt I've ever seen, hermosa." He brings his hand to your clit, giving you a wet slap as he watches you shudder. Again, and again, until you cry out.

" Miguel, fuuuck."

How has he gone his whole life without hearing you say his name like that? Yet again, he almost cums in his pants, loosely shoved over his aching length. All he can do is watch as your holes flutter and clench around nothing, mesmerised.

"You'd look even prettier filled with my cum, hmm?" He presses a sticky kiss to your puckered asshole, before easing his tongue inside. One hand holding you open, the other comes to play with your pussy, swirling your wetness around your throbbing clit.

He tongue-fucks you with fervour, like a man starved: only coming up for air to babble obscenities.

"Tan bonita, bichita." Slowly, he eases his fingers into your cunt, scissoring them open and shut. He wants to break you apart with only his hands, if you'd let him. "So pretty– fuck. So soft, baby. Beautiful."

You're close and he knows it, fucking yourself on his fingers and face like a bitch in heat. Undeterred, he brings a thumb to your clit pressing down with juust the right amount of pressure.

"Wanna feel it, hermosa . Can you cum for me? All over my fingers like a good girl, just like that, así de simple."

With the way he paws at your pussy, all you can do is clench around his fingers. He guides you through a shaking, biting orgasm, licking up your cum with a flourish. Even with shaky legs you manage to turn around and pull Miguel up, and he follows eagerly. He looks fucked out already, eyes low and lips swollen with your slick. He motions to strip, stretching his tank top across the expanse of his chest and letting his cock spring free from his sweats. When you move to help him, he stops you, moving your hand from his tank to his solid torso beneath. He wants you to touch him; to feel your soft palm run across his skin, and sink into the warmth of your body.

One hand at your waist, he presses you against the wall, grinding his cock to your clit. You wrap your arms around his shoulders and they fit like they belong there. Close, impossibly close, and his pupils are blown, wide. It's like he can't decide what he wants to do to you, sharp red eyes darting over your lips, your neck, down to the juncture where you both meet. A paralysis of choice, and all he can do is drink you up in the low light.

And so, you make a choice for him, lips crashing against his, hand snaking around to guide his cock into your hole. He sinks into you - finally - and you swallow his moans in the aftermath. He's slow to start, eyes screwed shut as he gets used to how tight you are around him. Slowly, he rocks into you, the heat of his palm steady at the crook of your back.

Miguel opens his eyes, caging you in with his other arm. He's testing the waters, angling his hips to find the spot that makes you tick.

"I didn't-" He breathes. "Didn't think it would be like this."

You look at him in your haze, brows knitted.

"I thought that when I finally fucked you, it would be more romantic." He gives you a strained chuckle and warm smile. "This is better in some ways, though."

"Better , Miggy?"

"Real." Your cunt flutters around him, and his pace stutters. Not once does he break eye contact, something swirling beneath the surface. "Not in my head. God , that sounds pathetic."

You giggle into the crook of his shoulder. It shouldn't be possible, but his eyes soften even more. And then, his expression changes into something dangerous.

"I can't do this just once, bichita. You can't give me a taste and then take it away. Es cruel, mi vida."

As if to punctuate his point, you feel his tip slam into that spongy spot in your walls. His strokes become more calculated, punishing and exact, sending waves of pleasure radiating throughout your body.

"Miguel – fuck– that's not fair- "

"Can't keep humping my hand como un perro , like a dumb dog, anymore." He brings both his palms to your ass, spreading you apart, and pulling you up onto his dick so your toes barely touch the floor. The slap of your ass against his thighs and heavy balls fill the room, pornographic in nature.

"Let-" Smack. " Me-" Smack. " Fill-" Smack. " This-" Smack. " Cunt. " Smack.

You babble into his ears, affirmations and praise that makes his heart and cock swell.

'So pretty, Miguel. Yours. All yours." You rake your hands through his hair, harshly tugging him closer in a way that makes him burn up. Clenching around his length, you wrap your legs around his waist. He barely falters, pulling away from the wall and slamming into you regardless. You've seen him like this before; fiery determination that flares up on a tough mission. Tunnel vision: a razor-sharp resolve that has manifested itself in a man hellbent on your pleasure.

"Miguel. Miguel, I-" I love you, I love you, I love you, I- " -wan' you to cum with me. Deep, please."

Now, his pace gets sloppy, hips stilling to drive himself as deep as you asked; so you can feel him long after you separate. Hot, sticky cum pumps into you and his balls strain with the effort of it. You claw your hand against his back, trailing delicious marks with your nails. When you clamp around him, you swear you see his eyes roll back - lost in the bliss of your cunt. Together, you come down from the high, bare chests panting against one another.

"Don't look at me like that." His lips graze yours, soft and plush. You stretch your chin upwards, chasing the trace of a kiss he refuses to give to you. Eventually he relents, leaning into a sweet kiss, arm wrapped around your waist.

He pulls himself off of you with a wet smack, gently carrying you to his bed. He places you in his sheets and you look beautiful, blissful, and fucked out. Cum drips onto your thighs and he feels a pang of possessiveness. His cum. His baby.

Clambering in to spoon you, he can't help but paw at your pussy, using his fingers to stuff his cum back into you, tracing lazy circles on your thigh with his other hand.

"I'm on birth control, Miggy. So no need to worry." You snuggle into his touch, bare skin against one another.

"Wasn't worried." He grunts, sounding almost disappointed. You catch his tone, intrigued.

"No harm in trying," You lilt, turning around to place your palms flat on the wide span of his chest. "You wanna fuck a baby into me?"

Nodding, he groans, head back into the pillow, and you push him onto his back. Pussy throbbing, you straddle his hips; thighs tight around his middle. You can feel him growing harder in the slick of your slit.

You arch into him, tender hand around his throat. It's a sight he won't forget easily: you on top of him, the gloom of the night tracing the swell of your tits. An angel, all the same. You whisper something into his ear that gives him goosebumps; a full body chill that goes straight to his cock. "My turn, bichito."

~~~

"You never called." Miguel says, laying his head next to yours, after wiping you down with a clean towel. He hands you a spare shirt of his, and you put it on, self-conscious.

The two of you had fucked well into the night, making good on your promises. His stamina was relentless, pumping load after load into you, pussy-drunk and babbling. There was an intensity there that couldn't be explained: one that made both of you crazy for one another, burning you out between the silky sheets of his bed. Something you had initially attributed to his rut, whatever he had called it, but desperately hoped it was something more. How could this be just sex? After everything you had said and done, it would crush you: to taste the forbidden fruit and have it snatched away just as easily.

You had both laid there for a bit, afterwards, cock softening in you. Plugging up his cum, he had said, but it felt more intimate in the quiet calm of his bedroom.

"You didn't either." You throw back at him.

"That's not th-"

"I know, I know. It just felt weird, s'all." You turn from him, looking up at the ceiling. Counting the mottles and marks in your head, suddenly shy. After all the filthy things you've said and done to him, he still makes you shy. "I thought I did something wrong."

His heart breaks. "No, no , it wasn't-"

"Not just today. Last time…a-and the time before that, honestly. We see each other less. You're always busy with something. Felt like you were avoiding me." Rubbing your temples, you sigh. "S'why I cut some corners on the mission. Made mistakes. I thought if I did well, and we had something to talk about…"

"Mierda." You can't bring yourself to look at him, to see the disappointment in his scarlet eyes. But it isn't disappointment, and it’s not directed at you.

"I wanted to call, but I didn't. Because I didn't think you would answer." Finally, you turn to see his brows knitted: swirling with shame, guilt, sadness. Quickly you add, "I mean, I know why now. I think. And it's really on me, I should've said something or-"

"I just… I didn't know what to do with it." He takes your hand in his, squeezing tight.

"...I don't understand."

"All this love I have for you." He says, impossibly soft. "I didn't know what to do with it."

You know him like the back of your hand and you've heard it all: angry, snarky, giddy, beautiful Miguel O'Hara. But this? Confirmation of the feelings you've held for years at this point, dismissed during late nights and pored over during lonely ones - this?

"And I didn't think you felt the same way, how could you? You're beautiful, and smart, and you have this… way of making people burn as bright as you. So I poured myself into work. That's all I know how to do, bichita. Work. Suffocate under everything. You don't deserve it."

With the way he says it; resigned, matter-of-fact; you want to cry. Still, he hangs on to the notion that he must earn it : that his claws are too sharp and fangs too bloody for redemption. For love, for life, for good things. Miguel O'Hara; doing what needs to be done. Alone, always.

You come closer to cup his chin, to make sure he's looking at you. There can be no ambiguity, no gray area when you say what you want to say.

"You don't tell me what to do, O'Hara . " You press a kiss to his cheek, and another to trembling lips. "I decide what I deserve. No-one else does, not even you."

"It's not like you listen to me, anyway." He says with a shaky smile.

Sitting up slightly on your forearms, you place your head up on his chest. Listening to the steady thump-thump of his heart. You don't need your super senses to know that he's alive, that he's here. The look in his eyes; you couldn't explain it if you wanted to.

"Bichita." You say, out of the blue. No doubt due to your poor pronunciation, he winces. "What does it mean?"

Clicking his tongue, he waves it off. " Very vulgar, you don't want to know. I mean, I shouldn't really-"

"Hmm." Shaking your head, you feign ignorance. "It's just that Lyla said it meant sweetheart, or little bug... terms of endearment, I think was the phrase."

"She said that?" He frowns. "Lyla's filling your head with nonsense, m'afraid. It's sarcastic. Post-ironic, metatextual… it comes across completely different in Spanish, mi vida."

"Post-ironic? That's not even the second most pretentious thing you've said today…" Giggling, you bury your head into his chest.

"Of course not. I reserve my best stuff for you."

"Real classy, O'Hara. Bet you say that to all the poor women that end up in your bed."

"Nope." He hums. "Just the ones I've been in love with for the past two years."

He pulls you closer, smiling into light kisses on your shoulder, the fat of your stomach, your thighs, on your cheek. Kisses everywhere, anywhere he can reach.

"Just you, bichita." He breathes into your skin. "Only you ."

taglist: @d1lf-loverrr, @afro-hispwriter @ilovemiguelohara @weedxgirlx420 @ladydovahkiin180 @aaliyuh3 @sweetanimebakery @vvitcxen @rosecoloredlenses708 @daikondal @magikmina @impettywhenyouare @alonelygirlsuicidenote @plushyplants @javi0ca @rheeves @starrfruit @nikirikii @marsbars09 @foxglove-grove @mimooyi @crosshairclown @dead-by-light @kynamitedessert @naarra @wanderlustingcastaway @sagejin @cookielovesbook-akie @tangerineloverrr @gobblegluckgluckgod @wolfiepirate @jxxey3 @ebrysteria @ebrysteria

#i lied lmao #lots of feelings #miguel o hara x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara #across the spiderverse #atsv #spiderman 2099 masterlist #spiderman 2099 x reader

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neon-lights-stardust-nights · 1 year

Note

"makes up an elaborate fictional disorder" bitch me too the fuck. god in my teenage years I kept using abo to cope with dysphoria when I didn't have words and looking back it's like... I know what you are. 👁👁

(also sorry if I'm coming off like a jackass? I'm not trying to, but I'm not sure if this... reads as playful and light hearted. just like, what you said feels relatable to me)

Oh bruh, you're good! My husband and I speak in memes to each other, I'm very accustomed to playful cussing and similarly toned shenanigans. If you're ever concerned in the future, feel free to just tack a tone modifier on the end.

AND GOOOOD OKAY I'M NOT ALONE IN THIS YOOOO

I used to make lots of s/is who were "female" but could shapeshift and were frequent gender swappers. I also never drew the porn with "the girl parts" even if they were currently girl-looking when I started doodling shit like that. I was so incredibly obvious as an egg www

My current made up fictional disorder is technically a combo of my sex-dependant issue and a much more "gender neutral" issue (yknow like not dependant on or related to The Parts.) I just combined them both since I could. It's something I'll talk about more in the info dump probably, it's for my Guilty Gear s/i! Selective Accelerated Magical Energy Consumption Disorder hehe.

Get it?

SAMECD?

I am funny, I promise.

#asks #anon #a pleasant surprise!#i had a romp with abo for a while #i am very attracted to the world building #but i've grown more sensitive to dysphoria over the years #and now even mpreg rubs me awful #pregnancy-free abo is still very nice though #especially if heats are painful and such #a good place to project my Very Likely Endo but with a sexy twist

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neopuppy · 4 months

Text

Angel Baby (M)

pairing. alpha Jaemin x pregnant female omega reader

genre. *gasp* and they were neighbors AU, non-traditional ABO, single & pregnant y/n, fluff, smut, M/F

warnings. profanity, alpha/omega dynamics, ‘pup’ instead of ‘baby’, possible inaccuracies(writer has absolutely never been pregnant), pregnancy aches & cravings, smut warnings under cut. minors DNI.

wc. 8000

now playing. angel baby//Troye Sivan

smut warnings. unprotected sex, pregnant sex, lactation, use of ‘mama’ and ‘mommy’, breast fondling, fingering, oral, slick, painful orgasm(for Jaemin), etc

a/n. wanted to title this fic Orgasm Donor sooooooo bad, but tumblr whack these days

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･

“You know even though this is my first pregnancy, it’s not that bad.” You proudly nod, dipping another blue cheese filled olive into a cup of hazelnut spread. “I haven’t even been having those weird cravings everyones always going on about.”

Jaemin stops working on setting up his old coffee machine, shifting his gaze to watch you pop another olive coated with sweet cream in your mouth before you struggle to open a jar of pickles. “No weird cravings?”

“Nope.” You shrug, smiling triumphantly only to quickly fall into a frown as you squeeze around the jar more without budge.

He hums, twisting around to grab the jar from your hands and open it himself, nodding and smiling as he passes it back to you. You thank him, whispering that you could have opened it before continuing to munch and dunk a pickle into the spread and proceed to pour coconut shavings on it. “That’s a good thing. What about that uh, morning sickness?”

“Haven’t really had that either.” You murmur between bites, lifting your hand to cover your mouth, your other reaching to rub your stomach. “Means I’m going to have a very sweet and calm pup.”

“How’s your back feeling today?” He asks, thinking about how you’d hissed and made a pained face yesterday while trying to pick up a basket of laundry.

“Oh it’s..” putting on a smile, you wave him off. “—It’s fine, the doctor said my last trimester would be the hardest on my body.”

Jaemin turns back around to set the water cartridge in place for the coffee machine. He wants to add that your doctor also recommended staying off your feet, massages since you need to avoid hot water, and while it may be uncomfortable- try to stay off your back while sleeping. You always managed to change the subject whenever he attempted to mention a spa day to pamper yourself, or even offered his own hands to knead your tired feet.

“Offer still stands.” He reminds you, running the machine to clean it out. It’s only fair he sets it up anyway. It’s for him, since he’s been staying at your apartment longer than his own these days. “What about your Gochujang cravings?”

You instantly shy away, hiding your face to your shoulder demurely. The reminder of why and how Jaemin’s become such an integral part of your daily life always makes you feel embarrassed. “The tub I stole from you is nearly empty.”

“I’ll have to get you more next time I go to the store.”

Jaemin, while fond of the memory, also recalls it with embarrassment. It was 3 in the morning when he heard repeated light knocks that quickly escalated to heavier more determined knocks. He stumbled out of bed reaching for a hoodie to throw on and cover up his bare chest, slowly trudging down the hallway from his bedroom to the front door. “Yeah yeah, hold on.”

With half asleep swollen eyes he opened the door to find you frantic, eyes blown wide and your hands clasped together under your stomach smiling at him nervously. “I’m so so so sorry about this.”

He quickly snapped awake upon seeing your panicked expression, standing up straight and rubbing his sleep tired eyes. “It’s fine, seriously. Is it the pup?? Are you okay??”

“No no, pups fine..” you trail off, laughing anxiously. “My grocery order was missing a few items and you see.. I’m eating some apples, a little late night snack..”

Jaemin nods confused, relieved that your water didn’t break early or something. “My delivery person refunded the Gochujang I ordered. I guess they were out at the store.” You explain, feeling silly and terrible at the same time for waking your neighbor over this. You hardly even know him beyond the first run-in you had the day you moved in. “I was just wondering if maybe you have any to spare? If not it’s okay. I’m seriously sorry, I thought about texting you, but I don’t have your number.”

He perks up at the mention of Gochujang, squinting at the idea of needing chili pepper paste for your apples. “I do have some actually. I just went to the market a few days ago. Here, why don’t you come in for a minute while I grab it.”

“Are you sure? I can just be on my way, and bring you back the container tomorrow..”

“No no, it’s fine.” He yawns, motioning for you to follow him to the kitchen. “So, apples and Gochujang?”

“It’s sooo good, the hint of spice really pairs well with the crunch.”

“Should you be eating something this spicy, uh, right now?” He questions, wondering if that’s good for a baby, mentally noting to look that up online later.

“Oh, I love a little spice.” You nod, looking him over now under the kitchen light. “Nice sweater..”

Jaemin makes a confused sound, shutting the fridge to look down at himself with a container of Gochujang in hand. “Oh..” he tries to smile when you snort, rubbing his free hand down the large bold black letters reading ‘Orgasm Donor’ on the white hoodie. “It was a joke gift from my friends.. I didn’t uh..”

“Is it true?” You ask coyly, glancing away when he looks at you surprised.

“Is what true?” He retorts, not awake enough to catch the way you grin and shyly bite your thumb nail.

“Are you charitable?”

He’s struck for a minute, blinking slowly in disbelief that the cutest pregnant Omega he’s ever seen is currently standing in his kitchen at 3 in the morning desperate for chili paste to eat with her apples flirting with him? The same Omega he watches waddle through the halls after picking up her mail leaving behind the softest traces of fresh whipped creamy milk? The same one he couldn’t help but notice had no mating mark adorning her long beautiful much too bare neck?

Peering bewildered from the front of his hood back to you more than a few times, he gapes like a fish, lifting up the tub of Gojuchang. “Yeah, anything you need, I’m always an apartment away. I work from home now too so don’t worry about showing up whenever you want, I’ll give you anything you want.” He says too eagerly, stepping forward with a smile. “Like this chili paste.”

What are the chances you show up at his door like a glowing dream, leaving your warm milky scent behind that softly carries him back to his dreams. Dreams full of you, your smile when he passes by, the cute way you struggle to bend over and frown because your belly has just gotten too big.

He could tell after that you needed more help than you were willing to let on, especially by the number of packages showing up at your doorstep varying from small to way too large for you to be handling on your own.

“Hey, remember when I said you can come to me for anything?” He said approaching you attempting to push a new extra large package through your door. “I meant anything, consider me your new delivery man, alright?”

“Ah, you really don’t have to. I still owe you for the Gojuchang..” the same paste you shamelessly never returned- that Jaemin would never ask you to bring back anyway.

“You don’t owe me anything.” He always made sure to reassure you with a large smile, removing his shoes as he entered your apartment and asked for directions.

“It’s a new drawer for the baby.” You said, motioning toward the spare bedroom you’d begun to decorate. From that day he refused to let you handle any furniture building on your own, to the point that he felt invasive for barging into your life this way.

The few comments you made here and there gave him enough hint that you’re on your own. No Omega soon to give birth should be alone, this is one of the most vulnerable times you will ever experience in your life. Besides, he likes helping you. He loves to hear you gasp when he effortlessly picks up the new crib you ordered, loves to hear your comments about how strong he is. Loves to still have your scent swarming around his head when he returns back to his apartment, and he really really loves being around you.

That’s why a coffee machine in your apartment has become necessary. After a quick shower and brushing his teeth, he’s already on the way out, taking a few short steps to your place.

“Good morning.”

It’s become your normal day, sitting around on the couch watching lamaze videos as you practice your breathing. Jaemin’s changed his schedule around to fit your lifestyle. You have no idea how you got lucky enough to move in next door to a not only ridiculously handsome and helpful Alpha, but an extremely polite and giving one at that.

The nurses at your clinic always blush and giggle while he waits for you, drooling over the good looking built Alpha without a trace of mating mark on his skin. They’ve made a few comments to you, curious about him, curious about your relationship with him.

He’s not your Alpha, even if your Omega has started to believe so. How can you not with his constant concern for your wellbeing? The random gifts he brings to you, trying to pass them off as something he saw on his way home even though you saw the packages waiting at his door. He’s really been there for you, more caring than any Alpha you’ve been with before; including the absent one-night stand you had that wanted nothing to do with you when you contacted him to let him know.

Sure, the predicament you’ve ended up in isn’t the best, but as you fold new onesies and put away matching pacifiers you can’t find the will to be upset with your decision, even if this isn’t the way you imagined your future to unfold.

“How are you feeling today?”

He’s been repositioning the furniture that’s already set-up in the pups future room, finding where you’d like the crib to be placed before working on building your new items. “Still having trouble sleeping?”

Yes, sleeping has been rather difficult. It’s been months now since your last heat. 9 months to be exact, landing yourself where you are now after the wild excursions your last put you through. Throwing up, swollen feet, random cravings, and an aching back can’t nearly compare to how insanely frustrating it is to lose sleep. The push and pull happening between your thighs to your brain always hits at night. It started after the month you first moved in, the dreams that had you waking up soaked with slick.

Your physician had explained that they would only get worse, seeing as Omegas typically have an Alpha to handle those issues. The pregnancy suppressing your heat in turn makes your hormones 100 times worse.

And that is where Jaemin comes in, you tried to avoid him and keep your distance, but he’s just too damn nice. Making it impossible to turn down the Alphas unwarranted help, never asking anything of you in return, he simply wants to help.

After that night of craving chili paste, you solemnly patted your way back to your apartment, pathetically frowning at the tub of Gochujang you’d been craving.

Orgasm Donor?!? You could scream! The sexiest Alpha you’ve ever seen right next door in nothing but his boxers and a ridiculous sweater, it took all of the strength you could muster up from the moon Goddess herself to clamp your thighs shut and strain your muscles to not drip slick right there in his kitchen.

The Alpha had to know by now how dizzy his presence alone makes you. Having to sit down whenever he steps foot inside of your place, you sigh, biting down on your lip to not drool over how tight his shirt is today. Each movement flexing the strong muscles lining his broad back too visible. Even after being bred enough to get pupped you can’t control how crazy your hormones have made you feel these last couple of months. No amount of balancing tea or vitamin in the world can quell the need to get absolutely fucked by the strong Alpha taking up space in your future nursing room.

“Still bad I take it?” He says before you can respond, too lost in your thoughts to realize how long you’ve been staring off fantasizing about all the ways he could take you.

“Does it show?” You ask self consciously, rubbing your stomach to comfort yourself.

“Huh?” He turns, noticing that you’re playing with your hair, bringing it closer to your face. “Oh no no, you look as cute as ever.” He smiles that same charming toothy smile he always has specifically for you. “I just meant, y’know I worry about you getting enough sleep. I was reading and it’s important you get at least 10 hours minimum.”

“10 hours is wayyy too much..” you laugh, rubbing under your eyes trying to remember how bad your dark circles looked this morning.

“I can definitely help you fall asleep.” He says casually, not understanding how feral your Omega is. The little voice inside of you growling and lunging forward to escape with a ‘bet you can’. How much longer can you really endure having this Alpha around before you make headlines.

PREGNANT WOMAN CHOMPS THROUGH HER NEXT DOOR NEIGHBOR ALPHAS BICEPS, CLAIMS HER HORMONES GOT THE BEST OF HER!

How humiliating. If only he understood your true despair stems from him and how rabidly horny he’s gotten you.

“How does this work? You’ll be sleeping in your bedroom while the pup stays in here, or will you be ruining your back on this chair?”

Jaemin asks nonchalantly, carrying on the conversation you’ve been checking in and out of. Quietly humming to himself as he positions a cushion on the seat of the rocking chair he’s been working on assembling for the last hour. He definitely took longer than what he’d estimated in his mind when you mentioned your new crib and chair arriving today. Not that he’d ever admit that he wanted to scream after 10 minutes of searching for one screw that the instructions called for. He’s sure the crib will take another two hours to set up after this(if he’s lucky), biting back a sigh to not catch your attention the more he thinks about it.

“I think for nap time it’d be best to get the pup used to this room, I’m sure I’ll struggle to not sleep by his side every night at first..” you admit shyly, cupping under your stomach and rubbing over the round exterior. He wants to agree that there’s no way a newborn pup would want to leave your side; not with the way your face lights up whenever kicks beat against your stomach or when he brings you back from your doctor visits listening to all the exciting future plans you have lined up.

“It’s probably not my place to say, but you shouldn’t fall asleep in here much. This chairs not that comfortable..” he frowns, testing out the rocking motion. “I’m sure we can find another crib that could fit in your bedroom..”

“Another crib is a bit out of my budget right now.”

“Don’t worry about that.” He grins, standing up to tap the large cardboard box you’re perched on. “Isn’t that what baby showers are for? I’m sure your family has already stocked up on things to gift you.”

Ah, a baby shower. Of course, how could you fail to mention that neither of your parents have spoken to you since the day you showed up at their doorstep 3 months pregnant, unmated and out of wedlock. “Ah, you—you have a point.” You mumble nervously. “You’ve been at this for a bit, I’ll get the coffee brewing.”

“Coffee sounds great right now.” Jaemin says, helping you stand up without releasing your hands until he deems your ankles steady enough to walk on your own. “You know how I like it.”

“Four shots of espresso over ice?”

“Exactly.” He winks your way, beginning to unbox the crib you’d shown him a few weeks ago. Some fancy overpriced one imported from Italy, a dream according to what you had said while he sat with you as you browsed through various baby decor online shops.

He really wanted to ask what the hell ever happened to Babies ‘R Us, recalling his days working across the street from one, but you looked too happy smiling wide as you showed him the different canopy designs and various woods used to customize each one.

“It’s perfect for a boy, don’t you think?”

Ah, these are really questions you should be asking your Alpha.. if you had one. His lips draw down, peeling open the cribs manual to divide and separate each piece into small sections to start working out.

It’s hard to believe an Alpha, any Alpha period could just up and leave their Omega to raise a child alone. Jaemin can’t forget the first day you moved in and struggled to drag your belongings down the hallway corridor creating an unnecessarily noisy ruckus outside of his apartment. He stormed out ready to curse you to hell for waking him up, having come home from the gym late the night prior and hoping to catch a few more Z’s that morning. The shout ready to exit his lips hung in the air upon seeing you nearly tip over and let a bag full of clothes spill onto the floor instead of risking the chance to fall and land on your stomach.

You had to have been only a few months along at the time, barely showing a small bump. You hadn’t spotted him yet as you stood there looking over your neatly folded clothes falling apart and making a big mess to clean up. Stress and exhaustion pulled at your soft glowing face, slowly sliding down to your knees to throw everything back in the bag you’d been carrying.

He contemplated speaking up, opening and shutting his mouth as he watched a tear slip down your cheek, swallowed past the seam of your lips. Anyone with half a brain would be able to read the room and assume you weren’t in the best situation given your state at the time. Still he couldn’t help but take in your pretty skin, glossy eyes batting away more tears from pouring, and the small pout permanently etched on your lips as you gathered your things.

“Here, let me help.” He said, deciding to bend over and grab your bag as you shoved in the last of your clothes. To your surprise, you glanced up, jaw hanging as you started to shake your head. “New neighbor?”

Everything progressed slowly from that moment. Sure, at first it was all a coincidence how often he’d find you having a hard time carrying packages from the mail, out of breath lugging your groceries from your car, cursing loudly whenever you’d burnt dinner and set off your fire alarms. He can’t deny making an effort after your first month next door to check in on you, whether you asked for help or not. Especially after the night you showed up begging for chili paste. Without being too intrusive he picked up on hints, figuring out that the Alpha that got you pregnant was clearly no longer a part of your life.

Instinctively he had to do what any respectable Alpha would willingly want to do. Helping you through these past 5 months has been entertaining to say the least. There’s a bit of charm to your silly nature, to how often you whine and complain about your feet getting wider, your back hurting, the odd cravings that hit in the middle of the night. The ones you still deny are cravings, he snorts thinking about that.

Jaemin’s had more fun getting to know you than he has had with some of his long term relationships, even turning down potential Omegas to spend weekends with you. Someone has to be here to make sure you don’t burn your spaghetti again..

And there’s a possible chance he’s developed some feelings, feelings beyond friendship. Could just be his Alpha viewing you as his mate, watching your stomach grow and expand every week does drive him a little crazy, just a tad.

“Hmm,” realizing he’s been reading the same paragraph over and over again without registering any instructions, he looks around and sits up. You’ve definitely been gone for longer than 10 minutes by now..

“How’s that coffee coming along?” He asks, jogging down the hall, feet hitting the brakes as soon as he makes it to the end. “Shit.”

“I—I don’t know what happened.” You cry, hands shaking above a broken mug and spilled dark liquid.

“Are you hurt?!” He rushes forward, falling to a squat to reach for your arms, hands pausing mid-air. “Oh my God..”

“I’m—I’m sorry, please don’t look..” you whine, hunching in to hide your breasts. It’s useless to try, completely leaked through your shirt leaving your pert nipples completely visible through the thin soaked material clinging to your ample chest.

“You’re—“ Jaemin stutters, swallowing a thick wad of saliva, mouth going dry at once as the sweet creamy scent of breast milk swirls around his tonsils. “I need t-to help you.”

“S’ok, I got it..”

“No no, come on.” He gulps, gently grabbing a firm hold on your waist to bring you back up with him. Against his insane willpower, he has to look. He has to lower his gaze and focus on how your breasts bounce as you find your balance. They’re so full, look painful and ready to burst. He’d read about this.. how Omegas can begin to lactate months prior to giving birth depending on how often they typically go into heat. He thought informing himself of all the possibilities would make everything much less daunting, but there’s no way to deny how fucking good the scent rolling off your warm flesh tastes as it seeps through his senses.

And when you regain your balance, reaching behind yourself to grab at the kitchen counter ledge, your chest shoves out even more, inadvertently spurting milky liquid from your nipples. He tries to keep his scent calm, tries to look away, tries to stop his fingers from itching to cup and squeeze out more. But fuck everythings hitting at once, spiking his scent, thrumming through his cock until it twitches against the inside of his sweats.

He should be ashamed, ashamed for objectifying this vulnerable moment, for imagining his lips sucking around your leaking buds, dragging the material of your shirt past his mouth to suck it clean.

“Alpha..” you moan, shattering any ounce of guilt he felt. Snapping his gaze to your face he nearly crumbles at your wet parted lips, the tears clinging to your lower lashes.

“I know Mama.” He agonizes, tightly gripping your waist as he works to take deep breaths through his mouth and blow out slowly, averting his gaze away from your body. “L-let me help you change.”

The last time he can recall feeling this feral had to have been the day before he woke up in his first rut. He’d been at the gym working up a sweat, arms on fire by the time he exited the weight training room and decided to end with cardio. Plans went astray when he neared a treadmill to hop on and looked around only to realize the gym had to have been full of Omegas. Omegas perspiring a damn storm judging by the way the aroma of sweet honey caramel skin and lush petals of Jasmine slapped him across the face. He had to leave after a minute to calm himself, head dizzy and feet off balance as he made his way to the lockers to melt away his perverse thoughts.

Even the hard-on he suffered to jerk off that night could not compare to how painfully his cock aches right now. Throbbing faster than a rapid heartbeat, he even fears his dick could burst if he has to swallow anymore of your scent, if he can’t rip his gaze away from your perky delectable nipples.

“Alpha, I’m hot.”

Fuck. You are. You’re so hot. He nods, unrealizing that he’s agreeing, not even noticing how scorching hot your skin feels through the material of your shirt. “T-think I should l-leave.” He says begrudgingly, feeling like a failure, a coward.

“Please.”

That’s it. That’s all it takes to strip away the last bit of self control he could come up with. It wasn’t much anyway, the mixture of your breast milk and delicious pregnant scent combined could send him straight into an impromptu rut. “A-are you sure?”

He licks at his plump lips, leaving a film of saliva over his naturally pink pout that makes your thighs squeeze together. Even with shards of broken mug too close to your feet and the pungent smell of coffee wafting between you, all you can think about is how big the Alpha is. He’s so big in front of you right now, bringing your need to feel small and taken care of to light. The independence you’ve convinced yourself of all dissipating with his large hands rubbing up and down your sides, arms flexing from the tense struggle running through his body.

“What should I do mama? Hmm? I need to clean you up.” The fear he had of taking the next giant leap of a step with you quickly exits, furrowing his eyebrows as he takes in your sobbing pretty face. He’s used that nickname a few times before, always sending shivers up your spine, but it’s worse now. The sugary tone he speaks to you in, so cute, striking each nerve as he moves you to the counter to get your bare feet away from the mess.

“Please Alpha, I feel..” thick arms wrap around your waist, laying his forehead gently on yours.

“Tell me where it hurts.”

It’s too hard to say anything with the tremors his question releases throughout your body, searching for his hand to slide it down past your stomach between your legs where slick has already started to seep through your leggings. “Here.”

“Fuck.” He hisses, biting down on his teeth. “You’re making me crazy, you know that?”

“S-sorry,” you hiccup, squeezing around his hand cupping your middle. “That’s w-where—hurts..”

He tsks, shoving inside your bottoms to drag his fingers through the wad of slick gathered between your folds. It’s so much, leaking out profusely, covering his palm and wrists as he slides in deeper to tease your hole. “Messy, so damn messy mama.”

“Ah, d-don’t!” You croon, eyes welling up with tears from the relief of finally having your pussy touched by someone other than yourself. Harder and harder to reach past your stomach most nights, you succumb to whimpering into your pillow frustrated, fantasizing that your neighbor would hear your distress and gallop in on a horse like your knight in shining armor. “Don’t call me t-that.”

“No?” He frowns, nose brushing yours. “But your pussy tightens up around my fingers so good when I do, mommy.”

“Alpha! Ugh!” Dropping your neck, you let out a long winded cry. Panting short of breath from his thumb working furiously to harden your clit. “S’too—too dirty, p-please!”

“You’re right,” his tongue clicks, echoing around the kitchen. “You are still so so dirty mommy.”

With one arm he manages to lift your butt onto the counter, nodding for you to scoot on with a pat on your hip. He settles between your parted thighs, reaching for the hem of your shirt. “Wait!” You panic, gripping around his wrists. “Don’t..don’t want you to see..”

“What??” Gasping surprised, he blinks confused, rubbing the fabric of your shirt between his fingers.

“My body right now—“ you flush, darting your gaze away ashamed. “Don’t want you to see..

“Nonsense.” He snaps, using a firmer tone with you that you’re not accustomed to hearing. “You think this,” touching your stomach, he glides upward to cup and squeeze your breasts. “And this? Doesn’t make me feel rabid out of my damn mind to fuck you right here, break the laws of humanity and wolf alike, get you pregnant with my pup somehow?”

It’s the angriest he’s ever looked, wrinkled between his nose and eyebrows, glaring at his heavy palms kneading your breasts to make more milk trickle. “Fuck, I’ve tried so hard to know my place, to show you nothing but respect..”

“S-stop,” you gulp, letting go of his wrists to smooth up and squeeze his biceps, clawing your short nails into the muscles. “Disrespect me, please Alpha..”

Big round eyes stare at you full of shock, taking in how you bite on your lip shyly. The trickles of milk so creamy and thick, spilling down his hands to his flexed forearms. “One thing I’ll never do—“ pressing in, he licks at your Cupid’s bow, long eyelashes blinking against your cheek. “Is disrespect you.”

The sound of your shirt ripping open has you gasping, sinking your nails deeper into his muscles. “But since you asked so fucking nicely.”

He gets the message quickly as you reach for the collar of his shirt and pull hard enough to stretch the fabric, quickly stepping back to strip it off and fully display his well built shoulders and chest. The gurgle from your throat that follows pleases him, returning your hands to feel every inch of new muscle you weren’t familiar with. His mouth is too thirsty, salivating as he takes your full breasts again without anything to hide your swollen nipples and admires them for less than a minute. Lapping at his wet lips as he shoves between your cleavage, licking up the remnants of dried and fresh milk with a deep groan.

Fuck. It’s incredible, nothing he’s ever tasted before. Sweet nectar that can only pour from a fertile breedable Omega built to birth healthy pups. Every sense and nerve in his system lights on fire, digging his face between your ample chest despite your cried moans. It’s bliss, more intense and real than anything, shoving his tongue between your tits to fuck the small gap.

“Alpha!”

Breast milk won’t stop running down his arms, opening his mouth wide to capture one of your hard nipples. The nub digs against the roof of his mouth, slurping down the cream as your other tit leaks akin to a broken faucet. “So fucking good mommy.” Jaemin says roughly, pulling away to look over your pleasured face.

His lips swollen pink with a sheen milky layer, completely debauched as he goes in for more and attends to your other nipple. They swell up after many nibbles, gently digging his teeth into your firm buds. Each suck tastes sweeter than the last as your scent spikes and Omegan arousal swirls around him. The strong tones of milk mixing in with yours has his Alpha fanatic, jerking his hips against the kitchen counter for some type of friction on his cock.

“Alpha please, my pussy, please.” You ask too innocently, as if the activity that expanded your stomach out in the first place didn’t prove otherwise. He grunts for you to wait, shoving his face back in-between your bosom, jiggling the fleshy meat against his cheeks. If not for your hips jumping up he’d continue to assault your tits, spend hours playing with them until you have nothing else left to quench his insatiable thirst.

“Bet your pussy tastes just as sweet.” He grumbles, moving down onto his knees to pull off your leggings and panties in one go. “Fucking hell.”

The amount of slick painted across your thighs and ass could compete with the local community pool, maybe even replenish a tiny village. His cock jump’s fiercely at the sight before him, lavving the residue of breast milk on his lips for a clean taste as he dives in.

“Jaemin!” You shout, scrambling to grab onto something at the first stroke of the Alphas tongue prodding between your chubbed folds. The sounds he makes only add fuel to the fire, releasing more slick with each deep growl and bated panting breath.

“Taste so damn good Omega,” he hums, enamored by how syrupy and powerful your scent slaps him across the face from between your thighs. Shuffling forward on his knees, he holds your thighs open to stretch his jaw wide and roll his tongue from your entrance to your clit, jolting your legs to kick the kitchen drawers with his skills.

Everything feels so good, spinning your mind around. The only frustration as you peer down is the sight of your round stomach completely hiding the Alphas lustful gaze and sloppy tongue. “Alpha, pleasepleaseplease!” sobbing, you kick at the drawers again. “Can’t see your face! C-can’t see!”

Jaemin shoots up at the sound of your affliction, eyes blown wide with concern as he reaches for your shoulders to sit you up. “Shh shh, I’m here.” He smiles, a disaster of slick covering his nose, lips and chin. “Look at me pretty mama.”

“Mmm..” reaching for his face, you smear the slick on his lips. “Messy.”

“Messy for you.” He kisses at your thumbs, sucking on the tip of one he captures. “Such a bad mommy, wants to watch her pussy get ate?”

Nodding feebly you move to stroke his neck, squeezing around. “Can’t see you down there..”

“Stay like this okay?” He instructs, pecking you, leaving slick on your chin. “Sit just like that, you’re doing so good for me mama.”

Setting your palms on the counter, he opens your thighs up a little wider, getting down into a squat to keep his head at level with your knees. “Keep your pretty eyes on me. Gonna make you feel good.”

His eyes stay on yours, one palm splayed on your thigh as his other reaches just under your navel. Stretching his neck back into an uncomfortable angle, his tongue hangs out, blinking up at you before diving back in to lap at your clit. Wide firm licks catch your sensitive folds, face rocking back and forth to really let you feel his tongue stroking between each crevice.

Big watery doll eyes stay facing up to watch you fall apart, scratching at the counter desperately to not reach for his hair to slam his face in deeper. Slippery hot stiff pressure teases under your clit, he keeps it there twitching the muscle until your hips start to rock forward and tears erupt from the corners of your eyes. The heat inside of your stomach pools, coiling up to your chest making it harder to breathe. He keeps at it for another minute until your eyebrows scrunch together.

The lick he delivere to your clit sparks raging nerves up your spine, arching forward and nearly losing your balance on the counter to fuck his face.

Dipping lower he finally plunges as much of his tongue as he can inside of you, slapping your inner thigh when you shout out in pleasure. The thick fat muscle rubs at your inner walls, sucking down the slick that tries to choke him out. Much like your breasts, he could spend hours just like this between your supple thighs, memorizing the way you fall apart and shake from every lap and stroke of his tongue.

Finally caving, you grip onto his hair, crying out brokenly. “I’m c-cum—“ his tongue disappears before you can complain, moving to stand and shove three fingers inside your cunt. “Ahhh!”

“Look at me mama, be good for Alpha.” He orders throatily, vocals thick and corded with slick. “Squeeze that pretty pussy around my fingers, give it to me.”

“Jaem—Alpha!” The heels of your feet slam against the drawers painfully, reaching for his wrist as he jerks the three digits stretching you open. Bicep rippling from the strength being used to shoot your release out around his relentless working fingers. “S’too—good.”

“God you cum so fucking pretty.” He sighs, gently drawing free to rub your clit while you twitch against him. Lips finding yours to calm your high with tender kisses.

“Come here pretty.” Jaemin says huskily, daring to scoop you up without a hitch, bare round stomach pressed to his smooth abs just enough to not apply pressure. He turns toward your living room, setting you down on the couch to grab a few pillows. “Here baby, let me make it comfortable for you.”

“Alpha..” you whine, still conscious of how big you must look on your back like this. He only smiles, bending in close to kiss your lips.

“I can’t knot you, don’t want you to stay in this position too long.” He says, sweating through excruciating horny pangs shooting through his dick.

“Please Jaemin, want you i-inside.” You beg much too prettily, pulling his lips back to bare his teeth. He wants to be gentle with you so badly, wants to focus on you and make you cum to your heart’s content. But God you aren’t making it easy.

“Only for a little, okay?” He says raggedly, hoisting you to sit leaned against the pillows to take pressure off your lower back and still make it easy to get between your legs. “If it’s too much I’ll stop.”

“Won’t be too much Alpha, need you so bad.” You say drowsily, still drunk from the orgasm his fingers and mouth ripped out of you. He nods, tugging on the string holding his sweats up, blushing when he sees the giant wet stain of pre-cum that’s leaked through the cotton fabric. “I should put a condom on.”

“I’m already knocked up.” You giggle, covering your face. “Don’t want anything between us.”

Fuck. You’ll be the death of him talking like that. Pushing down his sweats, he gasps at how red the tip of his cock is, looking painful to the touch. There’s no way he’ll be able to last long enough to not pop a knot inside of you.

“Alpha.” You whisper, angled perfectly in a half seated position to see how enraged his dick looks flush against his stomach. He doesn’t even have to stroke it, doesn’t want to out of fear of cumming before he even enters you.

“You sure about this?” He asks once more through gritted teeth, already lining the tip up to your entrance.

“Pl-lease.. haven’t gotten fucked in s-so long.” You hiccup, too excited, bending your neck in to watch his throbbing red cockead nudge against your hole.

“Fuck! Ahh,” hissing, he gingerly grabs the base of his size, slowly pushing in until your cunt snaps around him. So tight, tight like you haven’t been fucked in months exactly as you just admitted. He’d fuck you so hard, make you take every inch until his dicks coming out of your nose. But now’s not the time, this isn’t about him no matter how hard the veins lining his length throb in disagreement. “Feel g-good?” He asks, licking at the sweat beading on his upper lip.

“M-more, please!”

He can’t do it, can’t push more than the tip in because it’d be too greedy. Even if he gets you off first it’d be too fucking greedy. As painful as it is to ignore the begging cries you let out, he opts to press down on your clit. Thumbing the stiff nub back and forth with short thrusts drawing the fat tip of his cock in and out enough to have a perfect view of your hole stretching around him. “So good, you’re doing so good for me mommy.”

“Alpha!” You twitch, lower back arching up starving for more. “P-please! Deeper!”

He wants to cave, give you everything you want, make you cum on his cock and bloat your stomach out even further with rivers of cum deep inside of you. “C-can’t.” He grits, grabbing onto your hips firmly to stop himself from thrusting in further. “D-don’t make me..”

“Need it! I need it!” You keep pleading, head tossed back with your wet spit slick lips parted open panting. “Fuck me! F-fuck me please! Put another baby in me!”

“Ahh, you c-can’t say that!” He growls in pain, digging the tips of his fingers into your hips hard enough to leave marks. You can’t say that, anything but that. “Mommy wants Alphas cum.”

“Y-yes,” you whine, stroking down your stomach to direct his gaze beneath your navel. “Wanna feel you h-here, mommy wants it.”

“Shitshit,” that’s it, that’s enough to jerk his hips and push in another inch. How could you ask this of him? How could you act like such a sweet pilant breedable bitch, begging to get fucked and fucked until all you know how to do is get pupped. “Yeah, mommy wants it deep.”

His sack feels heavy as he plunges in the rest of his length inch by inch, slapping against your rim balls deep. “Get you pregnant again, keep you pupped up with my baby.” He rambles, focusing on not slamming his cock in like a wild animal. Having to squeeze his eyes shut to not cum when he sees your milk filled breasts bouncing up high enough to hit under your chin. “Fuckfuckfuck, you’re too much.”

He sounds so desperate, dying to ram into you faster with each rough grip on your hips. Pushing up off his knees, he squats to angle his cock in even deeper, making your lips fall open with a loud shouted moan. “Right t-there mama? Is that it? You want it there?” He asks, raspy and throaty, deep voice coming out from a deep torned place.

“Alpha!” You stammer, spluttering the same words over and over again mindlessly.

“Look at me,” he groans, bending in closer to cup your cheek and grind his hips. “W-wanna feel you cum on my cock. Gonna cum for me mama?”

“Fuck, ahh!” His thumb presses against your bottom lip, nodding with you as his other hand slips between your conjoined lower halves. Expert figure eights work more slick out making his cock slide in even easier if possible, wet and messy rivering down his inner thighs.

“Cum for me, come on.” He growls, thrusting a little faster to chase your release. His balls slapping against the dip of your ass with each push in. The entirety of his length penetrates in and out, skyrocketing your pleasure by pinching your clit. Each flick and rub rushes heat through your stomach and chest, toes curling as you find his wide blown out eyes.

“F-fuck me, breed me full of cum.” You plead between gritted teeth, reaching to hold around his neck, suffocating the scream that rips from your chest. It’s been so long since you last had a release this strong, unable to even arch up with the weight of your stomach holding you down. You kick out and cry against his pouty lips, eyes rolling back.

“That’s it mommy,” he cries, eyes watering up as your walls squeeze the life from this dick and he has to do everything in his power to stop himself. His Alpha screaming at the top of its lungs to knot knot knot! Especially with the way you beg for it, the way your pussy swallows his dick whole and grovels to be knotted.

“Don’t p-pull out, please Alpha.” You sob, opening your hands in search of his. “Inside me, s-stay inside.”

“Ughh!” Jaemin can’t stop himself anymore, shoving his cock in to fill up to the brim with a few more sloppy thrusts. Reaching for your hands, he bends over bridging his upper half above yours. The muscles lining his stomach twitch and clench, sucking in at his navel as he draws his length out to the tip and the base of his cock expands. It’s more painful than he’d expected, his Alpha howling like a beast inside, gnawing through his facade of strength as tears pour down his cheeks. “Fuck. Fuck!”

He sniffles, cockhead still lodged inside your tight hole spurting out sticky cum that seems to satiate you judging by the long sigh you let out.

“Alpha..” you say drowsily, eyes half-lidded with the most serene smile looking back at him. “Sleepy.”

Nodding furiously, he kisses your hands before releasing your hold, quickly wiping his face with the back of his hand. “Pulling out okay? Need to clean you up.”

Jaemin hadn’t considered how difficult it would be to not bend at your will, having to tune out the way you whine for him to stay inside of you. His Alpha shouts and snarls, berating him for not listening to their Omega.

He’s so fucked, already recognizing you as his mate without considering what you must feel right now, driven by your out of whack hormones and lust.

“Don’t leave me.” You pout, whining so pretty.

“I’m not going anywhere mama.” He reassures, leaning in to kiss your stomach. “But I need to get you cleaned off before you fall asleep, alright?”

He tries to make it quick, scrambling to fill up a bowl of warm water and grab a few washcloths. Can’t be fast enough when he jogs back to the living room to find your eyes fluttering open and shut. “Don’t worry baby, I’ll take you to bed.”

“Nooo,” you continue to whine, huffing petulantly. “Too heavy..”

“I bench 280, don’t doubt me.” He chuckles, shaking his head. Sitting by your side, he slowly cleans the mess of slick and cum that’s dripped down to your thighs and ass, patting the area dry. “How are you feeling?”

“Eepy.”

He’d squeeze you if he wasn’t so happy to hear that you’re relaxed enough to possibly get a full night of sleep. Proudly smiling to himself as he finishes cleaning you off and bends closer to your face. “Time for bed.”

“Don’t leave me..”

He scoffs playfully, getting up to position you on top of his arms, squatting down to ensure he picks you up properly. “I’m not going anywhere, I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“Mmm..” true to his word he carries you to your room without much struggle, softly laying you down on your bed and stumbling when you grab onto his arm and pull. “Stay here.”

“Are you sure?”

“Stop asking.”

He sighs, moving to the empty side of your bed, shoulders instantaneously losing the tense concern and worry he’d been holding onto. You can talk about this in the morning, or the afternoon, or at night, or never.

Maybe he can just accept that you both wanted this and more than anything he wants this. He wants to help you with your pup, take care of you after you give birth, help cook and clean, make sure you’re well fed after hours of trying to put your pup to sleep.

It can really be this easy, living here in this moment. In the safe comforting space of your small apartment that’s started to feel more like home than his own. Playing house with you has brought him more relief than hours at the gym.. long nights out partying.

He watches you get comfortable on your side, beginning to breathe in and out more shallowly.

“Jaem..”

“Hmm?”

“You’re staring.” You murmur, trying to hide a smile.

“I am.” Scooting in closer, he lightly rests a hand on your stomach. “I’m scared to ask, but this is okay, right?”

A cute growl emits from your chest, laying a hand over his. “I’ll let it slide, you do a real good job around here.”

“It’s okay, you can finally admit that you like me.” Letting out a long sigh, he nestles in closer, cheek resting on your chest. “I like you too.”

“Do you?”

“Is it standard for Alphas to cancel their plans every week to hang out with their pregnant Omega neighbor?” He hums, following your hand to rub your stomach. “Ah, what am I saying? I was all happy to get you to fall asleep and now I’m talking your ear off.”

He’s met with the light sound of breath, lifting his gaze to find you well past counting sheep. Adjusting to cradle your head better, he kisses your forehead. “Night night angel baby.”

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･

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